by D. Gideon
“Who would let their dog go on church grounds and not clean it up?” Dotty said, stepping down and onto the sidewalk.
“About five different people, apparently,” Thomas said, pointing. “There’s a few more piles over there.”
They walked around the corner to the parking lot and Dotty stopped, stunned.
The church’s visitors had all gone, but they’d left plenty behind. Crumpled papers, grocery bags full of trash, used diapers, and piles of cigarette butts littered most of the parking spaces. Empty water bottles rolled back and forth with the breeze. There was a strong smell of urine, too, although Dotty couldn’t tell whether it was human or canine.
“I just can’t believe this,” Dotty said. “After what Bill did for them last night…I wonder if he knows about this?”
“He saw it when I pulled the truck over to the door and he helped me bring the coolers out,” Thomas said. “He said to just to leave it be; that the guys who pick up the trash do a sweep-through on all the church parking lots.”
“Well that’s nice of them.”
“It’s business, Grams. They add up the time and labor and write it off,” Thomas said.
“Oh,” Dotty said. “Well, still. This is just downright disrespectful.”
“Try to be nice to people,” Thomas said, kicking a brown paper lunch bag off of the sidewalk. It sailed past the truck and landed with a soft thud.
“Was that…” Dotty hurried over and lifted the bag, looking inside of it. “Thomas, this is one of the lunches we just packed. It hasn’t been touched.”
Thomas’ fists clenched and Dotty saw him work his jaw back and forth. He turned and opened the door of the Ranger so hard it squealed in protest. She walked over and put the bag on top of the overflowing trash can at the side of the parking lot. Thomas had the truck started by the time she climbed into the cab.
“These people don’t deserve to be helped. He should’ve let the Sheriff chase them all out last night,” Thomas said, his voice low. “If I were Pastor Bill, I’d be going down to Teddy’s this morning and buying a ’No Parking’ sign.”
“You know he won’t do that,” Dotty said. “He’ll turn the other cheek.”
“Yeah?” Thomas said, shifting the truck into reverse. “What happens when a man doesn’t have any cheeks left to turn?”
“Nothing good,” Dotty said softly. “Nothing good.”
CHAPTER 22
M onday, September 3rd
Snow Hill, Maryland
“At this rate, we’ll never get there,” Thomas grumped, fingers drumming on the steering wheel. “I should have gone out the back way from the parking lot and taken Federal over to Bay. Could’ve gotten out to the highway from there.”
“I didn’t see any traffic down at the light when we turned in at Bill’s house,” Dotty said, frowning.
“Guess it wasn’t backed up that far yet,” Thomas said.
Traffic was stopped again. They’d pulled out of the church parking lot onto Market Street, and had immediately found themselves in a backup. The line of cars in front of them stretched off into the distance as far as they could see. Thomas was stuck, since this part of the road was only one lane in their direction and had no shoulder, being bordered immediately by the tree lawn between the sidewalk and the street. He couldn’t back up and go back into the church’s lot, as there were now cars behind him.
Thomas flipped the air conditioner off and motioned at Dotty’s window. “Roll that down. No use wasting extra gas on the A/C if we’re mostly idling.”
Straight down the yellow line, someone had set up cones to keep people from trying to pass the backup and driving down the wrong side of the road. With “Do Not Cross” tape tied through holes in the top of each cone, they were also pretty effective at keeping anyone from turning around and escaping.
“What is that van doing?” Dotty asked, craning her neck forward to see.
Three cars ahead of them, a black minivan was edging itself back and forth, working its way as far as it could up onto the grass on the shoulder. Unfortunately, that was only a couple of feet, since there was a small, nearly dead tree in the way. The driver got out of the van, hit the button to open the side door, then reached in and pulled out a small gas can. He hit a button on his keyfob and the door slid shut. Glancing back at the line of cars extending behind him, he turned and walked towards Food Rite.
The van’s passenger door opened and a woman stood up, using the floorboard of the van to get her high enough to smack her hand on the windshield.
