Gathering by the Tracks
The gas station buzzed with the usual chaos—engines rumbling, fuel nozzles clicking, conversations blending into background noise—but it all seemed to fade as attention zeroed in on one spot. Near the pumps, the two bikers carried on with their mockery, their voices slicing through the air with cruel precision. Their jeers weren’t just heard; they echoed, bouncing off metal and concrete like a challenge. It wasn’t just teasing anymore—it was a spectacle, and everyone knew it.
“Ever try swapping that truck for a treadmill?” one of them barked, triggering another round of obnoxious laughter. People stood watching, not joining in, just observing with arms crossed and expressions tight. Some looked away in discomfort; others stared, as if waiting for the inevitable fallout. Jake and Travis, completely unaware of the tension thickening around them, kept going, thinking they were just putting on a show. What they didn’t realize was that the crowd wasn’t entertained—they were waiting.
