by Terrence Aym

Created on: August 20, 2009

Fill Up

Elizabeth Renee Hendricks had nineteen minutes to live.

The twenty-five year old woman's favorite R&B tune played on the CD. She hummed along tapping her fingers in time with the music on the steering wheel as she maneuvered her black Cadillac Escalade around a slower pewter-gray Hyundai.

The Escalade she owned was an older model. The dealership where she'd purchased the Cadillac referred to it as 'previously owned'. Still, it was only a few years old, had remarkably low mileage and ran like it was new. She could have afforded the latest model, but she thought the monthly payments a bit steep and she was all too aware of the rapid depreciation that occurred the moment a new vehicle was driven off the dealer's lot.

She was a romantic girl, but she also had a firm dollars and cents attitude about her. Most of her so-called disposable cash she funneled into the international currency and capital markets, a few small real estate ventures and a one-quarter interest in a woman's day spa located in Carpentersville.

Her boyfriend, Neal, had helped her shop for the vehicle. He was so sweet. He tried to warn her about the high gas consumption of SUVs. He had called the Escalade a thirsty beast.

Of course he was right. The big SUV didn't get very good mileage and with gasoline now approaching six dollars a gallon it surely wasn't the most economical thing on the highway. But cost wasn't really a consideration. As First Vice President of Midwest Heritage Savings Bank in Plainfield she earned almost $180,000 annually. That didn't include her stocks, ESOP and 401-K.

No, the fuel expense was a small consideration. More importantly the big Cadillac made her feel safe.

More than thirty minutes had passed since she had left the hospital in Aurora and somehow gotten turned around on the unfamiliar city's streets. A good friend's aunt had undergone a hernia operation and she felt obliged to make an appearance. She had stayed too long and now it was late in the afternoon and already dark.

Her mind returned to the SUV. She wished she'd bought the model with the GPS installed. They had one available the same year as hers but she hadn't liked the color-some shade of muddy maroon.

Spotting a service station several blocks ahead on her side of the street she glanced down at her gas gauge. The needle hovered just below half. Should she or shouldn't she stop for gasoline? Well, seeing that every few days the price seemed to go up faster than the express elevators

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