“Ray, you can’t just leave the van here like this!” She shouted. “No one will be able to get around us!”
He turned and raised the gas can. “What am I supposed to do? We’re on fumes! The line’s not moving anyway—I’ll get a gallon and then we’ll have enough to get up to the pumps. Just stay with the van and wait.”
The woman looked around nervously at the other cars, then disappeared back into the van.
“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me,” Thomas said with a groan.
The driver’s door of the car behind the van opened, and a man leaned out, his dark hair slicked back.
“Now who does this guy think he is?” Thomas said. “Al Pacino?”
“Hey bro, what the hell? You’re blocking the road!” The Pacino look-a-like yelled.
Ray shook the gas can at him. “Can’t help it man, I’m almost out of gas.”
“Join the club! Get back here and move the van!”
Ray gestured at the cars in front of him. “To where? The line hasn’t moved in ten minutes! I’ll be back before it gets going again.” He turned and started walking again.
Traffic coming from the other direction slowed to a crawl as drivers rubbernecked to watch the drama.
Pacino stepped out of his car and stood. “Maybe you didn’t hear me. Get-back-in-the-van!”
Ray looked back, saw the man standing now, and started jogging.
“Hey! Asshole!” Pacino shouted. Ray darted between cars and disappeared. Pacino slammed his door and stomped up to the driver’s door of the van. He smacked the window and made a motion for the woman inside to roll the window down. She must have refused, because he smacked it again and began pulling on the door handle.
“She must be terrified,” Dotty said.
Thomas opened the door. “I’ll handle him,” he said.
“No,” Dotty said, putting one hand on his. “He’s already angry. You walk up there, he’s liable to take it out on you. I’ll talk to him. You get those cones moved out some.”
“What if he starts taking it out on you?” Thomas said.
Dotty smiled. “Well then I suspect my big strong football-playing grandson will teach him some manners,” she said.
They got out of the truck and Thomas jogged to the cones just in front of the van. Using his pocket knife, he cut the tape strung between the cones.
Dotty approached Pacino. “Sir?” She said, trying to time her words between the beats of his hand slamming into the van’s window. “Excuse me, sir?”
His head snapped in her direction and for a moment, he looked confused. He glanced up behind her, scanning, and back down at her. When he spoke, he had a heavy Bronx accent.
“This ain’t my van,” he said quickly. “The guy driving it just got out and took off.”
“I saw,” Dotty said. “That’s my truck, right there.” She pointed to the Ranger.
Pacino looked back up at the Ranger, saw it empty, and seemed to relax. “The lady inside won’t roll down the window so I can get her to move it.”
Dotty moved closer. “I think you might be scarin’ her a bit,” she said. She pointed to his hand, still clenched around the door handle.
He looked down at his hand and let go as if the handle had shocked him.
“Yeah, I…sorry.” He tapped on the window and spoke up, holding his hands up as if in surrender. “Hey lady, sorry. I just lost my head. Sorry ‘bout that.” He took a step back from the van.
“It’s understandable,” Dotty said. Pacino grimaced and pushed both of his hands back through his hair.
“This whole thing’s just jacked, you know? I’ve gotta catch a flight to New York out of BWI at two o’clock. I ain’t got time for this,” Pacino said.
Dotty glanced towards Thomas. An older gentleman from the car behind Pacino’s had gotten out and was helping Thomas by standing in the opposite lane so the cars there would have to move onto their own shoulder to go around him, and waving his arms to indicate they should just keep moving. Thomas and the man were both slowly moving backwards, towards the Ranger, with Thomas cutting the police tape and sliding the cones out well into the other lane.
“We might be able to get around it in a minute,” she said, pointing. He looked over at Thomas and the older gentleman and his brows went up.
“Hey yeah, good thinking. I’m a-go help them. ’Scuse me lady.” He jogged off.
The side door to the van clicked and slid open, startling Dotty.
“Thank you,” the lady who had yelled at Ray earlier said. She slid off of the seat and onto the ground. “I thought he was going to try busting the window out.”
