Light in the Barren Lands: Travail of The Dark Mage Book One (15 page)

Sure, hitch hiking was dangerous, but he didn’t think they were in too great of danger, not with Jiron with them. It wasn’t until Haveston was an hour behind them when his thumb worked its magic. For a small pickup slowed and pulled onto the shoulder some distance ahead.

Moving quickly, James said to Jiron, “Come on. We might have a ride.”

Jiron nodded and with Jira in tow, hurried after.

It was a metallic green pickup with a dozen or more empty crates which looked as if they had been used to transport fruit stacked in the back. Within the cab was a single individual, a man by the looks of it with a cowboy hat. As James came to the passenger side of the truck, the window rolled down.

“Need a ride?” the man asked. He was a friendly sort, about forty and dressed in well worn overalls.

“Sure do,” James said. “How far are you going?”

“About ten miles,” he replied. “You’re welcomed to ride in the back if you like.”

“That would be great.”

“Name’s Paul,” the man said.

“I’m James,” he replied. Indicating Jiron he said, “This is my friend Jiron and his daughter Jira.” James then indicated to Jiron for him and Jira to get in the back. “We have a ride.” Jiron was staring intently at the interior of the cab, and Jira had hold of the cab door with both hands as she stood on tiptoe to see within.

The farmer got a quizzical look. “
Jiron
? Never heard that name before.”

“Oh,” muttered James. “Uh, he’s from France.” The man nodded

“Howdy, little lady,” the man said with a smile.

Jira smiled back before her father took hold of her and lifted her into the back of the truck. Then after making room amongst the crates, he tossed the duffle in and hopped over the side. He lent James a hand as he too climbed into the back.

“Hold on,” James said. He had them sit against the back of the cab with Jira between them before tapping the rear window indicating they were ready. As the motor revved and the truck began pulling back onto the road, he said, “It’s just like riding in a wagon, only faster.”

The truck turned out to be a manual and they could feel each shift lurching into the next gear. When Paul shifted into third, they were moving faster than either Jiron or Jira had ever gone. “Does it go much faster?” asked Jiron. There was a nervousness in his voice and his knuckles were a little white from where his right hand gripped the side of the truck.

“A little,” said James. Glancing to Jira revealed her to only be exhibiting the slightest nervousness. Being the child that she was, this new experience thrilled her while at the same it frightened. “How are you doing?” he asked her, voice raised above the roar of the road and whipping wind. They had to be doing a solid fifty miles per hour by now and the truck was still accelerating. Then he felt it shift into fourth.

Jira merely nodded and gave him a grin. Then all of a sudden a sixteen wheeler passed coming from the opposite direction. The resultant roar caused her to jump an inch off the truck’s bed.

He pointed it out to her and said, “It’s just a big truck. They haul goods like a caravan from one town to the next.” When she realized there was no immediate danger, she grinned and kept watch on the truck until it disappeared behind one of the many gently rolling hills through which the highway ran.

The ten miles passed quickly and soon, the truck was slowing down. A dirt road branched off to the right, extending out of sight between a pair of fallow fields. Paul turned onto the dirt road and brought the truck to a stop.

“This is it,” he hollered from the cab.

James indicated for them to disembark. Hopping over the edge, he grabbed his pack and moved to the driver side window. “Thanks,” he said to Paul.

“Glad to do it.”

“How far is the next town?”

“Another fifteen miles.”

“Fifteen?” questioned James, not entirely happy about having to hoof it that far before finding a place to rest.

Paul nodded. “There is an old motel not more than five miles from here if you don’t plan to make it that far before dark. It has a diner, too.”

James perked up at that. “Is it nice?”

“It’s no five star hotel, but you will find it more agreeable than sleeping out under the stars. Tell Esther that Paul sends his best.”

“I’ll do that, thanks,” James said.

“Take care,” Paul said, then gave Jira a friendly wave before the truck pulled away.

“Nice man,” commented Jiron.

“There are still a few good ones out there,” he agreed. Indicating the road ahead, James added, “He said there was an inn not far down the road.”

