Observe...and Terminate

I heard the strangest sound as we got into a series of hills. I'd say Chonk and I were in a remote area, but hell, everything seemed remote here. Not one city, town, or village for miles. Last structures I saw were that castle and Dal Matia's patchwork tower.

So color me surprised when I hear a bass guitar quietly being played off in the distance.  Chonk seemed dead set on heading that way, so my curiosity was to be sated at least. There were a lot of 'don't look' 'don't touch', and 'don't eat' warnings on the travels so far, this one was at least not warranting a 'don't listen'. 

As we crested a hill, I heard more to the guitar.  It was faint, but I heard a woman's voice. She was singing, and there was faint treble music.  It was a full fledged song, I would've bet money that it was one I knew too. Kelly Clarkson's 'Miss Independent'.  I was in college when that song came out, never really cared about American Idol, and I was dismayed to find out it was still on when I came back, but I digress.

The hill leveled off into a flat plain, with another small picturesque brook going through it. Cattails and tall weeds waved back and forth, catching up against me about to the waist. There were stickerbushes and those little hooked seed plants that the idea for Velcro came from.

And there was a little house made of wood up ahead. Complete with a deck, stairs, and a chimney.

I was pretty visible, and decided to play it straight and just be noticeable rather than sneak around. Seems like the folks in these parts were really, really, really magic inclined, and stealthier than I could ever be. To hunch down and let the weeds give me away, that just sounded like stupidity. Better I look foolish etc...

When I got close, I heard the song change to voices.  Radio commercials. This person had a radio that worked in hell Underland. I started to finally clear out of the meadow, when a figure opened up the door and stepped out, obviously looking right at me.

This is where I'd expect to find Rika again, because my life falls into patterns and shit.

I did not.

The man was older, dressed in blue jeans and a flannel shirt. He wore one of them big western hats, that helped tame the wild long grey and white hair that signified him as a senior. He also wore a Sam Elliott style mustache.  Hell, if I didn't know any better, I'd have assumed it was Sam Elliott.  He kept squinting at me, reached inside his door and drew a few feet of iron on me.

Yep, the cowboy had a shotgun. Imagine that.

I put up my hands. He didn't point it at me, just yet, but it was there, and I felt the sudden urge to be exceedingly respectful.

The talk on the radio started up again, I wasn't paying attention.  He casually mouthed a cigarette out of a pack while staring at me approach, and lit it one handed off of a match.

Its a pretty long trek to walk sixty yards towards someone toting iron on you, with your hands up. Just sayin.

I finally get close enough to talk to him, standing off of the porch still, hands still up.  The radio's pretty loud, so I open up to talk over it.  The music changes to some girlpop song about wanting her boy to fall in love or something.

I stood there, unmoving.

He did the same, just smoking, giving me the stink eye.

The girl sang out about him being her baby.

After about thirty seconds, I sort of motion discretely to the radio.  He doesn't move. I mean I'm comfortable enough in my asexuality I guess, but this was just awkward.

Finally, he moves over to turn off the radio, always keeping me in his sight. The man didn't wear boots, but a pair of beaten sneakers not too unlike mine. In retrospect I guess my gear never really wore away back when I was dead, I guess that was good.

He sits in a chair on the porch and looks at me. Calmly, he finishes the cigarette and rubs it out. I get the sense that he should speak first, so I finally close my mouth and stop letting the flies in, as they say.

"Two questions." He says finally, as he leans back in his chair, that weapon in his lap, a hand on it.

I start to talk, and he cuts me off with that air of presence and finality. "How the hell haven't I met you before?"

I blink.  That wasn't quite what I had expected, and respond with a blank "Uh....?"

He squints at me again, and so I continue, "I'm new here, is why?" The sour look he gives me tells me that's not the answer he wants. I elaborate, "Seriously, I'm new here. I came here looking for a killer, and well, things got very muddled, I got locked up for a while, and now I'm just..." I shrug weakly, "Trying to get home."

The man leans forward a little, finally having gotten something he's interested in. "How long?" I pause, and stutter, "I need clarification, how long I was here, how long I was gone, what?"

Suddenly, Chonk pipes up, "Well, so much for his debt of hospitality. That got out of the way early, hmmm."

I ignore him, and look to the old man. "How long were you captured?" I think on it, and finally gesture to my missing arm, "Long enough to heal from this? Three months maybe?" 

He grips the shotgun tighter, "Come on, don't lie to me."  He raises it straight up, the threat was palpable as was the contempt in his voice, "I can see you. Hell, you're glowing like a sun. There ain't no way you've been here for just a few months. You'd better start giving me some answers."

Insert the Dukes of Hazzard commercial break music here.