Meagan's plan was to stop, gas up, grab some food, and then hit the road. She pulled into the Union 76. It was a big stop, well-lit, with plenty of truckers around. She eyed the diner longingly. It was mostly empty but the rusted sign said Breakfast 24 hours a Day! She could really use the coffee. She had been thinking about a motel, but had decided it was too dangerous. She might have lost them, again she might not have. If she pulled up into some of the side roads that let up into the dry grassy hills that loomed darkly in the distance, there was better chance she would live to wake up and come up with a better plan later.

"Cash or charge?" The annoyed clerk asked the question for the second time. Meagan blinked in the glare of the yellow-green cast of the fluorescent. She opened her purse. Not much there but she didn't dare use her credit cards or A.T.M.

She took out a twenty and paid for the gas, along with a box of processed donuts and milk. It was a poor dinner, but given that it was the only dinner, lunch, and breakfast she'd had that day, she thought it would taste fine.

While she was getting her change, she looked to left side and saw that a man was staring at her. He was scrubby looking, wearing a stained and worn fatigue jacket. That and the fact that she didn't like the look of him was all she really noticed. He had that sort of predatory look that most women fear to run into at 2 a.m. in the morning. She grabbed her change and quickly whipped around him, looking down to avoid his eyes.

"Hey," he called back. She picked up the pace, ignoring him. "You forgot your food."

This nearly made her cry. She glanced back. The surly clerk was glaring at her, as if her coming into the store had ruined his miserable life. The man was just staring. He didn't look like someone who was part of her immediate problem. But then, how could one tell? He had long brown hair, and was badly in need of a shave. Meagan didn't like the looks of him one bit.

But she was hungry. So, she stepped back, and grabbed her donuts with a quick snap of her arm and walked out.

"Your milk."

But she ignored him. It was enough to get out. The air outside stank of spilled oil and gas fumes. There was ground fog everywhere, soaking up the lights so much that they seemed to bleed into the fog and then dissipate without much effect. Her car was wet and her hand slipped on the nozzle as she started to pump in her ten dollars worth. She tore open the donut box with a dirty wet hand and started to eat a donut, stuffing it in her face whole. It was dry and she wish she hadn't forgotten her milk. She eyed the store but didn't want to go in while that man was there. She kept a close lookout in case he, or anyone else, came up to her.

The strange man stepped into view off to her right. To say he frightened her was stating it mildly, appearing as he did out of nowhere. He popped her milk down on the hood and she spat out a donut.

"How the fuck!" she choked.

He nodded to the milk. "Something wrong? You seem in an awful hurry."

She shook her head, but didn't take the milk. She reached into her purse, put her hand on the nickel-plated gun. Without bullets, it wouldn't do much good, but he didn't know that. But then, was it worth the chance? What if he called her bluff? The man's eyes followed her hand to her purse. Thinking better of it, he didn't look the type after all, she reached in, grabbed a couple bills and change floating at the bottom, and handed it to him, realizing he was probably after a handout.

"It's all I have," she told him. Then for some reason, she added, "I'm sorry." She regretted having said it. She thought it made her sound weak.

"I don't need money," he told her. "I could use a ride, though. Where are you going?"

"I, uh, I can't," was all she said. He looked like he didn't believe her. "I live nearby and my husband is expecting me."

The man stepped back and examined her Nevada plates. He leaned forward to whisper to her but she backed off, holding her gun tight. The fear in her eyes made him stop. He stared at her, then at the purse. She wasn't sure if he guessed she was holding a gun, or if he was thinking of robbing her. She looked back toward the diner. Just her luck that most of the truckers were pulling out.

Just then a van pulled into the station. Four men disgorged out of it. Meagan's heart dropped. They were carrying machine pistols and shotguns, and they scanned around, not seeing well in the thick fog either. They saw Meagan's car and pointed. The ratty man, seeing the look in Meagan's eyes, whirled around. He ducked and seeing that Meagan was remaining standing like a frozen mannequin, he kicked her feet out from under her just as a round of bullets whipped through her windshield, making a neat line of holes before the whole thing shattered.

