Desperate By Dusk

by Alexander Salkin

  His attention was more upon the shack itself. Although a good deal of detail was missing in the dark, it looked fairly run down. It was made in a log cabin style, with ripped up mesh screens hosting a front mud room. The main door was hanging loosely by a single corroded hinge and the windows were small piles of chipped or well broken dirt stained glass. Behind it, stood a great fat tree bearing no leaves that was probably upsetting the foundation of the structure. It was likely dead, but far too squat at the trunk's base to topple over. There also looked to be the remains of a hitching post and trough here, but only a few hints of termite chewed wood told that story.

  "It's quiet… want to check inside? I'll watch Simon and Rio," suggested Jessie. In truth, he knew he wouldn't be any help in his condition if something was amiss. He wished Simon was awake. The man seemed to have eyes made for the night.

  "Yeah, yeah… I got this," agreed Ramone. "Holler if you see something."

  Preparing quickly, Ramone gathered a loose, dry stick from the ground. Producing his Jack Daniels metal lighter, a Christmas gift from his father from after the move down south, he lit the wooden piece with some nearby cloth scrap after several false starts, gaining himself a small mote of light. It wasn't much, but that was for the best. He neither wanted to attract too much attention at a distance, nor set the place ablaze with a random ember. He could tell things were quite dry around here.

  He moved slowly, stepping under a collapsing wooden overhang and archway into the mud room. The front door opened with a recalcitrant whining creak, which was further hindered by a chaotic pile of broken furniture and wooden boards on the other side. He did his best to try moving some of the chaos away with his boot, but it merely wound up collapsing against his knees. He gave a mild swear and pushed his way through with large, careful, striding steps. "Hello?" There was only silence and the settling of the wooden debris behind him.

  The mud room had some ratty scattered rugs lying about the floor, but for the most part, the boards of the floor itself were decomposing from old water damage seemingly seeping in from the flawed roof during storms. Around him, there was a third hand mold ridden couch with a puke brown pattern from the nineteen fifties and something that was probably a table or a ground based gun rack. The workmanship was shoddy at best. The smell of mildew climbed his nostrils, assaulting his other senses through that weak point. He could easily tell that the place was a complete hovel. It was hard to imagine the legendary Chester Winchley would have ever lived in such an abject dump.

  The shack didn't look to have been inhabited for quite some time. He was convinced if hunters used it, they probably stopped quite a ways back, which coincided with Jessie's social history theory. The magnificent squash faced bastard had a knack for being right more often than not, he had to admit.

  With an open entrance into the main body of the cabin, he pressed in further, ducking the low hanging boards with protruding rusty nails, likely teaming with a threat of tetanus. The room itself was rectangular, with a ceramic slop sink, a small kitchenette/fireplace, some military surplus cots, and a rotted steamer trunk. He noted there were no further doors, which made him think of the wooden mess by the front mud room. Had it been a barricade? He wasn't sure how many people got away with petty vandalism out here.

  It was time to call the troops in. He whispered for Jessie to bring Simon over. Meanwhile, he began to remove the wooden blockage by the front door, knowing Jessie would never comfortably be able to step over it, nor was it something they should drag an unconscious man across. Of course, after seeing Rio's amazing frog jump just minutes ago, he was confident she wouldn't have had trouble if she wanted to get over it.

  Once they settled in, Jessie took account of the building. "Looks like several hunters might have been using this long ago. Huh. This is quite the dive! Smells like an old attic."

  "Water damage and neglect will do that in short order," Ramone idly observed. He had worked on a few masonry jobs with his father back in his teenage years. He didn't personally care for it, outside of the quality time and pocket change, but he found hands-on technical work easy to pick up. Maybe not to the intricacy of Jessie's skill, but he was no slouch.

  "Well, we got some cots back here, I see. We're probably asking for a skin rash sleeping on these things. That couch is even nastier, though," said Jessie. "Still, maybe we should take a breather here. I don't think I can go on any further and you look like hell, to be frank. One of us should stand watch and let the other crash for a bit. Maybe we can wait this out here before they show up, if they do at all."

  Ramone nodded. "Yeah, I… uh, I could use a break. Now that I notice it, I'm not feeling so hot."

  His squash faced friend raised a brow. "More than earlier?"

  "Actually, yeah… although, it's more of a different feeling this time. Earlier today, I had a screaming headache. I kind of worked through it. This is… well, my forehead feels hot. I'm wondering if whatever Simon has is contagious."

  Jessie motioned for him to come closer and then touched Ramone's forehead with the back of his hand. He winced. "No joke, Ra. You're burning up. Go take it easy for a while. I might not be able to go hiking, but I can stay awake."

  "Mrm… I appreciate that, Jess. What about you?"

  Jessie touched his own forehead and looked back to Ramone with a shrug. "It's fine. My legs are just shot and I'm hungry. But I can manage. Anyway, I think it's a good idea for someone to keep an eye out not only for the cultists, but Rio."

  "Do you think she's a danger?"

  "No… but she is a big unknown right now. If she's actually feral, there's no telling how she might act on her own. I'm still not clear where her loyalties are. I'm really hoping she's not just keeping an eye on us for those guys in town."

