“I don’t know about this place,” said Angie.

“What’s to know?” said Chloe. “We need gas. They sell gas. And they have that sign that says this is the last gas for like, a hundred miles. I don’t think we can go a hundred miles without gas.”

Josh laughed.

“The way this things sucks it down, we’re lucky to go twenty miles without gassing up.”

From her spot in the backseat of the SUV, Angie had a clear view of the nameless gas station on the edge of the desert. The ramshackle building might have once been white, but was now gray with grime and neglect, streaked with patches of what might have rust. Its two small windows were all but covered in stickers selling beer, cigarettes, and motor oil. Animal skulls, bleached whiter than the building had ever been, hung in a row over the door frame. A hand-painted sign was nailed to the wall. It read, “Fresh BBQ.”

“I’ll get this tank,” said Matt from the driver’s seat. He grabbed a wallet from his bag and turned to the door, then made a choking sound.

A man stood outside his window. He stared into the SUV, his lips pulled back in a painful smile, revealing a jumble of dirty brown teeth. His eyes were everywhere at once; even in the back, Angie could feel them crawling up her legs. She shuddered.

“Evenin’ folks,” said the man. “Sorry if I startled ya. I was about to close up for the night, and went for a bit of walk, but then I saw ya and headed back.”

“A walk in the desert?” said Matt.

The man smiled wider. His eyes danced.

“Oh, she’ll kill ya if ya ain’t careful. But I’m careful, son. I’m real careful.”

“Oh,” said Matt, his hand still on the door handle. “Good.”

“I’m sorry,” said the man, and he stepped towards the front of the SUV. “You’re trying to get out, aren’t you?”

Matt cracked the door.

“Thanks. We’re just gassing up before heading into the desert. We’re going to drive through tonight so we can hit Santa Carla before noon.”

The man smiled and nodded, nodded and smiled.

“Sure, sure. Desert at night. That’s a real good idea. Avoid the heat.

“I have to pee,” announce Chloe. “Angie? You coming?”

Angie could just imagine what the bathroom in this place must look like. Her bladder shriveled at the thought.

“I don’t think so. There’s probably like, roaches. Or snakes.”

“Come on, Angie. I went with you that loser party last week. And that was like, all night, when we could have been at the Deltas’ party. This’ll just take a minute. And besides, you owe me.”

Angie sighed. She’d been friends with Chloe since they were freshman in the dorms, but their friendship seemed to be based more on a series of debts and favors than any real affection.

“I’ll go with you,” said Josh, opening the side door. “I’m not afraid of snakes.”

“I’m coming,” said Angie.

All four of them were out of the SUV. Angie hoped that Matt hadn’t left the keys in the ignition. She could see him standing in front of the the pump, credit card in hand.

“Oh, we don’t take those at the pump,” said the gas station man whom Angie had mentally named “Jethro.”

“In fact, we don’t really take those at all. You got cash on ya, don’t ya? Spring break and all?”

“We got plenty of cash,” said Matt. He was still studying the gas pump.

A bell on the door tinkled as the girls and Josh stepped into the gas station. The low buzz of flies and the slow, rhythmic slap of an off-balance ceiling fan were the only sounds inside.

The tiny, gloomy single room was lit by electric beer signs on the walls, what little sunlight could filter in through the front windows, and a screened backdoor overlooking the desert behind the station. A single row of stale snack food face off against a second row of aspirin bottles, air fresheners, and girlie magazines. Dust covered everything.

“Stay out of the cooler.”

The three of them jumped. Angie wondered how they could have missed the big man she instantly named “Bubba.” He stood over six feet tall, and was almost as wide. He was bald and sweating and wearing a stained white tank-top. The counter in front of him had an antique cash register on it. Behind him, a fire axe hung on the wall.

“Power went out in the cooler couple days ago,” said Bubba. “Cokes are all warm. An’ somethin’ went bad in there. Don’t open it.”

A nameless, yet familiar panic started growing in Angie’s belly.

“Come on,” she hissed to Chloe. “Let’s find the bathroom and get out of here.”

“Excuse me?” said Chloe. “But where are your restrooms?”

Bubba’s worm-like lips twitched. Angie hoped it wasn’t a smile.

“Ain’t got but the one. An’ it’s out there.”

Angie followed his fat finger out the back door, past a brown-stained shed and a pile of animal skulls, to where a wooden outhouse waited silently, patiently.

Angie turned to Chloe, her eyes wide. Chloe shrugged and did a dramatic pee-dance.

The door tinkled and Matt walked in.

“You done with the gas already?” asked Chloe. It usually took ten minutes to totally fill the SUV’s massive tank.

“Nah. It’s full-service,” said Matt.

He pointed back over his shoulder, where the gas nozzle was buried in the SUV’s tank, and Jethro was fiddling under its hood.

“What’s he doing to your car?” asked Angie.

“He said he heard something ticking when we pulled up, so he’ll take a look, maybe tighten some belts if they need it. Pretty decent of him.”

The panic in Angie sprouted claws and started scratching at her.

“Is that barbecue I smell?” said Matt.

“Yeah, I was wondering that too,” said Josh. “Smells good.”

“It’s fresh,” said Bubba. “You want a sample?”

The boys nodded, grinning. They’d never turn down food.

