“We left so fast . . . ,” I offer. “None of us thought to check.”
We all sit, unmoving and unspeaking, for a few minutes, and I know that we’re all thinking the same thing: we’re on a single-lane road, and there hasn’t been much traffic.
As Steffi would say, God save the queen; we’ve got a problem.
Jason is the first to talk. “AAA will take too long. Let’s see how far a gas station is from here. I’m a fast runner.”
“Nine miles,” Kerry says a minute later. “Near the airport.”
“Post this.” My fingers are nervously strumming against the windowsill. “Esben, post our location.”
“Allison, we’re kind of in the middle of nowhere. I don’t know if—”
“Post it,” I say more assertively.
“Okay, okay.” Esben takes his phone from Kerry.
“Do you have paper or something for a sign that says we need gas?” Kerry asks as she opens her door.
Esben pops the trunk. “I think there’s a cardboard box in the back. I don’t know about a pen, though.”
“Lipstick,” she answers. “I have five lipsticks in my purse.”
Kerry and Jason stand outside with their rudimentary sign, while Esben and I both stare at our phones. My stomach flies into knots every time a car passes, and after ten cars go by with no help, I start to shake my head. This isn’t going to work.
Suddenly, Esben lights up. “Boom!” He turns to me and smiles. “Someone is coming.” He hops out of the car, and I follow.
“Seriously?” I’m in disbelief. “Someone is bringing us gas?”
“Red pickup truck. A teenager and his dad. From that direction.” He points behind us.
My heart pounds while we wait. We’re cutting this really close, and I hope to God we can make it to the Bangor airport in time. Then, like a rescue beacon, a rusty red truck emerges from behind the slight hill of the road, and we all erupt in cheers. It flies toward us so fast that I’m afraid they’re not going to stop, but the driver whips in front of Esben’s car, revealing a teen boy in the truck bed, who triumphantly raises two plastic gas containers.
“Hey!” The boy’s face is flushed as he holds out one of the containers. “This enough for you?”
Esben takes one of the gas containers and then shakes the teen’s hand. “You must be Finn. Dude, you’re amazing. Yeah, this is more than enough to get us to a gas station. I’d love to talk, but . . .”
“Fill ’er up, kid!” the father calls from his driver’s seat.
Esben and Kerry begin to refuel us, and I go to shake Finn’s hand. To my surprise, he leans over the truck bed and hugs me. “I saw the tweet. I couldn’t believe we were nearby, and we’d literally just been getting gas for lawn equipment.” He’s holding me so tightly. “My mom died from cancer nine years ago. I hope you make it to your friend. I can’t imagine if I couldn’t have been with my mother.”
Now I squeeze him back. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I do.” I pat his back and pull away. “I’m going to thank your father, too.”
“Don’t,” he says seriously. “He’s having a hard time right now. It’s a reminder . . . just . . .” Finn tries to smile. “Just be with Steffi. That will make my dad happy.”
I nod and touch his arm. “I’m going to do everything I can.”
“Ready!” Jason calls. “Let’s go!”
We get back in the car. In front of us, the red truck beeps four long honks, and the father holds his muscular left arm out the window and pumps a fist at the air, wishing us luck. Then he blasts away, smoke and dust billowing behind him.
“Floor it, Esben,” Kerry says. “Floor it. We can make it to the airport on what’s in the tank.”
The car screeches as we pull from our spot on the side of the road, and I look at the clock. We won’t make this flight. An extra fifteen minutes and maybe we’d be okay. Esben is driving as fast as is responsibly possible, but it won’t be enough.
“The flight’s going to leave,” I say flatly.
“Just hold on.” Kerry is on her phone again, typing away. “I’m writing Caroline and Deb, the girls with the tickets . . . okay, they’re with a ticket agent. They have to print new tickets with your names and all that. Security is moving really fast, but they’re ready to put you at the front anyway.”
“Don’t think. Just drive,” Jason says calmly to Esben. “Just drive.”
We say nothing more until Esben pulls up at the small airport and slams on the brakes. We all get out, and he tosses the keys to Kerry as he rounds the front of the car to take my hand. “We’ll be in touch. I love you guys.”
I start toward my friends, but Esben pulls my hand. “No time. Come on. The flight is supposed to leave in four minutes.”
As we rush to the glass doors, I look back to see Jason and Kerry waving. As if I didn’t already know how wonderful they are, today has cemented my understanding of that.
We both scan the terminal, and I yank Esben toward the airline’s ticket counter.
“Caroline? Deb?” he yells ahead.
Two girls, both with long red hair, wave wildly. “Esben! Allison!” they scream.
We reach them, and one says, “No time to talk. Show the agent your licenses.”
We do, and she prints out our tickets in record time. “I’ll walk you to security,” the agent says. “They’re holding the flight for you.”
“What?” I could cry. “Oh God, thank you. I’ll pay you two back for the tickets. Message me.”
“No. It’s on us. Just go.” The two girls run with us to security, and I try to say something, but they both shake their heads.
“We’re sisters, and we were in foster care until we were five. We get the bond,” Caroline says.
“Your friend Steffi needs you more than we need anything.” Deb’s voice cracks.
“I’ll never forget this,” I call out as I stand in the scanning booth.
“You two rock!” Esben shouts.
We’re still holding our shoes as we run to the gate, which is thankfully right outside the security checkpoint. God bless little airports.
There’s a flight attendant standing there. “Esben and Allison?”
We nod.
“Welcome to flight six forty-two.” She scans our tickets and then motions for us to quickly enter the corridor to the plane. The door slams behind us, and we all walk briskly. “I’m Michelle. Let me know if you need anything.”
I assume that our fellow fliers are going to shoot us seething looks for holding them up, but the moment that we are in view of the other passengers, applause erupts. I look to Michelle and Esben with confusion.
“We explained what’s going on. They’re all behind you,” Michelle says. “Let’s take off.”