Strange Carcosa

HOSS: DAY 4

"Wake up, Charlie," I cleared my throat, gently nudging their shoulder. "I'm going to make some coffee."

That could usually rouse them out of the deepest stupor. But they didn't move.

They were slack as a corpse, eyes unfocused. My heart pounded, painfully skipped a beat. Dread opened a pit in my guts. I shook them.

"Charlie?"

No response. I shot for their pulse, but it was steady—they were breathing—but their eyes didn't follow my wagging finger. I bit back tears, throat hot, limbs trembling.

"Charlie!"

The door creaked open. I jolted and wrenched out Charlie's pistol, pointing it at the appearing silhouette. My heart was in my throat.

"Hands UP," I yelled with more authority than I felt.

They dropped something heavy, fleshy. Then they put their hands up.

"I'm a hunter," he croaked. "I mean no harm."

My heart galloped. I licked my dry lips, blinking.

"Enter. Who are you? What are you doing here, eh?!"

"I..." he stepped into the church, rough, calloused palms facing me. A leather hat was low over his eyes, framed by stringy red hair. "Am Utorius. I could ask the same of you...madrasa?"

His brown eyes lingered on my robes and bracelet.

"Yes," I grit my teeth, lowering the pistol. But for a crossbow and nasty machete, he didn't seem to be armed with steel.

I noticed how he glanced longingly at it.

"What's your name, padri?" He sounded bewildered. "What're you doing, so far out in Carcosa...?"

"My name is Hasciel. I am keeping company," I muttered, hovering over Charlie. Don't tell him about the ship, dingus! I could almost hear.

"Is your friend ill?" Utorius' thick brows climbed. He shuffled forward a bit more, pulling at his rusty stubble.

I stiffened. He is a hunter, I thought. He may have expertise...

"I do not know." I pressed my lips. "They were okay—and then they...looked at a...some kind of abomine outside the window...the world was dark...there was the sea..."

I hated the quiver in my voice.

The man, already pale, had drained to a ghostly white.

"They looked at the star-child?" The hunter gaped. "Oh. Behemal."

"What?" A lump cloyed my throat. I struggled to swallow.

"They are unwell then, padri Hasciel. I..." he took a few tentative steps forward, like a scuffed up cat. His eyes flickered up to mine.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news but..." he glanced at the pistol, licking his lips. "Don't shoot the messenger, padri, but... your friend is gravely ill. They need sanatorium care."

I locked up, unable to breathe. My heart pounded in my head, sent the world ringing. I looked down at Charlie, the way their delicate hand curled, the far-off agony in their eyes.

I put a hand over my mouth, fighting the heat in my throat.

"Guerre," I choked. "We need to get back to Rembroke. Now. Do you know the way?"