Chapter One: Ain't No Grave
A mysterious stranger awakens in the middle of Nowhere with no memory of who he is or how he got there. Accompanied by an odd but friendly dog, the stranger sets out to find some answers. However, it isn't long before trouble comes knocking.
When the man rose from his slumber in the scorched hardpan, he did so beneath a hot and primordial sun. His thoughts were a haze, a muddled collection of nothing and everything blurring together all at once. When his body began to respond, it did so slowly, and he lifted himself weakly.
His vision was cloudy, but even so he could clearly make out a bright pink smear in front of him against the rusted backdrop of brown and orange. The smear moved, shifted slightly, and as his eyes adjusted he discovered it was not a smear but a dog. The mutt looked at him curiously but with friendly eyes, smiling genuinely as if silently spectating his efforts at picking himself up.
"Grh…hey there, boy."
Unexpectedly, the dog waved. Even more unexpectedly, the dog talked.
"Hey!"
The man decided not to linger too much on the fact that the dog spoke. There were, obviously, more pressing matters at the moment, even if he didn't know exactly what they were yet. Maybe the dog could help. The man fully lifted himself and stood, wobbly at first, before gaining his footing. He shielded his face with the back of his hand as he lifted his head to the citrus sky, then back down to the dog.
"How long was I out?"
The dog shrugged.
"I'm not sure. I found you out here, laying just like you were when you woke up. You were breathing so I knew you weren't dead. I figured I'd stick around and keep any pesky animals from getting to you before you woke up."
"Well, that's…awfully kind of you. Thanks."
The dog nodded.
"You got a name, boy?"
"Courage," he said. "My old owner called me that, she said it's because I was brave."
"Heh. Courage. I like that," the man remarked, grunting as he strained himself. "Your owners around here, Courage?"
Suddenly, the dog's whole demeanor shifted. His smile dropped, and his eyes softened. The man knew what this meant, and he knew not to press.
"Oh. It's just you then."
"Yeah. You're the only person I've seen in…well, a really long time. People don't typically come around Nowhere anymore."
"Nowhere? That's where I'm at?"
Courage nodded.
"Mhm!"
The man looked all around him. 'Nowhere' was an apt name. There was nothing but flat, barren desert as far and as wide as he could see, an endless and immeasurable purgatory.
The pair walked on across the wasteland, Courage leading. The man wiped away the sweat forming on his brow with the back of his wrist and hand.
"How'd you happen to come across me, dog?" he wondered aloud.
"I was on a stroll," Courage answered. "I usually like to go for one whenever I can. It's peaceful, and it gives me something to do. Muriel and I used to go for strolls when she was still here."
"That your owner?"
"Yeah. Her and Eustace. She was the only one who was nice to me though. Eustace was…well, he was always grumpy. He didn't like me at all and we just never got along."
They had been walking for sometime when a shape began to manifest itself on the horizon. They got closer and it became apparent that this was the farmhouse that Courage had spoken of. Outside, a rusty old truck with a wooden bed sat, derelict, an ancient relic of a time passed. The house itself wasn't in terrible shape, and once they went inside, it surpassed expectations even further. There was no dust, no garbage, no mess. It looked as though a full-functional family lived here and took care of the place. You'd never know a dog lived here all alone.
"Welcome," Courage said. "Wipe off your boots at the door though, please. Sorry, I just like to keep the place clean. That's how Muriel would want it."
The stranger wasn't about to disrespect the dog or a dead woman's wishes, and did as asked before proceeding into the house. Courage scampered off into the kitchen, and the sound of running water came not long after. When he returned, it was with a tray topped with a pitcher of ice water and an empty glass. He smiled, offering the man some.
"Don't mind if I do. Thanks."
"Mmhmm!"
His throat was dry, as dry as the desert outside, and he drank greedily. The water was glacial and it was, in that moment, the best thing in the entire world. He poured himself another glass after guzzling the first down. Courage did not mind one bit.
As he drank, he looked around the house, studying, taking it all in. He took notice of the pictures on the wall behind him. There was a picture of a man and a woman on their wedding day. The woman looked ecstatic and jolly, while the man looked indifferent and even a bit grumpy. The next photo was of the woman, much older than she was in the first photo, and of Courage on her lap. Both were smiling.
"That's her," Courage spoke. "Muriel. She was the best owner a dog could ask for."
"She looks like a lovely woman, Courage."
"You know, you never told me your name," the dog replied.
