The bus rattled, waking him up with a window to the temple. He was the last on board and the driver forced him off at what was apparently the end of the line; no stop or building in sight, just miles and miles of desert sands. Jack gazed out to the horizon as the bus faded into the dust, watching the cacti warble in the distance. The sun was setting to the west and seemed to grow larger with every step in that direction, threatening to engulf the earth. Then, against this blinding white back-light, appeared the silhouette of a small town.
The wooden buildings stretched out of the dirt, with residents trudging between them. Some rode horses, all looked near death. It was as if the sun had baked the life-force out of them, leaving only jagged ribs and sunken faces. Jack stumbled down the main drag, searching for the first building to read SALOON.
GENERAL STORE
GROCERY
BANK
BLACKSMITH
With each disappointment his pace quickened, until he found himself on the outskirts of town grabbing an old farmer by the collar. Jack was shaking him, almost hocking spit into his face with the strength of his desperate pleas.
"Where is the bar, old man! Where the fuck is the Saloon? Pub! Whatever!"
The farmer looked up at him, his eyes decaying backwards into the skull, and calmly stated
"Th'ain't none of that here. This is a dry county."
His final words echoed as the wind blew his rough, linen clothing apart. Nothing holding the set together, his bones collapsed on the ground. Jack, in tears, sank to his knees and clawed at the sand left behind.
YOU ARE READING
The Ballad of Borble Jack
Short StoryBorble Jack lives his life town to town, stealing what he can to keep the nightmares down.
