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Pat's eyes flutter open as the morning sun streams directly into his face - way brighter than he's used to. Sally's still curled up beside him, all warm and cozy, while across the room John's already up and about, fiddling with an old coffee pot over his makeshift bedroll. The guy's determined to get a fire going for his morning brew. But man, the noise outside this window is something else - nothing like the peaceful quiet they're used to back at the lake.
"Holy crap!" Pat mutters, still trying to wrap his head around it all. "It's just like old Ben said it would be. We went to sleep at the lake thinking about waking up here, and boom - here we are."
John glances up from his coffee preparations with a knowing look. "Yeah, well, I've got a feeling old Ben had more than a little something to do with getting us here. Pretty sure we didn't just magically transport ourselves." He gestures toward the window with obvious anticipation. "But hey, we made it, so once sleeping beauty over there decides to join the land of the living, we can head downstairs and really scope this place out. Might even stumble across a poker game if we're lucky - haven't had a good game in ages. This town's got that familiar feel to it, reminds me of where I grew up, so I'm betting we'll figure out how things work around here pretty quick."
"I'm awake," Sally mumbles into the pillow, "I'm just all toasty and comfortable and I really don't want to face reality by opening my eyes yet."
"Come on, Sally, rise and shine," Pat says with playful authority. "We've got this whole new world just waiting for us to explore it. Look, there's this pink suitcase over in the corner - I'm guessing that's got to be your stuff. I found a bag with all my things, and John's got his bedroll and gear over there by the wall."
"Well, it's not technically mine," Sally says, finally rolling out of bed in what looks like a charming vintage nightgown. She pads over to check the luggage tag. "See? It says 'Penny' right here. That sweet old dear must have packed everything up for me - she's always thinking of others like that. But yeah, all my clothes are inside." She stretches and looks pointedly at the two men. "You guys go ahead downstairs and I'll get myself put together up here, then meet you down there in a few minutes, alright?" The boys definitely got the message about needing some privacy and headed for the hallway stairs.
"So where are you fellas from?" the desk clerk asks with genuine curiosity. "This hotel mainly caters to locals - we hardly ever see out-of-towners. What brings you all the way to Powder Junction?"
"Ah, so that's what this place is called," John says with a chuckle. "Makes perfect sense though, doesn't it? Ben and Penny sitting on a house packed with gunpowder, and we get blown clear to Powder Junction." Pat can't help but laugh at the irony, while the desk clerk just stares at them like they might be a little touched in the head.
Pat jumps in to clarify before they sound completely crazy. "What my friend means is, this old-timer named Ben - he lives out by the lake where our friend Sally's from - he's the one who suggested we come here. We're actually looking for someone specific, a guy named Michael."
"Newcomers?" The desk clerk's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Well I'll be damned - we haven't had newcomers roll through here in what feels like forever. If you're really newcomers, then Michael should be waiting for you in the bar area. Though I gotta say, I haven't laid eyes on Michael himself for quite a while now. But you're absolutely welcome to go check it out." He describes Michael as an older gentleman with distinctive white hair, black boots, and what he calls "a ridiculous-looking bolo tie - you definitely can't miss him if he's around." The clerk points them toward the bar, and John and Pat head off to track down this mysterious Michael.
"Michael who, exactly?" the bartender asks, looking genuinely puzzled.
"Well," John explains patiently, "we came here specifically looking for this fellow named Michael. The desk clerk told us he's usually easy to spot - wears black boots, has white hair, and apparently sports some kind of bolo tie. Said he typically shows up when newcomers arrive in town."
"Newcomers?" The bartender's expression shifts to one of shock. "Well, I know exactly which Michael you're talking about, but he's not going to be here meeting any newcomers. See, ever since we had that big influx a while back, we just don't accept newcomers anymore. So if that's what you are, somebody definitely sent you to the wrong place."
