***
Chase pulled into the first self-serve gas station on the outskirts of Red Lodge but as he stopped at the pump island, he began to wonder whether the station was open. The convenience store looked dark and deserted. He stepped out and swiped his credit card in the slot on the pump, but the display was blank.
“You won’t get any gas out of there for a while, mister.” The voice made Chase jump. A middle-aged man in a hunting cap and plaid coat came out of the convenience store. He had a shotgun slung over the crook of his right elbow.
“I’m getting low—” Chase began to explain.
“Gonna get lower,” the man interrupted. “Power’s out. Power’s out all over town. Besides, we got martial law. Gas’s rationed. Haven’t you heard?”
Chase was dumbstruck. Seeing his confusion, the man spat some tobacco juice. “You been up in the hills or something?”
“Yeah, and I haven’t been able to get anything on my radio.”
The man cast a glance at the moon. “That’s some sort of alien death ray up there. Whole world’s under attack. We got hit here in Red Lodge. Did y’see that?” He pointed down the main drag. A quarter mile from them was a burnt patch of ground about fifty feet across, in the middle of which was a tangled heap of charred metal beams. “That’s what’s wrong with the radio. Moon ray took out the radio tower. Good country music. Gonna miss it.”
Chase stood speechless, trying to get his mind around the catastrophe happening as they spoke. He had expected trouble but had no inkling the news would be this shocking.
“Made a hell of a roar,” the man went on. “I run out of the store to see, and it was already like that.” He waved a hand dismissively at the smoldering heap of wreckage. “We’ll make do without it, and if whoever did that comes around here, I got this.” He patted the double barrels of his shotgun. “Same goes for people who can’t understand a ‘closed’ sign. I’ll take care of me and mine.”
Chase moved toward his car door. “I’m just a little low on gas for where I need to go.”
“You look like a decent fellow,” the man said. “I’d let you fill up but the pump don’t work without power. ’Fraid you’re stuck.”
“I guess I am,” Chase admitted. He got in and closed the truck door, firing the engine as the man walked back to the food mart. His gas gauge read one-eighth. Maybe, just maybe, that was enough to get him home to Silver Gate. On the other hand, it would be plenty to get him back to the Danielses’ place. He didn’t have an invitation and he wouldn’t have enough gas to get back to this station if they turned him away, but something told him to go back up there. He couldn’t say exactly why, but he thought it might have something to do with Kit Daniels. If the aircraft that crash-landed behind Sandstone Mountain was part of this, then big trouble might have come calling at Twin Creeks Ranch and Kit might not know it.
He pulled out of the gas station and turned toward the ranch. “Oh boy,” he muttered. “Am I a sucker for a pretty face, or what?”