Strange Carcosa

CHARLIE: DAY 3

"...Good morning, Charlie," Hoss greeted me as I stirred, slumping up and hugging myself. I craned my head towards him, lids heavy.

"Feeling any better?" His smile was soft.

"Whassat—" I sniffed, swaying. My eyes snapped open. "Coffee?"

"Yes," Hoss chuckled and squatted over a small fire. He poured me a tin mug. I took it in shaky hands, holding it to my face. The rich smell of earth and bitterness caressed me.

"Figured we would need it," he yawned, shaking his head. "I feel I have not slept since I've been here."

"Coffee," I muttered distantly to myself, lost in bliss. "That's a good thing. Coffee..."

"Huh?" Hoss stared at me in concern.

"Nothing," I shook my head, taking a sip. It felt like the most indulgent thing in the world. I shuddered.

Hoss waited until I had revived myself with a few sips.

"I think we should go back," he frowned, poking at the fire. "Risk the pokeys. You are too ill."

"We're right there," I protested, mouth gibbering. I pointed northward. "Medford is a day away. You're kiddin' me, Hoss, we need to see this out!"

"You are killing yourself," he whispered, grabbing me. "It is too dangerous for you!"

I just shook my head, mouth agape.

"I need to see this through," I whimpered. "I need to."

"You need to go back home." His nostrils flared.

I stared at him as his face hardened. "Please. Just trust me, I—"

"No. I am taking you home," he bulled.

"Oh yeah?" I licked my lips. "You know how to read a map, huh? You know how to get outta the woods? Avoid 'boms and pokeys? Don't kid yourself," I hissed, turning my mug over in my shaking hands. I didn't like the look on his face.

"It's for your own good," he hissed back.

Felt like a vessel popped in me. I shot up.

"You know how many people have said that shit to me?" I roared without meaning to. "Who the fuck knows what's my 'own good,' huh? NOTHING's fuckin' good!"

He fell silent, frowning. Somehow the quiet was worse than a fight.

"Charlie," he murmured. "Sit down. Eat something."

I slumped down. My heart pounded too fast for my liking, head woozy. Hoss pressed something into my hands and I ate it without tasting it.

—

Somehow, I made it upright. Made it walking. Once I got into a rhythm my legs just kept me going like a mindless automaton. I felt like one of the great machines I'd seen when I flicked through the Don's collections of Old World art. Works of careful pen strokes, captioned NEW INVENTION UNVEILED AT AXON FAIRE!

Newspapers from another world.

My mind wandered pleasantly. I felt the Don's hands on me. Above me, one of the great ink flying machines drifted, rattling with propellers.

"Is..." Hoss hesitated. "The world very strange here, amige?"

"Ohhhhh yeah," I chuckled. He looked at me in concern.

"I feel as though—I think—then I see it—I...put things into existence."

"Out here," I laughed, smiling. The feeling of their hands on my breasts was anesthetizing. "You're god, baby."