Chapter Text
Sounds carried differently in the desert. The car engine echoed through the vast landscape, purring into the void until it finally encountered a rock or some desert bush and rattled it; then it rode back with the wind. There was an incessant buzzing sound, like angry flies swarming by your ears.
“Are those bugs?” Alexander asked his taxi driver.
The man barked a laugh, shaking the pot-belly he accumulated from years of ferrying people across the vast desert landscape, “New to this place, eh? No. No bugs yet. We’re still in the ‘quiet hours’ until the insects do come out. You’ll know ‘em when you hear ‘em.” He pointed to the illuminated sign just outside of the motel, which emitted the low humming frequency from the fluorescent bulbs. A slight breeze picked up, amplifying the noise to the familiar buzz.
“Oh.” Alexander tilted his head, his ear cocked to listen more closely to the static sound playing through the air.
His gaze traveled upward and inspected the motel pole sign:
Whispering Tumbleweeds
Vacan y
Inquire Within
The black lettered “C” on the sign hung akimbo from the white mylar backing. The dry breeze rattled the remaining letters barely held in their tracking. Little deposits of dust and dry sand clung to the ridges.
Alexander swallowed hard against the arid wind and nodded to himself. “Yeah, this’ll do.” He reached into the front pocket of his pants, pulling out his wallet to pay the driver. The man impatiently stood in the baking sun, hands on his hips as Alexander methodically counted out each crisp Simoleon bill, still warmed from his pocket, before handing them over for payment. “Uh, thank you,” he managed to say to the driver once the transaction was completed.
The driver sneered at the dampened bills, pocketed the money, and wordlessly returned to his car, backing it up in a K-turn to drive down the road and into the horizon. Alexander watched, a brief flicker of uncertainty that gnawed in his chest. He panicked for a moment, heart racing and palms sweaty as he reconsidered his decision. Maybe disappearing was the mistake, he thought for the briefest of moments. Then Alexander Goth shook his head, picked up his suitcase, and headed inside to the front desk to inquire about a room.
The dry, scratchy air already triggered a slight cough. Desert dust was truly a phenomenon of its own, claiming every free space. The gritty traction grating against his soles when he shuffled against the linoleum. He rubbed his fingers together after touching the desk bell to ring it, feeling the coarseness of the residue. The white stucco walls even held a beige hue from the little particles that stubbornly stuck to each craggy surface.
A gaunt man appeared in a garment so faded and overworn that it desperately clung to his frame in an attempt to resemble a tee shirt. His brown matted hair covered his eyes, obscuring them so much that Alexander could barely determine the hue. “Yeah?” the rough voice of the man rasped as he palmed the bell to silence its prolonged clamor.
Stepping closer to the front desk, Alexander leaned his elbows on the Formica countertop, then pulled them away. The sheen of condensation from the air conditioning coated the surface in dampness. “I’d, uh,” he cleared his throat and furrowed his brows in a feeble attempt to assume a more assertive demeanor, “I’d like a room, please.” His voice betrayed him, dropping an octave much lower than his usual tone.
The gaunt man sniffed, then opened the register book. “Sign here. It’ll be two hundred and eighty per night.”
Alexander grabbed the pen, cradling it in his fingers as he contemplated. Then he looked up. “Per night?” he repeated.
The man’s long finger tapped on the registry where he expected Alexander to sign. “Yup. Cash or credit card?”
He gripped the pen and scribbled the name “Sal Paradise” on the line. Then he laid the pen gently onto the counter beside the book. “Cash,” he answered. He pulled out his wallet again and counted out the Simoleons. Each bill wavered like it was caught in a breeze thanks to his quivering fingers.
The gaunt man counted the money before ringing up the cash register and procuring a room key. “Room 2004.” He slid the keys over to Alexander who gingerly picked them up, a slight frown on his face. “Not my business, but…are you looking for someone?”
Alexander tumbled the keys between his fingers as he considered. “Maybe.”
The man nodded, deliberate as he studied his new guest. “Strangetown is the place then. People are either finding someone or losing someone here.”
Alexander nodded in return, his expression hollow, eyes distant as he considered, “‘Lost’ is my intention.”