He inhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring as his eyes fluttered open. The harsh but yet dim yellowish light over his head blinded him, making him see pure white for a moment. The racing heartbeat monitor caught his attention, and he began to wonder if he was in a hospital. If the entirety of his life was nothing more then a coma induced nightmare, and he'd wake up in a pre-war world. That was a thought he could live a little longer in.
The rapid beeping caught the attention of Alison who was, for what felt like month now, sleeping in the chair next to the bed. She lifted her head to see him turning his head and looking at the heartbeat monitor. She suddenly sprang out of bed in a drowsy haze, moving over to his side.
Her hands rested on his hairy and dirty arm. "Hey, easy there." He turned his head the other way, looking over at her with wide eyes. "It's alright, you're safe. You're safe. Do you remember your name or-."
"Where am I?" He asked in a gravely and dry voice. He cringed in discomfort and reached up, rubbing his throat. "Who are you, where am I?"
"Easy, guy." Alison said letting go of his arms. "I'm Alison Hayes, the town mayor. You're in Prosperous Springs, Texas." She reached over to the table and grabbed a bottle of water off it, handing it to him.
He looked at it for a moment then reached out and grabbed it, the plastic crunching under his grip. He shakily unscrewed the cap and brought it to his lips, steadily drinking from it for what felt like minuets at a time. Finally he stopped and groaned when half the bottle was gone, screwing the cap back on and laying it beside him. "Jesus..." she muttered with a smirk.
"Has all but sought to kill me himself." Elias mumbled as he looked about the simplistic wooden room. "Prosperous Springs?"
She nodded and crossed her arms just under her breasts, shifting her weight to one side. "MmmHmm. Our guards watched you stumble into town, and I personally watched you stagger into our saloon then collapse. Doc says you're lucky to be alive."
He swallowed, feeling his throat was better. Then sat up in the hospital bed, now feeling his cloths were missing and he was in a hospital gown. He noticed, but didn't find it a pressing issue. "I don't remember any of that." He groaned as he sat up, still looking around. His eyes caught Alison's blue-jean covered legs, and followed them up her shapely body until her eyes rested on hers. "How long have I...?"
"About four days." She replied nearly somberly.
His expression flattened and he leaned back against the plastic headboard of the hospital bed. It thudded against the wall upon his weight pressing against it. "Four days..." He muttered to himself as his eyes scanned down to his covered legs.
"Doc said it didn't look like you hit your head. Most likely you were exhausted and your body needed the sleep, needed to recover." Alison grabbed the chair behind her and pulled it up to the side of the bed, taking a seat. He looked over at her with a near look of worry in his eyes. "What's your name? Or should I call you The Lone-Star Ranger?"
His eyes closed and he sighed, his shoulders slumping. He'd hoped people would forget. He'd hoped they would remember his 'fond' farewell-the-well and forget that he ever existed. But people are stubborn. And wouldn't stop believing in a false promise, even when it turns around and bites them in the ass.
He opened his eyes and looked over at her again, out from under his dirty and greasy long bangs. "Elias." He muttered his name, feeling alien on his lips and to his ears. "My name is Elias."
She tilted her head curiously and her soft, full lips curled into a smile. "Elias Grey, then?" She reached out her open hand. He moved his eyes down and looked at it, then reached his up and gripped hers, shaking firmly. "No." He muttered, causing her sly smile to fade. "Elias Booker. People started calling me Ranger Grey after I...disappeared."
She nodded her head softly. "Because grey is somehow the color of a ghost." She looked over at him again, he was staring down at his feet with a blank but somehow hopeless expression on his face. "You've been gone five years." His head perked up, as if shocked by hearing this. Then the hopelessness returned, and he bowed it once more. "Did you know that?"
A moment of pause. Then he shook his head then reached over, pulling off the heartbeat monitor's clip that was attached to his finger. The machine's insistent beeping let out a long winded flat-line before Elias reached up and switched it off. Alison chuckled softly under her breath, and was silently surprised he knew to do that. "No." He finally answered and looked over at her. "I didn't know. I just took it day by day."
He reached to his side and grabbed up the bottle again, untwisting the cap and taking a long drink of it. Now only the bottom remained. He finished it off and screwed the cap back on. Alison reached out and grabbed the bottle in his hand, her fingers caressing over his. A chill rocketed down his spine and he closed his eyes briefly, drawing in a deep breath.
She tossed the bottle in the trash and looked back at him just as he opened his eyes. He gripped his hand into a fist, then loosened it.
"You're...the first person I've had a conversation with. In five years." He paused, not directly looking at her, but in her general direction. "An actual conversation. No...guns or threats...blood." He then turned his head and looked at her, almost softly, out from under his bangs. "I forgot what it was like to talk to someone...I'm sorry."