Meagan rolled and looked around. The man crawled past her on all fours, heading for some derelict cars parked on the side lot waiting for scrap. Not having a plan, she decided to crawl after him, trying to ignore the rocks and gravel cutting into her knees. He rolled into a hollow. So did she. He peeked up. So did she. The clerk peeked out to see what was going on, but then quickly ducked back in. Just not fast enough. A quick blast from a shotgun took most of his head off and he went down into a bloody mess. People in the diner started screaming and one of the men with the machine pistol blew out their windows to shut them up. A trucker popped out with a pistol and started firing back, but only got a lacing of bullets in his gut for the effort.

Meagan turned to crawl away, maybe run out into the darkness, hoping to get lost in the fog. But the moon was mostly full, and Meagan thought she'd probably glow, absolutely glow in the dark in her green summer dress. Better to keep put from now. She thought about the ratty homeless guy. He'd obviously had shitty luck of late, and it wasn't getting better as he was now mixed up in her mess. This man, ignoring her, took something out of his jacket. He yanked on it and Meagan saw he was holding a iridescent pearl coloured hand grenade with a gold pin, surprise, surprise. Just when a trio of the men with from the van were approaching, he tossed it and ducked. She did the same. It exploded in a light so brilliant, Meagan saw it through her eyelids. She saw it even though she had her face covered and was staring at the ground. She heard terrible screaming, not something like she'd ever heard, though she'd heard her share of screaming. It was more like a sound an animal maybe, but no animal she knew, might make. But it wasn't really animal either and hearing it made her spine feel like it was melting. She realized then she'd messed her panties and dress.

Feeling too scared to be embarrassed, she glanced up. The grenade had blown the skin right off the men. They could be seen as distinct bloody messes. This made her start to wretch. They were smoking in the light as if giving off vapors. Then they started to move, snarling, making the same sounds they'd made before. They couldn't possibly be, but they were alive.

Glancing at her unexpected savior, she noted that he'd charged forward and grabbed one of their guns. When the bloody man that should have been dead tried to grab him, he kicked it, so hard in fact that he man's head caved in. But that didn't stop him from moving. Meagan wretched. There were gun shots from the store. She figured the homeless guy was getting iced by Pestanado's goon. But the gunfire continued for some time. Rambo, or whoever he was, was putting up a great fight from the sounds of it.

Meagan started to get that ice water chill down her back, which told the part of her that hadn't shut down that she was about to get a panic attack.

"Don't freeze up, don't freeze up," she kept mumbling to herself.

Taking advantage of the gun battle, she started to crawl back to her car, hoping it was in decent enough shape to survive. The burned bodies of the hitmen were rolling around. She tried not to look but had to when one snarled and snatched out at her. She couldn't help but look as she avoided his grasp. His yellow eyes were staring at her. They were slitted, like a snake's and she noticed that his hand appeared scaly also. Those eyes, they were probably some wild contacts. Hit men were a bunch of nuts these days. Not like the pros of old school. Still, those eyes...

"Don't look at it!" The homeless guy had come back and yanked her clear. She gave a start. It was hard to tear herself away from those eyes. Then she saw the forked tongue dart out. Freak! He was into body piercings too. Pestanado was really scrapping the bottom with these shits, she thought.

The guy pulled her around the side of the store and pulled her into a gremlin. It was orange and stank of fast food, probably from all the wrappers and cartons thrown into the back.

"Can you drive this?" he asked her, handing her the keys.

He didn't need to ask twice. She hopped in the driver's seat. But before the ratty homeless guy could get in, she locked the door on his side.

"Sorry," she yelled. She felt bad for about two seconds as she hit the gas and spun out back, going from reverse to drive and then screaming out of the gas station. She tore down the empty road as fast as the gremlin could go, which wasn't fast. She was doing maybe 65 tops. Still, she was away. She'd head for 205, maybe ditch the car in Tracy and then figure out what to do. On second thought, maybe get at least as far as Oakland and then...

The car bounced down as something heavy thudded onto the roof. She nearly lost control.

"AAAAAGHAAH!" she shrieked when a face appeared upside down in front of her. It was that homeless freak. Somehow, he'd managed to jump on the hood. He must've been riding up there for miles. Having a guy hanging on your hood was a guaranteed flag for cops and concerned motorists. She had half a thought to shake him, but he had saved her life. She reluctantly pulled over.

He jumped down nice as anyone could please. Her jaw dropped. In each hand, he was holding her milk and donuts.

And before you ask, no, that wasn't the Holy Hand-grende of Antioch ;-)

story by Solanio