Scourge: Chapter One

Apparently most guys my age are supposed to have very few things on their minds, the most important of those being money, booze and sex. The big cities are where these things breed and flourish. Small towns, like the one I just moved to, are where the wants of normal twenty-one year old men wither, starve and die a horrible, painful death. So I

really shouldn’t wonder why people give me strange looks while stating over and over again that they can’t believe a guy like me would leave his action-packed life in San Francisco and move to Ely, Nevada.

         My excuse had always been along the lines of “the city is too loud,” or “too crowded.” The generic, full-of-shit answers you normally hear from people leaving large cities. Those weren’t my real reasons at all. Honestly I’m not sure why I left and came to Ely. For reasons not entirely concrete, I just knew I had to get out of California.

         Until around the age of sixteen I had been awkward, shy, un-athletic and soft. Then a series of horrible hormonal changes and incredibly painful growth spurts demolished the un-athletic and soft parts of my being. That, unfortunately, left me with awkward, shy and an embarrassing six feet six inches by the time I had graduated high school.

         I hated school. It wasn’t hard, not at all. I was smart enough to sleep through the majority of my classes and still make the honor roll. Popularity was never my forte and I really didn’t care. I had a few people whom I called friends, but there were always more important things to do and school seemed like the biggest waste of time. When I graduated in the top percent of my class, Mom was really proud. I didn’t have the guts to tell her I hadn’t actually been trying. She begged me for years to apply for scholarships and colleges. I just blew off her requests. I had been working full time since I was 17 and that was the only reason Mom and I could survive. Going to college would make life harder on the both of us.

         After Mom died, I stopped being able to find reasons to stick around and found more reasons to leave. There was nothing left for me in San Francisco. I had graduated, I had no family, no obligations, besides survival, and I was alone. The city was painful. There was no way I could live in a place that reminded me so much of my mother. No way I could live in a place with millions of other people and still be so utterly alone. One day it just got to me.

         I didn’t have a clue what I was doing anymore. It was as if I’d just hit the off switch in my brain and let some other force take over my life. I sold everything my mother and I had owned, but what I needed to live and one or two pieces of her jewelry. I worked more and more overtime, moved into the cheapest, most run-down place I could find and saved every cent. One day I walked into my manager’s office, with no prior consideration, and put my two weeks in. At the end of that I put everything I owned in two suitcases, filled my truck with gas and started driving. I had no idea where I was going.

         The city faded away into farmland and small towns. Thos faded into rolling hills covered in white windmills. Then mountains. I had never been to the Sierra Nevadas before. They were enormous, jagged, ruthless and the most beautiful place I had ever seen, but I didn’t stop. I wasn’t far enough away. The mountains soon faded into a vast desert that seemed to swallow everything that entered it. This dessert made me feel like the world was gone. There was so much nothing out there that at times it seemed more chaotic and overwhelming than the most crowded cities on earth. I thought being there would absolutely make me lose it. The biggest problem with that desert was that it never ended. I looked at nothing but sand for hundreds of miles. Well, sand and a lot of sagebrush. And telephone poles. Jagged hills. Contrails. Isolated trees. Bits of fence. Antelope. Breathtaking rock formations. Eagles. Wild flowers.

         I stopped in a dusty little town that looked entirely made out of casinos, hotels and gas stations. At the most dilapidated, scary looking hotel imaginable, I got out of my truck and was first met with that wonderful, warm, sage scent and then by a smattering of more stars than I thought could exist packing the perfectly black sky. You never see stars in San Francisco. The next day I was looking for a job and a house.

         I only had enough money for food and my hotel room for about a week and had to get started. On day one, I walked all over the tiny city turning in applications at nearly every building I passed. The owners and managers of most of these places were the stereotypical redneck type from what I saw. It was so obvious that I wasn’t from the area I had to laugh at myself. My grungy city clothes stuck out from the more western attire that seemed popular and looking around at all the clean-cut men my age I guessed that my hair was another uncommon sight here. I hadn’t bothered to cut it in about two years. It was long enough that I kept it pulled loosely in into a ponytail. It was no wonder the people in this place treated me with such suspicion. Of course that didn’t bother me nearly enough to make me want to change my appearance, especially since my brain was still turned off.

