Megan’s diplomacy had worked, and she waved to them in the Jeep, pointing to the cast-iron covers recessed into the cement in the rear of the Speedway parking lot. Joshua turned to the boys. “How are you guys doing back there?” An echoing “Good,” came in stereo from the backseat, and Malorie slowly maneuvered the Jeep toward the fuel-access holes in the rear of the parking lot. She parked the Jeep so that it was facing generally toward the road, but so that she could easily clear the curb and make an exit through the adjacent back lot if need be. Joshua got out of the Jeep and met Megan by the man near the firewood and ice-chest freezer, noticing that Megan was relaxed and the man was obviously very happy. The man by the freezer spoke first and said, “Your lady here is very smart. I have fuel to sell, but I can’t get to it. As you can see, the interstate is closed and things are going to get very ugly here soon.”

Joshua answered, “We did notice the situation is potentially volatile here.” He extended his hand. “My name is Joshua Kim.”

The man with the badly pitted lever gun offered his hand and said, “I’m Ganesh Sansudeen. If you can pump the fuel out with your device, I can sell it to you at fifteen dollars per gallon. Of course, if you were willing to offer the pump in partial payment, then we could negotiate for a lower rate, say ten dollars per gallon. This gives you fuel at a lower price and me the opportunity to sell gasoline, something that would help us greatly right now.”

Joshua sized up the offer and then prudently answered, “Ah, friend, you’re mistaken if you think that I’m in charge here. Frankly, it’s not my pump to sell. You’d have to ask this smart and beautiful woman right here. She’s the owner of the pump.”

Megan thought about the situation and the “savings” on fuel now versus what they might need to do in another situation tomorrow. “Mr. Sansudeen, I can appreciate your offer and it’s a fair one on all accounts. However, we’re traveling much farther west, our route is uncertain, civil order is deteriorating, and we can’t say what the power situation will be at any other gas station on our way. This pump is our only means to access fuel in tanks below ground. Yet, I think that perhaps we can agree to do something to help the situation in your favor. I assume that you’re running a cash-only business here today?”

Ganesh looked at her intently. “You are correct, ma’am.”

Joshua was transfixed watching his fiancée negotiate this situation. It was clear that Megan was bargaining from a position of power. “Then we can pour fuel into our Jeep from the fuel jugs we have with us, then refill those jugs and be able to meter with a high degree of certainty how much fuel we are buying from you today. In trade, I cannot exchange my pump, but I would be happy to rent it to you so that you can fill your vehicle and then any jugs that you have available on hand. This would give you the opportunity to sell fixed quantities of gasoline to stranded travelers at a price that you set—fifteen dollars a gallon seems reasonable given how hard the commodity is to come by right now. In exchange for using my pump, we would be buying the fuel we take at nine dollars per gallon. Do we have a deal?”

Joshua showed his loyalty to Megan by maintaining a poker face as Ganesh stroked his chin and turned the offer over in his head. “We have a deal. How long are the leads on your pump?”

Megan had already thought of this and quickly responded, “Long enough to reach that pickup truck over there so as to not present the risk of starting a fire with fumes and an errant spark.”

“You drive a hard bargain. Please fuel your Jeep from the cans that you have with you, as you said, then replenish the fuel that you need. I see that you have three five-gallon cans with you. As a separate agreement, would you sell me one of those empty jugs for thirty-five dollars? That’s four gallons of fuel in trade for an empty jug. You see, I have thousands of gallons of fuel, but no way to get to it right now and precious few jugs to sell it in. Although, after seeing your pump, I intend to have one of my guys start building one right away if we’re able to do so.”

“Four gallons of fuel for an empty gas can?” Megan asked out loud to be sure that she understood, and Ganesh nodded his head in agreement. “Yes, we can agree on that.”

Both Megan and Joshua shook hands with Ganesh. “Nice negotiating, there!” Joshua said as they walked away from Ganesh to the Jeep.

Joshua posted himself with his .270 rifle behind a small berm on the back edge of the parking lot. He had heard a lot of activity coming from the general direction of the McDonald’s and Bob Evans across the street, and he wanted to identify threats before they became too proximal. Two of the men posted close to the road were turning away people regularly now, but Joshua wondered for how long people would take a polite “no” for an answer. With this many people stranded, someone was bound to get stupid. Having seen the whole transaction between his boss and Megan, one of the men employed by the gas station came over to Joshua.

Joshua knew that he would be coming to ask him what he was doing, so in the interest of brevity Joshua said, “I’m just here for overwatch while they fuel up the Jeep. We should be gone soon.”

The man was in his midtwenties, with a short-cropped haircut and a good physique. He said, “Going where, exactly? Since you have Maryland plates I take it that you’re not from here and that you probably haven’t heard why the interstate is closed?”

Joshua had been moving from crisis to crisis since they exited the interstate, negotiated for fuel, and got themselves generally sorted out. He had uncharacteristically not thought of the next step from here. “You are correct, sir.” Joshua remembered his manners and extended his right hand, “My name is Joshua Kim and I’m in need of information, please. We’re headed west to Kentucky, if at all possible.”

“Derrick Klaus. Nice to meet you, though I wish it were under better circumstances.”

Joshua did not want to lose tactical awareness, so he posted himself with a 120-degree difference in field of view so that between the two of them they could at least keep an eye on the developing situation. “All of this chaos is nationwide, but the biggest news here in Charleston is the prison break last night,” Klaus explained.

“Whoa, that’s a big variable. How far from here?”

“It was the Mount Olive Correctional Complex, West Virginia’s only maximum-security prison. It is less than forty miles from Charleston heading south and east as the crow flies. Although the prison houses less than a thousand inmates, they’re the worst of the worst. The whole thing was clearly planned and likely an inside job. I would love to tell you that those thugs were on foot, but a group of them stole three buses, killed a bunch of guards, and likely had an arms cache supplied to them as well. All of that was reported across the ham network, not the news channels, mind you. They were not intent on raping and pillaging the common folk yet; instead they made a beeline for the state capitol building. By the time the authorities knew what was going on, they had two hundred violent criminals descending upon Charleston. The governor and the legislature fled and there simply weren’t enough good guys with guns to quell the rebellion. Geography is your biggest obstacle right now, Joshua. The interstate freeways are blocked, and you’re unfortunately on the wrong side of Charleston to be trying to flee westward.”

“How long until your situation here becomes untenable?” Joshua asked.

Derrick never lost his cool; Joshua guessed he had some kind of military experience keeping him focused through all of this as he continued to scan his sector. “I think that we’ll have a full-blown riot situation here in about ninety minutes or less, and I’m not expecting that there are any cops left to dispatch to this place.”