“What?”
But the sputtering noise from the car answers, and Esben pulls off to the side of the road. We’re out of gas. He hits the steering wheel hard three times. “I cannot believe I did this.”
“We left so fast...,” I offer. “None of us thought to check.”
We all sit, unmoving and unspeaking, for a few minutes, and I know that we’re all thinking the same thing: we’re on a single-lane road, and there hasn’t been much traffic.
As Steffi would say, God save the queen; we’ve got a problem.
Jason is the first to talk. “AAA will take too long. Let’s see how far a gas station is from here. I’m a fast runner.”
“Nine miles,” Kerry says a minute later. “Near the airport.”
“Post this.” My fingers are nervously strumming against the windowsill. “Esben, post our location.”
“Allison, we’re kind of in the middle of nowhere. I don’t know if—”
“Post it,” I say more assertively.
“Okay, okay.” Esben takes his phone from Kerry.
“Do you have paper or something for a sign that says we need gas?” Kerry asks as she opens her door.
Esben pops the trunk. “I think there’s a cardboard box in the back. I don’t know about a pen, though.”
“Lipstick,” she answers. “I have five lipsticks in my purse.”
Kerry and Jason stand outside with their rudimentary sign, while Esben and I both stare at our phones. My stomach flies into knots every time a car passes, and after ten cars go by with no help, I start to shake my head. This isn’t going to work.
Suddenly, Esben lights up. “Boom!” He turns to me and smiles. “Someone is coming.” He hops out of the car, and I follow.
“Seriously?” I’m in disbelief. “Someone is bringing us gas?”
“Red pickup truck. A teenager and his dad. From that direction.” He points behind us.
My heart pounds while we wait. We’re cutting this really close, and I hope to God we can make it to the Bangor airport in time. Then, like a rescue beacon, a rusty red truck emerges from behind the slight hill of the road, and we all erupt in cheers. It flies toward us so fast that I’m afraid they’re not going to stop, but the driver whips in front of Esben’s car, revealing a teen boy in the truck bed, who triumphantly raises two plastic gas containers.
“Hey!” The boy’s face is flushed as he holds out one of the containers. “This enough for you?”
Esben takes one of the gas containers and then shakes the teen’s hand. “You must be Finn. Dude, you’re amazing. Yeah, this is more than enough to get us to a gas station. I’d love to talk, but...”
“Fill ’er up, kid!” the father calls from his driver’s seat.
Esben and Kerry begin to refuel us, and I go to shake Finn’s hand. To my surprise, he leans over the truck bed and hugs me. “I saw the tweet. I couldn’t believe we were nearby, and we’d literally just been getting gas for lawn equipment.” He’s holding me so tightly. “My mom died from cancer nine years ago. I hope you make it to your friend. I can’t imagine if I couldn’t have been with my mother.”
Now I squeeze him back. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I do.” I pat his back and pull away. “I’m going to thank your father, too.”
“Don’t,” he says seriously. “He’s having a hard time right now. It’s a reminder... just...” Finn tries to smile. “Just be with Steffi. That will make my dad happy.”
I nod and touch his arm. “I’m going to do everything I can.”
“Ready!” Jason calls. “Let’s go!”
We get back in the car. In front of us, the red truck beeps four long honks, and the father holds his muscular left arm out the window and pumps a fist at the air, wishing us luck. Then he blasts away, smoke and dust billowing behind him.
