Beth stood beside the distiller—the machine with metal tubes and a vessel at its top, where they processed the gasoline. A good part of the smelly liquid now formed a puddle on the ground as a result of her opening the hose and letting it spill out.
The small lighter felt heavy in her hands.
What she needed was something to keep the Bikers busy while she'd free Burt. And what better distraction was there but a small fire consuming their precious fuel? They'd be focused on putting it out.
That might give her a chance to untie her companion, even though he didn't deserve it.
The Bikers still stood around Burt, debating in voices too low for Beth to understand.
How quickly would the gasoline burn? She had seen burning cars in tech age vids. Exploding cars, too. Her grandpa had said that was nonsense. Gasoline burned, it didn't explode.
How would he know that?
She squatted and held the lighter close to the edge of the puddle of gasoline. The little wheel at its top was hard against her sweaty thumb.
Tensing her legs, she was ready to run.
When she tried to roll the wheel, her finger slipped.
Beth's hand shook as she wiped it on her skirt.
"Hey, there she is! The girl!"
Almost dropping the lighter, she looked up. The people across the square stared in her direction.
This time, the wheel turned.
A few sparks hit a tuft of grass. A small flame sprung up, quickly, as if fueled by more than just the blades. The flame wasn't feeding on the puddle itself, but some of the gasoline must have wetted them.
She rose to face the advancing Bikers.
Would they see the flame? Probably not, it was hidden behind the distiller.
Anyway, it wasn't much of a fire.
"Come here," Jethro said. "We won't harm you." Trailed by his people, he approached in measured steps, his palms facing her in a gesture of peace.
Should she run?
There was nothing but the cesspit behind her—and beyond it, a wall.
Jethro, now less than a dozen strides away, walked faster—the smile on his face reminiscent of a snake assessing a mouse.
She took two more steps back.
Jethro shook his head. "Don't run. You're safe here."
The fire she had kindled was gaining height, casting its light against the backside of the distiller and the walls of the tanks at both sides.
Would they see it now?
"Beth, we won't hurt you," Whitesnake said. She was pushing her way through the group as she talked.
Beth wanted to believe her.
"But if you run, we'll beat you up." Jethro was grinning now. "I'll do it with—"
Whitesnake smacked the back of his head. "Idiot."
Jethro stopped. "Hey!" He turned to face her. The other members of their group stared at the two of them. "Don't forget who's the boss here." He turned his back on her and advanced once more.
Whitesnake stayed behind—hands akimbo and with a frown on her face.
The fire made a puffing sound and sprung up, taller than a man. It ran along the hose, consuming it as it reached the tank at the top of the distiller.
Then, a flash of light blinded Beth. She stumbled backward. A fist of air and heat struck her, and she fell.
Instead of hitting the ground, though, she landed in the cesspit. Its rank fluid closed in over her before she could hold her breath.
Thicker than water, the stuff defied her attempts at swimming, pulling her down.
Her ears were ringing, and blackness surrounded her. She couldn't tell if her eyes were open, nor what was up or down.
She thrashed out, and her elbow struck something solid, a hard obstacle below her. Yearning for air, she brought her feet down and pushed. The liquid let her pass, unwillingly, and she breached its surface.
She gasped and was rewarded by a breath of heated air. Light pierced her closed lids. She wiped her face and opened her eyes.
The distiller was on fire, flames and oily smoke engulfing its tubes and spilling from the burst vessel at its top, hungrily licking the sides of the two large tanks. Any noise it made was drowned in the buzzing of her ears.
She pulled herself from the pit, blessing the muck on her skin for protecting her from the heat.
As she moved along one of the tanks, the temperature dropped, and breathing became easier.
A man's screaming seeped through the beep in her hearing. She didn't see him.
He may have been screaming all the time. She wasn't sure.
Step by step, she rounded the tank next to her and approached the square. It was deserted, at least the part she saw.
But she didn't see the section where the gang had stood—it was to the right of her, still hidden. Keeping a hand on the wall beside her, she walked on.
A low, metallic groan came from the depot.
Burt was still bound to the post on the other side of the square. He stood alone, staring at the flames.
Peering along the wall of the tank, she finally got sight of the gang members.
The screamer was on his knees, clothes smoking. He held his hands to his face. The others were down. A few moved. Others lay still.
Taken down by the exploding distiller.
Beth ran. She crossed the square, heading towards Burt.
As he saw her coming, his face lit up. "Beth!"
She moved behind him without a reply. A thick rope bound his wrists. Cursing her slippery fingers, she fought the knot.
"Jeremiah!" A woman wearing a sheer nightgown stood in a doorframe of the long building.
Beth tensed, but the newcomer ignored her and ran towards the figures the explosion had felled.
Ignoring the man's screams the best she could, Beth managed to untie the rope and pull it away.
"Thanks." Burt rubbed his wrists.
"Move." Not caring if he followed, she ran for the exit.
As she reached it, she found the bar still in place, locking the door from this side. Last night, she hadn't dared move it for the noise it made. Now, it didn't matter anymore. She pushed it sideways. It slid by an inch and stopped, refusing to budge further.
She looked back, wondering where Burt was. He came running from the direction of the tanks, the direction of the people she had killed.
He held up the gun. "That's ours."
"It's out of ammo." She motioned him to help her open the door. "It's useless."
"Few know it. And most of them are dead now."
"Whatever." Beth tugged at the bar once more. "Help me with this lock."
Together they pushed and pulled.
"It won't move." Beth looked back at the fire. Two women were dragging a body towards the buildings.
One of them had long, black hair on one side of her ebony head—Whitesnake. She looked in Burt's and Beth's direction.
"We'd better get away from here," Beth said.
YOU ARE READING
When We Shed Civilization
Science Fiction[Wattpad Editors' Choice] In a dystopian future, Beth is to marry a man she has just met. And Leo seeks revenge for his wife's murder. They start off as enemies. ---- Decades after humanity's downfall, the last remnants of civilization hide in gated...