         Housing was next. I scoured several different newspapers looking for an inexpensive place with a roof on it. I didn’t have much choice. I circled a few ads then threw the paper on my bedside table where it stayed until the next morning.

         Everything was going by in a blur. Nothing was clear, nothing was thought through, nothing was deliberate, It all just happened and I was only along fro the ride. I wasn’t afraid at all. Ely was so alien and unfamiliar. The smell, the way people moved, functioned and thought, the feeling was almost the exact opposite of the city that I once called my home. The fact that I had no home didn’t bother me either at this point.

         Several phone calls later I was running around town in my truck, the only part of me that fit in around here, for meetings with landlords and homeowners. I saw apartments that were kind of nice, a few town homes that were more than likely way out of my means, and trailers. People really lived in trailers out here? Cool. One of these was on the very edge of a trailer park. It was bright blue, the same color as my truck almost, the paint was chipping, the porch was falling apart, most of the seals on the windows were broken, the floor creaked and there were probably leaks in the roof. I seriously doubted it would last through any sort of poor weather. I told the landlady that I would be calling her back in a few days. Beyond my best expectations I received a call for a job interview that same day. It was from one of the many gas stations. Of course. I guess I fit the gas station worker persona pretty well.

         From then on everything miraculously fell into place. I had no idea at the time how unbelievable lucky I was to have my months of brainlessness not dump me in the gutter with no food, money or will to go on. I got the job, I called the owner of the trailer back, left the hotel and settled in. I had been working nights at the gas station for a little over a week when it happened.

         I was lying on the floor of my empty singlewide trailer simply starring at the ceiling. Suddenly my brain turned back on resulting in the biggest nuclear meltdown known to the history of mankind. Well, not really, but that’s how it felt to me. I panicked. What if none of that had worked out? What if I had ended up on the street? How would I survive? What as I thinking? I realized that I wasn’t thinking. I also realized that I was working for just above minimum wage at a gas station in a redneck village in the middle of the desert and I was living in a rapidly decaying singlewide trailer where I slept on the floor. What the hell!

         I paced the barren living room a few times. It’s hard for me to think of too many things at once and telling my brain to walk took up some of the room used for thinking. The what-ifs were still racing through my head. I was on edge. This was like missing the past several months all together then waking up on an alien planet butt-naked and clueless. After pacing and panicking for about five minutes I finally realized that was all I was accomplishing. I was an idiot running around his living room with his hands on his head. Stop pacing. Get a hold of yourself. I would be embarrassed about this reaction later.

         “Okay,” I was talking aloud to myself, “what’s with the panicking?”

         I thought, because I live in a trailer, in the desert, surrounded by hillbillies and casinos.

         “Fair enough,” I replied, “but is that too big of an issue?”

         No.

         “Okay then.  Now what’s the next problem?”

         You’re talking to yourself.

         I shut up. Why did I come out here? What was to be gained? I could remember myself as miserable and alone, but other than that, empty. San Francisco had become a living hell and I had simply had a lapse of reasonable thought. Running away from pain was instinctual. With no reason to stop myself I had ended up here; it kind of made sense. Why was I so upset? This was a new place with new people and customs. Hell, next to California this was a foreign country. Of course I would feel out of place. I was making less money now than I had ever made, but the cost of living was lower and that was ok I guessed. There wasn’t anything to do, really, besides work. That wasn’t a problem right now. There was no reason to be so upset. I had a handle on things for now.

         My attention was drawn out the window. Thank God. The sky was becoming a lighter shade of blue by the minute advertising that the sun would soon rise. I took a deep breath and ran my fingers through my hair. This would be my life for quite a while and I could feel myself coming to accept it. Slowly, of course, but soon I would accept it. Several minutes later the jagged horizon was a brilliant yellow ribbon and then the sun broke through it. The mountains of dirt and sage cast long shadows across the valley and golden light touched the sand making it glow. As the sun rose higher, the gold spread. It began to touch the fences, the already awakened cattle and the tin roofs of houses and barns, setting them ablaze. I hadn’t noticed before but mornings had a scent out here. This place was absolutely amazing in its own little way. Everything would be ok. I reassured myself of that then went to get some sleep.

