Caleb’s dirt-streaked shirt is still wet from the water. He thought for a moment that his interaction with the man in the card was a hallucination. With a quick look around, he can spot the roadrunner symbol exactly where his card pointed. He takes his hat off, using it to brush the dirt from the rest of his clothes. Pa would kill him for staining his pants, even this far away from home.

  Caleb slinks around the back of the tent, careful not to trip over the ropes holding it upright. He slides his ear against the rough white canvas, hoping to hear anything that might give away a clue as to where the card might be. The wind dies down for a moment, giving way to a light whimpering coming from within the tent.

  He holds his hand over his mouth to cover up the sound of his breath, kneeling in hopes of remaining unseen in broad daylight.

  “Please, someone, help me. I promise I’ll tell you where.” The whimpering becomes begging. Caleb only hears one voice in the tent.

  With a long, deep breath, Caleb slowly lifts the back of the tent. Enough that he could slide under without being seen. He notices a dark blue wooden suitcase with leather straps, worn from the harsh desert weather. To the left, a wooden box filled with loose hay; the indentation of a lever-action rifle looks fresh.

  Caleb slips under the canvas and hides behind the suitcase. He peers around the side to get a better view of the inside of the tent.

  In the middle, a man is chained to a round table. The table is pushed on its side, causing the man to slump on his knees while his arms are chained above him. He looks to be a little older than Caleb, bloodied and weak. Like a trapped fox that knows he can’t escape.

  The man’s right eye is swollen shut, blocking a chance for the man to spot Caleb in the back.

  “I’ll tell you where it is. Please, just let me go.” The man in the middle has a northern accent, from what Caleb can tell. His uncle would come visit from time to time after working on a fishing boat in the northeast. He always came back sounding different.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  Caleb looks around the room for another person. Hell, maybe the card was just lying on a table somewhere.

  He notices the table full of bullet holes, outlining the imprisoned man. Looking to his left, he sees a makeshift bed surrounded by bullets and beer bottles. An ashtray is full of half-smoked cigarettes. Caleb makes his way over to the bed, putting himself between the knocked-over prisoner table and the entrance to the tent. The bed is unmade, rough sheets encase the lumpy mattress. Dark sweat stains spread across the center.

  Caleb takes a small step, doing his best to stay quiet, until he feels his foot kick a beer bottle. The sound of glass breaks the silence immediately.

  He hears the chains rake across the wooden table, like an anchor across the bow of a ship. “Who’s there? Help me, whoever you are. I beg you, they will not keep me alive for much longer.” The prisoner’s voice was frantic at the sounds behind him.

  Caleb freezes in place. He holds his breath again, but his heartbeat is thumping like a stampede.

  “Please, sir. Get me out of here. I promise I can pay. I can tell you where the card is. That’s why they chained me in here.” The prisoner begins to ramble.

  “I want the card,” Caleb whispers, loud enough for them both to hear. “Give it to me, and I’ll set you free.”

  “Do you think I would be alive if it were in my pocket?” The man sharpens his tone.

  “Where is it then?” Caleb walks directly behind the table and squats down.

  “Free me and I’ll tell you. They will kill me if you don’t.”

  Caleb walks from behind the table and draws his revolver. His hands were shaking against the wooden butt of his pistol. The man looks up at him, his eyes fill with tears.

  “Don’t kill me.”

  Caleb aims and fires a round into the chain holding the prisoner. The room fills with gun smoke.

  “Are you fucking crazy? They are going to come running to us!” The chained man screams at Caleb.

  Caleb fires another round into the second chain. It shatters on impact, releasing the man to all fours. He looks around the room and sees a beer bottle that is half full. He grabs the bottle and focuses on it becoming water. The card inside him hums, and the bottle sloshes around. He hands the bottle to the now free man. “Drink up, we need to make a run for it.”

  Johnny squints at the bottle. “Thought this was whiskey. Didn’t know the bastard watered it down.

  “I’m Caleb, by the way.” He helps the man to his feet.

  “Name is John Abernathy, my friends call me Johnny.” Johnny takes another huge drink from the bottle.

  The two men quickly shake hands and turn.

  A massive figure fills the entrance of the tent.

  Lever-action rifle already aimed.