  "But the injuries on her hand-"

  "-may be more extensive than we know, Ra," Jessie said, finishing Ramone's concern. "She might still identify with them, even if they mistreat her. She could have a form of Stockholm Syndrome for all we know. Ask yourself, does she have a reason to like Drifters? Yeah, she led us to water and she's followed us this far, but she didn't seem to give a crap about the hundreds of dead people out there who weren't dressed in hoods and robes. Let's just be cautious- we can't take anything for granted right now."

  "Maybe they weren't Drifters," suggested Ramone. "It's entirely possible we misunderstood all the pantomiming up to this point. They could have been people from outside town or just dissidents to whatever exactly is going on here."

  "Perhaps. But we're not cultists from around here either. She might have even mentioned those people on the poles earlier, but I didn't recognize the term. She's a wild card right now, Ra. Let's just keep that in mind and see where this goes."

  "Alright, man. I'm gonna park it for now. I'll use one of those cots. And I'll give Simon the other one. We can use my jacket and his flannel to avoid some of the contact with the material on those things. Wake me if something goes wrong."

  "Cool. Take it easy." He watched Ramone drag Simon over to a cot and begin preparations for a needed rest. He was a bit concerned that Ramone might have whatever Simon was dealing with, which meant if something bad did happen, Jessie was very much on his own. Perhaps the sickness wasn't some illness from this dimension, but the results of trying to resist the Drifting for too long. He felt bad, assuming it was the case. They had done so for his sake. Maybe if they had abandoned him somewhere…

  CHAPTER 20

  Shaking his head, Jessie went about reassembling the pile of wood debris by the door. It seemed like it would serve as a functional barricade, at least from how Ramone found it. The door itself was barely hanging on at all, so every little bit of defense would surely help. The windows were less of a concern. They were small, half broken, and dirty not only on the glass itself, but from bits and pieces of seasonal detritus filling the ersatz nooks. He couldn't see through them on either side. Additionally, if someone tried coming through one, they would find the experience rather painful and the
noise would give them away.

  Although she had been rather mute and passive for several hours now, Rio took initiative and began to assist Jessie in replacing the barricade. He was a bit surprised to see her get involved. "Hey thanks, kiddo…" he said, not feeling a great deal of energy for the task on his own, "I guess I'm not alone on thinking we have reason to be wary." She looked at him blankly, but didn't stop from working.

  He made a sad face, quickly not feeling proud of himself again. "Ehh, you know what? I'm sorry; I shouldn't call you 'kiddo'. That's kind of demeaning, isn't it? I mean, despite what Ramone says, I don't know what age you are, but you're no kid. Maybe you never even had a childhood. Not in a place like this."

  His gaze cast to his hands, as they lifted the dusty wooden boards and slabs. "I don't understand any of this. Is this part of the 'journey'? I want to help you, but I don't know how. We don't even speak the same language. If we leave here, will we ever see you again?"

  Jessie sighed; glancing behind him to make sure Ramone wasn't listening in. But his Italian friend was asleep almost as soon as he hit the cot. "You know, I'm aware I'm kind of a suspicious distrustful person but I'm not always right. Hmm. You're hanging out with us for a reason, aren't you? I thought for a bit that there was a chance you were keeping an eye on us for the ones back in the town, but there's no reason you'd help me build this barricade if that was the case. Or help us get clean water, like you did." He sighed and observed her for a moment. "I get the feeling you don't belong here much more than we do. Except at the end of the day, or however long it takes, you don't get to go home to enjoy a coffee, sleep in your own bed, or anything like that, I imagine. What holds you to this place? What keeps you going?"

  They worked in silence for a while as they completed the task. Rio glanced at him on occasion with her dark nearly featureless eyes. "You're… eh, you're probably a lot tougher than I am where it matters," he announced, as they finished up. "I just hope this place didn't make your soul hard inside. But I should probably know better than to hope for something like that, huh?"

  The two of them sat in silence within the rotting hunter's lodge as the crickets chirped within the darkness outside. It was a good background noise to listen to continuously. It meant no one else was around and there were certainly enough cracks in the walls to hear even so much as footsteps in the vicinity. Jessie daydreamed, doing his best not to take a nap. Rio, who was finally sitting down cross-legged, seemed to study her book in the shadows across from him. "Can you actually read that in this light?" he asked rhetorically, lifting his head. She would occasionally flip between pages, both back and forth, but she never seemed to study the book in a consecutive order, as if looking only for pictures.

  "I'm gonna admit, I'm really curious as to what's in that thing," he mumbled to her. He couldn't make out any details of even the cover, with what little moonlight was penetrating the domicile. It was an oversized tome and it didn't look mass manufactured, but that's about all he could get out of it. He wanted to talk to Rio, if just to pass the time, but he wasn't sure what to say. Social matters were often difficult for him, particularly when his natural acid was less than warranted. And here, there was a very present language barrier.

  Then arose a noise from the other room. It was the sound of footsteps on the old creaking floor. Jessie and Rio glanced up, neither expecting any movement in there at the time. Using the nearby wall to support himself up, Jessie stood as fast as his feet would allow. "Ramone?"

