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Sep. 13th, 2005 02:48 amIt didn’t take that long, really, for Raguel to realize that there were no clues to Coyote’s disappearance to be found at their desert campsite. The problem was that there were also no further leads to follow, beyond ‘eastward’. And there was a hell of a lot of ground to cover to the east of Arizona, even if he only limited himself to the States. His informed opinion was that given his lack of information, if he didn’t search ‘eastward’ at least as far as Japan, he might as well still be sitting at the campsite drinking whiskey.
It also didn’t take him long to realize how dangerous it was for him to spend so much time in the sunlight. He had a tendency to lose focus and find himself at sundown in a completely foreign part of the land, watching the arguments in his head slowly breaking down. So after only a few interminable, fruitless days under the blazing sun, he returned as calmly as he could to Coyote’s house. He fed the cat and ignored the part of him that wanted to destroy things. He paced the kitchen and muttered when his leg twinged after the hours spent outside. Finally, he tried the door to the bar to check if Raven had left any word.
And when the door in the air failed to materialize, he stared at the space it had once appeared and heard his teeth grind together. Then he closed the blinds, opened Coyote’s well-stocked liquor cabinet and drank until his leg didn’t hurt anymore.
Some time later, he ventured outside and encountered a neighbor, a confused old lady who seemed to think he was someone else, and kept referring to him as ‘that nice pottery maker’s young man.’ But after a few minutes he made sense enough of the garbled conversation to convince her to look after the cat for another week, just in case. The cabinet was restocked, everything rearranged as it had been, and after some thought he picked up a bus ticket for a ride back to Los Angeles. There was a way into Milliways there that had always been reliable in the past.
And anyway, he has other work to do.
Time's up. Vacation’s over.
It also didn’t take him long to realize how dangerous it was for him to spend so much time in the sunlight. He had a tendency to lose focus and find himself at sundown in a completely foreign part of the land, watching the arguments in his head slowly breaking down. So after only a few interminable, fruitless days under the blazing sun, he returned as calmly as he could to Coyote’s house. He fed the cat and ignored the part of him that wanted to destroy things. He paced the kitchen and muttered when his leg twinged after the hours spent outside. Finally, he tried the door to the bar to check if Raven had left any word.
And when the door in the air failed to materialize, he stared at the space it had once appeared and heard his teeth grind together. Then he closed the blinds, opened Coyote’s well-stocked liquor cabinet and drank until his leg didn’t hurt anymore.
Some time later, he ventured outside and encountered a neighbor, a confused old lady who seemed to think he was someone else, and kept referring to him as ‘that nice pottery maker’s young man.’ But after a few minutes he made sense enough of the garbled conversation to convince her to look after the cat for another week, just in case. The cabinet was restocked, everything rearranged as it had been, and after some thought he picked up a bus ticket for a ride back to Los Angeles. There was a way into Milliways there that had always been reliable in the past.
And anyway, he has other work to do.
Time's up. Vacation’s over.
