Desperate By Dusk

by Alexander Salkin

Ramone shrugged and assumed his friend made a pit stop at the bathroom. Taking slight refuge under the bough of a Jersey pine, he leaned back and sipped his coffee. It was becoming an annoying mix of moist and chilly outside so he was glad to have it, despite wearing his normally insulating leather jacket.

  Casually, he glanced across the way noticing movement. He assumed it to be a carnival worker packing up or maybe Simon wandering around, but he was more than a little delighted to see a pleasant female form across the way. She was almost indistinguishable in the dark as she stood in the shadow of the house of mirrors attraction, seeming to gaze into the glass and reflective walls from a short distance away.

  She turned around and to his mild surprise, like Simon, she was wore sunglasses in the dark. Ramone started to wonder if this was becoming a 'thing' he wasn't aware of. Hers, however, were more relaxed and oval shaped compared to Simon's John Lennon knock offs. Of course, he wasn't merely admiring her choice in optical wear. Far from it.

  Holding a Victorian style umbrella, he found her clothed in a long dress skirt and matching overly long cloth jacket over a blouse with white buttons. Everything, all the way down to her heeled boots, was black as far as he could tell- not terribly unlike his own clothing sensibilities. Even her hair was long and straight, like an ebony river. He smiled appreciatively, feeling a bit of color warm his face.

  About then, she noticed Ramone as well and returned an intriguing smile of cat-like contention, similar to that of the Mona Lisa. With a fingerless white lace gloved hand, she waved politely and gave him an appraising look. Without so much as a word, she tilted a thin milk white neck to the side as if to beckon him over. Ramone pondered for a moment, taking another sip of his coffee. Was she local? Simon seemed to have a better grasp of the local population. Regardless, if she was from Dresden Port or not, he was not going to ignore this opportunity to say hello.

  "Hey there," Ramone greeted with a calm warmth. "Enjoying the sights?"

  Up closer, he took into account what seemed to be some further gothic sensibilities in her attire. Her nails, lips, and even a decorative thin scarf were simply jet in color. Her clothing had a faint, if almost unseen textured pattern stitched onto them, similar to embroidered flowers and southern lace. Pale skinned in comparison, she was practically a stranger to the sun. Only a small silver hoop nose ring on one nostril gave any contrast to break up the look.

  "I can't complain," she said with unexpected quietness. Ramone almost had to strain to hear her. Her voice didn't sound shy, simply muted. She had an unusual fragrant aura about her, but he couldn't place it. It certainly wasn't typical of any other woman's perfume he'd known. It reminded him of a late October or early November night sky. Hickory, maybe? Something woodsy, in any event. Still, it was nice and he had to admit; quite distinctive.

  "Well then... How do you do? Name's Ramone."

  "Aveirasen."

  Ramone glanced off to the side for a moment, thinking. Aveirasen? Didn't sound like any nationality he could place as a proper name or a surname. Maybe she made it up? Thinking back to Simon's interest in Vikktorea, maybe it was adapted from something else.

  "That's an interesting name. Is that, ah, a form of 'Avery' or 'Vera' maybe?"

  "No. Just Aveirasen. I also go by Aveir, if you prefer."

  "Either's fine. It is a nice name. So, are you here with friends?"

  "Unfortunately, no. Just decided to step out for the night. I've been busy with studies and I get bored being cooped up all the time."

  "I see. You go to college?"

  "Basically," she smiled. "It's certainly academic enough."

  "Cool. Say, while I got you here, you didn't happen to have seen my friend around, would you? You can't miss him; he's also wearing sunglasses. Pronounced sideburns. Looks like someone out of the beatnik era with a camo jacket?"

  She shook her head slightly. "I might have seen him in passing. But I don't remember anyone like that in great detail. He wears sunglasses too, you said? Prescription?"

  "Ohh... I've never really been clear why he does it. I think he's excessively light sensitive."

  "I see. That would make sense. Mm, don't mind these. I can see you perfectly well."

