The Day the World Changed

9:10 am

"Are you going straight home?" I ask Max, as we maneuver through the horde of students headed towards the main doors.

"Nope."

"What are you going to do?"

"Not sure, but I'm filling up with gas first, and you should do the same."

His response mystifies me.

"Why?"

"'Cause gasoline is going to get scarce around here. You can quote me when it happens."

He wheels ahead of me and out the door. I have to run to keep up with him on the sidewalk. The speed he's travelling makes me nervous that he'll run someone down, but he dodges like a Nascar driver around a trio of Grade Nine girls.

"Why do you think they want us to go home?" I ask when I finally catch up to him in the parking lot. "And who is they anyway?"

Max unlocks his car door with a key. It's too old for a fob. "If I were you, I'd start thinking about what your dad's up to right about now,"

His words erase my next thought, whatever it was. Dad is a customs officer at the Noonan crossing, a few kilometres south of the city. He moved into an apartment when he and Mom split up six months ago.

"Have you heard from him this morning?" Max asks.

"No." I pull out my phone and fire off a text to Dad.

Crazy morning, huh?

Max climbs in his vehicle, and I help him with the wheelchair then straddle my bike.

"Where are we going for gas?"

"The station on the bypass," he says."Shouldn't be so busy."

When we drive past the Co-op station on Kensington, there's already a line-up. A man opens his trunk and pulls out two jerry cans. How did Max know this would happen?

We take a left onto the highway that heads east of the city. We meet a convoy of army trucks, a strange sight in Estevan, since there's no Canadian base nearby. What in the hell is happening?

I feel a vibration in the region of my chest, where I tucked my phone in my leather jacket. Dad must have responded. That's good news.

Semis are lined up at the entrance to the station on the bypass. Max's Grand Am disappears behind them. I have no trouble wheeling the Low Rider between two semis. I hit the kill switch and look for an available bowser, but there are halftons everywhere.

"Right here, Little Lady," a male voice says.

A tall man with a grey handlebar moustache holds a nozzle towards me.

"Thanks." I fire up the bike and pull in front of his halfton. When I reach for my wallet, he holds up a hand. "Fill up on my company credit card. Won't be more than a few bucks."

"I appreciate it, but I can give you some cash when I'm done," I tell him.

"Don't worry about it. Everybody's got the same notion," he says to me while I screw off the gas cap. "Fill up while you've got a chance."

"Did you see the army trucks?" I ask him, peering around for Max. Will he be able to manage on his own? I don't see an attendant anywhere.

"Sure did," he says.

"What do you think that means?"

"I think we're screwed, Little Lady." He climbs back into his truck, throws it in reverse, and pulls around me.