The Travler

Good evening! As your host let’s begin with The Universe, can be a very unforgiving place. Cold, dark and desperate. Quite similar to the mappings of human nature. Our first oral rendering calls for an individual who does not heed warnings of a small towns ordinance. A town like any small town, some were in anywhere America. To our Traveler, who could be cared less with ordinances or small town politics? Enjoys the company of the dark, its silence and simplicity. To him the lonely roads hint at what adventures lay before them. Unknown to them, the shadows always watch, protect and glare out with greedy eyes. Teeth clicked and observing with a kind of horrid omnipotence. Just around the next corner awaiting the unsuspecting traveler.

We come upon a generic eatery in any where America, off on a dusty road, where the local Police stations sits nearby, post office, a store.

A long slow shift has just ended. A portly short order cook doing his side work and closing down the eatery looks up at the odd man. “Hey ya aughta slow down there!” The stranger doesn’t reply. He gazes at his food & continues to eat greedily. “A man could choke eat'n like that.” says the cook. The cook continues to clean up counter. “Kind of quiet, for a Friday night?”, says the stranger. No response immediately from the cook. Just the silent ticking of the hands and gears of a kitchen wall clock. Finally. “Yea, nothing happens round here. Not so much. Especially afta midnight.” as he finishes drying his last dish. Stops, stares out in his limited deep thought. “Come on! Nothing? No Nightlife… nothing?” says the stranger a little irritated at the cooks slow manners. The cook interjects with nods of no. Slowly, painfully slow. The cook then says, “Not in a long time that I can remember. Even in the town ordinance, back to the founding days of this place.” Puts down his dish rag and posses with both hands on the diner counter, baring his thick harry fore arms at the stranger. “Hum.”the stranger grunts. He continues to dive into his meal. “Ya like the food! So, what are ya doing here?”, the cook says nervously as he gazes at the wall clock. “What? Hey buddy......I didn't really want to talk.” , says the stranger as he continues to wolf down large bites. “I only mean..…” the cook now cut off. The stranger stops, “Listen, Bud!” Pauses, with a cold stare. “Leave me alone!” Now the cook looks back clock, again with more urgency. Then he grabs the strangers plate, and now meet's resistance. “Hey? What the he.....!” stranger begins a tug of war with the cook. The cook cutting him off. “It don't matta. If you don’t listen. Than I won’t! I'm the owner.I say what I say!”. The stranger relents and let’s go of the plate. Rolling his eyes, shaking head. “OK. Whatever you say old man. I’m done.“ Cook grabs the plate begins cleaning it off. “I did’n mean...its just the time. Town laws, an stuff. Have ya a place to stay fer the night?, says the cook in a more quiet intensity. The stranger getting off stool and adjusting jacket exposing a side arm, doing so he says, “No. Don't have time. On my way to Hamlinton. Have to be there early, have an important date. Hey… What is it? About eight miles or so from here?” The cook becoming alarmed now by seeing a side arm, gets angry, and nervous about the time. “Listen you! You have no idea….” The stranger cuts him off, “Hey! All right, I get the point. Trust me I do. Now to himself, “This small town garbage is all the same. Don't like drifters, city folk mess in…”, Whatever you people ”goobers” say!” The cook now alarmed further cuts the strangers thoughts and chimes in. “Now hold on…. Fella. Ya have no idea what your say'n.” The stranger putting out money says, “Save it Pops'. I get ya. Out is what you want! Out it will be!” The cook then grabs the strangers arm, “Hold on!, stagers the cook. Looks at the cook very cold, “I hope that's a friendly jester. If not…”. The stranger shows the side arm, under his left shoulder. “Well your smart. You get me.” The cook not as dumb as one would expect, nods, and slowly lets the strangers arm go. “Yea. I copy ya. Could ya listen fer a minute?” The stranger thinking. Humors the cook. “Sure. Why not. This better be…”. The cook cuts him off quickly “Do you ever listen; there is not much time!” Stranger counters, “OK, OK. Sorry.” We can sense he is condescending. The cook now comes around near there stranger, and leans in as if telling a secret. “I asked if ya had a place to drop your head is, because…”. The cook. Trying to figure out the best way to relate to a non town resident. Is now seeing the stranger is off put. So the stranger says, “What? Hey, speak up. No one is here.” Being impatient with the cook. The cook gets closers, and says, “I mean no one. No one roams this town afta midnight. At least till afta dawn.” Starring at the stranger. “Until now.”

