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Blue Valley Underground - Part 7 - Trash

The sun was at just the right angle to be a nuisance. Isaac awoke and groaned at the brightness beaming through the window. There was a hammering sound from outside. Dragging himself out of bed, he washed in the bathroom and found new clothes waiting for him on the counter. Nolan's overalls, a faded orange t-shirt and old work boots. He dressed and wandered a bit, finding that the house was empty.

            The Stillwaters were all outside, gathered around the carriage in the front yard.

"Mornin'!" they greeted him simultaneously. Logan appeared to be changing a wheel while his sons sat on the horses nearby.

"Good morning." Isaac tipped his head and slowly approached them. He looked at Eileen. She still seemed somber like yesterday.

"We'll have you sent off in just a while," Maggie told him as she wrung her thin hands, "Logan says the old wheel was loose."

"Wouldn't wanna break down on that road," said Logan, "That's satyr territory, it is."

Jacob patted his horse and mentioned,

"Isaac's a soldier. He'll protect you, Dad."

Isaac looked at the ground, trying not to smile.

            Logan struggled with the wheel. He looked irritated after he tightened the bolt and it still wobbled.

"Why don't you just take the horses?" suggested Maggie. Her husband grunted as he turned the bolt further,

"I don't know about Isaac, but I ain't sittin' on them horses for six hours..."

"I don't even know how to ride." Isaac mentioned. Suddenly, Eileen wailed and startled everyone.

"Please don't go!" She sobbed, tears already spilling from her eyes as she clutched Isaac's arm, "Don't go! Stay here! Please, please, please!"

"Eileen!" Maggie scolded, "Stop your hollarin'!"

Her daughter paid her no mind, expanding her hold to Isaac's waist as if she could plant him in the ground,

"You don't have to leave, Isaac! You can stay!"

            Isaac involuntarily grunted when she squeezed him. He was impressed, really; she could probably take on a few of the men at the barracks. He felt her tears soaking into his shirt. His heart was beginning to ache--a familiar feeling--the same way he felt when he saw the faun woman and her child chained to the slave carriage. Helplessness.

            Logan turned to them and barked,

"Missy, you let go of that boy this instant!"

"No!" Eileen bawled, "He's nice to me! He's not like you!"

Astonishment crossed her father's face, and he could say nothing. Isaac clumsily embraced her as he struggled to breathe,

"It's okay..." he assured her. She just shook her head wildly and wailed,

"No it's not! They're gonna be mean to me!"

"Boys!" Maggie hissed and pointed at their sister.

            Immediately, Nolan and Jacob jumped off their horses and grabbed Eileen's arms--one each. They struggled to pull her off off Isaac but she wouldn't budge,

"I'm going with him!" Eileen cried, "Let me go with him!"

"Newell's no place for you!" argued Logan, face red with anger, "You think you'll find work out there, huh? A girl like you?"

"I said I'm going!"

"You're stayin' right here, Eileen!" her father pointed at her with his wrench, "You were born in this house and you'll die in this house, just like the rest of us!"

The boys finally pried her arms off Isaac's waist and just barely managed to drag her away, exerting all their might as she fought them,

"No, no, no, no, no...!"

            Isaac watched in bewilderment as Eileen's brothers dragged her away just like they dragged away Grizzly.

"Shut up, Eileen!" Nolan growled, "You're just embarrassing yourself!"

In just a few seconds all the girl's fight was gone. She was out of breath and too upset to struggle, simply shoving her brothers away and burying her face in her hands. Logan shook his head disapprovingly and silently went back to work on his wheel. With a heavy sigh, Maggie placed a hand on Isaac's shoulder and said quietly,

"I'm so sorry about her, Dear..."

            Isaac stood there for a long, awkward moment, listening to Eileen weep in the otherwise silent field. He was sorry for her. Also a bit afraid of her...Still, he cautiously approached the girl and wrapped an arm around her back. Whether that was appropriate or not, he wasn't sure, but it felt like the right thing to do.

"I don't want you to go away forever..." she whimpered. The soldier chewed his lip, trying to think of a response. Anything he said would be pointless, really. She asked,

"Will you write me a letter?"