  Instead, it was Simon who appeared with a staggered groggy stance, leaning against the open frame from one room to another. "Hey…"

  Jessie slowly smiled, letting slip a rare moment of happiness. "Simon! Are you okay?"

  Simon nodded and ran his fingers through his hair. Each strand was drenched with cold sweat. "I'm good. Did I miss anything fun?"

  "Oh, nothing much. Just us hauling your unconscious carcass halfway across a nightmare version of Dresden Port, while quite possibly being on the lam from some crazy people. Just another day in la-la land, you know how it is. Nice of you to finally wake up, sleeping beauty," he said, sounding more typically sarcastic. "Did you have a good nap? What even happened to you? Last I saw you, I was talking and then you tossed your cookies and passed out like a drunk. I didn't think my speeches were that boring. Or nausea inducing."

  Simon grinned. "Good to see you're feeling gingerly." Simon glanced to Rio and then back to Jessie. "Who is your little friend?"

  "Her name is Rio. We don't exactly know what her story is, because she doesn't speak our language. But she knows what a Drifter is, I think. And she's been following us around for hours. She even helped us get some water, thanks to a little pantomime action."

  Simon nodded, and walked in, until he was standing next to Jessie. "I see. Well, thanks for everything. I'm sorry that I was probably quite a burden for you guys. But it's all good now. I'll explain things in a moment. Oh… and it's worth noting that you can consider Ramone to be 'offline' for a little bit. He's going through the same thing right now."

  "Huh?" Jessie shrugged. "Simon, what are you talking about? Did that fever take some of your brain function away? How do you know about what's happening to Ramone?"

  Simon grinned wryly, rolling his shoulders, leading to a loud popping sound emanating from one of them. "Because I'm your friendly neighborhood Voice, that's how."

  "Vuise," imitated Rio.

  "That's close, miss. Say Jess, why don't you catch me up on things first, and then I'll do the same. My knees and synapses are still a little rubbery."

  Jessie was more than content to share about the day's events. It helped pass the time, but he was more interested in hearing whatever Simon was referring to. It definitely seemed he knew something unsaid. Which was so very Simon in a nutshell, he thought.

  "Geez. This place sounds awful… but it also seems like you guys have avoided the worst of it so far," Simon reviewed.

  "I'm sure it could have been worse. Granted, there's been some paranoia on our part, but nothing of what's been going on felt we should have gotten involved, save Rio. We heeded the warning signs. We just weren't in any shape to deal with things if they turned south on us. I don't know that we're out of the trees yet, but knock on wood. So far, so good," Jessie told him.

  "Good to hear. I think you guys did what you needed to. And again, I'm sorry if I worried everyone. I didn't know about how things were going to be. It turns out, it's perfectly natural. I guess the timing was just bad. Not that I could have planned anything."

  "All right, enough. Seriously, what the flying fuck happened to you?" demanded Jessie, folding his arms. "You're making this sound a lot less like a fainting spell and more… I don't know, really. But I want full disclosure."

  Simon sat across from Jessie and Rio on a dingy off-yellow rug. She seemed to be curious about him, but she had remained quiet thus far. "So, getting back to earlier… while you were talking in the woods, I had a flash in my mind of the tree and routes I saw in my vision when I went through the red door at the Setting Sun carnival. I almost feel like what you were talking about kind of triggered it, because I was fine and dandy up until that point. That's my hunch, at least."

  "I made it happen? What was I saying at the time?" Jessie asked with a feeling of inadvertent guilt and surprise.

  "Well, maybe not directly. It might have been more like a handful of straw breaking the camel's back. You were going on, all kind of heated-like as you do, about the nature of different dimensions. You were throwing a lot of thoughts out there in a rant. Anyway, that's when I pictured the tree and I became very dizzy. As for the exact moment, I don't remember much beyond heaving on the ground and then things went black."

  Simon continued, his hands gesticulating like a politician as he spoke. "So, I had a dream during the period I was unconscious, although it felt real and waking at the time. I found myself standing in a great prairie of grass. It was lit up perfectly as day, but the sky was night, and filled with stars and a full moo
n. There was a sense of beauty, peace, and a tension in the air, like the kind that precedes a thunderstorm. I was alone there, but I felt myself under the glow and observation of those stars above me. Every one of them was like a soul or a conscious entity, at the very least. I felt a bond with them… as I was no different. And I also heard chanting, although I couldn't figure out the source."

  "Chanting, huh?" Jessie pondered aloud. "Not to interrupt, but there was a dark droning chant when I was checking out this version of Dresden Port proper. Is it possible you heard that?" Jessie remembered that he didn't hear the chanting back in the woods where his friends had been, but it felt like a point of connection.

  Simon shook his head. "Dark? Well, no. I wouldn't describe it as that. I didn't understand it, but I wouldn't call it gloomy or evil, if that's what you mean," said Simon. "It seemed more respectful, if I'm to take a crack of guessing what it was about. Maybe something like reverence of a process, if that makes any sense."

  "Not as such," Jessie said. "But, go on."