Son of Tesla

SON OF TESLA: Chapter 18

PETAR WHIRLED IN A full three-sixty in the middle of the loading bay, making sure Jem hadn't hidden close to the door just to sprint back through the store and take off with Petar's car. Well, technically it was Jem's car, Petar reasoned, but that didn't change the fact that if he took it back, all would be lost.

How could he have been so stupid? The earlier doubts were flooding back, slamming into him with the force of a tsunami. Of course he shouldn't have trusted him on his own.

He heard police sirens in the distance. The air was warming. A breeze blew over Petar's face, bringing with it the scent of motor oil and gasoline.

After taking precious seconds to scan the loading bay one more time, Petar sprinted straight out through the large opening formed by the two concrete walls that hemmed in the bay. Beyond was a trash-strewn grass causeway. To the left, a small picnic area for weary roadside customers. To the right, a grassy slope down to the highway. There was a family eating an early pit-stop breakfast at one of the tables in the picnic area. Petar ran towards them, shouting as he went.

"Hey! Excuse me! Did you see a teenager come through here?"

The family looked up, startled. The wife shook her head, a sandwich still hanging in front of her where she'd been about to take a bite. Like a mirror image, the husband did the same. A small boy, maybe four years old, bounced in his seat and pointed over towards the truck stop parking lot. Petar followed his finger and saw Jem's back, sprinting along the wall of the convenience store toward the Escape.

Petar was off, the world tumbling through his head. Jem must have waited behind the concrete wall at the edge of the loading bay. With three leaping strides, Petar was past the wall's edge. Jem was now halfway between him and the car, moving fast. Another three strides and Petar's feet struck asphalt. Jem was lunging toward the passenger door. Petar closed the gap, ignoring the pain screaming through his leg.

Jem's hand on the door handle.

Petar fifteen feet behind.

The door swung open.

Seven feet.

Tucking his knees, Jem hopped into the car sideways.

Petar stretched out his hands to the open door. Swinging shut.

Slam.

Fingers crushed painfully against glass.

Click.

With an electronic whir, the automatic locks engaged, locking Petar out.

"Let me in!" he roared.

Jem shook his head, breathing hard. Petar pounded his fist on the glass. Jem slid across the console into the driver's seat. With horror, Petar noticed the keys still dangling in the ignition. Petar darted around the hood to the driver's side window just as the Escape's engine revved to life.

Petar was dimly aware that several motorists had left their pumps and were gathering around to see what was causing the commotion. In the convenience store, the short cashier poked her head through the front door. Daisy Dukes craned her neck from behind her. The picnicking family had wandered to the edge of the parking lot, sandwiches still in hand.

The beefy trucker with the red beard who had been in the bathroom hopped out of his rig and strode toward the SUV. He moved like a mountain. The running semi rumbled like an avalanche behind him.

"Eya, buddy! What's the problem here?" he shouted. It didn't come out kindly.

Petar slammed a fist into the window again. The wail of police sirens was getting closer.