"Of course." he decided, then immediately regretted it. Write? Him? What was he thinking? Eileen looked up at him and sniffled,

"Promise?"

Oh boy.

"I promise." Isaac smiled weakly. He just kept digging himself deeper and he couldn't stop and he didn't know why. Wiping her tears away, the girl's breath hitched,

"If you write me a letter, I'll write you back."

"I'd like that."

            Logan pounded his palm on the wheel and gave it a rough shake. It held its place.

"That'll do it!" he said triumphantly. Maggie helped him to his feet and he climbed into the carriage, "Chain up those horses, Boys. Hurry up, it's gonna be a long trip!"

Nolan and Jacob joined the horses to the carriage. Isaac moved to climb in, stopping when Eileen trapped him in another tight hug.

"Please write me! Don't forget!" she cried.

"I won't," Isaac returned the hug, then added awkwardly, "I mean...I won't forget. I will write you..."

The girl planted a long, sloppy kiss on his lips and finally let him go. Slightly disoriented, he crawled into the passenger's seat.

            The old man clicked his tongue and lightly whipped the reins. The horses pulled forward and the rest of the Stillwaters waved and said their goodbyes.

"I'll be back around midnight!" called Logan. Eileen followed the carriage for a few feet and hollered,

"Bye, Isaac! I love you! I'll miss you! Bye!"

Isaac waved back, still speechless from her kiss. She'd smeared drool all around his mouth. He absently wiped it away with his forearm, feeling and thinking many things at once. Some pleasant, some uncomfortable.

            The sun was shining high above, its warm light blanketing the vast plains. For as far as Isaac could see, the sky was clear and blue. After a while Logan cleared his throat and mentioned,

"There's some leftovers from breakfast for you in that trunk. Might as well eat it now, 'fore it goes bad."

Isaac opened the wide trunk behind the seat and found a wooden bowl. A piece of cloth was tied over the top. He unwrapped it and found eggs, toast and sausage inside.

"Eileen sure took a shine to you," The old man continued, "Sorry about that..."

With a full mouth, Isaac turned to him and mumbled,

"Hm? Why?"

            Logan stared ahead at the road. Isaac couldn't tell if he was making a face or just squinting in the sun as he replied,

"Jumpin' all over you like that...Can't teach her any more than we can teach that dog."

"I think she's..." Isaac finished chewing and swallowed, "She's nice. She didn't mean any harm."

Logan slowly shook his head,

"'Course she's got a good heart. Got that from her ma. I just wonder where she got the...Well, somethin' wrong with her, see. Devil's got a hold on her since the day she was born." He grunted and began to mumble, "The Chaplain says Maggie sinned while she was carryin'. Can't imagine what she did--she's just about the most wholesome woman I know..."

            Isaac froze. He dropped his toast back in the bowl. Suddenly his stomach was churning.

"So..." the soldier began, "If, uh...If a woman sins while she's carrying, the baby is..."

Logan shrugged,

"They just ain't right. Always come out with somethin' wrong with 'em; can't talk, can't feed themselves, some folk born missin' arms 'n legs! I suppose the good Lord had mercy on us in that respect."

Though he was hesitant, Isaac continued,

"What if the mother was, um..." he paused, wincing, "If she worked at a brothel? As a, uh...Prostitute?"

Logan glared at him,

"Hope you're not talkin' about Maggie, Boy..."

            "No, no!" Isaac waved his hands dismissively, "I was just wondering because my, uh...My mother. She was..." he never finished. He didn't have to. Logan uttered a little noise of understanding, then replied,

"Well, you ain't nothin' like Eileen. God must be punishin' her in another way."

"She's dead." Isaac blurted, "She died giving birth to me."

Logan paused for a long moment. He tilted his hat and muttered,

"Heck of a punishment." After clearing his throat he went on, "You ever meet your daddy?"

Isaac shook his head,

"I don't even know who he was. My mom's name was Bhadra and she was a prostitute in Rivermere. That's all I know about my family."

