Julian Vance pressed his forehead against the cool glass of Coach #404’s front passenger door.
Through the rain-streaked darkness, the neon tubes of Starlight 24-Hour Mart flickered in steady green and magenta pulses.
This was the crossroads of Old Ferry Road and Mill Street.
This was the linoleum floor he had mopped on his very first night shift. This was the counter where he had learned inventory codes and cash register audits. This was where Arthur Pendelton had taught him the cardinal rule: never let the customer without a face pay in cash.
Above the intersection, a single rusted traffic light swung wildly in the river gale. It flashed an unblinking amber beam across the wet asphalt.
Now, his store was under siege.
Outside the plate-glass window, the smoking wreck of Van N-3 sat crumpled against the municipal fire hydrant. Steam poured from its crushed radiator, hissing into the cold river rain.
On the concrete apron, Enforcer Krell stood like an iron statue.
