“Okay, since we’re already at the petrol station, you stay here and try to ring the kids. I’ll fill up the Ute and grab some supplies,” Tarni said as he climbed out and shut the door behind him.

  “Yeah, great idea,” Zane replied, killing the engine and picking up his phone. His fingers hovered over the screen, trying to remember which number to call first.

  Tap tap.

  Zane looked up. Tarni was standing at the window, making the universal sign to unlock the petrol cap. With an apologetic look, Zane reached down and pulled the lever to pop it open.

  As Tarni started pumping diesel, Zane went back to his phone, scrolling through contacts with a hand that still trembled faintly.

  Meanwhile, a teenage boy wandered over.

  “Morning, Mr. Walker! Not riding your fat pig today?” he said with a cheeky grin.

  Tarni looked up from the pump and chuckled, shaking his head.

  “She’s my hog, not a fat pig,” he corrected. “And I’ve told you—call me Tarn, not Mr. Walker.”

  “Sorry, Mr. Walker,” the boy replied, not sounding the least bit sorry.

  Tarni laughed again and gave the pump handle a little squeeze. “So, what’s with the ghillie suit?”

  The boy—Max, a local kid—stood about five foot five, with light brown hair that was almost blond, poking out from under the camouflage netting stitched around his shoulders.

  “Just walking home from some Airsoft training,” Max replied proudly. “My sister and I are having a comp for our birthday.”

  “That sounds cool. You two turning eighteen yet?” Tarni asked, still watching the numbers tick up on the pump.

  “Ha! We’re turning sixteen,” Max said with a smirk.

  “Well, happy birthday to you both. Say hi to your dad for me, will ya?”

  “Will do!” Max called over his shoulder as he strolled off down the footpath, his ghillie suit rustling with every step.

  The soft chime of the petrol station’s doorbell barely registered with Tarni as he stepped inside. The cool air inside was a sharp contrast to the muggy warmth outside, but it wasn’t the relief from the weather that hit him first—it was the smell. Pre-made sandwiches, coffee, hot chips in the warmer, and that oddly comforting scent of generic cleaning products.

  He hadn’t realised how hungry he was until now.

  Outside, Zane was still in the Ute, head bowed, speaking into his phone. Tarni had glanced in through the window before coming in—Zane’s expression was serious, maybe even a little haunted. If he was talking to one of his kids, best he had some space. Tarni could handle the food run.

  And now that he was inside?

  He wanted everything.

  In short order, he gathered up twenty of the pre-made sandwiches from the fridge, a couple of bottles of Coke, a family-sized bag of Doritos, and a full case of beer. The sandwiches were probably chicken salad, ham and cheese, or mystery meat of the day—he didn’t care. His stomach was louder than his taste buds.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  He hauled the armful of goods to the counter and plonked everything down with a grunt.

  Behind the counter stood a woman in her mid-to-late twenties, arms crossed casually, eyeing the pile with an arched eyebrow. Her curly red hair bounced slightly as she tilted her head, freckles standing out sharply against her pale skin.

  “Hi June,” Tarni greeted with an easy grin. “How’s your day going?”

  June didn’t answer right away. She gave him a once-over—mud-splattered boots, scuffed pants, the faint scent of something? and diesel on his clothes—and then glanced at the towering stack of sandwiches.

  “Well,” she said finally, “not as exciting as yours, apparently. These for the twins’ party or something? Because I don’t think they’ll keep that long.”

  Tarni stared at her for a moment, brain still catching up to the conversation.

  “Ha! Nah,” he said with a laugh, “Zane and I have a long trip ahead of us.”

  June’s eyes flicked to the case of beer. “No drink driving, Tarn,” she said with a light scowl.

  Tarni held up a hand solemnly in a Cub Scout salute. “I promise I won’t let Zane have any of my beer. Scout’s honour.”

  June rolled her eyes, but a smile played at the corners of her mouth. She knew Tarni well enough—mischief was his default setting, but he wasn’t reckless.

  As she started scanning the items, she asked, “So what do you think of Max’s ghillie suit?”

  Tarni’s grin widened into something more devious.

  “Oh, it’s awesome. Can’t help but think of all the wild stuff I could’ve gotten up to at his age with one of those. Proper hide-and-seek legend material.”

  June laughed, shaking her head. “Yeah, I bet. He’s been wandering around town trying to bump into every person he knows just so he can show it off.”

  Tarni chuckled, the tension of the day easing a little in the simple banter. It felt good—normal. Even if things outside town felt like they were spiraling into some kind of fantasy survival game.

  He paid in cash, loaded up his arms with snacks and beer, and gave June a wink on the way out.

  “Thanks, June. Tell Max I said he’s got the coolest camo in town.”

  June smirked. “You got it, Tarn. And stay out of trouble.”

  He paused halfway out the door. “No promises.”

  The door shut behind him with a soft chime.

  After putting most of the food and drinks in the back seat, Tarni climbed into the passenger seat of the Ute and found that Zane was no longer on the phone. Before he could ask, Zane turned to him, his face a strange mix of guilt and frustration.

  “I could only get hold of Kai,” Zane said with a sigh. “He was already at the airport, just about to get on his plane back to Sydney. And mate… he was not happy with me.”

  Tarni raised an eyebrow. “Did you tell him what happened?”

  Zane gave a humourless laugh. “Tried to. You know, without making him think I’ve gone completely mental. But he just kept asking why I didn’t call sooner. I told him we had no reception out here, no power, no anything—but I don’t think he believed me.”

  He looked down at his phone still plugged into the charger. The battery indicator glowed a weak yellow.

  “He said the only reason Bell’s still alive,” Zane continued, his voice tight, “is because the doctor was late to a staff meeting. She just happened to be on the ward when Bell’s alarms went off. If she’d been in that meeting, she wouldn’t have been there in time…”

  Zane trailed off, gripping the steering wheel with both hands. His knuckles turned white.

  Tarni didn’t say anything for a moment. He just stared out the window, letting the weight of it all settle between them.

  “Well,” he said at last, “then maybe the universe was on your side for once.”

  Zane exhaled sharply, nodding. “Yeah. Maybe.”

  They sat in silence for a few heartbeats before Tarni leaned back in the seat and gave the plastic bag in the back seat a pat.

  “I got us enough food to survive a week. Twenty sandwiches, case of beer, couple of Cokes, and a bag of Doritos for when we feel fancy.”

  Zane raised an eyebrow. “Twenty sandwiches?”

  “Don’t judge me. I was hungry,” Tarni said defensively, then grinned. “Also, June was working the register. She thought I was buying them for the twins’ birthday party.”

  Zane chuckled despite himself. “Did you tell her we were off to slay goblins instead?”

  “Nah. Just told her we had a long trip. She gave me the death glare over the beer though—thought I was gonna let you drive drunk.”

  “Did you promise her Scout’s honour?”

  “Mate, I Cub Scout saluted and everything.”

  Zane laughed again—real laughter this time. It felt good. Needed.

  As he started the Ute and pulled out of the petrol station, the mood in the cab had lightened just enough to breathe again. There was still a lot left unsaid, a lot of confusion and fear lurking under the surface, but for now, they had sandwiches, fuel, and each other.

  And sometimes, that was enough.