Chapter Text
Gabriel Reyes had never meant to come here, not really, but to be honest this didn't seem like the kind of place that anyone would want to find themselves in.
It was one of those places which just happened to feel like it didn't exist- or you didn't. Or both. To be honest, he had just been swept up in the moment and, too tired to resist, had let his body be carried away as the rest of him had gazed idly into the horizon. He watched the bus that had carried him here disappear over the horizon, sailing out over the shimmering tarmac to worlds unknown. A few brittle clouds hung from the sky. All around him lay a horizon that seemed to carry on forever, an ocean of temperamental sand that lay ready for a gust of wind to carry it into the face of somebody unsuspecting. To look out upon it, one could easily forget that there was anything beyond it. Your past, treasured childhood and troubled later years could have been part of a dream, and to Gabriel it felt like he was looking out on an alien landscape, some kind of trans-dimensional hell. And Willsdale, Bare Feet was the seventh circle, the Dante’s Inferno, the sleepy Elysian Fields that was mankind’s last frontier against the fear of their own transience.
But he was being dramatic, he always was. Surely, upon further investigation, if he could just bring himself to look at the town, to turn back around he was sure he would see something of merit, something more than this barren, godless wasteland that seemed so overpowering. And as such, Gabriel turned back around. What he saw was not, admittedly so terrible as he had first imagined. It was a town; it could certainly be called that at least. It was not, per se, pretty, but that was not the primary requirement of a town, not even if it were one for rich people who in Gabriel's experience often happened to have dreadful taste despite the fact that they could afford better. The town had, if he were to describe it to the best of his meagre ability, a general rust colouration. This town was the type that you might see in a polaroid taken by someone who doesn't have to live there and displayed in a fancy art gallery or exhibit somewhere in Europe. You know the kind of place.
Gabe just knew he had made a very, very, incredibly poor decision in coming here. It was one thing to dream of just picking yourself up one day, taking what possessions you can’t live without and finding whichever bus will take you as far from civilisation as is physically possible without diving into the sea. It was another thing entirely to actually do it, which Gabe was finding out right now as he tried desperately to stave off the onset of panic. After all, wasn't this what he'd wanted? What the doctor ordered, more or less? For years now, he had known in his heart that he had to leave. No desk job could ever completely remove the twitches from his legs, the instinct to flee or fight, and no amount of therapy could chase away the ghosts completely. Perhaps in a way this had been a good idea, because now at least he had no choice in the matter. He had to start afresh.
It was hard to tell from the looks of it, but the green bench upon which he sat had proven itself to be a bus stop, improbably or not, which posed his next question. Did he catch another bus, or was this the place that would be his new home? Gabe considered his options. He could wait for another bus- given that he had no way of telling when the next one would arrive he would most probably acquire heatstroke before that happened. Or, he could give this place a try, beat up and dodgy as it looked. Perhaps he might discover that all the residents had hearts of gold, and would accept him as part of their strange extended family, or something ridiculous like that. So, taking a few tentative steps, suitcase rattling along behind him, Gabriel Reyes made his first entry into the town.
The first building he passed was a gas station and car wash. It did not stand out against the environment whatsoever, blending into the backdrop with the ease of some ancient monument that has been part of the scenery for so long that it is no longer considered an obstruction to, but part of that scenery. As he neared the entrance, Gabriel was found himself feeling rather thirsty. He reached into his backpack, trying to feel for it- no, that wasn't it- no, that definitely wasn't it. What even was that? He grabbed the offending object, feeling it wriggle and writhe within his grasp, and pulled it out to reveal- a lizard? It decided to take that moment to try to bite a chunk out of his hand. Yelping, he let the lizard fall to the ground, and watched it scamper away with a sinking feeling. He had left his water bottle on the bus. Damn it. Or had he- no, it definitely, definitely wasn't in his rucksack. Mustering himself, he made the difficult decision not to start rooting around in his suitcase, because he just knew that he'd be there all day, and would get all his clothes dirty too. It was a pity, he had liked that water bottle, with its deathly black and white owl insignia. It had looked cool.
Still, he could dwell on that later, it wasn't like he would exactly be able to get it back. That ship- or bus- had definitely sailed by now, and he would most likely never lay eyes on it again. So he supposed he would just have to buy a new one.
