I let my mind wander to Sarah and Six; I hope they’re both okay. Then I think of Sam. I still can’t believe I abandoned my best friend. I tell myself I had no choice. The blue force field had incapacitated me to the point where going back in would have been suicide. No matter how true all of this is, it still feels bad.

I’m startled from my thoughts by the loud click of the gas pump finishing its fill. I breathe deeply, eyes still closed, to appreciate every last second of silence before Nine gets back into the car. Except, the silence continues. Nine doesn’t hop in and start to chatter away. I open my eyes and look back at the pump, but no one is there. Where is he? I look around the gas station. Nothing. I’m immediately worried. I get out, Bernie Kosar hopping out behind me, and lock the doors.

First I head inside the station – he’s not there. Next, I go out to the parking lot which is full of semi-trailers. With my advanced hearing, I pick up Nine’s voice, and I can tell he’s good and pissed off. Bernie Kosar and I run towards his voice, weave around several trailers, and find him standing between two young guys with blood on their T-shirts. In front of Nine are three big truckers, all of them shouting in his face.

‘ What did you just say to me?’ the trucker in the middle asks Nine. Under his yellow cap, a bushy red beard covers the man’s face.

‘Are you deaf?’ Nine says, over-enunciating as if speaking to an idiot. ‘I said, You have girl arms. I mean, look at your wrists.’ Why does he insist on looking for trouble?

‘Uh, what’s up?’ I interrupt, walking over.

The trucker on the right, a tall guy wearing aviator sunglasses, looks at me. He points his finger in my face and yells, ‘Mind your own business, asshole!’ As I join the group, the trucker on the left spits a long stream of brown juice at my feet.

‘As far as I’ve figured out,’ Nine turns to explain to me, ‘these fat guys are angry at these little guys. The little guys were hitchhiking and caught a ride with one of them, promising money they didn’t have. So now, the fat guys are trying to beat up the little guys with their puny girl arms.’

I turn to the truckers, the fat guys, and try to make nice. ‘Okay, well, none of this has anything to do with us, and we need to get on the road. So, guys, let me apologize for my friend, who clearly doesn’t know when to mind his own business.’

‘Yeah,’ the bearded trucker growls at Nine. ‘Just get the hell out of here, punk, and let us deal with these lowlifes.’