4:15 PM, 20th April, 1989.
Location: The same tiny town, dammit.
How isolated is this town? I've been waiting for relief from some federal police force of some description, I mean without their vehicles the disarmed cops can only go so far. I would have chained them, but what was the point? Desert in all directions as far as the eye can see. They're stuck in this town, as long as they don't steal vehicles. And their Sheriff seems more interested in rescuing his cousin, since he and his deputies are holed up across the street watching for an opportunity.
It has been amusing, playing with them. Peeking out the window of the Diner to make them hide like mice. I made sure to escort the various people in the diner to their vehicles, letting them leave after having written and signed a declaration of what they had observed, including names and their home address.
I don't want these trigger-happy fools escaping prosecution.
So to pass the time, I settle for talking with the chef. He seems sympathetic. He talks of a few people over the years with what he now believes to be powers. Don't tell me I found the most inbred, meta-gene filled town in the US.
Apparently he heard of someone when the town was first settled who could always find water. Okay, useful but not ground breaking.
Then there was a man who could spit acid, which he used to kill a man when he was held up at gun point. Of course this was back in the days of the Wild West. Still, potentially useful. Certainly an effective offensive ability. Too bad he was gunned down by the robber's partner. Of course the story could be simple exaggeration.
Later still there was a woman who could sing like a Disney princess, summoning all forms of life from the desert to do her bidding. Which she used to terrify the locals into leaving her alone. Which might be the source of the 'witchcraft' and 'demon' based paranoia. A more powerful ability, that was certain. People rarely attack someone when faced with waves of tarantulas, rattlesnakes and scorpions, they run instead. Unfortunately for Skitter-desert variant, the locals crept up on her one night and shot her in bed.
Some years after her death a being swept through town, punishing the killers in ironic ways. No one could remember his face, or more than his presence. They thought he was a demon. Actually, it seems more likely Coyote, the trickster god since only a couple actually died. If that girl was someone he liked, it would be natural he'd retaliate.
Which left only a few people descended from this family line of water finding, acid spitting and desert controlling people.
The Chef it seemed was one.
"So what is it you can do?" I asked.
"Me? Nothing." He replied, from the other side of the counter. "But my little sister ran away from home last year. Haven't heard more than a phone call to say she was okay. Says she's in Central City." He shrugged. "For most people from this town, that might as well be the moon."
Okay, that needed to be checked.
"How little are we talking here, you're what thirty?" I asked.
"She's twenty two I think. Yep, born in Feb. Twenty two." He shrugged. "Parents broke up and remarried each other several times. Even went on the Jerry Springer show that one time. Dad died last August."
"Got a name for me? I'll check up on her." I offered.
"Goldie. She is named Goldie White." He replied. "You find her, you let me know how she's doing or make her contact us. I don't know 'bout Mom but I care."
A greasy meal later I had the pleasure of finally seeing a set of police vehicles pull into town. Five, one of which disgorged a SWAT team. In the lead a guy wearing the FBI logo. Now the Sheriff and his pair of Deputies were confused, before emerging to try to parley aid.
They were quickly overpowered and placed in handcuffs as I watched, offering a salute from the Diner window with a smile.
The following hour was a lengthy deposition, after which I was let go with a warning. Not to destroy law enforcement vehicles without sufficient reason.
At least I made it to Keystone City before midnight, booking a room at a hotel I crashed for the night, still fully dressed.