            "Bhadra," Logan repeated, eyeballing Isaac, "Sounds foreign. You look like one of those Southland folks--Did you immigrate?"

"I was born in Rivermere," Isaac sounded more defensive than he intended, "But my mom immigrated, I think. She died before she could name me, so the orphanage just did it for her."

"How's an orphan boy wind up in the military?"

Isaac shrugged,

"A recruiter showed up when I was sixteen. He didn't ask everyone--not the sick kids or the small ones or anything. But he asked me. He said if I joined, I would live at the barracks instead. The orphanage was really..." Isaac shuddered a little, "It was horrible. I'd have gone anywhere else."

            "I can't imagine this orphanage was a church...?" Logan raised an eyebrow.

"No. We went to the church a lot though, and they gave us food and clothes. Sometimes soldiers would be there to play with us." Isaac stared wistfully towards the hills, "The priests taught us what was right and wrong. They never hit us or yelled at us like the  nannies did. Never told us we were worthless."

"You still go to church?"

Isaac nodded,

"I try to go once a week. Chaplain Kohl was always like a father to me. He's really old now...I guess he's more like a grandfather." He paused, "He told me I could still be good, no matter who my family was. If I always do the right thing, I can be a good person." Isaac poked at his food but couldn't stomach it, "Most of the other kids got in a lot of trouble. Once they turned eighteen the orphanage kicked them out on the streets. They got arrested, joined gangs, killed people or...I don't want to be like that. I try to be good, but it's hard..."

            "'Course it's hard. That's why it's hard to find decent folk." Said Logan, "You ought to watch yourself in Newell. Evil's got a home in that city. It's dangerous, 'specially for young people."

"Have you been there?"

"I lived there," the old man squinted in the sunlight, "Back when I was a boy, my daddy owned a feed store. My momma, my big brother Jameson and myself--we all worked for him."

Isaac saw some deer feeding in the distant plains. They were enormous, white-spotted and shaggy with large branching antlers. He'd seen similar deer in Rockreach, but never near Rivermere. Was he that far from home?

            "Why did you move?" the soldier asked absently, fixated on the deer.

"Well..." Logan grunted and sighed, "Maggie and her daddy--Mr. Ellenberg--would come up from the farm every Friday to get supplies. Her folks were friends with my momma; they wouldn't buy from anyone else. I'd try my darndest to get Maggie's attention, but all she did was chase Jameson around. He was about your age then, maybe a bit younger." He smiled for a brief moment, then it faded, "One night me 'n Jameson were unloadin' the carts in the alley. Nothin' unusual, just what we did every night. I didn't leave for more than one minute. I come back and..."

He took a deep breath and shrugged,

"Wasn't nothin' left of Jameson but some blood on the ground. Someone went 'n took him--can't imagine why. Devil got into 'em or somethin'. Anyway...My daddy was so broken up, he drank himself stupid. Got real mean with me 'n momma." He frowned, "Momma still had some sense and left him; took me with her. The Ellenbergs offered us a job at their farm and that's where we ended up livin'. I married Maggie and when her folks passed, we inherited the farm. Been there ever since."

            "Oh...Wow." Isaac looked stupefied,

"I'm sorry about your brother."

"You would'a liked him," Logan said confidently, "Jameson was a good fella, he was. That boy never had a bad intention in his life, but trouble was always pickin' on him."

            The horses pressed on and on as the hours passed, crossing the olive plains and shady forest trails until the sun was long below its peak. Isaac could see great stone walls in the distance. The tiny silhouettes of townspeople moved in and out through the enormous iron gate.

"Is that Newell?" he asked. Logan tipped his hat and replied in wonder,

"That's it. Good Lord, how it's grown!" he frowned, "Didn't used to be walled-up like that..."

            The carriage came to a stop outside the gate, parked beside many other carriages, horses, and carts of all kinds. Sheer awe pinned Isaac to his seat. There were so many people here, dozens of vendor tents, buildings taller than he'd ever seen, voices and noises all around. Logan opened the trunk and pulled out an ash-colored knapsack, setting it in Isaac's lap.