"I didn't, did I? If it makes you feel any better, I would if I remembered it."
Courage raised an eyebrow. The stranger polished off what was left of his glass before handing it to Courage, who set the tray down on a nearby table.
"You don't remember your name?"
"I don't remember anything. Who I am, how I ended up face-down in the desert. Nothing."
"That's…not good."
"No, it's not."
The thought suddenly occurred to him to check himself over for something, anything, that could give him any idea of who he was. He checked the breast pocket of his button-up chambray work shirt first, then the pockets of his faded, dusty jeans. The first pocket was completely empty, but in the second his fingers brushed against something. Paper. And something hard was within the paper.
He fished it out, finding a crumpled note in his hands, balled around something. He exchanged a glance with Courage, who looked on curiously. The man uncrumpled the note into his open palm, and out fell a small black device, a USB drive. He looked over the paper.
FOSTER'S
It was one word, and it was hastily scrawled. The man passed the paper to Courage, who took it into his tiny paws.
"That mean anything to you?"
"Hmmm," Courage studied the note for a moment. "I've heard that name before. 'Foster's.'"
The man turned his attention to the flash drive, turning it in his fingers as if searching for any clue that might be etched into it.
"Not sure what to do with this. There's no chance of a computer being around here for miles."
Courage looked up at him and grinned.
"Actually, believe it or not I may have some good news for you on that one."
Honestly, the last place the man had expected to find a working computer was in the attic of this rather…dated farmhouse. Sure, the computer itself was old as dirt too, but what was more shocking was that it actually turned on. The man stood back and let Courage take the lead. The dog hopped up on the chair…well, on a bucket on top of the chair due to him being too short to reach the keyboard. It was a rather comical sight actually.
The two sat and watched the computer boot up for what seemed like a small eternity in silence, broken by a slight nervous laugh from Courage.
"It works, I promise."
"Yes, yes it does," a posh, snobbish voice chimed in immediately after Courage spoke. The man looked all around, his guard up, trying to find the source.
"Over here, you twit."
His eyes were drawn to the source this time, and he was sure of where it was coming from now…the computer. Words flashed on the screen everytime it spoke, subtitling its speech.
"Yes, there you go. Catching on now, are we?"
"I'm…being insulted by a computer right now," the stranger spoke aloud, as if trying to confirm to himself that this was, indeed, happening.
"Ugh, Courage? Is this your acquaintance? He's rather on the dull side, don't you think? Though, if he's associating with you, I suppose I can't really be that surprised."
Courage's eyelids fell in such a way that he looked both tired and unamused, as if he had been through this same process a thousand times over. The man, though new to this, began to feel a similar way already.
"I'm joking, of course. Lighten up, you two. I suppose this is where you ask me for something."
"Uh…yeah. Yeah, we need to know what's on this flash drive. If you'd be so kind."
"Ah, with manners like that, how can I possibly refuse? Bring it here," the computer answered in its monotonous, uncaring tone. Courage gestured for the device and the man handed it to him. Courage responded by plugging it in.
The two waited, watching the screen silently and patiently.
"Oh…oh this is rather interesting. The data is encrypted."
"Encrypted? Why would…" Courage started.
"It means something important is on it," the man said.
"You're quite the detective, sir," the computer replied. "I can crack the information, of course. It's child's play."
It took a few minutes, but eventually the drab and blank green screen filled with text. It looked like…a list. It was a list. The screen read:
YOU'VE FOUND THE SCRIBE.
THE SORCERESS IS NEXT.
THEN THE BERSERKER
THE RONIN
THE BOUNTY HUNTER
THE GUARDIAN
FIND THEM. YOUR ANSWERS WILL COME.
The words were confusing to say the absolute least. None of this meant anything to him. Nothing meant anything to him right now. Courage scratched his head, just as confused as him. The man took the drive back, sticking it in his pocket along with the paper that Courage had given back to him.
"I have one more question," the man spoke to the computer.
"Yes?"
"This note that came with the drive says 'Foster's.' Any idea of what that could mean?"
"Hmm…well, the only thing that comes to mind is Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends. I suppose that would have to be it, yes. If you wish to find it, you'll have to travel eastward, past the limits of Nowhere. It's not too terribly far. I'd guess it would take four or five days to reach while walking, and a little walking never killed anyone."
Courage and the man looked at each other, as if exchanging surprise at the computer's help.