The stranger steps back, “Easy there Dadyo. Don't be getting freaky deaky on me.”

The cook now very unhappy, “Hey boy. I'm serious!” retorts the cook. The stranger now angry saying, “So am I!” The stranger gesture to gun. “It’s time I move on.”the stranger quips. So the stranger about faces and heads to the door.

The cook in tears, crying out, “Ya don't understand, not even giving me a chance! No cars, trucks, people. Nothing moves threw this town afta twelve.” While saying this the cook is now moving after the stranger then gets in front and blocks the door.

The stranger stops, pissed, saying, “I heard that part. You senile retch. Come on! Aside! Let me leave!“

The cook now in his face standing his ground with more water welling in his eyes. “Ya fool. The five mile radius of ALLEN is…is watched over by…by something!” The stranger now face to face to with the cooks. Miffed further, the stanger says. “The…the…bogeyman! Ha-ha. Enough of your nursery rhymes. Money's on the counter!” “Ya could say that!”, says the cook. The stranger winces at the smell of the balogne on the cooks breath. “Say what? Could say what?”, says the stranger more annoyed by the minute. The cook now whispers. “Ya know…. The…bogeyman.” The stranger now seemingly pissed. “That's it.”, says the stranger as he is trying to move past the cook. The cook replies back, “Round here we call it….The Bogles!” The stranger stops. “The what...? Bogles? Now I've heard it all. I'll call STAR MAG when I get to my next stop. On that note, I'm out!” Cooks grips hold of the stranger, blocking his shooting hand. “You getting crazy with me?”, says the stranger. The cook now his face twisted, frenetic look in his eyes. Says, “It is a Nyx, an insane monster, or summthin. It jumps on ya from…” The stranger to himself says,“He shouldn't cut on his med's.” The stranger now directs his thoughts. “Blah….blah….blah….. Woo hoo. X-files man.” The cook stops him, “Hey…”

The stranger cuts off the cook, “I think too much inbreeding, meth, and lead in the water. Man! Jesus!” The stranger reverse twits the cooks hold, gut punches the cook, then pistol whips him hard; the cook falls into a table and then the floor. “Silly town. That is why these backwater places don't work. City people and developers will change all of that.” says the stranger as he turns, and exits threw double doors into the darkness. The cook staggering up, head gash, now shouting after the stranger. The cook whippping blood from mouth,”I warned ya travler.” Wipes mouth again. “Better make it past the Town line; a mile is a long way…Ya see!” Some where the sound of a clock strikes twelve. “It protects us! It will harm any one afta twelve! Its weight will……..!” The cook now realizes no one is there. He quickly goes back into the eatery and starts to barricade the door and windows.

A luminous glow from a tacticle watch shows 12:45 AM on his arm. Then a odd sound restless through the trees, not like the crunch of the travelers foot falls. “Naaa. Must be a Raccoon.” He says to himself. Stops. Listening. Nothing. Continues. “Stupid story.“ agin to himself.

Now a unhuman rumble echoes down the road. Then the strangers heart beat sounds, he starts to move quicker, but not panicked. “Dame Raccoons!”, he says aloud. Now the sound is closer and more aggressive. He stops. “All right! Who's there!”, slowly drawing his gun. Silence. “I'm armed!”,as he cocks his gun, with nervousness, and slowly aims going from right to left. We now hear heavy breathing, growls and then a insidious laugh. “Damn Townies! This isn’t funny!” As he fires several rounds from his gun towards the sound, blindly.

Then he screams! Sounds of death echo up and down the dark road.

We are now in the cooks bedroom at the back of the eatery. It is more like a closet then a bedroom. The cook hears gunfire. He shrinks under his covers. Mumbles, and whimpers to himself. “One is car backfire. More gunshots. Two or more is gunplay. My god. Two more shots. Then silence. “I warned him.”whimpers the cook. Darkness fills his little room.

The next day we see the local Police sitting idle. Leaning on their squad car. Not far from them is a sheet with blood stains and faint outline of what’s left of a body underneath. What may be left of our stranger? The cook is talking to both the Officers. “That's all Officer Bobby. He comes in. Eats. Then left. About twelve. I think.”