"Take this with you. It's from all of us." The old man smiled, though his eyes looked pensive. Isaac inspected the bag; it had a single strap and fastened closed with a buckle.

"Thank you," he said, fiddling with the buckle, "What's in here?"

Logan tapped the soldier's hands and pointed to the gate,

"You're gonna miss your ride, Son. Hurry up 'n get to the train station!"

            Isaac slung the bag over his shoulder and hopped out of the carriage.

"I really appreciate it!" he waved as he backed away towards the gate, "Thanks for everything, Logan!"

Logan tipped his head and briefly waved back,

"Get yourself home in one piece!"

With that, he whipped the reins and the horses pulled forward. Isaac watched him leave for a few seconds, then turned and rushed into the front gate.

            Once within the walls, all his swiftness was lost. Isaac slowed to a meandering stride down the cracked sidewalk, turning all around, trying to take in every strange sight that assaulted him at once. Humans in fine clothes, brick buildings, cobblestone roads, electric lights! The soldier felt like he'd passed into a fantasy world. The streets were lined with shop after shop, the sidewalks clotted with vendor booths selling everything from fruit to shrunken ogre heads. Isaac was quickly becoming aware of his overalls and how they clashed with the townspeoples' elegant coats, dresses, and slacks.

            Focus. Isaac had to stay focused, he reminded himself--that thing Evan was always telling him to do. Where the train station was, he couldn't begin to guess. He wandered down several blocks and there were just more and more streets, more buildings, more signs he couldn't read. He saw a portly woman in an extravagant dress amble down the sidewalk. The train of the garment was so long, a goblin slave child followed her just to hold it off the ground. A man passed by with four comically tiny dogs on leashes. Two dancers performed complex acrobatics across the street. A man wearing no less than three jackets was having a loud argument with himself. There were so many oddities around him, Isaac could barely remember what he was here for.

            Just ahead, a goblin man was washing the front window of a bakery. Isaac approached him,

"Excuse me?"

The goblin's head snapped towards him. He looked fearful and defensive, clutching his washing rag in a tight fist. Isaac took a step back and continued warily,

"Can you tell me where the train station is?"

Without a word, the goblin pointed to the left, keeping his eyes on the soldier.

"That way?" Isaac queried. No response as the goblin stared him down suspiciously, so he awkwardly stepped away and headed that direction.

            Suddenly Isaac became aware of all the scrutiny from these people. It wasn't just the window washer--almost everyone that passed him on the sidewalk took a second glance. Men balled their fists, women clutched their purses...His clothes, he thought. His shirt was faded, overalls worn and frayed at the legs. His hair was a mess and he still had cuts and bruises all over his arms and face. Of course they were staring! He looked like a homeless criminal.

            Isaac walked for several blocks, keeping his head down in shame. He wasn't trying to look like a mugger. Eventually he heard a train whistle in the distance, motivating him to run. The street ended at the side of a massive building. To his right, he saw a five-car steel train slowly rolling down its tracks. It picked up speed, then disappeared into a dark tunnel leading outside the city's walls. Isaac felt a little relief knowing that goblin didn't lead him astray.

            Wandering around the big open building, Isaac watched another train pull up on tracks parallel to the others. A crowd of people began to board. He approached a man in a blue suit and hat standing by the doors and asked,

"Does this go to Rivermere?"

The man eyeballed him, much like everyone else,

"Queenswater. You want train 3A. Just left a minute ago." He jutted his chin towards the dark tunnel. Isaac frowned,

"Is there another one?"

"Not 'till tomorrow. The Rivermere route runs from 5AM to 5PM."

            Isaac felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. He sighed,

"Thank you." And trudged aimlessly back to the street. He stopped at a tiny park and sat on an empty bench. Nearby, a redheaded woman stood watch while her young daughter made daisy-chains in the grass. An older man played fetch with his spotted dog. Isaac sat there hopelessly for a few minutes, until he remembered his knapsack. Pulling the front flap open, he found a collection of useful treasures inside: A toothbrush, a canteen of water, a sack of dried food, a jar of baking soda, and a small but weighty envelope.