Bubba headed for the back door.

“Come on out back. I’ll get you some.”

The five of them stepped into the desert sun. The screen door banged solidly shut behind them. Bubba gestured to a brick oven-looking contraption large enough to cook a child — or an adult, cut in half.

“My daddy made this here barbecue pit back when tourists first started coming around to see the desert. But then they stopped coming around. Guess the desert went out of style.”

“Smells good,” said Josh.

“Tastes good, too,” said Bubba. “Here…”

He wrenched open a hinged lid and rich, aromatic smoke rolled out. A hunting knife appeared in his hand, and he stabbed at some meat beneath the smoke.

Chloe tapped Angie’s arm and jerked her head toward the outhouse.

“Come on,” she said.

The sounds of the boys smacking their lips faded as the two of them walked towards the shed, the skulls, and the outhouse.

Something thudded inside the shed.

“You hear that?” asked Angie.

“What?”

“Something moved in there.”

“Whatever.”

Angie held her breath and listened as they passed the shed, but heard nothing.

Angie noticed a lock on the outhouse door. It was one of those hinged metal plates that slid over an eye that you could stick a padlock onto. While the rest of the outhouse looked like it had been there for thirty years, the lock was still shiny.

Chloe opened the door without looking at it.

Inside was a narrow bench with a toilet seat and lid bolted over its hole. The smell was bad, but no worse than the restroom at that greasy spoon diner they’d had supper at the night before.

“Will you –” began Chloe.

“I’d better wait out here,” said Angie. “There’s not much room in there.”

It was true, but Angie couldn’t stop thinking about the lock. If they were both in there, and someone came along with a padlock, or even a nail or a long stick…

“Whatever,” said Chloe, and closed the door behind her.

Another thud came from the shed. Angie could envision someone inside, maybe tied up and gagged, feebly banging his (or her!) body against the wall.

The wooden wall thudded again. Against her better judgment, almost against her will, Angie took a step toward the shed. If someone was in trouble in there… Then they were all in trouble, said the panic in her belly. And still her feet took her forward.

She saw the shed was locked. It had the same sort of padlock set-up she’d noticed on the outhouse. Only this one had a bright new padlock holding it shut.

“Hey! Get away from there!”

Angie turned to see Bubba coming towards her. He was faster than she would have expected. He still had the knife in his hand. Behind him, the boys were watching dully, their faces smeared red with barbecue.

“I… I thought I heard something,” said Angie, and instantly regretted it. Now he knew that she’d heard too much.

“It’s a mad dog,” said Bubba. “We keep him locked up so he don’t hurt the customers.”

“Oh,” said Angie. “Oh, that’s… good. That’s okay, I mean. I mean… I don’t want to mess with a mad dog.”

“No ya don’t,” hissed Bubba, quiet enough for just her to hear. He was close enough that Angie could smell the meat on his breath. She was very aware of the knife at his side.

“Or ya might end up in a small, brick house. Like the last of the three little pigs.”

He stepped even closer, and whispered:

“I like the way you smell. Like pig.”

The outhouse door banged open and Chloe strode out, dramatically shuddering and taking big gulps of fresh air.

“Angie, what are you –”

“We got to go, Chloe,” said Angie. She backed away from Bubba, afraid to turn her back on his half-smile, his wandering eyes, his sharp sharp knife.

“What?”

Angie grabbed her friend’s arm and half-pushed, half-pulled her toward the gas station.

“Grab Matt. Get him out of here. Josh will come with him.”

“Wha — why are you…?”

“I’ll explain in the car. We got to go now.”

She was afraid that Bubba would follow them, try to stop them, but he was content to stand by the shed and watch them leave, the knife dangling casually from his hand.

Matt and Josh were confused, but followed Angie back through the store. They were almost out the front door when Jethro appeared in front of them.

“Ain’t you forgetting something?” he asked.

“What?” said Angie.

“Ya ain’t paid for the gas yet.”

“Right. Yeah. Sorry,” said Matt, pulling out his wallet.

Behind him, through the back door, Angie could see Bubba heading their way, knife in hand. He must have changed his mind.

“What was the tota –” Matt began, but Angie snatched the wallet from his hands. She grabbed every bit of green paper inside and thrust it at Jethro. There were twenties on the top, and fifties below them.

“That should cover it,” she said. “We got to go.”

Bubba was opening the back door.

Matt turned to Angie. “What do you –”

“Get in the car,” she said. “Now.”

Angie’s panic was contagious. All four of them were in the SUV in moments. Matt turned the key. Angie’s mind flashed to the image of Jethro under the hood and she found herself praying for the first time in years.

The ignition caught. The engine started.

“Go!” said Angie.

The SUV spat rocks as it shot away from the gas station and onto the highway. The men Angie thought of as Jethro and Bubba stood just outside the station and watched the truck disappear into the desert.

“How much did we get?” asked Bubba.

“Looks like almost four hundred.”

“Not bad for sixty bucks’ worth of gas.”

The two of them grinned at each other.

“I’ll get Toby out of the shed,” said Bubba. “He really earned his cut this time. It’s a simple role, but he has truly embraced it and made it his own.”

“Well, it certainly isn’t Shakespeare,” said Jethro. “But it’s a living.”