“And that was the #1 hit of the week, ‘Can’t Belong to You’ by Mason-Dixon! You’re listening to NOW 106.7, Chaney’s #1 music station!”
Del let out a sigh, turned off the radio and etched another tally mark onto an old lottery ticket she kept on the counter. That was the 34th time that song had played in the last 6 hours, and frankly, she was sick of it. Unfortunately, such was life as a citizen of Chaney, West Virginia. Nothing interesting. Nothing intriguing. Nothing but pure monotony. Did I mention that it was really boring as well?
It also didn’t help that Del was an employee at the deadest dead-end job on that side of West Virginia: The Fill-Er-Up gas station. A small middle-of-nowhere gas station for middle-of-nowhere people with nowhere to go. Del worked the night shift-- a shift where absolutely nothing interesting ever happened. If she was lucky, she’d encounter some lost vacationing family looking for snacks and some directions to Washington, DC or Philadelphia. It was truly a miserable existence-- one she now had to share with her new co-worker Wilt, a lanky wide-eyed kid fresh out of Chaney High who grabbed the first summer job he found. Wilt was currently sweeping the floor to make sure he didn’t die of boredom by doing nothing at all. Del decided to make some small talk with Wilt-- after all, she was stuck with him for the rest of this eternal summer. “Geez, it seems like they allow any type of crap on the radio nowadays, don’t ya think?”
Wilt looked up from his meticulous dance with the broom. “Hm? It kinda grew on me after they played it the tenth time. Don’t tell me you’re one of them oldheads who thinks anything that doesn’t sound like what they listened to as a kid is trash...” Wilt went back to sweeping, beginning to quietly sing the song to himself.
“Baby I know you want me as your boo,
But you know that I can’t belong to you~”
Del groaned and laid her head on the counter. That song was seriously getting on her nerves. She was preparing to toss something heavy at Wilt to make him shut up when a group of rowdy Chaney High students busted through the door.
“Yo Dub! What up man? You didn’t get too old for your bros, did you?” The teenagers began to chat up Wilt, who was their senior last year. After giving Wilt their brief update on the state of everyone at the school, they turned to Del at the counter. “Aye, lemme get ten on pump 6 and one of those 5-pack Black n’ Milds,” demanded one of them as he placed a crisp $20 on the counter. Del rolled her eyes and grabbed the cigars they wanted off the shelf. “Birthdate?”
“Uhm… October 17th, ‘84.”
Del shot him a glare. There was no way in hell any of these kids were anywhere near their 30s. The teenager picked up on her suspicion as well.
“...Did I say ‘84? I meant ‘94.”
Del still didn’t believe him, but why did she care that much? It’s not like the management cares what they do. The manager only showed up once every five years apparently, and he wasn’t due for another three. She rang them up, handed them the cigars and they left. She then looked at Wilt.
“Those your buddies?” She questioned, pointing at the obviously speeding truck that pulled out of the gas station.
“Kinda… they were a year behind me at Chaney High. They’re all a bunch of goofballs.”
Wilt was now re-arranging the candy bars on the station shelves. It seemed like that was how most of those nights were going to go.
Then it hit midnight.
The start of the worst part of the night shift.
Why?
Because after midnight, 106.7 only played Mexican pop hits until 5AM.
“Bebé sé que me quieres como tu novito,
Pero tú sabes que no puedo estar contigo -- ”
Del turned off the radio. Luckily, she kept a small collection of books under the counter to make sure she didn’t die of boredom completely. She pulled out the last book he had started on, The Metamorphosis, and picked up where she left off.
While she was deeply engrossed in her novella, a few customers busted in the station. Not just any customers though-- the same hooligans from earlier. Wilt-- who was for some reason still sweeping the same spot on the floor-- looked up. “Oh hey, y’all need somethin’ else from us?”
None of them said a word as the group all split up, grabbed what they wanted and put it all on the counter. A bunch of cheap newspapers, some bungee cables (why does a GAS STATION of all places have one of those?) and a pack of matches. Del rung them up, $6.16 total. One guy paid for the items, and they all gathered their goods and left. Wilt glanced at Del with a look of worry on his face.
“Did you see that other kid with them?” Wilt asked.
“No…. I don’t think so at least,” Del said, flipping to the next page in her book.
“There was a kid with them. He looked like he could be no older than middle school age honestly. When they were busy looking for what they bought, he tried to get close to me, but one of them-- I think his name was Henry, if I’m remembering last semester right-- pulled him away before he could get a word out.”
“So you think he was with them against his will or something, right?”
“I don’t know. Probably. We gotta do something, Del. You saw the stuff they purchased-- don’t you think that’s a little suspicious?”
“So tell me-- what do YOU think you could do to stop, like, seven strangely-acting guys from… doing whatever you think they’re gonna do to that kid?”
“I don’t know yet. But I have two options. I could easily go down there myself and see what’s up. I’ve been to a couple of their hangout spots before-- It woudn’t be a problem findin’ where they’re at. Or, I could go into town and find the kid’s parents and see if they know he’s gone.”
“Oooooooooooooor you can just call the police to make sure nothing’s going on and call it a day. Geez, what is it with people wanting to always be the hero?”
Wilt stroked the stringy hairs on his chin. He had a choice to make. Should he go out and make sure everything’s okay himself, or should he stay at the Fill-Er-Up and simply, let someone else do it?
