Chapter 31: Reaching the Gas Station
Hanks forcibly suppressed the waves of burning heat and fatigue radiating from deep within his body.
The exhaustion after high-intensity exertion crashed against his nerves like a relentless tide.
But the sharpness in his eyes hadn't diminished one bit.
"Move! To the gas station!"
His voice was hoarse but carried undeniable resolve as he hauled the still-slumped Glenn to his feet.
"Ugh... officer... let me rest one more minute..." Glenn felt like his legs were filled with lead.
"Want to rest? Stay here and wait for walkers or those guys' buddies to come chat with you." Hanks's words were cold and realistic.
Glenn jolted upright, immediately struggling to stand. "Go! Right now!"
The two shouldered their heavy backpacks again. Glenn still had to drag the other storage bin with effort.
They carefully slipped out the back door of their hiding spot, blending once more into the street's shadows.
On the route to the gas station, scattered walkers seemed more numerous than before, clearly drawn by the gunfire and commotion from the supermarket direction.
Hanks used stealth to avoid them when possible.
When avoidance was impossible, he used the already-bent cross-head screwdriver for silent kills.
Glenn tried to dodge them, conserving strength and keeping their supplies uncontaminated.
Before long, the Quick Stop gas station sign appeared at the edge of their vision. The station looked run-down.
Several abandoned cars sat crooked by the pumps. The convenience store's doors and windows were shattered, the interior a complete wreck.
Hanks signaled. They stopped at a shop entrance across from the gas station, observing carefully.
"Glenn, those empty drums you mentioned—where would they usually be?" he asked quietly, his gaze sweeping every corner of the station like a hawk.
"Should be... in the back! Employee break area or a little shed by the warehouse!"
"I delivered to lots of gas stations before. That's how they stored them!" Glenn worked hard to remember.
"Good. I'll go to the back lot for drums and the siphon pump. You watch from here." Hanks patted his shoulder.
The little angel was pretty reliable. Would be even better if he could stay away from that baseball bat.
"Got it. Be careful, officer!" Glenn adjusted his baseball cap and nodded firmly.
Hanks left his heavy backpack where it was, then silently crossed the street and quickly approached the gas station's back lot.
The back lot was enclosed by chain-link fencing, but the gate lock had long been destroyed. Dried blood and flesh still hung on it.
He slipped inside sideways, immediately hit by a stronger smell of gasoline mixed with garbage.
He quickly spotted his target in a corner—several relatively intact 20-liter portable fuel drums.
Two were even full of gasoline. Nearby sat a manual siphon pump and a length of rubber hose.
"Beautiful!" Hanks's tension eased slightly. He immediately grabbed two drums, preparing to make a first trip back.
Just then, a slight impact sound came from the convenience store's shattered back door, like something had been knocked over.
Hanks stopped instantly, lowering his body until he was fully crouched.
He slowly set down the drums in his hands. His right hand silently drew the P226 pistol. His left hand gripped the already-deformed cross-head screwdriver in a reverse hold.
Hisss...
Low growls drifted faintly from deep inside the doorway. And it sounded like more than one.
Hanks held his breath, using the junk piled in the back lot and an abandoned fuel delivery cart as cover, cautiously approaching the convenience store's back entrance.
He pressed against the wall, slowly peering inside.
The convenience store interior was dimly lit. Shelves lay toppled. Merchandise scattered across the floor mixed with dried blood and some indescribable filth.
Four or five walkers wandered aimlessly around the shelving. They wore convenience store uniforms or ordinary customer clothing.
Deeper inside by the refrigerated cases, more shadowy figures seemed to be moving.
"Damn it..." Hanks cursed internally.
Not that he feared this small walker nest, but he was worried about attracting more and more walkers. Playing with guns at a gas station wasn't exactly a smart choice.
But the underground storage tank's service hatch and extraction point were usually located near the pump island in the front lot.
If he didn't figure out a way to draw off or deal with these walkers, he'd likely end up caught in a pincer attack.
After brief consideration, Hanks made his decision.
He silently retreated to the back lot. His gaze swept quickly, landing on an empty metal fuel drum in the corner.
He took a deep breath, raised his foot, and kicked that empty drum hard toward the distant street in the front lot's direction.
CLANG CLANG CLANG!
The empty drum tumbled, producing an extremely harsh, loud noise, bouncing off several abandoned cars before finally clanging to a stop in the middle of the street.
This tremendous sound was like a boulder thrown into a calm lake. The walkers inside the convenience store were instantly attracted. Their growls became agitated and urgent.
They all turned, shoving toward the front entrance and the source of the loud noise.
Hanks pressed tight against the wall, listening to the footsteps recede inside before moving again.
He quickly grabbed two fuel drums and silently retreated to the shop across the street.
"Officer, how'd it go?" Glenn nervously approached, baseball bat clutched tight.
"Got two drums, but the convenience store's a walker nest. Drew them to the front."
Hanks's breathing was slightly labored. "Time's limited. Wait for my signal, then call Kenny over."
He looked at Glenn. "You stay here. Guard all the supplies and these two drums."
"Officer, should I come with you? I could help?" Glenn saw his exhausted eyes and gathered courage to suggest it.
"Can you work this manual pump? Know how to siphon fuel up from an underground tank?" Hanks pointed at the siphon pump on the ground.
Glenn honestly shook his head.
"Then stay here!" Hanks's breathing was already irregular, unable to maintain a steady state.
His tone unconsciously intensified. "I'm fine. Your only job is watching the supplies. Clear?"
"Clear!" Glenn nodded heavily, feeling the weight of his responsibility.
Hanks said no more. He took a deep breath and slipped back to the rear lot.
He grabbed the siphon pump, rubber hose, and several more empty drums, heading straight for the front lot.
Several walkers in the front lot surrounded the still-rolling empty drum, clawing and howling uselessly. More walkers wandered aimlessly nearby.
Using the pump island and abandoned vehicles for cover, plus his earlier experience, Hanks quickly located the underground storage tank's service hatch on the ground surface.
It was a round iron cover with a small hole in the center. He inserted the screwdriver into the gap and pried hard.
CLANG! The iron cover popped open. The thick, pungent smell of gasoline instantly poured out.
He quickly inserted one end of the rubber hose through the small hole deep into the tank, connecting the other end to the manual pump's inlet, positioning the pump's outlet over the first empty drum.
Then he began pumping the handle with force.