         

                                                              # # #



         “Hey, Elijah!”

         “Yes?” I stood up from behind some shelves. Jared, the guy that had his shift before me was standing at the door, coat ion and car keys in hand.

         “I’m heading out. Ya’ got a handle on things?” he asked.

         “Nope,” I said sarcastically, “you might as well light the building on fire now rather than delay the inevitable.”

         Jared rolled his eyes and chuckled, “’sall this sarcasm a Cali thing?”

         “No I’m just a smart-ass.”

         “Ya’ got that right,” he opened the door, “Don’t squat with yer spurs on.”

         “Good night, Jared.”

         “An’ git rid of that damn accent already,” he left grinning.

         “Fat chance,” I muttered under my breath.

         Jared was a nice guy and fun to be around, when there weren’t beautiful women around as well. In that case he was just a jackass. He made fun of me incessantly for being from California, for my size, my hair, the way I talked and anything else he could find. Soon enough I learned not to take it personally. He’s one of those guys who makes fun of anything and anyone. Unless, of course, you have a small waist, pretty face and a large pair of breasts. He was a very typical guy for the area.

         I finished stocking the shelves I was at, then the cigarettes behind the counter and went to get the mop to start cleaning the floors. Very few people came in this late so it was a good time to clean the little shack of a gas station up, not that it changed the appeal of the place much. It was a lost cause, for the most part, but it gave me something to do. Boredom led to thinking too much, my thoughts usually led to remembering how often gas stations are targets of robbery and that led to me wondering how I would act if somebody pointed a gun at me. We had a gun. I wasn’t sure if that was legal or not but it was kept loaded, in its case on the second shelf directly below the cash register. What’s worse was everybody assumed that I would know how to use it if I had to defend myself. Not all big, burly guys know how to use a gun. I was horrified of them actually. If somebody held up the store I wouldn’t be too hard to persuade. Help yourself to a drink while I put the money in the bag and I’ll give you a 30 second head start before I call the authorities. On second thought, I won’t even call the authorities. Have a nice day. I was such a pushover.

         My heart skipped a beat and I very nearly jumped out of my skin when the ice dispenser clicked on loudly and cubes clattered to the bottom of a plastic cup. I whirled around and was immediately caught in her eyes. I had been so lost in thoughts about life or death situations with bad guys in masks with guns that I hadn’t heard her enter the store let alone her car pull up. Warm, deep, mahogany eyes were giving me a look that was so cold I couldn’t remember to breathe. Her mouth was in a straight line and one eyebrow was raised higher that the other in a cocky, critical stare.

         “Hi,” she said.

         “I’m sorry!” I laughed out of being nervous, “You scared me.”

         She didn’t reply to that. Her straight mouth curved up slightly at the corners then she turned away from me. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She was so different from anybody I’d seen in a long time. Not a gambler, trucker, hick or even like the tourists who passed through on their way to somewhere else. Those people usually had very broad and loud movements and mannerisms. They made their presence known. Everything about this girl was cautious, quiet and subtle. The only noises she made were actually products of the soda fountain and a very muted snap of a lid. She was wearing worn-out converse making her footsteps silent. None of her clothes, denim jeans, white shirt, not even the garish amounts of metal on her grungy leather jacket made a sound as she moved. It was eerie, almost like looking at a ghost. Then I realized that she was looking at me.

         Glaring actually. I’d been caught staring.

         “Are you done?” she asked, “Need a better look?” she held her arms out and turned around once. Her free arm fell to her side and she shook her head before snatching a Twix bar off the shelf. What an attitude. I deserved it though.

         She put the candy and Coke on the counter, gave me another cold glance then walked to the back of the store. I got to the register just as she came back with a six pack of beer. Yeah, right. She didn’t look a day older than 17 or 18. Now it was my turn to give the critical looks.

         “I need to see some I.D.” I said.

         “What? I don’t look over forty?” she grinned and pulled her driver’s license out of her wallet. No way. The birth date on the I.D. made her 25.