John realizes he needs to do some careful explaining here. "Actually, we're not really newcomers in the traditional sense. We live out by Penny Lake, and our old friend Ben - he's the one who helped us get here so we could track down Michael. We've got quite a few questions we're hoping he might be able to answer for us."
"Well, have a seat right here while I send off a telegram," the bartender says, warming up to them a bit. "Maybe I can get his attention, but I can't make any promises." He sets down a whiskey bottle and a couple of clean glasses. "This one's on the house while you wait. I'll be back in a little bit."
Pat's practically gasping for air when Sally arrives, looking absolutely lovely in a cheerful yellow and white dress. "What in the world is wrong with you, Pat? Are you feeling sick?"
"No, no," Pat wheezes, "it's just that the bartender gave us some absolutely vile liquid that he claimed was whiskey. I've never had whiskey before in my life, and I'm pretty darn sure I'll never touch the stuff again." He pushes the offensive glass away. "Let's head over to that café and see if we can get ourselves some proper breakfast."
"Sounds like a perfect plan to me," Sally says brightly. "I'm ready for some adventure!"
"Fish? For breakfast? You've got to be pulling my leg, old man. We've got bacon, steak, eggs, grits, fried potatoes - you know, actual breakfast food. It's morning time and we serve morning food." The café owner eyes them suspiciously. "You folks definitely aren't from around these parts, are you? And by the way, I hope you've got some money on you - this isn't a charity kitchen."
"Well, no ma'am," Sally admits, starting to feel a knot of worry in her stomach about how they're going to manage to eat in this strange new place. "I don't think any of us thought to bring money with us."
"Don't you dare try to play games with me, little girl - I know every trick in the book that you kids try to pull." The café owner's voice gets stern, but not unkind. "I can see plain as day there's a fat roll of bills sticking out of your skinny boyfriend's shirt pocket, and it looks like you've got a nice wad of cash stuffed in that pretty yellow purse of yours." She turns to Pat with motherly concern. "Son, you'd better get yourself a proper wallet. Somebody's going to snatch those bills right out of your shirt when you're not paying attention. Now quit fooling around and order some breakfast - I don't have all morning to stand here chatting with you people." Sure enough, when they check, Pat discovers a substantial roll of money in his pocket, and Sally finds her purse loaded with cash. Sally immediately thinks of Penny's kindness, always making sure they have everything they need.
The food turns out to be delicious and incredibly filling - much heartier than their usual diet of fried fish back at the lake. It sits heavy in their stomachs like a satisfying stone. "Pat, John," Sally says thoughtfully, "I'm starting to have some doubts about this place. Something really strange happened after you guys left the room this morning - something I honestly haven't even thought about for as long as I can remember."
"What's that, sweetie?" John asks with genuine concern.
"Well, this might sound a little inappropriate to bring up at the breakfast table," Sally says, looking somewhat embarrassed, "but when I was getting dressed this morning, I actually had to... well, I had to use the bathroom. Back at the lake, for the entire time I've been living there, I don't ever remember needing to go. I don't even remember the thought crossing my mind. I mean, I remember eating plenty of meals, but never having to... you know. But here, I actually do. Doesn't that strike you as really weird?"
"You know what, I've been noticing the same kind of thing," John admits, looking puzzled. "My head was buzzing from that coffee I made this morning, and then it was absolutely spinning after I knocked back a couple shots of whiskey on an empty stomach. I honestly can't remember the last time I caught a buzz off anything like that. And now I really need to find a bathroom myself." He looks around thoughtfully. "So there's definitely something fundamentally different about this place. It's nothing like life at the lake."
"No, it sure isn't anything like Penny Lake, is it?" comes a new voice. They look up to see an older man with distinctive white hair and black boots approaching their table. "Welcome, friends of Ben. My name is Michael, and I understand you have some questions that need answering." He smiles kindly and points down the hallway. "But first things first - the answers to your most immediate needs are down the hall to the left for you gentlemen, and down the hall to the right for the lovely lady. Go take care of those bodily functions, and I'll be right here when you get back."