Head down, keeping as low a profile as was possible, Gabe entered the tiny little shop attached to the gas station. The place seemed to sell the bare minimum, and he didn't really blame the proprietor, keeping a shop stocked must be a nightmare all the way out here. He browsed for half a minute, picking out a nondescript looking bottle of water as well as a packet of chocolate biscuits for he was not without his vices, and the strange little mascot on the packaging- whatever it actually was, was very cute. The branding read Pachimaru. Was it half radish, half octopus, maybe? Gabriel really hoped that that wasn't the flavour.
"G'day, mate!" The man behind the counter said in what was definitely an Australian accent as Gabe approached him, his voice annoyingly cheerful to the point that it was almost ridiculous. Whoever this skinny, tall man was behind the counter, he was working what must be an incredibly boring, uneventful and badly paying job, and on a blisteringly hot day no less. Gabe could respect anyone for that, though it did seem to lead him to the conclusion that the man had to be incredibly diligent, or just crazy. Judging by his messy, slightly manic appearance, like a youthful mad scientist who was yet to singe his eyebrows off, Gabe would have to lean towards the latter.
"So, you're new in these parts, eh mate?" The man behind the counter treated him to an especially manic grin. "S'not often we have new people in these parts. Last newcomer here was me, as I understand it. You here to stay or just passing through?"
Gabe moved to answer him, and found he didn't quite know himself. So he merely shrugged.
"Dunno yet then? I guess it's the best way to be 'n all, not tied down to anything. Reminds me of my youth."
Gabe had to keep himself from snorting at that. His youth? The man could only be mid-twenties at most, certainly not old enough to be talking about his youth in such distant terms. If he found that hard he should try being forty-three.
"Does it now? He asked, trying to keep the skepticism in his voice veiled at least a little.
"So ya do talk! Fantastic!" The man grinned at him, and looking his expression Gabe was not at all sure whether or not he intended to seem friendly or menacing. "Was beginning to think you might complete our little collection."
Collection?
Maybe he was just paranoid but Gabe was getting serious Bates Motel vibes from this guy. What the hell did he mean by collection? What kind of collection could even involve people? Did he stuff them? Or just chain them up around the back of the gas station all while grinning as luridly as he was now?
"What do you mean by... collection?" He asked, wondering how easy it would be to run from this guy. Gabe was in good shape, sure, but he wasn't about to underestimate a guy who was easily 6'5 and who must have known the area far better than he did.
"Well, the Willsdale collection of oddities and weirdos of course!" The man laughed as if he had said something insanely funny. "Everyone here's a little odd some way or another. Think it's what makes the place so special."
Before the man could expand on his statement, they were interrupted as the bell on the glass doors rang, and the proprietor's attention turned to their other customer.
"Oi, Mako! Look, we've got a new customer!" The man waved over. Gabe followed his gaze, looking over his shoulder to see possibly the most colossal specimen of probable human origin that he had ever seen. The shop had high ceilings, but obviously not high enough for this particular man, as he was stooped over to the point where he looked very uncomfortably positioned indeed. It was a surprise to Gabe that he even managed to fit into the shop as he was quite considerably wide as well as tall, and the little store hadn't seemed that big to begin with. Gabriel was not by any means a short man, but between these two giants of varying sizes, 6'1 did not feel like much at all and he was seized by an entirely unwelcome feeling of powerlessness.
The man himself, Mako as the other man had called him looked down at Gabe. Gabe looked back at him. The atmosphere was very, very uncomfortable indeed. Then, the man (or possible mythological entity) reached out a hand.
Was he meant to shake it? Was he? Augh, hell to it, Gabriel reached out his hand to grasp the man's gargantuan one, and shared with him a handshake that was very powerful indeed. Hoo boy, that would sure be an auspicious way to break a finger. It would be very incongruous indeed compared to the rest of his medical record. People would think he was losing his touch.
"Gabriel Reyes." He said loudly. He figured he'd have to introduce himself sometime or another, and if he was going to end up in the tall man's freaky human collection he may as well do it now.
"Who?" The man behind the counter asked obliviously.
"That's his name, idiot." Mako answered without looking up. His voice was as every bit as deep and rasping as you would assume from the look of him.
"Oh, oh right."
Mako just rolled his eyes.