         “What are you trying to pull?” there was no way she was 25.

         “Nothing, and don’t bother trying to be clever, blondie, I’ve heard ‘em all.”

         “It’s fake isn’t it?”

         “Waste as much of my fucking time as you want, it’s the real deal.”

         “Fine,” I didn’t feel like arguing suddenly. She was scary.

         I gave her the total, she handed me a silver debit card, then leaned on the counter. It nearly came to her armpits and I had to try not to laugh when I realized how tiny she was. The I.D. was definitely a fake. It had to be. I hoped nobody saw this later on the video cameras.

         “Can you answer a question for me?” her tone was kinder now.

         “Depends,” I answered.

         “Besides the hillbillies, have you seen or heard of anything strange or out of the ordinary going on around here?”

         Strange question.

         “Yeah,” I handed her card back, “a really obnoxious, midget girl was seen at a gas station recently. Is that helpful?”

         She snorted, “Well I think I’m done here then,” took her things and walked out the door, “Have a nice life, blondie.”

         Her long, black braid trailed out after her. A loud engine roared to life, a black motorcycle tore out of the parking lot and screamed down the street. That girl was the most rude, arrogant, stuck-up, irritating, short and beautiful person I had ever seen. Despite her behavior there was something otherworldly and somewhat serene about her. I was dazed for a bit. I shook the thought of that brat from my head and told myself I’d never see her again. I was almost sad.

         The rest of my shift was slow. It was usually slow. I got home at about three in the morning and realized that I wasn’t tired at all and was soon bored. I couldn’t remember what kind or if I had ever bothered with entertainment when my brain had been turned off the past few months. I’d have to pick up some books or something tomorrow. The city circulated a pathetic little newspaper that I read with a dinner of ramen noodles. There weren’t many interesting articles; something about a rodeo, a beauty pageant in another city, a small blurb about the war and a corner on one of the last pages was devoted to a story about the death of some livestock on the outskirts of town and a reward for anybody willing to shoot coyotes. This place was beginning to feel so backwards.

         Outside there was the myriad of stars in the sky. I sat on the back porch, or what was left of it, and watched them. The moon was huge and there was a yellow-orange tint to it. It drowned out the light from any stars that got to close to it. The amazing quantities of light cast a cold glow on the ground to the point where I could almost see as well as if it had been daytime. My thoughts began to wander to that girl again, especially her eyes and the unearthly way she moved. It made me irritated. Stay out of my head you little biker punk!

         Suddenly a horrible noise came from a bunch of cottonwoods about fifty feet away. It sounded like a bark or a cough from something that was either violently ill or being strangled to death and whatever had made it was way too big for comfort. I remembered the article about dead livestock, coyotes, the fact that there wasn’t a fence around the trailer park, and something about my mortality all at the same time. I had an adrenaline rush and decided that it was too cold to be outside. I locked the back door behind me followed by the front and side doors.

         Now what? Man, I would really need to invest in a television or some sort of hobby before I went insane from boredom. How many nights had I wasted just staring at the ceiling? I decided to just go to sleep early and get a head start on tomorrow. Until I heard something rip the aluminum siding off my house. The sniffing, scratching sound that preceded it was what caught my attention. Something big had circled the place several times. I felt my heart begin to race. I’d seen coyotes in books and on TV and was pretty sure they didn’t get very big or sound like that. The screaming of metal being shredded split the air and it came from directly below my bedroom window. I bolted out of bed muttering swear words and backed away from the window, but that was all I had the nerve to do. Coyotes didn’t rip metal off of houses. As far as I knew nothing that lived out here did. Needless to say I didn’t sleep that night even after I knew the thing had gone.

         In the morning I went outside and, sure enough, a large chunk of the blue siding was shredded off. It crossed my mind that maybe a person had done it, but the teeth and claw marks ruled out that suspect. Shit, those were some big teeth and claws. I remembered the girl at the gas station asking me if I had seen anything strange. This was a little creepy. I hoped whatever that thing was and that girl would never come back. Strangely enough I still didn’t feel like sleeping.