The tranquility around them was suddenly disturbed, only slightly at first. It was a faint, far-off sound, barely there. Yet, Courage and the man still heard it. It was there, and it was drawing closer. Some sort of rumble, like thunder closing in. The two moved to the window.
A cloud of dust pooled on the horizon, and from the cloud rode three figures atop motorcycles. They were simple dots at first, but it was clear they were riding towards the house. The man got the strange feeling that this wasn't a social call.
"Expecting anyone?" the man asked Courage. With wide and nervous eyes, the dog shook his head.
It didn't take long at all for the riders to arrive, riding in front of the farmhouse in a circle, kicking up a small storm of dust before finally settling and killing their engines. From the window, the pair could see that the riders were women. They wore cowboy hats and ripped, torn outfits that gave them a rough and rugged appearance. Bandoliers crossed their torsos, and gunbelts hung at their waists. They were armed, with rifles along their backs and pistols in their holsters. The man and Courage continued to watch them from the window.
The trio dismounted their bikes and began to make their way towards the house, looking all around. The man and Courage sank a bit, working to conceal themselves better while maintaining a view of the scene outside. Immediately, the man could tell that the one with fiery orange curls poking out from beneath her hat led the trio. They stopped, staring at the house, before the leader spat to the side and spoke up.
"We're here for the dog! We don't want any trouble, but we're happy to make some if need be! Just send the dog out to us and we promise, we'll be on our way."
Her voice was grating, raspy. Laughter followed the demands made by the woman. The one with short blue hair spoke up next.
"Yeah, send him out! It would be a real shame if this cruddy old crap-shack ended up burning down, hehehe."
The blonde with buck-teeth was next.
"Hey, I think I saw someone up there! In that window! I think they're playing dumb, Lee!"
The man and Courage ducked beneath the window. Courage shook, clutching the man's arm.
"The hell do they want with you, dog?"
"I don't know," Courage whispered back. "Don't…don't send me out there."
From outside, the unpleasant voice of Lee came again.
"How about this? We'll give you one minute. One minute to come on out or we make it nice and toasty for you in there. Time starts now!"
"Agh!" Courage yelped in fear.
The man sat for a moment, thinking, sifting through his mind to form any semblance of a plan. His time was running out. Then…it came to him, a random but somewhat coherent thought. It was a dumb plan, but it was the only one he had and that was better than nothing.
Maybe.
The girls sat by their bikes, with the blue-haired one counting down. "Seven! Six! Five!"
At five, the front door opened and the man appeared in the doorway. The counting stopped, and the girls eyed him.
"Can I help you ladies?"
"You deaf or something? Send out the dog," Lee called out to him.
The man moved through the doorway and down the porch. Once he made it down the stairs, the buck-eyed blonde drew her pistol from her belt and aimed it directly at him.
Lee looked on, spitting at the ground, before addressing the blue-haired one.
"Draw yours too, Marie. Don't want our new friend here getting cute with us."
Marie did as told and trained her own pistol on the man. In turn, he slowly threw his hands up. The guns were quite impressive, with bulky, steel gray frames. They seemed to be loaded via a cylinder in the center of the frame, though they certainly looked very much unlike a typical revolver.
"Those are some mighty fine hats and pistols you got there, girls. Don't you think they're a bit too big for you though?"
"He's getting cute with us, Lee!" the blonde said.
"It's alright, May. Let him. As long as he keeps his hands up and tells us where the dog is, it's okay."
"Well, you see the problem with that is that I don't have a dog. Never did. It's just me out here."
"You expect us to believe it's just you out here in this big house? That's a load of crap," Marie said.
"Believe what you want. I'm telling you the truth. It's just me. I took the place over from my parents. You know, now that you mention it, they had a dog at one point. He passed though. A long, long time ago. So if that's the one you're looking for, I'm afraid you're some years too late."
"Alright funny man, enough," Lee barked. "I'm not playing games with you. We're here to take the damn dog and leave so we can get paid. That's it. Now if you keep being a problem, we'll fix that and we'll go in and take the dog ourselves. Do you want that?"
"You're more than welcome to come on in and check the place out. Maybe then you'll see I'm telling the truth."
Lee scoffed.
"You know what? Fine. But I'll tell you what, mister. We find that dog, we find out you're lying to us, you're dead."
"Fair enough. Come on then."
The man turned back towards the house, shuffling slowly to allow the girls to catch up to him. His eyes drifted up to the attic window, meeting Courage's own, before moving back to the door ahead. He listened carefully, measuring how far back the crunch of the girls' steps were. They were walking faster than he was, and so they caught up with him quickly.
