From Jericho to Hell
I left Joe Monday out in the desert, each of us headed our separate ways. He'd be all right; he had what he'd saved up, and with both Doyle and Hickey dead on the ground, they weren't going to object too much to Joe taking their car. I forget where he said he was headed -- Houston, maybe, like Sheriff Galt -- but me? I was bound for Mexico. I didn't have much more when I left Jericho than I did when I'd arrived, but what I had would last longer down there.
I crossed the border and kept going. Felina -- the woman that Doyle'd been keeping until I got her out -- had gotten back to her husband and their kid, and were grateful enough for that and the news of Doyle's death that they let me stay with them a while. It was a nice, peaceful time, good for laying low and letting things cool off. Time came, though, that my city instincts started bristling. Pulled a couple of jobs in Mexico City, but it wasn't quite the same. It was enough, though, for clothes, hooch, and a car, so I packed my things and started driving north.
Didn't want to take my chances with Texas, this time, so I crossed the border into California, aimed though Nevada back to Chicago. Spend enough time driving, though, and you're gonna get tired... especially when it's late at night and all you've got to drink is whiskey. I was halfway through the Mojave when I finally passed out, strange lights twinking in the distance. Lucky for me, it was mostly a straight road, and no one else was on the road. I woke up with a splitting headache and my car halfway up a mound of dirt on the side of the road, where I'd coasted after my foot'd fallen off the gas pedal.
The engine had been idling all night, so there wasn't much gas left in the tank, but it was enough to get me to a gas station outside the next town... which was when I first started to realize that something was wrong. The place was big and shiny and had automated pumps, and even though it looked to be morning and everything was turned on, there was nobody to be seen, far as I could look. It was just as well; I don't think I could've taken the embarrassment of being seen so confused as I was.
Even after I washed my face in the bathroom and convinced myself it wasn't a dream, there was so much I just didn't recognize. Newspaper helped only so much; everything was dated "September 14, 1990." I finally got the car gassed up, grabbed a bunch of food, booze, water, and cash from the station's store, and got back onto the road. Wherever I went, the Sun never seemed to set, and I didn't even glimpse a hint of anyone else. I'd drive for what felt like hours, then pull the car over and sleep until I was rested, but it was always September 14, 1990, and whenever I got out of the car, I could hear this noise, real quiet at first, but getting slowly louder.
I finally got to Chicago, but it was too big, too eerie with that hum in the air and no one else to hear it. I busted into the library, though, so I could read up on what the world was like in 1990. From what I could tell, things were a bit shinier, but people were both just as good and as bad as they ever were. Good enough. I picked out a nice-looking car from a dealership lot, loaded it up with clothes, provisions, cash, and my battered old valise, and continued north. I figured, maybe there were people in Canada.
Didn't get that far, though. I was enjoying a glass of orange juice in a diner in some town -- I didn't catch the name on the way in -- when the noise suddenly started getting even louder. Spots flashed in front of my eyes. I tried covering them, but that didn't do much good. The sound was deafening, the lights were blinding... and then they were gone, and I wasn't alone in the diner anymore. I looked around, puzzled, as the waitress approached.
"I'm sorry, darlin', I didn't see you there. Refill on your juice? Cup of coffee?"
"Um. Yeah, both, please. Thank you. And some... ham and eggs on toast?"
"Sure! I'll get that order put in for you. Not a face I recognize... New in town, or just passing through?"
I looked at her, my face showing my uncertainty. After a moment's consideration, I decided that the place seemed large enough to suit me for a while, give me a chance to get my bearings in the new world. I smiled. "Yeah. Just got in earlier this morning. Haven't found a place to stay yet, but I figure I'll be around a while."
The waitress grinned. "Great! Well, then, let me be the first to welcome you to Hell, Wisconsin!"
...Hell. Well, it beat Texas. Didn't matter that I didn't know what I'd do with myself here. Something would turn up. It always does.
I crossed the border and kept going. Felina -- the woman that Doyle'd been keeping until I got her out -- had gotten back to her husband and their kid, and were grateful enough for that and the news of Doyle's death that they let me stay with them a while. It was a nice, peaceful time, good for laying low and letting things cool off. Time came, though, that my city instincts started bristling. Pulled a couple of jobs in Mexico City, but it wasn't quite the same. It was enough, though, for clothes, hooch, and a car, so I packed my things and started driving north.
Didn't want to take my chances with Texas, this time, so I crossed the border into California, aimed though Nevada back to Chicago. Spend enough time driving, though, and you're gonna get tired... especially when it's late at night and all you've got to drink is whiskey. I was halfway through the Mojave when I finally passed out, strange lights twinking in the distance. Lucky for me, it was mostly a straight road, and no one else was on the road. I woke up with a splitting headache and my car halfway up a mound of dirt on the side of the road, where I'd coasted after my foot'd fallen off the gas pedal.
The engine had been idling all night, so there wasn't much gas left in the tank, but it was enough to get me to a gas station outside the next town... which was when I first started to realize that something was wrong. The place was big and shiny and had automated pumps, and even though it looked to be morning and everything was turned on, there was nobody to be seen, far as I could look. It was just as well; I don't think I could've taken the embarrassment of being seen so confused as I was.
Even after I washed my face in the bathroom and convinced myself it wasn't a dream, there was so much I just didn't recognize. Newspaper helped only so much; everything was dated "September 14, 1990." I finally got the car gassed up, grabbed a bunch of food, booze, water, and cash from the station's store, and got back onto the road. Wherever I went, the Sun never seemed to set, and I didn't even glimpse a hint of anyone else. I'd drive for what felt like hours, then pull the car over and sleep until I was rested, but it was always September 14, 1990, and whenever I got out of the car, I could hear this noise, real quiet at first, but getting slowly louder.
I finally got to Chicago, but it was too big, too eerie with that hum in the air and no one else to hear it. I busted into the library, though, so I could read up on what the world was like in 1990. From what I could tell, things were a bit shinier, but people were both just as good and as bad as they ever were. Good enough. I picked out a nice-looking car from a dealership lot, loaded it up with clothes, provisions, cash, and my battered old valise, and continued north. I figured, maybe there were people in Canada.
Didn't get that far, though. I was enjoying a glass of orange juice in a diner in some town -- I didn't catch the name on the way in -- when the noise suddenly started getting even louder. Spots flashed in front of my eyes. I tried covering them, but that didn't do much good. The sound was deafening, the lights were blinding... and then they were gone, and I wasn't alone in the diner anymore. I looked around, puzzled, as the waitress approached.
"I'm sorry, darlin', I didn't see you there. Refill on your juice? Cup of coffee?"
"Um. Yeah, both, please. Thank you. And some... ham and eggs on toast?"
"Sure! I'll get that order put in for you. Not a face I recognize... New in town, or just passing through?"
I looked at her, my face showing my uncertainty. After a moment's consideration, I decided that the place seemed large enough to suit me for a while, give me a chance to get my bearings in the new world. I smiled. "Yeah. Just got in earlier this morning. Haven't found a place to stay yet, but I figure I'll be around a while."
The waitress grinned. "Great! Well, then, let me be the first to welcome you to Hell, Wisconsin!"
...Hell. Well, it beat Texas. Didn't matter that I didn't know what I'd do with myself here. Something would turn up. It always does.