I looked down at my simple black t-shirt and confirmed I wasn’t wearing my nametag.
So how the hell did he know what my name was?
Maybe I was looking too deep into things…Or maybe I wasn’t looking deep enough. It was possible he had come in before, and I just didn’t remember. Either way, the vibe turned creepy.
I tried my best to shrug off the whole ordeal, proceeding to lock the front door, flipping the open sign to closed.
After that, I rushed through the checklist, keeping an eye on the weather as I marked off each task.
By the time everything was done, it was almost eleven-forty. The last thing I needed to do was take the trash out.
I pulled on my winter jacket and grabbed my satchel before doing so, double-checking the locks and doing one last sweep.
I didn’t have the keys, so once I went out, I wouldn’t be able to get back in.
I exited from the rear, carrying small trash bags in each hand. The snow had yet to cease falling, and covered my boots immediately.
I forged through the back lot to the dumpster, sniffling as I went. When the hairs on the back of my neck began to rise, I stopped and scanned the parking lot.
No one was around, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched, my mind flashing right back to the man with silver eyes.
Looking towards my car, I frowned. The rear tire on the passenger side looked flat.
“Perfect,” I huffed.
I’d had to refill it every few days, too lazy to take it to a shop and figure out why it was losing pressure.
In this cold weather, I should’ve been keeping a closer eye on it.
Metric didn’t have an air pump, but it wasn’t the end of the world. I’d just switch it with my spare.
The windshield was covered, more than likely iced over by now. That was going to take me an additional few minutes to handle.
Annoyed by my how this night was turning out, I trudged onward, shifting the bags of trash into one hand so I could lift the lid of the dumpster with my other.
I tossed them up and over, into the large metal bin, let the top slam shut, and then plodded to my car.
Thankfully, my door opened without me having to struggle with it. I started the engine and turned both defrosters to the max before popping my trunk so I could grab what I needed.
I cursed, finding that the jack wasn’t where it should have been. I’d never used the damn thing, so where was it?
I groaned in frustration and slammed the trunk shut. I guess I would be waiting on Triple-A. I wasn’t going to drag my parents out of the house for a flat at practically midnight.
This was adulting, right?
Half-way back to the driver side door, I heard what sounded like the snapping of a branch. I stopped. My eyes swept over the parking lot, pausing on the cluster of trees that extended behind the gas station.
Could someone be in there?
“Jesus,” I muttered after a minute, laughing at myself. Clearly, I watched way too many horror movies.
I got in the car and turned the heat to high after retrieving my phone from my bag.
I dialed Triple-A and sat on the line, getting an estimated arrival time of forty minutes from an operator.
Once we disconnected, I tapped out a quick text to my mom, telling her I would be there soon. Even at twenty-two, she made sure I checked in every night before my drive home.
I fiddled with the radio and settled on a late night talk show to fill the silence. Then, I leaned my seat back and got comfortable.
I woke from the sound of an approaching vehicle.
A quick glance at the dash told me only fifteen minutes or so had passed since I’d spoken with the operator.
I flicked my wipers on to clear the snow from my windshield, hoping I’d got lucky and a driver was miraculously in the area.
My stomach dropped when I saw the large black truck from earlier. It pulled all the way around to the back lot, parking in the spot Bill always used.
Its lights were off, and because of the dark window tint, I was unable to see anything.
The driver side door began to open, and I reached for my phone again, preparing to call the law.
I wasn’t going to wait around and see what he wanted. I was fucking terrified.
This man should have been long gone. He had no reason whatsoever to be back here. I dreaded to find out why he was; the mere thought of doing so made it difficult to breathe.
A gloved fist appeared in my peripheral, connecting with my window.
“You need some help?” he asked, peering in at me.
“I have Triple-A on the way. They’ll be here any minute,” I lied. “Thank you, though,” I added when he didn’t say anything.