  "Oh?" He smiled churlishly. "Is that a good thing?"

  "I'd like to think so. You are rather handsome." She was bold. Definitely not shy despite what her quiet voice could have suggested.

  Ramone grinned modestly. Or at least, tried to. "And you're rather nice on the eyes yourself, if you don't mind me saying. Well-! Don't suppose you'd like to do something later on?"

  She gently tapped her finger to his lantern chin. "I'm here right now," she said, practically inaudible. "Why wait? Would you like to go into the house of mirrors with me?"

  His eyes smiled against the darkness of her glasses cast with the reflection of the light from the nearby attraction. He always appreciated a bit of mutual interest. Glanced up briefly, he looked at the amusement which read "Ariadne's Maze". Another odd name, but he didn't care terribly. "Sure, but I think they're closing down now."

  "Oh, don't worry. They're not going anywhere just yet. But maybe we will," she said in a sultry tone. "So... I happen have a ticket already. Why don't you go get one?"

  He nodded. Hey, whatever she wanted. It might be nice to see her in a better light anyway, he thought. She looked positively slim in her dress skirt, although maybe that was some of the black talking. He enjoyed it thoroughly when girls dressed in ebony.

  Simon stood in the soft rain, shielded somewhat by the pines and evergreens in the muddy camp ground soil. There it was. A red door. And curiously visible despite the lack of lighting back here.

  Outwardly, nothing seemed special about it, other than it looked painted with a red primer. That and it was a solid wooden door literally attached to a candy stripe canvas tarp, quite nonsensically out of place. There was not even a proper frame. It just seemed to stand of its own accord while the gaudy tarp occasionally rustled in the damp winds. He gazed upon the brass handle, the only non-crimson portion of the door itself.

  Life had been getting a little unusual recently, he had to admit. First, the whole run in with the men in black Lincolns. Himself working up the courage to ask out Vikktorea at long last. Then, what seemed to be the ghost of a bearded lady, who was never that old in life if he understood Helga. Of course, there was Norbert and his all-knowing girth. And now this mysteriously free standing door attached to a circus tent in a way that made no sense with physical law. Was there some meaning behind these things? Dresden Port had always been a strange town to live in, but the oddities generally didn't occur within such a short range of time from one event to another.

  And yet there he was, a bored late twenty something delivering newspapers, circulars, and other forgettable pieces of transient information. Even living in one of New Jersey's strangest towns couldn't seem to rouse him from the slumber of the day to day, usually.

  But this door... well, it certainly wasn't any ordinary door. Not if what Norbert promised held any weight. Simon hesitated. He knew the seemingly psychic obese man suggested a great change of sorts awaited him if he went through with it. He also knew this entrance would not remain and that this decision must be his alone. For a moment, he stared at it.

  He was able to quickly make up his mind, but going through with the act beyond a mere thought was different from all the planning in the world. Still, what risk was there? Was there any? Norbert's warning was esoteric in nature. He pondered that over as he looked at the cheap paint job. The end result was simply that there was no way to know for certain. Just like what Norbert said of the pinwheel. Unless perhaps, he went on through. It kept coming back to that.

  An eternity of just going with the flow, with periodic moments leaving him wondering how things really worked? Never making any potentially serious decisions on his own while hiding in the shadow of his successful friend's charisma? Many times he had imagined his specter at the end of his days reading the inscription on a tombst
one that described in loving tribute a man with the living sensibility of wet cardboard. What kind of slow sad hell was this? Action over apathy, and the opposite… what difference did any of it make? What could actually change?

  He winced, tightening his brow to the point of closing his eyes as he grabbed the handle. It felt a bit dirty in his palm. Gritting his teeth and slowly opening his eyes once more, he turned the knob and opened it, ready to expect anything. On the other side, anything greeted him.