She curiously tilted her head again and smiled a little as she looked at him. Her tight blonde ponytail tilting to one side. "For what?"
"Well," He groveled as he looked down and carefully pulled the IV out of the top of his hand. "I'm not much for conversation. And I'm sure I look like something that crawled out of a Brahmin pin."
She giggled a little more openly. The sound caught his ears and for the first time in what was apparently five years, he was awake and alive enough to smile at the sound. Reactionary maybe, but it still was a first in a while.
A heavy handed knock came from the door, then a twist of the knob. Elias's hand went down to his hip, grabbing for a gun that wasn't there. The door opened and a deep yet suave voice filled the room. "Hey, Ali, I've warmed up the burners and was wondering if-." He stopped when he saw the ragged stranger tensely looking at him. His jaw was clinched and eyes narrowed at Vic. It made the large man uneasy.
Vic was a tall, broad and husky Italian man. His skin was an olive color and his black hair was greased back. Nose a little too large, and had been broken once or twice. He was the opposite of what was to be expected from the other-side of that door, and the surprise put Elias on edge. Not to mention Vic had about two hundred pounds on the weak, bed ridden man.
Alison laid a hand on his arm. Suddenly, against his will, his body relaxed, and he let out a breath. "It's alright..." she whispered to him, then looked back at Vic. "This is Victor, the saloon's owner and bartender. Also a damned fine chef."
He took a quick breath then smiled uneasy at Elias, walking forward and raising his hand. "Nice to meet you, sir." Elias stared into his eyes for what felt like a solid minuet before glancing down at his hand and reaching out, shaking his with a tight vice like grip. "Pleasure." Elias mumbled.
Vic looked at Alison and smiled a little, obviously uneasy. "I-I got the fryer going for the morning. Do you two want anything? On the house, as much as you want."
Alison looked at Elias who seemed wanting of this offer, but still concerned. She her hand lightly on his shoulder, and his heart beat once heavily, causing his breath to catch. "It's okay, you can have anything you want."
He glanced at her, like a kid who wanted a treat but was afraid to take it from the stranger, even if mom said it was alright. He thought about it for a moment, then looked up at Vic. "What...what do you serve?"
Vic's face lit up with a sort of enthusiasm. "Well I get all my ingredients fresh from the town garden. Just bought a egg-crate of fresh potatoes and some red 'n yellow peppers, really add a sweetness to it that-"
Alison giggled and shook her head. "Vic, spare the man your recipes."
"No." Elias said suddenly. "It's...it's fine. I haven't had a meal like that in a long time. Could I...?"
"Of course you can." Vic said with a smile. He turned and walked for the door, nearly leaving before he turned back and asked "Ali, you want the usual?" She nodded and he gave a nod back to her.
She looked over at Elias who was looking at his dirty arms with a kind of disgust. "I'll show you the restroom after Vic gives us our food. There's a shower there, and I'll get Samantha to cut your hair and trim you up if you'd like."
He looked over at her with surprise. "A shower?"
She nodded. "That water you drank comes from an under-ground stream that runs under the town. Whole town is hooked up to it, we run it through a purifier and it's safe as it gets. You can get cleaned up, and Samantha grooms all her girls."
"Hmm." Elias groaned then sat up a little more. "Guess if you got nothing else to worry about then your daughter's appearances, then the town is pretty secure."
"No, no, no." Alison chuckled and shook her head. "Her girls, her...Samantha runs the towns-er-towns cat-house."
Elias raised his brow and looked over at her. She sighed and shrugged her shoulders. "It just kinda happened."
Elias leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes and trying to remember the pain induced haze he had gone through to get to this town. Then his mind slid even further back, trying to recall any of what was apparently the last five years. And oddly enough, he couldn't. He remembered walking, for so long. No good sleep, no good food. Just walking.
But how did it start? He thought back even further, not sure how much he wanted to remember. Somewhere on the edge of memory, just waiting to be relived, he knew what caused it all. But how did the walk start. He thought all the way back to the sun setting on a ruined, skeletal city. A chill rocketed down his spine and he inhaled sharply, eyes flying open and readjusting to the light.
Alison was watching him curiously and carefully, as he seemed completely out of his element in a place that had people in it. She wondered so much about him, about details and facts. But her curiosity was his burden, and she knew that.
He suddenly turned his head and looked straight on at her. "How long will I have to stay here?"
She was taken back by the question. Newly rediscovered and awake and was already asking when he could leave. "I-I don't know," she stammered "you'll have to ask the Doc."
He nodded and looked straight ahead at the door. From that point, very little was said. Alison was afraid of prying to far and Elias was more fixated on knowing when he could leave. A few minuets passed and Vic brought in a whole dinner tray of food.