            The redheaded woman carried her daughter to the bench across from him. The little girl giggled and squirmed while her mother tried to put shoes on her tiny feet. Isaac carefully opened the envelope and tipped it, six 10g coins falling into his palm. There was a folded note inside too. He shoved the coins into his pocket and stared helplessly at the letter, then glanced up at the woman ahead. She'd gotten one shoe on her child and was struggling with the other when Isaac approached her. She flinched and looked up at him with big, frightened eyes.

"Excuse me," he asked, "Are you literate?"

The woman paused, then looked offended. She furrowed her painted-on black eyebrows,

"Of course I am! Who are you?"

"My name is Isaac. Can I ask a favor?"

            The woman quickly stood up and took her daughter's hand,

"Get away from me." She grumbled and began to walk away, her child hopping behind her on her one shoed foot.

"Wait!" Isaac held up the letter, "I just need you to read this note to me!"

The woman slowed to a stop and turned back to him,

"You're an adult. You read it!"

"I can't read." The soldier hunched slightly, "Please?"

            The woman held her place for a moment. Then her daughter proudly exclaimed,

"I can read!"

"Shh." Her mother jerked her arm, then walked back to Isaac and took the letter. She eyed him for a moment, then began,

"It says...

"'Dear Isaac,

            Though your time with us was brief, we enjoyed your company very much. We appreciate your service to our good queen and wish you the best of luck on your travels. Enclosed is sixty gold pieces, which should get you a train ride and an inn if you need it.

God guide you,

Logan . Maggie . Nolan . Jacob . Eileen . Grizzly

PS: Eileen wants to hear from you. Write to:

110 Glass Road North

            Blue Valley, Evangeline Kingdom

            Noalen'"

            Handing the letter back to Isaac, the redhead picked up her daughter and queried,

"Is that all?"

Isaac thought for a moment,

"Know any inns around here?"

"Hm...There's one down that way," she pointed down the street, then glanced down at his shabby clothes, "You couldn't afford it. There's a cheaper one on the other side of town." she paused, shaking her head, "There's always the brothel by the docks. Cheapest rooms you're gonna find, but it's...Well, a brothel."

Isaac tucked the note in his bag and nodded,

"Thank you, Ma'am. You've been very helpful."

            Isaac spent the next few hours simply exploring Newell. He ate some of his food--baked and salted potato slices. In his journey he found the cheap inn on the west side of town. 30g a night seemed a bit much to him and he passed, considering he didn't know the cost of train tickets. He saw beggars, hustlers, businessmen, musicians, slaves, prostitutes, school kids, dancers, singers, jugglers...Never in his life had he seen so many types of people all in one place.

            The sun was starting to set and the soldier's feet were aching. He found the docks--a significantly grungier part of Newell. The streets were cracked and littered with trash. The buildings were grimy, the air was smoky, and the people were sketchy. They were dressed more like Isaac than the townies. At least he fit in, he thought miserably. He knew the brothel when he saw it, if the big sign with a shapely woman's silhouette was any indication.

            Isaac stalled by the front door, watching men walk in and drunk men walk out. He'd never been in a brothel before, despite all the badgering from his fellow soldiers. Chaplain Kohl told him that brothels were full of sin and depravity; no place for good men. But he wasn't here for drinks or floozies, Isaac reasoned. He just wanted a room. He'd rent a room and stay there until morning. That's it. No drinking, gambling, or fooling around he decided, then passed through the heavy door.

            Squinting in the dim light, Isaac coughed as the heavy stench of booze, sweat, and smoke assaulted him. It was enough to make his eyes water. Ahead there were men playing cards or throwing coins at drunk, naked women dancing on tables. Isaac couldn't tell if he was tempted or repulsed. He made his way to the bar where a middle-aged woman was wiping down steins. Her pale face was caked with dramatic makeup and she donned a long skirt and a tight corset that pushed her cleavage absurdly high. Her dark hair was pulled up in a messy bun, wearing the weary face of an overworked insomniac.

            She was quick to greet Isaac the moment he stepped up to the bar,

"What can I get you, Darling?"