  It was a blinding white light that poured forth without definition. Simon flinched and was forced to hastily put his glasses back on as his pupils burned from the blinding shock. He looked up again, but the visual protection seemed to do little. He felt the light upon him... and it was cool, almost breezy to the touch. It seemed to beckon him closer, ever closer. After a moment of hesitation, desperation won and he obliged the compulsion. The door then closed behind him with a secure click. And just like that, there was only a candy stripe tarp blowing in the drizzle and breeze, leaving no trace of trouble or even the footprints of a conflicted individual.

  There was the sensation of light rain on his forehead. It was warm today for once. He wiped some of the water off his face. Some of it may have been intermixed with a lingering cold sweat.

  Simon slowly opened his eyes as if he’d come out of a long nap in some fairy tale. His body was sluggish and his mind groggy. His clothes were soaked and somewhat muddy. Looking about himself, he was sitting upon a soft bed of brown pine needles under their parent tree. He was at the campgrounds still. And he was alone.

  There was no carnival. No people. Nothing. Just rain, mud, and himself. And it was daytime. He mumbled incoherently to himself in confusion, slowly getting to his feet, and took no comfort from the wet muddy clothes. Had he truly slept in the open at the campgrounds after last night? He couldn't remember having chosen to do so. Not after the door, anyway.

  Reflexively, he checked his pockets. He wasn't robbed. He lifted his shirt and checked his body. No injuries and his kidneys were surely intact. He worked his mouth but there was no taste of a brewery. Just water. In short, he was fine.

  Had Ramone really just left him there? It seemed very unlikely that one of his best friends would simply ditch him in the woods during a rainstorm, even if he had gone skirt chasing at some point. He didn't know if that was true, but it would be far from Ramone's usual motives to abandon someone without a word. He decided to go check for the car back at the entrance, just to be sure.

  The parking lot was essentially a swampy ditch right now, flanked by the cut tree logs making up the borders. No one and nothing was there, with the exception of a very distinctive Challenger and a long black haired man sitting behind the wheel. Simon breathed out a sigh of relief. He was rather curious to hear what Ramone's story was for leaving him outside all night.

  Walking up to the car, Ramone was slouched against the driver's side glass sloppily, clearly sleeping. "Hey," Simon called, rapping the pane. Ra made a snoring sound but gave no response. "HEY." Simon banged the door with his fist. His friend's eyes went wide as he made a startled wake. He looked around confused for several moments before setting his eyes on Simon.

  Ramone rolled down the window, one of the antiquated features his car possessed. "Oh... hey man. Uhhh... sorry, I must've passed out..." he slurred, running his fingers through his hair like a comb. "What's going on?"

  "What's going on?" Simon asked with a bit of derision. "Are you telling me you took a nap in your car and just left me outside in a storm overnight? I couldn't have been that hard to find."

  "I did?" Ramone looked genuinely puzzled. "Weird. Oh geez. Um, I'm sorry. I'm not really sure what happened last night. I lost track of you for a bit... and here we are." He rubbed his chin and mouth, visibly disoriented.

  "Super," Simon groaned. "Well, can I come in? I'm wet as a drowned dog out here."

  "Yeah, sure," Ra mumbled. He reached on the floor of the backseat and pulled up an insulated hoodie he rarely wore, lining the passenger seat with it. A moment later, and his friend sat down and took a moment to gather themselves.

  "So... how was she?" Simon slyly asked. He had a hunch.

  "How was... oh. OH. Yeah, her..." Ramone struggled, rubbing his brow.

  "Ha. Called it," smirked Simon. "So! You found someone pretty and I got to sleep on soaking wet pine needles."

  Ramone blinked for several seconds. "Well... honestly? I don't really remember what happened. I did meet this really exotic looking chick... and I did ask if she noticed you around once I lost sight of you. Um... it's gets kinda blurry from there."

  Simon's face slowly eased back to seriousness. "What do you mean?"

