It was a dark, windy night… Tara Wilson sighed as she glanced out the service station’s large window at the pouring rain.
A streak of lightning shot across the sky, and thunder echoed throughout the night.
Night shift at a gas station wasn’t the thrilling job Tara had hoped for when she went to journalism school, but she’d had to quit college to assist her ailing mother. Tara had no idea that the drab night would soon turn much more entertaining.
Even as Tara reflected on her life, a fragile figure stumbled towards her in the darkness, nearly bent double against the power of the wind and the driving train. Tara was almost asleep when a wheezing voice broke the silence. “Please, oh please…”
Tara, who was sitting behind the service station counter, leaped to her feet. An older woman stood in front of her, pouring rain and mud in equal measure. Her clothes were covered in oil, grime, and mud, and heavy streaks of makeup ran over her face.
“Ma’am?” Tara gave a gasp. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in!”
The woman took another unsteady step forward and clutched the counter with desperate palms. “Please,” she exclaimed again, “I need your help…”
“Oh I’ll just bet you do!” a harsh masculine voice interrupted. It was Tara’s boss, Mr. Anderson, the service station’s night manager who must have heard the woman enter from the back office where he spent his nights online on dubious sites.
“I’ve had enough of you derelicts walking in cadging hot food and coffee every time it rains.” Mr. Anderson hissed. “Get out!”
“Please,” the woman responded calmly, and Tara realized she had a pleasant voice and an educated accent. “I need help, my phone is smashed…”
Mr. Anderson snarled, “Help?” “Did you drive here?” Do you need gas? Or motor oil? Do you have cash or a credit card?