"How much for a room?"

"Twenty gold for twenty-four hours. If you want some company, every girl has their own price. You just gotta ask." The bartender showed a smile full of crooked teeth and leaned on the counter. Her breasts were one faulty move from spilling out of her top. Isaac caught himself gawking and looked at the floor as he fished two coins out of his pocket. He kept his gaze to the side as he slid them across the counter,

"Just a room, please."

            The bartender dropped them in her skirt pocket and handed him an iron key.

"Don't lose that." She said, "You want a drink?"

Isaac shook his head,

"I shouldn't."

"Why shouldn't you?"

"I just...I mean, I'm kind of broke." He lied...Partially.

"Awww," she cooed and placed three glass bottles and a shot glass on the counter, "You look like you've been through some rough shit. Just a second." She mixed precise amounts from each bottle into the glass and slid it to him,

"Here, this one's free."

            Isaac stared at the drink and refused sheepishly,

"It's okay, really. I just came for a room. I'm in enough trouble as it is..."

The woman gestured to a seat, "Why don't you sit down and tell Miss Krista about it? And if you want the drink, it'll be here for you."

Sounded reasonable enough to Isaac. He sat down,

"Thank you."

An older man hollered something from the other end of the bar. Miss Krista rolled her eyes and filled a stein with beer, carelessly sliding it down to him before turning back to Isaac.

            "So who are you, and what brings you to our fine establishment?" she asked. Isaac sighed,

"My name's Isaac. I'm a soldier from Rivermere. I got..." he paused. His story was so pathetic. He'd never see this woman again after tonight, so how would she know he wasn't--

"--attacked by the enemy. Uh, fae." Isaac told her, staring into his amber glass, "A fae soldier poisoned me. I woke up in the woods all the way out here."

Miss Krista's thin eyebrows shot up,

"Did they capture you or something?"

Isaac paused, then gave a half-hearted nod,

"Yeah, they thought they killed me. But I survived and walked for hours until a nice farmer helped me, and now I'm here. I'm going back to Rivermere tomorrow."

            "Wow," the bartender grinned and traced her finger along the fresh scar creeping up his neck; the tail-end of the beast on his chest, "They really fucked you up. Poor baby!"

She sounded almost condescending. What if she didn't believe him? Isaac's face grew hot. He wasn't a baby! Or a kid, kiddo, child, son, boy--he'd show her!

"Yeah, look." He shrugged his overall straps off his shoulders and pulled his shirt up to his chin, exposing the monstrous scar on his chest. The bloody epicenter was covered with a gauze bandage, its tendrils now raised pink flesh dotted with scabs.

            A mix of disgust and amusement crossed Miss Krista's face,

"Oh! Oh, God..." she reached forward to touch it, then changed her mind and drew her hand back,

"What the hell did they do to you?"

Isaac lowered his shirt and pulled his shoulder straps back up,

"Witchcraft," he replied, "Plants grew under my skin and I had to rip them out. And then I killed the soldiers!"

The bartender raised an eyebrow,

"I thought they held you captive."

            "They did," Isaac said quickly, "I mean, I...I didn't kill all of them. Two. There were, uh...Like, five of them."

Miss Krista slowly nodded,

"Uh-huh..." she leaned on the counter and fingered the glass, "You're too young for all that bullshit. How old are you anyway? If you're underage, I won't tell." She smiled and winked. Legal drinking age in Evangeline Kingdom was sixteen...Isaac felt like such a flop in front of this woman. He didn't look that young, did he?

            "I'm twenty, uh...Three." He winced, knowing how flimsy he sounded. Miss Krista just smiled,

"No you're not."

"Just kidding!" He forced a big stupid grin, "I'm nineteen."

His stomach was fizzing, telling him what an idiot he was and maybe he should shut up before he looked like an even bigger idiot and threw up everywhere because he was an inept little loser with a bad stomach and huge teeth and--

"Are you okay?" the bartender suddenly looked concerned.

            Isaac glanced up at her,

"Y-yeah, why?"