Whatever thoughts Elias had were stopped entirely as the smell of fresh, hot food hit his nostrils and caused his mouth to start watering. Vic laid the tray over Elias' lap, it's metal stands fitting on either sides of his thighs.
Before him was a magnificent display. A large plate of what looked to be fried hash-browns mixed with all sorts of peppers. On another plate was a slab of seared but still pinkish meat, which appeared to be entirely too stringy. He instantly knew it was Gecko. And no matter how you cooked it, no matter what seasoning, it still tasted like a dirty Gecko. But, food is food. Steam was rising off all of it, and a fork and knife at his ready.
Vic picked up a small plate- which had a toasted sandwich with spread meat and a slice of tomato on it- and handed it to Alison, along with her Nuka Cola. "I hope you like it." Vic said with a head bow and exited the room, closing the door gently.
Within an instant Elias was digging into every aspect of his meal. An entire fork full after fork full of hash-browns were stuffed into his mouth. Bits and pieces falling into his beard. The plate wasn't small either. And within a minuet or two, he'd devoured more then half of it.
Alison didn't think she'd ever seen a man eat as fast as he was. She took her first bite of her sandwich, the toast crunching and the taste of tomato and potted-meat hitting her taste-buds.
After five minuets, Elias had quite literally cleaned his plates and drank the second bottle of water. Alison finished the last bite of her sandwich and brushed her hands off, then her lap. She muttered with her mouthful. "Should I give your complements to the chef?"
A simple "Mmm." was all Elias managed. It was the beast meal he'd had in years. But something still wasn't right. Having tasted something good, rested in a comfortable bed, had another person touch him without causing him harm. Something about it wasn't right.
More flashes to repressed memories. A dinner table, with rock 'n roll playing faintly in the background, light up by a dim light. Fancy Lad Snack Cakes were laid out like a damned five course cuisine. They ate them all. The whole store of them. They knew they would regret it in the morning, or even the walk back.
She looked at him with powdered sugar in the corners of her mouth and smirked, shaking her head as her hand laid on her pooching stomach. "Don't look at me like that." he chuckled. "It was goddamned good, and you know it was. Better then fried rad roach or-."
He closed his eyes tight and shook his head, bowing it and holding his breath as if he was in pain. It was the worst most abysmal feeling he'd felt in years. His heart sunk and his guts rotted inside him and turned to mush. He felt his throat closing and his heart racing. He remembered, all at once, and all too well, why he had walked. Why he had forgotten everything. Why no one called him The Ranger anymore.
Alison's voice reached Elias with concern. "Elias...?" his eyes opened and his throat opened back up. His breathing was loud and filled the room. He never felt his heart return to it's normal pace, or his gut strengthen. He felt it, stuck in the back of his throat. Made it hard to swallow. He couldn't force it down. "Are you okay?"
He turned his head and looked at her. Concern? She was concerned for him? This was completely foreign to him. Even as The Ranger, no one was ever concerned for him. No one asked if he was okay. It was another job, another errand, another body to drop. Sometimes not even a thank you.
He thought quickly of what to say. The best he could so was "Ate to fast." She stared at him for a moment with a worried expression plastered on her face. Then, after that moment passed, she managed a smirk and nodded. He wasn't sure if she bought it, but either way his problems were his problems. He'd deal with them himself.
He pulled the blankets off of him and laid them to his side, then looked at Alison. "Where's my clothes?" He asked bluntly.
"Oh..." was her simple remark as she wasn't sure how to explain. "I sent them to a tailor to see if the rips and tears could be sewn up...I, uh...I don't know how much we can save."
He paused, staring at her for a moment, breathing only shallowly. "You threw away my cloths?"
"I didn't mean to," she said quickly with panic in her voice. "I wanted to get them cleaned and fixed for you but they were so old and...ragged. If they can't be fixed, I promise you, I'll get you better ones."
He sighed and swung his legs off the bed. His bare but callused feet hit the cold tiled floor and he carefully lifted himself off the bed. His body creaked and groaned, joints popping and grinding as he stood up with a groan. "You said something about a shower?" he asked, feeling behind him to make sure the hospital robe was closed. It wasn't, so he gripped both sides of it and closed it.
Alison lead him out of the room and to the right. A old wooden door with frosted glass window's stood before them. She opened it, and it cried out on it's hinges. Inside was a simple bathroom, but well taken care of. Shower in the back, a toilet, a sink. Commodities he hadn't had in a while.
She flipped on the light and walked away, talking to him as she did so. "I'll go see about your clothes and get Samantha. Take your time in there. I'll be right back."