Del let out a sigh, turned off the radio and etched another tally mark onto an old lottery ticket she kept on the counter. That was the 34th time that song had played in the last 6 hours, and frankly, she was sick of it. Unfortunately, such was life as a citizen of Chaney, West Virginia. Nothing interesting. Nothing intriguing. Nothing but pure monotony. Did I mention that it was really boring as well?
It also didn’t help that Del was an employee at the deadest dead-end job on that side of West Virginia: The Fill-Er-Up gas station. A small middle-of-nowhere gas station for middle-of-nowhere people with nowhere to go. Del worked the night shift-- a shift where absolutely nothing interesting ever happened. If she was lucky, she’d encounter some lost vacationing family looking for snacks and some directions to Washington, DC or Philadelphia. It was truly a miserable existence-- one she now had to share with her new co-worker Wilt, a lanky wide-eyed kid fresh out of Chaney High who grabbed the first summer job he found. Wilt was currently sweeping the floor to make sure he didn’t die of boredom by doing nothing at all. Del decided to make some small talk with Wilt-- after all, she was stuck with him for the rest of this eternal summer. “Geez, it seems like they allow any type of crap on the radio nowadays, don’t ya think?”
Wilt looked up from his meticulous dance with the broom. “Hm? It kinda grew on me after they played it the tenth time. Don’t tell me you’re one of them oldheads who thinks anything that doesn’t sound like what they listened to as a kid is trash...” Wilt went back to sweeping, beginning to quietly sing the song to himself.
“Baby I know you want me as your boo,
But you know that I can’t belong to you~”
Del groaned and laid her head on the counter. That song was seriously getting on her nerves. She was preparing to toss something heavy at Wilt to make him shut up when a group of rowdy Chaney High students busted through the door.
“Yo Dub! What up man? You didn’t get too old for your bros, did you?” The teenagers began to chat up Wilt, who was their senior last year. After giving Wilt their brief update on the state of everyone at the school, they turned to Del at the counter. “Aye, lemme get ten on pump 6 and one of those 5-pack Black n’ Milds,” demanded one of them as he placed a crisp $20 on the counter. Del rolled her eyes and grabbed the cigars they wanted off the shelf. “Birthdate?”
“Uhm… October 17th, ‘84.”
Del shot him a glare. There was no way in hell any of these kids were anywhere near their 30s. The teenager picked up on her suspicion as well.
“...Did I say ‘84? I meant ‘94.”
Del still didn’t believe him, but why did she care that much? It’s not like the management cares what they do. The manager only showed up once every five years apparently, and he wasn’t due for another three. She rang them up, handed them the cigars and they left. She then looked at Wilt.
“Those your buddies?” She questioned, pointing at the obviously speeding truck that pulled out of the gas station.
“Kinda… they were a year behind me at Chaney High. They’re all a bunch of goofballs.”
Wilt was now re-arranging the candy bars on the station shelves. It seemed like that was how most of those nights were going to go.
Then it hit midnight.
The start of the worst part of the night shift.
Why?
Because after midnight, 106.7 only played Mexican pop hits until 5AM.
“Bebé sé que me quieres como tu novito,
Pero tú sabes que no puedo estar contigo -- ”
Del turned off the radio. Luckily, she kept a small collection of books under the counter to make sure she didn’t die of boredom completely. She pulled out the last book he had started on, The Metamorphosis, and picked up where she left off.
While she was deeply engrossed in her novella, a few customers busted in the station. Not just any customers though-- the same hooligans from earlier. Wilt-- who was for some reason still sweeping the same spot on the floor-- looked up. “Oh hey, y’all need somethin’ else from us?”
None of them said a word as the group all split up, grabbed what they wanted and put it all on the counter. A bunch of cheap newspapers, some bungee cables (why does a GAS STATION of all places have one of those?) and a pack of matches. Del rung them up, $6.16 total. One guy paid for the items, and they all gathered their goods and left. Wilt glanced at Del with a look of worry on his face.
“Did you see that other kid with them?” Wilt asked.
“No…. I don’t think so at least,” Del said, flipping to the next page in her book.
“There was a kid with them. He looked like he could be no older than middle school age honestly. When they were busy looking for what they bought, he tried to get close to me, but one of them-- I think his name was Henry, if I’m remembering last semester right-- pulled him away before he could get a word out.”
“So you think he was with them against his will or something, right?”
“I don’t know. Probably. We gotta do something, Del. You saw the stuff they purchased-- don’t you think that’s a little suspicious?”
“So tell me-- what do YOU think you could do to stop, like, seven strangely-acting guys from… doing whatever you think they’re gonna do to that kid?”
“I don’t know yet. But I have two options. I could easily go down there myself and see what’s up. I’ve been to a couple of their hangout spots before-- It woudn’t be a problem findin’ where they’re at. Or, I could go into town and find the kid’s parents and see if they know he’s gone.”
“Oooooooooooooor you can just call the police to make sure nothing’s going on and call it a day. Geez, what is it with people wanting to always be the hero?”
Wilt stroked the stringy hairs on his chin. He had a choice to make. Should he go out and make sure everything’s okay himself, or should he stay at the Fill-Er-Up and simply, let someone else do it?
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