Strange Carcosa

CHARLIE: DAY 2

I woke up with a groan.

Hoss sat cross-legged, absorbed in a small book. The fire had died, and the early morning chill stiffened my joints. Grunting, I sat up.

"Good morning, amige," he greeted me without looking up. "Sleep well?"

"Hell no," I mumbled, rubbing my head. "You? Any fucked up dreams?"

Hoss' mouth dropped open. This time he did look up from his book, swallowing hard.

"I dreamt of Corinth," he shuddered. "I dreamt of...my brother."

My brow arched. "I didn't know you had a brother."

Hoss shrugged. "Perhaps not in blood, but in soul, yes." His swallow lodged in his throat. "And then...I could not sleep again."

"Fucked up, ain't it," I muttered, scratching my nose. I took a deep breath, rubbing my face, and blew it out, arms curling around my knees. Just sat there for some time, watching the dead fire.

At last I looked up. Smiled.

"What're you readin', egghead?"

He chuckled.

"The Apocryph, amige." Hoss closed it, tucking it away in his pack. "Some of us are literate."

"Hey," I grinned. "Fuck you. I been tryin' to read more."

"Did you dream?" Hoss' smile grew wan. So did my own.

"I, uh...was back at my job. And then—" I tried to moisten my mouth. Pointless. I shook my head, grimacing. "Well, it—it went to shit."

Hoss frowned at me.

"Here." He rustled into his pack, offering me some jerky. "Eat, yes? As you said...we have a long day ahead of us."

I took it wordlessly, nodding and taking a bite. I chewed it like cud, eyes glazing. Finally, I swallowed.

"We're goin' into pokey territory," I cleared my throat. "Pray to the Madra we don't gotta use any bullets."

"Charlie," he squinted. "What exactly is a pokey?"

"You know," I shrugged. "Hicks, hill people, nutsos. Cream of society. Family, baby."

A faint, sad smile came to his face. Then it settled into a grim line.

"Wonderful," Hoss grimaced.

I shrugged, rubbing my nose. "Anyway... once we get past the pokeys, there's an old church we can camp in. Then it's home stretch to Medford."

Hoss stared out at the trail that led back to the main road, mouth agape for a moment. Then he took a deep breath, kissing his Madra bracelet.

—

Twig idols swung above us like hanged men.

"What the hell is that," Hoss whispered.

"Devil-catchers," I muttered back, scratching my nose. "It's...pokey shit, I don't know. Supposed to be good luck."

He stared at them, shivering.

"I don't like them, amige," he muttered. "Those are the Coils of Nirga. Not good luck."

"If you say so," I responded blankly. "I dunno, they just look like a bundle of sticks to me. Let's keep going."

But for the chatter of hidden creatures, the woods were silent. I kept my gun at the ready, sweat beading my brow. Hoss turned his machete over in his hand.