“Tempers are getting a little high,” Dotty said. She held out her hand. “You okay, sweetie?” The woman’s tanned skin was flushed and her face was wet.
“I am now that I can open the door without worrying about rageface over there jumping in,” the lady said, shaking Dotty’s hand. “It’s broiling in here. I’m Terry.”
Dotty nodded. “Dark van like that will heat up quick on a day like this. You can probably put the windows down now, I think Pacino there has calmed down.”
“Ray took the keys with him, the idiot,” Terry said. “Just hopped out and left, didn’t even tell me what he was doing. Just bam, bam, bam and he’s walking off. Can’t run the air conditioner, can’t put the windows down, nothing.” She cocked her head, catching what Dotty had said. “Pacino? Really, that’s his name?”
Dotty smiled and shook her head. “My grandson said that’s who he looked like.”
Terry watched the three men for a minute and grinned widely. “Oh my god. He does!”
“Kinda talks like him, too,” Dotty said. “He’s trying to get back to Noo Yawk.”
Terry laughed at Dotty’s imitation of the man and blew out a breath. “Hey, you want to sit down? I can climb through and open the other side door, get the air moving,” she said.
Dotty looked over her shoulder at the cone team and saw them gathering next to the Ranger, chatting. The traffic on the other side of the road had thinned out and cars were moving by almost normally, now that there was no visible drama going on.
“It looks like they’re talkin’ man talk now. I’ll just stand here for a minute and stretch my legs,” Dotty said. “But you should open that other door either way. You got water in there?”
Terry nodded and stepped into the van. “Yeah,” she said, and Dotty heard the click and slide of the other side door. Terry appeared back in the doorway and sat down on the floorboard, her legs hanging out. “We had to sleep parked outside of a church last night. A man came this morning and gave us a couple bottles of water.”
Dotty raised her eyebrows and pointed. Bill’s church was just behind them a bit. “That pretty little white church right there?”
Terry shook her head. “No, a big brick one with a huge stained glass window further down on the main street. Why?”
“The white one’s my church. There were a lot of people sleeping there last night, too. Really filled up the parking lot.”
“Oh. Ray didn’t want to get stuck in a parking lot; he wanted to be right on the main road so we could get up early and be first in line for gas.” She gestured at the line of cars. “We still ended up sleeping late, though. That guy knocking on the window to offer us water is what woke us up.” Terry cocked her head, thinking. “Maybe the water just was an excuse to wake us up so we’d get out from in front of his church.”
Dotty stepped closer to the van, into its shade. “I’ve never seen so many people from out-of-town sleeping in our parking lots before. We get a few up at McDonald’s, just getting off of the highway to rest a bit. But nothing like this.”
Terry nodded. “Cars were driving up and down the street all night long. It was hard to get to sleep with all the headlights coming into the van and the sound of the cars going by. It’s probably why we ended up sleeping late.”
They fell silent, watching the cars drive by. Dotty had hoped Terry would keep talking, and explain why she and Ray had come to Snow Hill for gas. She didn’t want to come right out and ask though; it would be too much like prying. The three men started laughing, and Dotty looked over to see them all shaking hands and patting shoulders. They split up, and Thomas waved at her to come back to the truck.
“Well, looks like they’re done-“ she started, and then the car in front of the van revved its engine and started moving forward. “Oh! The line’s moving. You want to ride with us up to the gas station?”
Terry shook her head. “If I don’t sit here and make sure the van doesn’t get ticketed or something, Ray’ll kill me. Thanks again for talking that guy down,” she said.
“You’re welcome. You take care, Miss Terry,” Dotty said, and walked back to the truck. Thomas already had it in gear and started pulling forward as soon as she got in. Terry waved as they moved by. It was a start-and-stop process; they’d pull forward a car length, sit for nearly a minute, then do it again. Two Sheriff’s Deputy cars blocked the road when it split into Bay Street, hemming the backup in and forcing them to continue up Market. Sawhorses blocked the bike path along Market after the split, placed across it every fifty feet or so to discourage anyone from trying to get around the line on that side.