He looked away from her and into the bathroom. A luxury, no matter how simple it was. No matter how plain. He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, locking it. A quick flash of 'How do I escape?' speed through his mind, even-though there was nothing to escape from. But he'd remain on edge, just in case.
A turn of the knob and warm water flowed out of the shower head. Actual warm water. Steam even began to rise from it. He untied the top of the hospital gown, letting it drop to the floor. Then stepped in. The water beat down on his filth covered body, and washed over his face. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting the water flow over him.
He felt like he was in there for and hour, even though it was about half that. The hot, clean water poured over him and brown water flowed down the drain. We washed the grime off his body, out of his hair. He felt like it was cleansing every part of him. Like it was tearing away the stains of the Wastes. Like being re-birthed
He had forgotten what all of this had been like. He smelled and felt clean. He felt full. He even walked over to the mirror, wiped away the fog, and used the toothbrush and paste laid out for him. He wasn't sure what the paste was made of, as it was kept in a little glass jar, but it was what it was. He brushed away the yellow staining his teeth and was sure they poured abraxo cleaner in it. Maybe even a little alcohol. But he brushed until his gums bled.
After he was done, he ran a hand over his long and shaggy beard. Looking into the mirror, he saw a man that wasn't who he remembered. He remembered his hair being medium length and black, not past shoulder length and dark brown. He supposed he'd let this Samantha deal with it as well.
That was the next step. He tied the gown around his waist to cover himself up, then stepped out into the hallway. Looking to his right to see a woman in a corset leaning against his doorway with her arms crossed. She looked up, her brown eyes stunning him, and smiled. She waved him over, and he was unsure if he should trust her. But the reality of it set in. He was naked, unarmed, and in a strange town. He didn't have much of a choice.
"Hey there, handsome." Samantha called out in a strongly sexual but smooth voice. She had long, dark red hair that tumbled down her shoulders and looked as if it felt like silk. Her eyes were a dark brown, and they were made all the more piercing by the eyeshadow and eyeliner painting her eyes. Her lips were painted a vibrant red as well. Skin was tanned but fair. Not a wrinkle, blemish or scratch on her curvy body which was constrained by leather pants and a corset. Breasts threatening to spill over the top of it. "You ready?"
He stared at her for a moment, then glanced into his room and nodded back at her. Her full lips curved into a smile, and she nudged her head towards his room. They both walked in, Elias a little more cautiously then her. If eating a hot meal and talking to a beautiful woman was out of his element, this was so far beyond that he could barely comprehend what was happening.
"Take a seat." She said. Her voice was as striking as her appearance. He heard the roughness of years of smoking and whiskey drinking in it. It was a lower level of what happened to his. But the way she carried her words. They commanded him to sit, and so he did. "Let's make you a prized stud again. Whada'ya say?" Her hands moved up his neck and through his hair. Her tongue moved like a prize fighter. Graceful, quick, but just as deadly.
He heard the sound of shears and felt a straight razor for the next thirty minuets, not sure what she was doing to him. But with each passing minuet, his head felt lighter. He spent the whole time thinking, not focusing on anything else. He wondered her story, where she came from and what lead her to this...profession. He wondered who Vic was, and what he did when no one was looking. He looked like a man who had something hidden.
Then he wondered about Alison. How long had she slept on that chair next to him? Why did she care about him? He thought about her and the way she looked, trying to find any detail that may lead to her history. She was wearing a pale white button up shirt and a pair of faded blue-jeans. Cowboy boots had beat against the ground as she walked away. Blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail. Left bang tucked behind her ear and her right hanging down in front of her face. She had a scar parting her left eyebrow. And striking blue eyes that just a depth to them that felt infinite.
He got so wound up in this thought, he forgot to even wonder anything about who she was. And by the time he realized this, Samantha leaned back and smiled. "Well-hell-o-hand-some!" She cooed, breaking up her words as she took a step back. "Ali never told me you were such a looker. Go ahead and stand up, take a peek in the mirror."
Elias stood, hair tumbling off his shoulders and chest. He turned to his right to face the mirror and froze in his tracks. This was the man he knew. And he wasn't sure if he wanted to remember him. He looked exactly the same as he did many, many years ago. Hair was jet black and bangs hung down just above of his also near black eyes. The whole thing was medium length, but non of it touched his neck or shoulders. And his beard had been cut down to a stubble. Nothing more then a five 'o clock shadow.
His heart thundered alive in his chest, and his mind raced. Before him stood a man resurrected. Before him stood Elias Booker. A dead man brought back to life, for a reason he didn't know. He didn't know if would ever like the reason. And he damn sure knew he didn't like that he was being brought back.
But he was. God-dammit he was. He wasn't just a vagabond anymore, a nomad. He was what he always was. What he was born and made to be.
The Ranger.