"I need an alternator," Lucas said, his voice shaking slightly from the cold. "2008 model. Four-cylinder."
The map dropped a pin exactly where he was standing. Bud’s was the only green dot for twenty miles.
Lucas slid his credit card across the counter. He held his breath as the ancient card reader dialed out, clicking and whirring. Approved.
The woman returned, thumping a heavy, heavy cardboard box onto the counter. The brand-new aluminum casing of the alternator caught the shop's fluorescent light, looking like a silver crown in a room full of junk. "That'll be two hundred even," she said.