Gasolin Cerca De Mí Novels & Stories

Zoya said greeting the security guard. "Good evening, can I help you?" asked the security guard with the thick mustache. “Do you know where I can find the nearest gas station. My car there ran out of gas," said Zoya, pointing to Doctor Rin's car. "Hmm pounds of gas? About three hundred meters there is a gas station at the end of the road. You can go there,” said the security guard.

He nods, “There’s a gas station nearby that’s in need of a salesperson. It’s about a twenty-minute walk from here. It doesn’t really pay much but if you’re not picky, you can try your luck there” My heart rate picks up and my eyes widen in excitement. “Really?!” Hope blossoms inside me. I had already made up my mind to give up for today. “Yeah…” he nods. “How do I get there?” I quickly ask. There’s no gas station listed in the pamphlet- He gestures, “Take the next right turn and keep going down, you can’t miss it”. “Thank you”, I say, even I can hear how bright my voice is. He smiles and nods. A voice calls from inside the restaurant and he quickly closes the door.

Massimo stared at the fuel gauge, as if that would change the fact that the motorcycle didn't have much gas left. At least the damn thing beeped before it was completely empty—getting stranded on a deserted street with no easy way home truly would be the worst way to end this evening-into-morning adventure. So Massimo only muttered a few choice curse words as he dutifully looked for nearby gas stations. There. A dingy thing with only four pumps and cracking asphalt, but it would do. It even had a small, twenty-four hour convenience store attached to it.

When Charlie saw the Mexican driving the pickup truck into the dilapidated fishing village, he pretended to be curious and asked the young man in the passenger seat, “Hey buddy, aren’t we going to Ensenada? Why are we driving into this dilapidated fishing village?” The young man casually replied, “Our car is almost out of fuel. There is smuggled fuel in this fishing village that is sold at a cheap price. We will refuel the car here and continue driving afterward. We are not far from Ensenada, only more than ten kilometers away. It will only take us twenty minutes to get there after refueling.”

And I didn't even understand, because I shouldn't care about August, nor be with that intuition bee beeping like a radar. “GASOLINE! "I yiled to the employees closest to the Hangar, the shed where my jet was kept on leisure days. They didn't seem to listen, because they were too far away, and the tower even further away for me to reach. But I ran, even though I knew I would never make it. "THERE'S FUEL ON THE TRACK!”

It had to be something big, something unexpected, something loud and alarming. That’s when I saw it. A small gas station on the other side of the road. I ran towards it, fueled by my need to protect Trista. With frantic hands, I pulled out the gas pump and spilled gas all over the concrete. There was no else around, thankfully. It was a self-serve station with no employees around in the middle of the night. I was relieved by this, since I didn’t want any innocent people to get hurt.

I've never heard him sound like that. He is at the little Italian neighbourhood, I could have guessed... I knew where it was because two blocks away is the Colombian restaurant I always go when I'm missing my country's food. I was at Sasha's beach house, it was an hour away from him but I made it in 30 minutes, I followed my phone until I am near the dot that was supposed to be Richard. Don't judge me but when I took his phone I linked it with mine so whenever he uses his GPS, I can find him.

Sebastian I thought getting food would be the hardest part of stockpiling but it turned out to be fuel instead. Because of the explosion that had happened, no gas station wanted to give out fuel of over fifty gallons. I had to drive around to ten different gas stations, which were very far from each other by the way. By the time I purchased fuel from the tenth gas station, a soft ding made me let out a sigh of relief as I saw that I had spent over ten thousand dollars.

The empty backpack bag was perched across my shoulder, and the gasoline canister was resting at my feet flat on the floor. When Justine was finished, the car was nearly undetectable to anybody walking by, and he swiftly approached me. "Not terrible, oh yeah?" he said taking a pretty much empty propane container. "Come on, let's get this ball rolling. "There's a farmhouse about a quarter-mile that way," he added, pointing with one finger. "I believe we can look for any accessible gasoline or consumables."

Levi’s POV: As I drove down the winding road towards the Pack's Den, I noticed that the fuel gauge in my vehicle was dangerously close to empty. Realizing that I needed to refill before continuing my journey, I decided to branch off and find the nearest gas station. Little did I know that this detour would lead me to a captivating encounter.