Page 84 of So Thirsty

“No. No! I’m not…”

“Not what?” Naomi asks. “Not bad like me?”

The door to the convenience store opens. Ilie and Elisa walk around the far side of the lot to avoid the gasoline.

“Are we almost done?” Tatiana asks, exasperated.

“In a rush?” Elisa says, stroking Tatiana’s hair as she passes her by. She crosses the street, coming to us. She opens the gas tank on the hatchback.

“Bring your trunks, loves,” Ilie says, getting into the van.

I shake my head. “No…”

Elisa helps Naomi off the ground, kisses her on the mouth, and then goes to the pickup truck. Climbs in. Pops open the gas hatch. Unscrews the cap. She rips some fabric from the hem of her dress and stuffs it into the tank.

“Don’t worry,” Elisa says, swiping my neck with a cold, soft hand. “We’ll take care of you.”

Elisa and Naomi get our suitcases, pull them toward the van.

I look down at the truck driver. He’s still breathing. They’ll burn him alive.

“Stop!” I say, my voice infuriatingly weak. “What are you doing? What have you done?”

“What have you done?” Tatiana says. She clicks her tongue. “I knew you two would cause problems.”

She carries on muttering in French as she gets into the van. Elisa puts our suitcases in the back, then climbs into the passenger seat.

“Come on,” Naomi says, reaching toward me. “We should go.”

This is her getting what she wants. She’s wanted to be back with them ever since we left. Ever since she met Ilie. She’s under their influence. Their guilt-free, free-love, “take what you like; leave what you don’t” lifestyle. They don’t care about consequence. They don’t have remorse. And neither does she.

But I do.

“No,” I say. “I won’t do it.”

The distant sirens quickly change my mind, my fear leveling the moral high ground I like to believe I have. That I need to believe I have, to hold on to whatever’s left of my humanity. The smell of gasoline is so strong now that I can barely think straight.

I walk toward the van. Naomi’s already in the back, where there are two rows of seats and a pile of suitcases and duffel bags and a giant cooler.

“We should hurry,” Ilie says. “We will need to go fast.”

“Sloane,” Naomi says, curling up next to Tatiana in the back seat. “Get in.”

The sirens are loud. Getting closer.

And there’s a flickering in my peripheral vision. I turn toward the convenience store, and through the windows I can see the fire burning inside.

“Okay, fine!” I say, jumping into the van. I go to the middle row, because it’s empty.

“Leave the door open for Henry,” Elisa says.

Ilie slaps the side of the van. He calls out to Henry in a language I don’t understand. Henry nods, letting the gas pump drop. When he gets to the van, he lights his cigarette, takes a drag, then flicks it, at the exact moment the convenience store windows burst.

Everything goes up. Flames come hurtling toward us. Henry closes the door, and Ilie puts the van in reverse. The road is blocked by a fallen power line, and there’s a queue of cars on the other side of it. Ilie pulls a U-turn and drives onto the curb, past the car wreck right as it catches fire, then cuts across an empty lot.

“Just relax,” Ilie says as he picks up speed. I close my eyes so I can’t see the explosion, but I can hear it. I’ll be hearing it forever, ringing in my ears, echoing in my fucking soul.

“All done,” Elisa says, clapping twice. She turns around and looks at me. “Behind us. Literally and figuratively.”