Gas station rewards

It was two minutes past six in the evening on Tuesday, February 3rd. Something between snow and rain was hammering the metal roof of the 7-Eleven. From end to end the earth was dark, wet, and covered in grime from old car tires. Eric Johnson stepped out of his beige sedan and shivered, huddling into the folds of a rumpled black coat which had always been too large but had only recently acquired a hole in one elbow. He was short, thin, stoop shouldered, and, according to habit, late for dinner.

Eric fumbled in his pocket and managed to press the gas cap button on his key fob before dropping the keys into the small dark puddle of slush at his feet. He sighed. He bent down with a grimace to retrieve them, then straightened up, placing a hand on his lower back and squinting at the glowing gas pump screen, deep creases appearing on his forehead. He was not nearly as old as he looked, although he was nearly as grumpy.

The gas pump screen was frozen on a cheerful advertisement that promised 10 mini tacos for only $2.49. Eric, who considered himself something of a shrewd customer, dedicated his mental faculties to a calculation of the cost per taco. His eyes widened. If he wasn’t sure of meatloaf at home, he would’ve jumped. But he was sure of meatloaf, and he was equally sure that Becky (who had made the meatloaf) would disapprove of mini tacos at any price. Sighing for the second time, Eric jabbed his finger against the glass to force the gas payment prompt.

“Car wash?” the screen blinked excitedly. “Press Yes or No.” Eric, who was cold, wet, and three years removed from his previous car wash, made the easy choice.

“Rewards?” the screen prompted. “Press Yes or No.”

This was the reason Eric had come.

He peered at his key ring and shuffled through a jumble of peeling loyalty cards. He found the 7-Eleven key card (damp but still usable) and held it code-up beneath the barcode scanner, which, after a moment of consideration, gave a satisfied beep. He looked back at the screen, thinking to see the next prompt. But the question remained. “Rewards? Press Yes or No.”

Eric pressed Yes.

There was a crack of thunder, a flash of light, and a searing heat. The world fizzed like a fresh-popped Coke can. The roof of the gas station ripped at the seams like a zipper. Through the jagged gap above Eric something frighteningly bright descended, slowly and gracefully, like a huge bird drawing up to the branch of a tree in slow motion in a nature documentary. The thing was a man, but it had two wings and six arms and four faces and perfect teeth.

“I’ve come to give you your reward,” said the man bird.

Eric peed himself.

“Don’t be afraid,” advised the man bird kindly, but it was too late for that.

For a stretched moment no more was said.

Eric, who had been holding his eyes closed, now opened them to peer cautiously at the thing. He could still hear rain pattering against the remains of the roof, but the sound had become distant, like microwaved popcorn in another room. Against the brightness of the creature the rest of the world was dim and indistinct. Eric ran his tongue over his lips, flexed all of his fingers, and dropped his keys in the puddle again.

The man bird broke the silence. “I’ve come to give you your reward,” it repeated.

“You said that,” Eric pointed out. He was not, at the moment, capable of speaking words longer than a syllable or forming a coherent thought, but his subconscious will had rallied for a stubborn attempt at gaining the upper hand. The creature, sympathetic, nodded its four heads.

“Yes,” it agreed. “So, what would you like?”

Another silence. Eric’s mouth was dry, but his mental capacity was beginning to return like the slow thaw of a frozen river. He worked the matter through. “Can I have anything?” he asked, surprising himself. “Anything at all?”

“Yes and no,” replied the man bird. “I can give you anything, but you can only bear so much. If you want my opinion” (and here the creature bent closer to Eric and spoke in the tone you might use to make a joke to a friend) “I’d stay within the rules of this place – you know, accounting for gravity, time, and death.” It winked four eyes.

“What?” said Eric, nonplussed. Without noticing it, he took a step backward and ran a hand through his thinning hair.

“Ah, never mind,” said the man bird. It straightened up with a rustling of its wings, looking almost disappointed. “You can ask for anything. Go ahead.”

Eric started to say something, but paused. He was becoming aware that he was severely out of his depth. Swallowing, he glanced at the gas pump screen, which now displayed a prompt that said “Press 1 for $0.30 off for January. Press 2 for $0.25 off for February.” He looked back at the creature. He looked back at the screen. A defiant expression twitched his lips and settled in his eyes.

The man bird let out a grumbling breath and threw its six arms in the air, rolling its eight eyes skyward in exasperation. Eric stumbled half a step toward the gas pump screen, fell heavily against it, and pressed 1.

There was a sound like a zipper being swiftly closed. There was a blast of icy air and a thud. Eric blinked and found that he was lying in the slush puddle next to his keys. The ping of rain on the roof had returned to a deafening volume and the world, still grimy, was no longer indistinct. He gave his head a shake. The man bird was gone.

Eric arrived home at 6:17 and, to his wife’s surprise, immediately changed out of his pants. Becky was frustrated that the meatloaf had become cold, but was somewhat placated to hear Eric had saved $3.30 on a full tank of gas. “That’s my Eric,” she congratulated herself. “No, he’s not all that much fun, but nobody can deny he’s a shrewd customer.”