  "Literally... I don't know what the fuck happened last night. She had a strange name and... right, it was Aveirasen. And, we're talking, right? Flirtin', you know. So, we went into a funhouse or something and... that's kinda it. I really don't remember walking back to my car. So... yeah, I'm sorry. I don't think there was any booze at the carnival. I think I'd have a headache right now if I drank that heavy. I don't taste anything like liquor on my tongue either."

  "So, what about you? Where did you wander off to anyway?" Ramone asked.

  Simon sighed. "I... hoped you knew. After you left, I spoke with this really big guy named Norbert. And he's telling me this and that about a door that in the back of a tent... and I had to make a decision about going into it or not. And then he wasn't real. And that bearded woman we spoke to was a ghost or something... another bearded woman seemed to imply that much when I went looking around again."

  Ramone watched his friend intently but said nothing.

  "Alright. So, I go through this door. It's just sitting there on the canvas of the circus tent, like it was a solid wall. And, there's a white light when I open... really bright, you know. Um, halogen lights bright. Literally blinding. And then... I woke up under a pine tree just past the parking lot there a few minutes ago. I figured you'd ditched me or something."

  "Simon... don't even joke. I'd never willingly do that. Damn, son. But that's a strange little story. So, both of us have no real idea what happened at the carnival after a time... did we get drugged, maybe?"

  "Well, I feel alright. And if we did, I don't think anyone would have just put you back in your car. You don't remember waiting for me or anything. And I wasn't robbed... I dunno, it doesn't seem like there was anything to gain. Maybe check your stuff?"

  Ramone went through an immediate self inspection, similar to what Simon did minutes earlier. Shirt, wallet, the interior of the car. He shrugged. "All my money is here. Mm, I'm not seeing or feeling anything different."

  "Odd," muttered Simon. "You know, I kind of expected something to happen after that door. But the only out of place thing is us- missing several hours of memory. And yet, we had a different experience that caused it."

  "Maybe we simply hallucinated from something. Maybe none of it happened."

  "That's not exactly reassuring... but I guess it's possible. I wonder what would have caused it?" sighed Simon.

  "Dunno. But if that's the case, I'm wondering where I dreamed up a name like Aveirasen. It's exotic, but kind of nonsensical sounding."

  Simon slumped down in seat, a small look of amusement on his face. "Hey, I'm not one to judge what women you like. Maybe she's some dream girl based on bits and pieces of others you've seen. I'm sure it was a lot nicer than dreaming about a bald guy in a fez who was the dictionary definition of corpulent."

  Ramone chuckled and thumbed his chin beard. "Yeah, definitely! Heh heh. Ah well... maybe the answer will come to us. Let's grab some coffee."

  "Sounds good. I could go for a rye bagel right now," agreed Simon. His friend nodded cheerfully. All of this surely would make a good story for Jessie to pick apart and deride later. And so, Ramone soon kicked up a sputter of mud from under the Challenger's tires and they left the 4 H camp grounds.

  The destination was the usual: Shuck's 24-hour Convenience. The Challenger began to ro
ar down the dirt roads leading from the 4 H, when Ramone just as soon slowed down to a coasting speed and looked out his driver's side window as the rain let up. "What's up?" Simon asked, trying to see what Ramone was distracted by.

  "Henson?" Ramone asked rhetorically. "When did this get here?"

  "What are you going on about?"

  Ramone rolled down his window and gestured to a dirt road off to his side. It seemed like any other road around here, including the one they were driving on. "Look. The sign says Henson Road. I've driven down these lanes for years. I've never seen this. Not once."

  "You sure...?"

  Ramone returned a disapproving look. "Simon, I know this town damn near perfectly. I grew up here; I've raced this place to hell and back. This road was never here. And the sign isn't new either." He stared a moment more and shook his head. "Maybe I'm just being dumb. I don't know. Sorry, let's just keep going." Although he knew the town quite well, Simon admittedly didn't know every square inch of town perfectly, and he didn't make an issue about it. He also hadn't been paying attention on the ride up to this point. Maybe some really obscure back road? Ramone, meanwhile, seemed a little agitated, so he put the radio on.