Episode 21-1: Welcome Home, Clyde

For hours I watched the land and weather turn from an elegant cool to a humid hot. No company jet ride from state to state this time, but a road trip from Connecticut to Missouri. Vacation time meant no resources could be lent out to any agents, so we were left with our own devices to do what we wish.

For Clyde, it means taking care of business in his hometown, Drywell.

"Wow," I say to him, "I never thought you'd be able to frown for seventeen hours straight."

He shuffles in his driver's seat. "I really didn't want you to come, nor did I expect you'd be immature enough to hide in my trunk and wait an hour to reveal yourself."

"C'mon, we're supposed to be vacationing together. Isn't that what couples do?"

"We have a week, I only would've been gone for three days."

"That's three days of being alone. I don't think you could handle that."

"Sometimes I pray for that."

His car whizzes by an old sign, 'Welcome to Drywell!'. "So what's this business that you didn't want to tell me?"

"It's nun-ya."

"I thought we were done with that mysterious schtick. Why are we here?"

His eyebrows narrow. "Why I'm here is to find somebody. There is no reason why you are here."

I cross my arms. "Who are we looking for?"

He rolls his eyes and opens the center console. He fishes out a photograph and hands it to me. "We're looking for this man."

The picture is an Anthro Leopard, male and a chunk of his left ear missing. A noticeable scar runs across his lips vertically. "Looks like a thug."

"He is."

"What do you and he have in common? An old contact of yours?"

He snags the picture from me and puts it back in the console. "Look, be happy with what I'm willing to share with you. This is private."

The town begins to reveal its homely houses and dusty dirt roads. Several small stores with names I've never heard of line the main street.

"Whatever. Hey, maybe we can swing by your parents' house so you can introduce me."

"My dad's dead," he says coldly.

I instantly feel my stomach tie up in a knot. "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry. I didn't know."

"It's fine. I never told you."

"Is your mom...?"

A flash of his teeth shimmers in the sun before retreating back behind his muzzle. "She's alive. We won't be stopping by to say hello."

"Okay," I say and turn to look out the window. He pulls into a small parking lot for a motel and picks a space to stay. He parks the car but doesn't turn it off.

"We're room 24. Get the key from the front desk and check us in."

"Huh?"

"Get out, I'm leaving and you can't come with me."

"What!?"

"Call a cab, rent a bike, see the town. I don't care, just don't follow me."

I get out, my head spinning with the sudden change of behavior. I keep the door open and lean down to see his grimace. "You're being all kinds of rude, just so you know."

His frown never leaves him. "I know, and I'll make it up to you later. Don't forget the bag you packed in my trunk."

He pops the trunk open, and I slam the door and fetch my clothes. After he stares at me closing the trunk from the rearview mirror, he drives out of the lot and leaves me to be kidnapped or murdered without a concern.

"Dick."

I get the key and find our room. As soon as I set my bag down I pull up the local map on my phone. Looking at it now makes it seem like such a small town. I hope that means it won't take long for Clyde to find that strange man.

My phone finds a contact for public transport, and I send a request to be picked up. The room is nice, but I won't be dropped off like some child. I only wait for about thirty minutes before I receive a text telling me that my driver is in a black Cadillac.

I race down and hop into the backseat. "Hi. Can you take me to...Wood Rot?"

"The bar? Yeah, I go there often. Ya got cash or card?"

"Cash."

"We'll be there in about ten minutes."

"Wow, small town."

He begins driving. "Not from here, huh? You a big city feller?"

"Hartford."

"Is that a car?"

"It's a city in Connecticut."

As promised, in ten minutes he dumps me in front of a barely stable-looking building with a 'Wood Rot' sign loosely hanging on the top of the front door.

Before he drives away, I call to him. "Looks like a hole in the wall."

"There are several holes in the wall, but there hasn't been a shooting in years. You'll be fine."

He drives away, his rear tires kicking dust up as he drifts down the road at a faster speed than he did with me. My hand pushes against the splintered door and the worst screeching a hinge can make assaults my ears.

It's dim, only a few hanging lamps light the entire place up. There are a few patrons here, but not a lot of sounds. There's no music, just the small chattering and the clack of billiard balls as a couple of games go on.

Nobody tosses a glance at me as I trample on the hollow floorboards to get to the single bartender working a stained counter. An Anthro wolf, she's quite tall and muscular.

"Ya wanna open a tab," she asks while setting down a notepad and pen.

"I'll pay as I go," I say as I put down a five-dollar bill. "Any chance you have Astarx-Vibrantey?"

She sets down a dark bottle and swipes my money. "Just like the Primendians used to drink, and your pronunciation was perfect."

I sip the cold, bitter beer. "We haven't been called Primendians since the Renaissance age. Anthro just seems shorter."

"Well, we 'Anthros' would do good to preserve what little culture made it to this modern day. Most folks don't even remember that your drink is named after one of our Gods: The God of endurance."

I put down another bill. "Here, get one for yourself if that's okay."

She smiles and grabs the same bottle as mine. "It's a slow afternoon anyway."

I wait until she takes her first sip before asking questions. "So, have you heard of a family named Barker? I'm hoping a small town means that people know each other."

She leans on the counter, her jaw resting on a propped-up hand as her eyes wander around the ceiling. "Actually, my dad used to be friends with an Eli Barker."

"Eli Barker?"

"Yeah. Nice man, I guess, real big and strong. Was the town mechanic, and he had a wife and son. They'd meet up every Friday here to have some rounds of darts and drinks. I never thought I'd be working where my dad drinks."

I tap my bottle with the tip of my nail. "If he was the town mechanic, does that mean he's not around anymore?"

"Mm-hmm. Dead. My dad said he was riddled with bullets when they found him in the swamps outside the city. He was moping around for weeks, but I imagine the family took it harder."

I drink another sip. "Any idea what happened to the wife and son?"

"No clue, I didn't keep up with the story. I'm sure they're out there somewhere."

The bar's noisy door creaks open behind me, and I couldn't help but peek a glance at the new patron. To my surprise, Clyde's heavy boots hit the rotting floor, and he scans the room until the door closes and blocks out the remaining daylight.

The bartender drinks another gulp. "Big man, looks like a troublemaker. I hope he's not, I don't wanna have to tangle with someone that size."

"Uh, excuse me, I have to use the bathroom," I stutter as I leave my stool and head into a darker corner of the bar. I slip behind some bigger men playing pool and pretend to watch.

Clyde slowly strolls up to the counter but doesn't take a seat. "Hello."

The bartender pushes her own beer aside. "You look like a liquor man, am I right?"

He shakes his head. "I don't drink. Anymore."

The bartender crosses her arms and stands her ground. "There's only one thing to do here, mister."

He pulls out a photo and slides it into the lamplight that illuminates the counter. "I'm looking for this man. He was recently released from prison, and I have reason to believe he's in this area."

She takes the photo. "Are you some kind of cop? You aren't wearing a uniform or nothin'."

His famous frown crawls along his lips. "Have you seen this man or not?"

She fans the photo and hits her fingers with the edges. "Just on the news, haven't seen him around here. The news also said he completed his sentence, so why is a cop looking for him now?"

Clyde roughly takes the photo from her hand, leaving her wide-eyed for a moment. "I'm not a cop, ma'am. We're... old acquaintances."

"Then I'm sure he'll be looking for you too, sir."

I strain my eyes in the dark lighting and try to lean in to get a better look when a pool player's voice catches me by surprise.

"Hey, bushy tail, your shadow's in my shot."

"Huh?" I look down and see my big head casting a shadow on the table. "Oh, my bad."

I turn back to the bartender's counter and see that Clyde has already spotted me. His narrow brows and piercing eyes tell me that he is not only unhappy to see me but quite annoyed as well.

As he takes a threatening step toward me, a tall figure escapes the dark corner and catches Clyde by the shoulder, punching him heavily on his cheek and causing him to stumble.

I waste no time leaping over the table and charging for the mysterious assaulter.