"Why, it's nothing at all. We're just out of gas, nothing else." She turned to Mickey Groff. "Mr. Zehedi's compliments, sir, and would you like to help him scout up some petrol?" * * * * * They found the blacked-out gas station after squelching for a couple of interminable minutes through the sopping night. "I thought I had plenty of gas. How'd I know we'd be driving all over the valley? You said just a quarter of a mile down the road and--" "Shut up and let's see if we can get in," Groff ordered. Zehedi's whining was getting on his nerves. There wasn't a soul in the station. Not even a night light. Probably no power, Groff thought. That meant no burglar alarms in case they couldn't find an unlocked window--though hell, he thought wryly, wouldn't it be nice if a State Police car did come screeching up? "Up you go," he told Zehedi, clasping his hands to receive the toe of Zehedi's foot. "Locked," reported Zehedi after a moment. "Break it open. With your elbow. Try not to cut an artery. Then when you get inside see if--" He jerked his head aside as glass tinkled around him. "Sorry," apologized Zehedi. Groff heaved and got him through the window and went back to the front door to wait. He hoped to God Zehedi would be able to unlock something from the inside. They would never get the women through that upper window, and he didn't want to have to break the front door. They would need every bit of shelter they could get. Zehedi appeared, tried the front door from the inside (you idiot, didn't you see the padlock? Groff thought sourly), and made shadowy gestures toward the rear. He was yelling something, but you couldn't hear a gunshot in the crashing rain. Groff got the general idea in any case, and stumbled around to the back. Zehedi let him in. The grocer was all keyed up. "That looks like a fuse box," he chattered. "Didn't see a switch for the pump motors, but it ought to be right around there someplace, wouldn't you say? And there're some soda bottles in case we can't find a gallon jug. All we have to do--" "Go get the others, Sam," Groff ordered. He took his fingers off the light switch he had been trying, though he had known what the results would be ahead of time. "No electricity, you see? So the gas will just have to stay in the pumps for a while." He closed the door behind the grocer and looked over their refuge. It wasn't much of a filling station--a couple of pumps out in front, an ice chest full of soft-drink bottles and a little serving counter inside. They had come in through a sort of storeroom, and there was the chance that there might be something useful in there, but it had looked like nothing more promising than the usual collection of old newspapers and three-legged chairs. There was a rickety stair to, presumably, a couple more storerooms.