Officer Bobby just muses. “ Ya sure. Pete. Please. Did he say anything?“. “Ya. He did. On his way to…Hamlinton I reckon. Sumthin like that.” stamers the cook. Officer Bobby now annoyed. “Ya reckon. Or something. Jesus, you're a miracle. Did you at least warn him? This really stirred things up! And you of all people know better!” Bobby now very angry that he has to really work. Leaves the cook, and heads over to talk to the other Officer. The cook follows after him like a lost child that has been chastised once to often. “I did. He wouldn't hear none of it. He thought it was all halloweenie.” Officer Bobby stops dead in his tracks a spins around, “Hallow… What? Ahg.” Shaking his head. “Never mind. Thirty years and all is quiet. Now look, phew. I'll figure something out.” The second officer now comes towards the two. He says,”Hey Dispatch says they got a positive on the stiff.” “Yea? What else do they say?”, says Bobby scratching his head. “He’s got a peach of a rap sheet.”, second officer shouts back. Bobby looks up out past the fields. “OK. And?” Second officer reading off notes. “Well it seems that our cold friend is a professional. That explains the hardware.” Second officer, holding up gun with pen. “What's that?”, says Pete the cook craining over Bobby’s shoulder. Bobby shaking his head, to the cook, “Do ya mind? He is a hit man. You nit.“ The second officer continues.” His partner was caught up in Hamlinton. Apparently they were out to kill the Mayor for some big city developer.” The cook chimes in,”Guess the only developing here is six feet down.” Officer Bobby looks coldly at the cook. “That'll be all.” Bobby pauses, shaking his head again, rubbing the notch one finds between your eyes and nose. “I'll be by for more questions later. You really botched this up.” Pete the cook now upset. “You don't understand.” The cook now stammers nervously. He continues. “I did my.....Best. That Fella did’n whana.………”. Officer Bobby about to hit the cook. “Can it! You have done enough for us all. I will be by later. You may go now.” The cook then plods off and yells back. “OK. I’ll wait till ya come by.” He leaves very dismayed.

We now see what look like FBI talking with the other officer by the squad car. Bobby mutters, “Unbelievable.” To himself. To the second officer, Booby yells back. “Hey anything new?” As he heads towards the other patrolman, we hear an ambulance off in the distance. Second officer comes up to Bobby out of ear shot of the three suits. “Yeah…um…some folks here want to talk to you.” Officer Bobby now stalwart looks at them. “Great, what’s next!”, says Bobby. Officer Bobby now heads off with second officer towards the three FBI looking agents wearing standard field garb. They all talk, and it is apparent that Officer Bobby is upset, and then he leaves with second officer back to their squad car.

We see third FBI agent walk away from were the police and his partners had just conversed. Stands over dead body then lifts sheet. “Man what a mess. Are these yokels for real? There is definitely something odd here.” Starts writing in pad, as the other two come around body. The first agent says, “You could be right? What do you think?, as she addresses second agent. “Foul play. Say something, anything”. The second agent much older than the other two. “I do not know. I do not know what to think.” He pauses. The third agent apparently the youngest says “I’ll tell ya what to thin...” second agent cuts him off. “I have never in my years of service seen anything like this.I mean nothing.” The first agent combing the scene stops and says, “You're right on all counts. This is definitely out of our league.” The third one pipes in,”Even the locals do not know what to make of this.” Second agent says,”I am not so sure on that.” As he is looking back toward the police, and the cook now almost gone out of view. The first agent quips, “Well in any case. We have a situation, and something has to be done. I do not think we can handle this. Hey do you know any…. agents who could…”. The second agent cuts him off. “I think I have just the perfect two in mind.” “You’re not thinking of...”says the third agent. “No way. You can’t be serious.” retorts the first one. “Oh yes I am. They are the only two qualified for this. The only two.”

As the phrase goes, “ Ye old folks know sumthin.” Our host says this over the body of the stranger, and peeks at what is inside. It always pays to listen, and heed the warnings of any stranger. The road less taken seems to turn into a DEAD end for our Traveler. Remember when out on a nice country ride. Consider those around you and what they might know. When stopping in one of those “ strange back woods towns”, for arguments sake just check, and find out when curfew is. You never know how you end up? Or down?