He stopped. He felt hot metal immediately press up against the base of his skull, the barrel of a gun.
"What are you doing? Keep moving, outlander."
He recognized the voice as Marie's. She was the one holding the gun against his head. If he had listened and measured the steps correctly, Lee was directly to her left, and May was a few feet behind on her right.
In that moment, his mind washed away into a blank canvas. Reflex and instinct took over, taking a hold of him.
The man spun out of the barrel's aim, breaking the line it had against him, swinging his right arm up under hers and trapping against himself as he did so. Swiftly and forcefully, he kicked the back of her leg to drop her. Marie groaned and cried out in pain.
Their jaws dropped, May and Lee began to react, with Lee preparing to fire her pistol. The man released his grip on Marie, seizing May's wrist and redirecting her aim away from him. She fired, likely out of panic, and the thunderous bang shattered the windless quiet. He wrapped his arm around hers like a constricting snake, enough to where he could disarm her and take control of the pistol himself. His hand was like lightning, and just as Lee had drawn and taken aim on him, he himself had already aimed and squeezed the trigger. Lee cried out as her leg twisted under her in an unnatural manner, toppling her hard into the dust. Marie was recovering, and so he had to be quick. He whipped his head back against May, feeling her nose break against the force of his skull.
With his superior strength and her disorientation combined, he grabbed ahold of her and slammed her down on the ground hard enough to knock the wind from her. She sucked in hard like a fish washing up on shore. He aimed and fired at Marie's leg, dropping her too. Immediately and with purpose, he separated all of them from their weapons. Marie had passed out from being shot, but she was still alive when he checked her pulse. May was still trying to catch her breath. Lee, on the other hand, was writhing and fully conscious on the ground. The man made his way over to her, aiming the blocky-body of the pistol against her forehead.
"Who sent you?"
"You bastard, you shot me in the leg!" she choked out, her face as red as the blood flowing from her leg like a river.
"Your head is next if you don't start talking."
"You mean to tell me you have no idea who sent us? Come on, you can't be that dumb! You live under a rock or something?"
"I asked a question, and I'm not asking again. The lives of you and your two friends are in your hands right now."
"Idiot, they're my sisters! I…I can't. I can't tell you. You might kill us, but…he'll do worse. Way, way worse. If you know what's good for you, you'll start running after you're done here, because you're on his radar now too."
There was fear, real genuine fear in those eyes, buried beneath her messy curls. Her voice quivered too. That was a fear that not even the threat of death could make a dent in. He moved the pistol away from her.
"You go back and you tell whoever it is, whoever the hell hired you, that if he comes after me then all he'll find is an open grave and a tombstone with his name on it."
"Wow. You…agh, you really do have no idea who sent us."
The door to the house suddenly burst open and Courage poked his head out, cautious and unsure. He looked at the spectacle and the mess that lay before him in disbelief.
"It's over, dog."
"I knew you were lying about the dog," May wheezed out.
The man ignored her and walked over to Marie, still sleeping, taking it upon himself to relieve her of that dusty, weathered cowboy hat, adorning his own head with it. It fit rather nicely and personally, he felt it looked much better on himself than it did on her. He then took both her gunbelt, her bandolier, and her rifle scabbard, though it took a bit of adjusting for them to fit on his more lean-muscular frame. Holstering the pistol in the gun belt, he then moved to one of the rifles that he had taken away from the girls Picking it up, he looked it up and down curiously. The side of the rifle was engraved with the blocky word 'DEXTECH.' It was a deep shade of crimson, and had a sleek design to it. Somehow, he recognized the rifle as a laser carbine. Taking it, he aimed at the tires of the motorcycles.
PZOO! PZOO! PZOO!
The rubber blew apart into chunks, leaving nothing but burnt, blackened, damaged rim on the wheel of each motorcycle. The bikes toppled from the force. He shoved the rifle into the scabbard, taking one last look around him and then at the farmhouse and Courage before turning his back. He started off eastward.
"You coming, dog?" he called back without stopping. "I suppose you could stick around though if you wanted, wait for those mercenaries to catch their bearings."
Once those words left his mouth, his ears became keen to the quick and frantic hurry of paws closing in from behind him. Before he knew it, the pink dog was right beside him in his peripheral.
The pair marched on, back into the desert oblivion, headed away from the farmhouse that Courage had always called home and headed into the unknown. Headed to Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends.