Episode 21-3: Welcome Home, Clyde

I fly down the stairs to the parking lot again. I see no traces of where he could've gone, but I do spot a beer-bellied man with a cigarette smoking by the vending machines. I calm down and put a smile on as I approach him.

"Hiya!" I force myself to say, "Any chance you saw an Anthro Dog leave this place? He's about 6'4, grey fur, stupid brown eyes, and muscles everywhere except his brain?"

The man gives a slight smirk. "I can't tell if he's your friend or not. Saw that boy leave when a red pickup came and got 'em."

"A red pickup? Do you know who that might've been?"

His eyes roll up and he takes a puff. "Earl's boy. Rocky, Ah think. Good kid, though your friend seems kinda serious."

"Back home we call him edgy. Any idea where they might have gone?"

"Nope, sorry. All's I know is that they went a'speeding down that way." He points down the road, but that could take me anywhere, and who knows how many turns there are to investigate.

I scratch my head. "Anything else you can tell me?"

I can see his eyes scan me from head to toe. "You're real skinny, you oughta eat more."

I leave him to his smoke and get into Clyde's car again. I turn the ignition and just sit in the seat with the radio on at a low volume. If I were Clyde, what would be my next step if I had no leads, no weapons, and no resources? Well, I guess I'd ask Troy for help.

Okay, Troy, what should I do?

I think you should ponder what Rocky can do for Clyde.

So what can Rocky do aside from making me think strange thoughts about him and Clyde?

Rocky knows Clyde from childhood and this town. Clyde is disconnected.

So Clyde can only ask for things he remembers?

Yes, that seems right. Like what?

Where to get a gun.

Gun shop?

No, Rocky's against Clyde's agenda. He'd never give Clyde a gun.

Maybe he can get a gun without Rocky knowing.

Where could he do that?

What's left of his memory?

His mom's house! He's going after his dad's old guns!

I don't have the Ispio hacking software that usually comes with each mission, but I can at least look up residential information through city records. It takes time since I'm no expert, but I find out where the Barker residence has lived since the '90s.

I peel out so quickly that the road would curse at me. My headlights make the streets glow as the rest of the town sleeps. I nearly miss my turn, but I take a right and head down a neighborhood until I notice a rusted, red pickup truck sitting quietly in a vacant field. I turn my lights off and roll to a stop, then I shut the engine off and begin creeping up on the truck.

Rocky leans on the grill mindlessly staring at his phone. He's facing an old house with a shed, but all the lights are off.

I tiptoe to Rocky's side. "AGH!" I scream.

"Aggghhh!" he cries before suddenly choking on something I can't see. He throws it up and gasps for air. "What the hell!? You're that little dude."

"Were you just chewing tobacco?"

"Yeah?"

"You're evicted from my fantasies. Where's Clyde?"

He catches his breath and stands up straight. "Hold on, what are you doing here? How'd you even know where to find us?"

"I used my last genie wish to track you guys. Now, where's Clyde?"

He points at the sleeping house. "He's at his mom's."

"That house looks empty. The lights aren't on."

"Well no, he's in the shed. He called me to apologize and that he was acting crazy. Then he said he wanted to visit his mom but first he wanted to see if his old fishing rod was still in the shed."

I punch him in the chest. "Did you really buy that story?"

"Ow. What are you talking about?"

"Look at where you're parked. Clyde didn't want your engine or headlights waking up his mom. He's not here to visit his mom."

He rubs his arm and slumps his shoulders. "So he's just here for his fishing rod?" His voice is at a higher pitch and a whisper.

It takes everything I've got not to hurt a pretty little hair on his head. Instead, I dart past him and run towards the shed in the blackest of nights. I'm careful to keep my footing around the various holes in the grass, but when I make it to the open door of the rickety shed, I freeze as I hear a little commotion coming from within.

"Clyde? Are you in there? C'mon, buddy, we should get back to the motel if we're going to leave early for home."

"I promise we'll leave soon," he calls back from the darkness, "just as soon as I pay a visit to an old acquaintance."

Clyde steps out of the shed wielding an ancient-looking revolver with the cylinder fully loaded. He steps into the grass and inspects the metal in the moonlight.

"That can't happen, you don't even know where that guy is," I argue.

"On the contrary, he checked into the room next to ours. I heard his name loud and clear as he told it to the clerk. Leewan Orville. Recently released from prison, but undeserving of freedom."

"You're monologuing like a villain. How can you not hear yourself?"

We all jump at the sound of a rickety screen door being opened to the side of us. An older woman, Anthro Dog like Clyde's species, peeks around her house and shines a flashlight at both of us.

"Clyde?" she asks while coming closer. "Clyde, is that you?"

When I turn to look back at Clyde, I see that his entire demeanor has changed. He stands with his shoulders slouched, his bottom lip quivers, and his eyes are watery and wide. He looks like the smallest he's ever been.

"Stay back!" he screams. His right leg moves back and he begins to crouch. Suddenly he points the gun at the woman, and I, the woman, and even Rocky joining us all gasp and yelp.

Clyde drops the gun, but despite its age, it doesn't discharge. He scrambles in the grass looking for it and when he finds it he holsters it quickly. He points at the woman again, but this time only using his finger.

"Stay away from me!" He bolts into the nearby foliage at a full sprint.

I give chase, glancing at the woman and Rocky who still stand frozen in place. The further I get into the trees, the more I realize that there are no neighbors around here. It's all forest, and the moonlight only sprinkles through the cracks of the leaves the trees suspend.

"Clyde!? Clyde, come back!"

I have to rely on sound mostly, but I can also see where the grass and bushes have been disturbed. I nearly slam into him when I spot him catching his breath while hanging onto a tree. He looks completely destroyed.

"Clyde? What happened? Are you okay?"

He doesn't say anything, he doesn't even look at me. He hugs the tree for dear life and heaves like he's throwing up. His hyperventilation is so intense he could drain this forest of oxygen by himself.

I take a risk and approach him. I gently lay a hand on his back and he treats it with major hostility. He spins around and raises his fists, but I'm lucky enough that he doesn't swing once he sees me clearly.

"Troy," his shaky voice whispers, "it's you."

"Yeah, it's me."

"I don't know what I'm doing."

"Then maybe we should think about this."

"This is all going so wrong."

"It's okay, we can make it better together. I love you."

"I love you too."

"Can I hug you?"

He nods and lowers his fists. I tiptoe so I can wrap my arms around his back, and he returns the embrace quickly. He's shaking slightly, and his clothes are damp with sweat.

"You almost shot a woman."

"I almost shot my mom," He struggles to say that sentence, his breath is still too quick.

I try to keep a cool head. "Why'd you almost shoot her?"

He lets me go and sinks down to the ground while leaning against the tree he was clinging to. His eyes are set on the grass by him, and he never looks up anymore. "When my father died, my mother..."

I sit down with him, and in my chest, I feel like something is squeezing my heart. Whatever he's going to say, it's going to hurt him, and maybe even me. "Take your time, I'm not going anywhere."

"She was in disarray, she was depressed. We both were. I did what I could to fill my dad's shoes, but I couldn't do everything."

I cradle his hand with both of mine. "You did your best. I believe that because I know you."

"My mom, she did something to me when I was sixteen. She said..." His voice trails off after I hear a crack in it. In all my years of knowing Clyde, I've never heard him on the verge of crying.

"Oh, Clyde." I have to discreetly wipe my own eyes with my shirt.

"She said I was growing up to look like my dad. That I was very handsome."

"You don't need to say anymore, Clyde. I understand." When I first met him, he had strong stoicism and a drinking problem. I feel foolish to have never thought it could have come from trauma.

His body starts jerking as he muffles sobs beneath his mouth. I hold him tight and sit in silence. If he needs to cry, he can cry as long as he wants. I won't leave his side tonight.

After what might have been thirty minutes, he also sits still without looking away from the ground. "Troy?"

"Yes?"

"You can't stop me."

My forehead sweats at the thought of more fighting. After everything he's been exposed to in this small town, he still wants to confront what's most likely his biggest emotional battle. "Clyde, I--"

"I'm going to do this, and you can't stop me. Leewan deserves life imprisonment like the rest of his gang. And my father deserves to rest."

"Leewan paid his dues, and he survived them. It's not my place to say, and I honestly don't care what happens to the man, it's you that I care about. You can't kill someone in cold blood, it'll mess with your mind."

"We've both killed before."

"That was on the job with people trying to do us in first. This is different, and you're not a murderer."

"No, I'm not," He stands up and lifts me with him. His fur is tear-streaked but he's already stopped sobbing. "I'm correcting a mistake made by the prosecution."

I'm talking in circles here. It seems like no matter what I say, Clyde isn't going to give this up. We can always put in a call with Ispio in case the law comes down on us. If I stand in the way any longer, that might do more harm than good.

"Okay, Clyde. I'm not you, and I have no idea how this has been affecting you this whole time. If you really think you need to do this to have some peace of mind, or closure, or whatever, then you'll make the right choice and do what's best for you."

"You don't have to help."

"I don't, but I'll be there for you."