“And do inns in your world feed their patrons?”

“Not many,” he replied, “though Paul did say this one does.”

“Ice cream?” Jira asked hopefully.

James chuckled. “I’m sure they will have ice cream.”

“Goody!”

Cars streamed by in both directions as they made their way the few remaining miles to the motel. Despite James’ best attempts to flag down a ride, none of the motorists even so much as slowed. So it was with some delight when the motel sign sitting high atop a pole finally came into view.

It didn’t look like much, nothing more than your run of the mill roadside stop-over that had seen better days. Below the motel sign was another, slightly smaller one that read, “
Restaurant
”.

The restaurant and motel as it turned out were combined in a single, sprawling twenty unit rambler. A second building stood alongside the road not far from the motel-restaurant combo offering gas and assorted foodstuffs of less than questionable nutritional value.

Two cars were parked before the motel office where a sign flashed
vacancy
in red neon. The whole place looked like something out of a B horror flick where unwary travelers met their end in some gruesome, and terrifying manner. The few scattered trees and unkempt grounds did little to alleviate James’ misgivings about staying there. But, seeing as how their options were limited, he led them to the office.

Upon reaching the cars, he paused. “Might be best if you two stayed here until I get us a room.”

Jiron shrugged. “As you wish.”

James continued on alone and entered the office while Jiron gave the two cars a once over. Despite having seen many since their arrival, he was still most intrigued by these strange modes of transportation.

A man sat in a chair behind the counter, attention firmly fixed upon a television mounted to a wall bracket at the end. An apprehensive glance toward the screen revealed the man was not watching the news as James had feared, instead he was intent on what looked like an old John Wayne movie. He took note of James’ approach and quickly came to his feet.

“Can I help you?” the man asked.

“I hope so,” James told him. “My friend and I could use a room for the night.”

“No problem there.” Producing a three by five card from beneath the counter, he slid it along with a pen toward James. “Just fill this out.” As James took the pen and started writing his name, the man said, “I’ll need a credit card and an ID.”

“I don’t have a credit card,” he admitted.

“Then you will need to pay a hundred dollar deposit which will be returned to you upon checkout.”

James paused a moment as he mentally added up what remained of the money Mr. Young had given him. “Uh, how much is the room?”

“Fifty two for the night,” he answered. “If you wish to stay for a week it’s only three hundred.”

A hundred and fifty two dollars!
After the meals and clothes they bought this day, he was a bit short. “I…I don’t have that much.” Seeing the man beginning to frown, he hurriedly said, “My friend and I have had a bit of bad luck. He has a daughter and we desperately need a place to stay for the night.”

The man looked past James to where Jiron and Jira were waiting for him, his expression softened somewhat when he saw Jira. “How much do you have?”

Not wishing to part with his entire roll, he replied, “Sixty.”

“Sixty?” the man said, his softening expression hardening once more. “I’m sorry. But without at least a fifty dollar deposit, I’d lose my job if I let you stay here. Fifty would be stretching my boss’ good nature as it is.”

“There’s no way to get around this?” James asked.

The man shook his head. It was clear he would have liked to bend the rules for him, but was bound not to. “I’m afraid not.”

Sighing, James pushed the three by five card back across the counter. “Then I guess we’ll just have to get a meal and be on our way.”

“I truly am sorry,” the man said.

James nodded. “How far to the next motel?”

“Which way are you headed?” When James gestured toward the east, the man said, “Nothing until you reach town. Maybe you could hitch a ride.”

“Thanks. Might try that.”

Turning about, he left the office and rejoined Jiron and Jira. “We don’t have enough money for a room.”

“How much do we lack?” asked Jiron.

“Too much unless we want to give all of our money away and the clothes on our back,” he replied. Nodding over to the restaurant entrance he said, “Let’s grab a bite to eat then see what we can do.”

“Ice cream?” asked Jira.

James glanced down to her with a grin. “At least we shall have ice cream,” he agreed, tousling her hair. Leading the way, he soon found himself in what his grandfather had always called a “Greasy Spoon.”

