It was rare to see so many people happy. That was so many people who weren't in power and some part of that caught Snake up in it. He smiled and walked down from the dark hillside into the lights. What could walking around the place hurt? Sarge was with him and trotted close beside him as he maneuvered through the crowd. There were a lot of people here, more than he'd seen in one place in a long time. As unnerving as it was the sight was also oddly comforting.
Snake looked around the various stalls. One he stopped at and threw some darts. It won him a can of beef stew. There weren't toys here. No, all these people were starving and most couldn't have more than they could carry but food was always welcome. Snake pocketed the stew smiling a bit more now that dinner wouldn't be such a problem. There'd be no scrounging for at least one evening. He didn't linger. He wasn't a greedy man by nature. As long as he had enough to survive a day, two maybe, he was fine. Other people had a need for food too.
The fair had other attractions though none raised Plissken's brow as much as the tattered Farris Wheel. It was rusty and he swore he saw it swaying as people exited and entered the little seats. He just shook his head as he headed off to check out the venders. Most of them sold junk of the kind that even Plissken would be hard pressed to find a use for. He did find a butcher. It took only a little wheeling and dealing to get his hands on the gizzards of a few chickens. They'd feed his dog for the night.
All in all the fair was turning out to be a good idea after all. Plissken was finding himself back around to the front and the fortune teller. He cocked his head and shrugged. There was an instinctual curiosity to the whole fortune telling mystique. Snake had no problem paying and bartered out a pair of leather gloves that were too small anyway for a session. Inside the tent was dark and claustrophobic. Snake took a deep breath in the oppressive dark before he sat down on the rickety stool. Sarge lay beside him as he watched the teller bring something out covered in a cloth.
Snake's instincts were to run from anything unknown coming from someone with those slightly hazed eyes. The teller was half gas crazy which was no surprise. Plissken mused that it would be quite a horror if there was a severed head under that cloth. It was a grotesque thought but if it happened Snake doubted he would show any surprise. It wasn't a head when the cloth came away but a perfectly polished sphere of clear something, glass or quartz, he was unsure in the dim light. It had veins of red through it and Plissken leaned more toward thinking it was natural quartz. It didn't much matter.
"What can I tell you of your future?"
The theatrics in the crazy's voice was peculiar but Snake paid no mind to it as he debated on what to ask. It had to be something vague enough that he could detect someone just saying bullshit from his record but narrow enough that he might get an answer. Finally Snake came up with a question that only he could know some of the information about.
"What's in store for tomorrow's destination?" Snake was satisfied with the question. No one knew where he was going tomorrow. Not even the person he was going to see. That would make this difficult but also maybe enlightening. He tried to stay open-minded on the subject as he watch the crazy teller go through motions so absurdly cliché that Plissken took to examining what he could see in the tent now that his eye adjusted to the dark.
When Snake turned back the teller was swaying like in a trance. He wondered if it was fake or real but there was no way to tell. Time passed and Plissken felt a bit antsy though curiosity kept it from getting the better of him. After what seemed like an hour; though Plissken would later discover was only 15 minutes, the crazy opened its eyes.
"San Diego is dangerous for you." The crazy intoned.
Plissken nearly bolted out of the tent. No one knew that was where he was going. He was rooted to the stool by something not quite fear or awe or anything. It was a weird feeling that crawled up his back, prickling the hairs at the back of his neck. Crazies made him feel that way normally as it was. This one made that feeling worse.
"Stay away from Balboa."
Snake's skittishness increased. He knew what Balboa referred to. Where he was headed was by the old Balboa golf course. There were too many cities around here to even guess where Plissken was going. Even if that had been luck, to name the place in San Diego was too much.
"Why?" Snake managed to work the words out because if there was that much he had to know the rest.
The crazy gazed in the ball leaning closer. "Dead dog…dead men…. Plissken!"
The crazy's eyes shot up wide. Snake sat frozen to his place. "The Snake here?"
He glanced around without hinting at an answer. He didn't want this teller to know anything more than they seemed to already. Suddenly the teller jumped away overturning the table. The huge ball was flung toward him. Reflexes caught it but it was hot, burning hot as if it had been in a fire. Snake dropped it instantly to the grass and bolted. Snake rarely ran like this from anything. It was a fleeing terror that only a gang of crazies sent him into. One had never done it.
He finally stopped sliding down against a tree where he could still make out the lights down the hill and through the trees. He tried to catch his breath and clear his thoughts.
"What the fuck?" Snake whispered to Sarge or himself. He had no explanation for what happened. There was no logical way to shove it all aside as coincidence. His mind was running faster than his labored breath. There was no way in hell he was going to San Diego. At least not tomorrow.