"So, d'ya just come in here to mock me or ya gonna buy something?" The skinny man leaned over the counter, giving Mako a warning glare.
Mako shrugged in response, much to the annoyance of the other man. Then he wandered off down one of the aisles, humming a cheerful little tune to himself.
"Fucker." The proprietor whispered to himself. Then he turned his attention absently back to Gabriel.
"So, you gonna pay for that or what?"
"Oh, right." Gabe nodded, feeling just a little embarrassed.
The man behind the counter looked down at the two items in his hand. "That'll be three dollars please, mate."
"But you didn't even look at the-"
"Don't need to. Three. Dollars. Please." The man looked at him expectantly.
"Okay..." Gabe fished a great deal of change out of his pocket, that may have been around the range of three dollars, and held them out to the man behind the counter, who grabbed it as if it might disappear into thin air from atop Gabe's unpleasantly sweaty hand (he wasn't sure if that were to do with his erstwhile handshake or just the temperature in the shop). Gabriel's eyes were drawn to the man's hand, unexpectedly cold against his own, and realised with a jolt that it was made of metal, painted orange with a messy coat of slightly chipped emulsion for which prosthetic hands was probably not the intended use. If the man noticed Gabriel staring he gave no sign of it, and Gabriel decided that it was probably high time for him to make an exit.
-- - --
Gabriel stood outside the convenience store, blinking as his eyes acclimatised to the different level of light. What time was it? Evening? It certainly looked so, though it certainly didn't feel like it. He pulled his dented little motorola flip-phone out of his pocket and gazed at it with distain. 19:48 already? Really?
The phone could be wrong he supposed, it was old enough, but it was a phone of very few functions and should by all rights fulfil those it was built for correctly, and in Gabe's experience it did exactly that. It could also send texts, make calls and play snake, and honestly what more could he want from a phone? He wasn't one of those people who couldn't live without the very newest smartphone, not at all. He'd much rather have something that A. didn't need to be replaced every other year and B. didn't enable dubious organisations (government or otherwise) to intrude on his personal life.
So, he would just have to conclude that it was in fact ten to eight, and that he should probably find somewhere to stay the night, which would inevitably mean going further into town, as he wasn't too keen on the idea of returning to the gas station to ask about the possibility of a local hotel. So, ignoring the slight but very profound feeling of foreboding that had wound itself round his chest, he headed off down the road, into the town. Willsdale lay before him, perfectly calm, quiet, almost serene, but in a way that felt far too desolate for his dyed-in-the-wool city sensibilities.
When he got into it properly though, the town didn't seem quite as horrifically empty as it had looked from outside, and he was passed by a pickup truck that for the fleeting moment it was in his sights looked to belong to Mako from the gas station. There were few people around but that still meant a few people. None of them seemed concerned at all by his presence, which he secretly felt rather relieving- for they were not staring at him like something out of 'Day of the Triffids'. Oh, he spoke too soon, oh fucking shit. Far off in the distance, getting steadily closer, a very distinctive figure, a man with greying hair and a rather intense glower was bearing down on him, staring right at him in a way that was very difficult to ignore. Awkwardly, hoping that this man's problem was merely resting bitch face and not a murderous intent, Gabriel waved to him in what he hoped looked like a friendly manner, for he would be first to admit that he didn't look approachable or friendly either, with his heavy brows and well-worn Pantera hoodie.
Gaze unmoving, the man ignored his attempt to look friendly entirely, and continued on his collision course, brushing past his shoulder with not so much as a 'hello' or 'sorry' or even an 'excuse me please I have an urgent appointment to go stare at some things'. How fucking rude.
Were all the residents of Willsdale like this? Who knew, maybe he was just incredibly unlucky. Or, maybe he actually had wandered into a town full of raving serial killers and had made the mistake of acting like the gormless idiot who inevitably dies first in a cheap horror flick. It had been a bad decision to come here, oh man, it really had. Here he was, alone, practically stranded, in some godforsaken town 300 miles from anywhere important, and to cap it all off nobody knew where he was. Not even he knew, not really. This was no Disneyland, that was for sure. But, on the plus side, he was almost positive that the hazy red building on the horizon was a motel.
Who knows? Maybe if he was really lucky he might even wake up tomorrow and find himself alive. At least, that was the dream. Though really, he shouldn't get his hopes up. Either way, he'd know soon enough.