He awoke feeling lightheaded and achy. He was distantly aware of something not right. Something bothered him, and it wasn’t the sudden glaring pain in his neck. He groaned and stayed still for a moment. He realized he was staring at the ceiling of the truck. He’d passed out, keeled over, and landed painfully over the automatic gear stick. Groaning again, he pulled himself up onto the seat. He wasn’t dead. Far from it. He looked out the window and saw that the night was moonless. The dark bunker of the liquor store lay in front of the truck like a massive brick and mortar tomb. He wondered if the fires were still burning. He gripped the steering wheel with one hand and leaned forward to look into the blackness beyond the hood of the truck. Something moved. Frowning, he started the engine and flicked on the headlights. The abrupt blaze of light was still enough to surprise the rats and send the writhing mat of them scurrying in all directions. Gus screamed and thrashed in his seat.