The small café held a dozen booths with three tables situated in the middle. Rips and tears fixed with the handy man’s secret weapon “duct tape” were visible throughout. Some of the tables showed cracks and one was even roped off due to the fact half of the table was missing. All that was left was a piece bearing a jagged edge still attached to the central support.

Those working there went part and parcel with the décor. The lone waitress greeted them upon entering. A woman who must have been pushing fifty, she looked as if life hadn’t been very kind to her. Wrinkles about the eyes and a permanent purse to the lips gave way to the belief she held a sour disposition.

In the window separating the front area from the kitchen was a man with a three day’s growth of beard, a dirty chef’s hat, and if it could be believed, the stub of a cigar firmly clutched in one corner of his mouth. He gave the new arrivals a look that could be taken for almost anything except welcome.

“Welcome,” said the woman. Her grating voice and reek of stale cigarettes sent a shiver down James’ spine. Why, he didn’t know. She gestured to the empty restaurant and said, “Pick a seat and I’ll be with you shortly.” Then returning back behind the counter, she proceeded to fill three glasses with ice and water.

Jira ran over to the third booth from the door and scooted in. Her father sat beside her while James slid in across from them. Immediately, Jira began examining the various condiments sitting at the end of the table; salt, pepper, small packets of sugar and faux-sugar. When she started removing napkins from the napkin dispenser, and had accumulated a pile an inch thick before her, James had her stop.

“We don’t want to attract…” he began when the waitress arrived with their water.

After sitting the glasses at the end of the table, with no attempt being made to place them closer to her customers, she produced pad and pen. “What would you like?”

James thought the question odd seeing as how they had yet to receive menus. Then he saw the reader board along the wall behind the counter displaying the fare being offered. The one on the end boasted a special of open faced turkey sandwiches with a drink. “We’ll have three of the specials,” he said.

Jotting down their order as if remembering it would be too much for her without a written record, she nodded and returned back to the man in the window. “Three specials,” she said.

“Up in a minute,” the man replied.

Jira had one of the pink packets of faux-sugar in her hand and was giving it a close examination.

“That’s sugar,” he explained. “Most places that serve food in my world have them on the table for customers.”

Jiron’s eyes widened at that, for sugar in his world was a prized commodity, something one would not so blithely leave sitting around. “Really?” he asked.

James nodded. “Here it’s quite common,” he explained. “In fact, take a couple if you want. I doubt if they would mind.”

Reaching over, Jiron took four packets and put them in his pocket for later. “Truly a strange world,” he said.

“Not strange,” corrected James. “Just different.”

“I suppose,” his friend replied. “Our world must have seemed equally odd upon your arrival.”

James chuckled then grew solemn as he thought back to that first night spent in the crook of a tree. To this day, the sound of the wolves and Seth’s cry for help remained every bit as vivid. Some nights he woke in a cold sweat after reliving that night in a dream. Of course most times, it wasn’t Seth the wolves were chasing, but him.

“It was,” he agreed.

Their attention was drawn to the entrance as a couple with two children made their way in. Obviously not regulars, the woman looked in distaste at the restaurant’s interior and made her displeasure known.

“Ugh!” she said. “Let’s go somewhere else!”

Her husband patted her on the arm and said. “Now, now. It’s not that bad,” he asserted.

The woman was about to argue further when the waitress came forward and had them in a table lickety-split. Obviously she wasn’t about to lose the potential tip this family would leave behind. Of course given the wife’s obvious distaste at the state of the restaurant, it wasn’t going to be much.

With the couple was a girl not much older than Jira dressed in simple jeans and a t-shirt bearing the message “
My brother is stupid!,”
and a boy in his mid teens who wore a denim jacket a size too large for him, pants drooping down to his knees, and hair in a state of disarray looking as if he had just climbed from bed. The girl looked happy to be there while the boy seemed to exhibit an air of barely controlled annoyance.

James watched them for a moment until the boy happened to glance his way and their eyes met. Turning away, James felt slightly embarrassed for intruding upon them.