"You just...You're sweating and you look kinda...I don't know." She shrugged, then tapped the shot glass,

"Why don't you drink this? You'll feel better."

"Uh..."

"Just fuckin' drink it," she playfully rustled his hair, "You look like shit. If anyone in this place needs some booze, it's you."

The soldier picked up the glass, holding it in limbo between the counter and his lips. He'd never had hard alcohol before, nor had he ever gotten drunk. He shared a few beers with the other soldiers once in a while, only ever catching a pitiful buzz. The Chaplain called alcohol "demon drink", said it made good people do bad things.

            Miss Krista rested her chin on her fist, smiling at him expectantly. It was just a shot. Isaac couldn't see himself getting drunk off just this. He looked up at her,

"Alright," he decided. He'd prove to her that he wasn't a child, "Cheers."

The bartender picked up an empty glass and clinked it with his. Isaac knocked back the shot and immediately proved how nonindulgent he was when his face screwed up. The burn was terrible at first, then it cooled to a pleasant warmth that seemed to spread through his whole body. He barely set the glass down when a light, floaty feeling overtook him.

            "Good stuff, huh?" Miss Krista smirked, "It's my own mix."

"G-good, it's good..." Isaac blinked, trying to steady his head. The woman pulled out another bottle and mixed a different drink,

"Try this one." She encouraged.

"No," Isaac shook his head, "That's enough."

"This one barely has alcohol in it. It'll clear your head and it's free."

Isaac wasn't sure if he was enjoying this buzz in his brain or not. A clear head sounded nice. He knocked back the second drink, bright green in color and oddly thick in consistency.

            "Gah..." the soldier shut his eyes tight, enduring the burn in his throat. The ooze fizzed harshly all the way down. Its potent aftertaste saturated all of his senses and he felt like he was underwater.

"I don't feel any...I feel worssse." Isaac slurred, sliding the glass back to Miss Krista. Every movement was wearisome and there was a prickling feeling in his fingertips.

"Give it time, Dummy." She replied buoyantly and mixed yet another drink, dropping a cherry inside. This one was a deep red color. She set it before Isaac and told him,

"This is a Goblin's Blood, but I add a little sugar and a cherry to make it my own. Try it and tell me what you think. Be honest."

Isaac raised his eyebrow at the glass, thinking for a moment that he saw two,

"No, nnno. I can't. I I thhhink I'm drunk."

            Miss Krista lifted his chin and looked in his glassy eyes,

"You're not drunk, Darling. I thought you were going to be my little taste-tester!"

Isaac blinked,

"Wha...?"

"That's what you said," she told him matter-of-factly, "You promised you'd test my drinks!"

"No I--" Isaac paused, his muddled brain thinking back to twenty minutes ago, "Did I?"

"Yeah!" the bartender pushed the Goblin's Blood into his hand, "Don't worry. I'll tell you when you're sloshed."

            The decrepit floorboards groaned under Isaac's unsteady feet. The hallway was short at first, now miles long and warping before his eyes. He steadied his palm on the wall and lost his balance, falling against it with a thump. Miss Krista giggled and pulled him towards her, her voice distant and muffled,

"Come on, Shit-head."

            Isaac found himself in a small, bare room with only the bed he was sitting on and no windows. He saw the vague shape of a woman lighting an oil lamp on the wall. She turned to him, illuminated in an orange glow. She said something unintelligible and he struggled to understand as his mind and body grew weaker and weaker. He wanted to ask a question but the question wouldn't come into his mind, much less out of his mouth.

            The room was very dim. Isaac opened his eyes, only now realizing he'd closed them in the first place. He was being shaken. Attacked? Something--someone--was on top of him. The blurry form faded in and out of shape; and he found himself staring at the pale body of a woman bouncing on his lap. He could say nothing, feel nothing, while she repeatedly crushed him against the thin mattress. The iron bed frame screeched in rhythm. Isaac knew somewhere in his poisoned mind that he was in danger, that something was wrong and he should be fighting, but he found himself paralyzed. This all felt painfully, dreadfully familiar. He expected to see treetops above, but there was only the stained ceiling and a hazy face staring down at him.