The Motel Desk Manager-Clancy Hayes-was bored. The small TV on the counter didn't have much to offer, and the radio was on the fritz. No customers seeking shelter for the night, nothing to watch, listen to, or read.
Another soul-crushingly boring night…
Hayes sighed. Then, he heard the sound of a vehicle coming up close. Unlike all the other-very rare-traffic on this twisty, all-but-deserted road, this one didn't pass the motel by. It stopped, parking in one of the parking spaces.
A customer? A real, honest-to-goodness customer?
The man who entered the motel looked like your standard conception of a Texan, tall, lean, wearing Stetson, jeans, denim jacket, and shades.
The man looked exhausted, in some kind of pain, movements stiff, body rigid.
"I'd like a room, please."
His voice sounded Texan too, husky, deep. But Hayes could hear the stress in the man's voice.
"You okay?" Hayes asked. All kinds of people came up and down this road. Some of them worse than others.
"I'm fine," the man chuckled mirthlessly, holding out his ID. "Just need a room for the night."
Hayes squinted at the ID.
A Bounty Hunter…Joseph Rogan…working out of LA…
Rogan's hand trembled slightly.
"You're not high or anything?" Hayes asked as he returned the ID, suddenly suspicious. He'd had stoned customers before. They always left the room a wreck.
Again, that mirthless chuckle.
"No…" Rogan sighed. "It isn't catching either…"
"Bad burrito...?" Hayes hazarded a guess.
"Something like that…" Rogan sighed again as he paid the bill up front, and Hayes handed him a key for Room 112.
"It's right over there," the Desk Manager pointed helpfully
…..
Once inside the privacy of the small two-bed room, Alamo Joe Rogan's shoulders slumped wearily. His entire body hurt, from head to foot.
Eric Cord was having it worse, though…
Sighing, Rogan took off his jacket, tossed it onto a nearby chair.
Eric Cord's transformation was only just beginning.
Linked as he apparently was, Rogan had no choice but to experience the feeling as the other man's muscles begin to tear, to reform.
Shivering, Rogan made his way to the bed, lay his hat, keys, and sunglasses on the table.
Eric Cord, somewhere out in the nearby forest, lies curled up, almost in a fetal position, bones, muscles, and flesh, shifting, reforming. Arms and legs elongate, form extra layers of padded muscle and sinew, claws sprouting from lengthening fingers and toes, as coarse dark fur grows all over. Nose, mouth, and jaw, extend outward, form a snout. Human teeth recede…Fangs take their place…
Rogan lay down on the bed, shivering uncontrollably. Even at a remove, the pain of the transformation, the…agony…was unbelievable.
How the hell does he stand it?
Then, off in the distance, Rogan could hear the bestial howl. The transformation was complete, the Beast awake and ready for the Hunt…
Hope Cord doesn't do too much harm tonight
…..
He's alone, looking out over a flat plain, gray clouds in a sunless sky overhead. Alamo Joe turns, looks in all directions. The uncut grass goes on, as far as the eye can see.
Why am I here? What am I supposed to do?
There's nothing to do but move. Go forward.
So that's what Rogan does, walking through waist-high grass. Abruptly, he comes across a clearing…
She stands there, in the glade, blue sky, and yellow Sun shining down upon her slender form.
It was cloudy just a second ago…
The woman is tall, clad in a long, white, sort of Greek-looking robe; and Rogan might have considered her beautiful; if she wasn't green…
Grass-green hair tumbles across pale, lime-green skin; and emerald-green eyes stare at him.
I see you…
Her lips don't move, but Alamo Joe hears her voice just fine.
Come find me, the Green Lady's voice enters his brain. Come find me…
Alamo Joe Rogan jerked awake.
What time is it?
The clock on the bedside table said 7:03 AM, and the early morning Sun was doing its level best to shine through the closed window drapes.
Rogan pulled himself together, collected all his stuff, left the room.
The same Desk Manager-Clancy Hayes-was still sitting at his post.
"Feeling better?" he asked as Rogan returned the room key.
"Yeah…" Rogan nodded. "Thank you."
"There's a guy came in a few minutes ago," Hayes added. "He was asking for you. Said he'll be waiting outside."
Eric Cord…
Rogan nodded his thanks, headed outside.
There Eric Cord was, leaning against the GMC's hood.
"You okay?" Cord asked.
"I'm fine," Rogan replied. "How about you?"
"I'm good. Where do we go?"
It's back to business as usual…
"I'm going to stop at the first town we enter, call Armonni, see if he's got anything for us. He always does…"