“This is ridiculous,” Thomas said. “They’ve made it so we can’t even get out of the line and go out Bay Street to escape this mess.”
“They probably did it to keep people from going up Park Row and Burroughs, and swinging around the line that way,” Dotty said.
“I get that, but to block Bay, too? It makes no sense,” Thomas grumbled.
When they were nearly to the Food Rite parking lot, they found another Deputy’s car blocking Burroughs Street. A Deputy was standing in the road, stopping each car with a sawhorse in the center of the lane.
Thomas rolled down the window as they approached the Deputy, who smiled and stuck his hand in the window.
“Hey Tom! How’s tricks? Mornin’ Ma’am.”
Thomas shook the Deputy’s hand. “What are you guys doing out here, Blake? The line’s going back past Pastor Bill’s church. I couldn’t even get out on Bay to get to the highway.”
Blake adjusted his hat and sighed. “We had to do something, man. We had people lined up here at five this morning, completely blocking traffic, blocking the side roads, and refusing to move. So now we’re controlling the line.” He pulled a blue bandana out of his pocket and rubbed his neck. “If you’re driving through, I’ll move the horse and let you go. If you need gas, I’ll send you over there-“ he pointed at Food Rite’s parking lot “-and Jerry will show you where to park. Then you wait for Sean to come tell you to it’s your turn. First in, first out.”
Looking at the lot, Dotty could see Pacino in a parking space, leaning against his car with his arms crossed. He was glaring towards the store, where two cars were fueling up on both sides of the two pumps closest to Food Rite’s doors. As a red car pulled away from the pumps, a Deputy walked over and tapped a green truck on the hood. The truck backed out of its parking space and pulled into the empty pump spot.
“It was bad about twenty minutes ago,” Blake said. “The pumps quit working all together. Abe’s generator flipped a breaker and we had to wait for him to get it limping along again. He’s cut power down to just the first two pumps now, and they’re still going slow.” He tucked the bandana back into his pocket.
“Deputy, have you seen a young man on foot with a gas can?” Dotty
asked, leaning over so she could see his face.
“Yes ma’am. We made him stand in a parking spot,” Blake said, grinning. “He didn’t like that idea too much. After he got his turn and filled up his can, he went into the store. Hasn’t come out yet. I think he’s lodging a complaint about our methods or something.”
Dotty shook her head. “Maybe he’s just grabbing something for breakfast.”
Blake shrugged, clapped his hands, and rubbed them together. “So, you two gassing up or driving through?”
Thomas looked down at the gas gauge and shrugged. “We’ve gone through some gas. I should probably top it off, but we’re-“
At the pumps, a man started yelling curses.
“Hold that thought a sec,” Blake said, holding up a hand and stepping forward so he could see over the hood.
A second man took the nozzle out of his tank, shook the fuel line hanging from the pump, and jammed the nozzle back into his car. A moment later, all four men standing at the pumps were shouting towards the store. People sitting in the lot started opening their doors and getting out to better see what was going on. Sean jogged over to the pumps, calling for the men to settle down. Jerry waved his hands, telling everyone to get back in their vehicles. Pacino started walking towards the pumps. Jerry stepped into his way.
“Return to your vehicle immediately, sir. An officer will notify you when it’s your turn to fuel up.” Still glaring but silent, Pacino moved back to the passenger side of his car. When Jerry turned, Pacino looked into the bed of the pickup truck parked beside him.
Abe stepped out of Food Rite’s doors, large pieces of poster board and a roll of duct tape in his hands.
“I am sorry,” he called out, his accent heavy. Dotty knew it only got like that when he was really stressed or angry. “There’s no more gas. No more.”
Behind Abe, the door opened quickly and Ray slipped out, hiding something large and square under his baggy t-shirt. He had a hand underneath of it to support it, and another laying over it, like a mother protecting her pregnant belly.