Chương 197: B4. 7.1 - A Dinner Between Best Friends

Amber Deen Leska Amber Deen subtly surveyed their surroundings while following Erind. At least one of them had to be responsible, and it wasn't Erind. But rather than be annoyed, Deen found it adorable how Erind fixated on food. Was her best friend like this before? Deen knew Erind only for a short time—not even a year yet—but they've been together often at law school. Deen couldn't recall Erind acting this way. Perhaps Erind's seeding made her constantly hungry?

As much as Deen would like to push it out of her mind, the fact remained that Erind had eaten people before as Blanchette. During Deen's research, she found that some seeded individuals craved human flesh. Even brains. A similar phenomenon might be happening to Erind, and she didn't know it yet. Because of Erind's Core, her cravings turned to something else instead of humans. Junk food and sugary treats were packed with calories—an easy way to stave off her hunger.

This was the reason Deen agreed to have dinner even though time was ticking to Cecilia's deterioration, if the abominable mad scientist was actually truthful. Erind was undoubtedly angry at the frat boys. Aggressive emotions were surfacing. Food was a distraction to prevent her from transforming and eating them. I'm Erind's guardian, Deen thought as they entered the diner. I'll decide what's best for her… The interior was well-lit and fairly clean, though its age showed with a few cracked floor tiles.

One of the lights above was dimmer than the others, and a corner patch of the ceiling was stained with mildew. It wasn't a bad-looking place by any means. It had a homely atmosphere, with a small TV above the counter showing the news. This was a real diner, unlike the diner-themed restaurants in La Esperanza like Cindy's. Deen didn't want to tell Erind that eating with her family at a diner was one of her childhood dreams—this never happened and could never happen, obviously.

If Erind knew, she'd make fun of Deen, saying something like Deen was just interested in the novelty of commoner practices. A middle-aged lady, wearing a red apron around her waist and a hairnet over her curly hair, made coffee behind the counter. In front of her were two men conversing with each other over cups of coffee. On the side of the counter nearest the door sat a stout middle-aged man reading a newspaper. A family with two children occupied one of the tables to the left of the door.

Lastly, three burly men in checkered shirts who were probably truckers sat near the wall opposite the counter. Everyone stared at Deen and Erind when they entered. They looked out of place, as if they got lost on their way to a college party. Erind chuckled softly. If Deen had to guess, her best friend must be thinking they were the perfect cast for a slasher horror flick set in the desert. Erind would probably add that the clueless blonde would be the first to get murdered by the deranged serial killer.

Confidence, Deen thought, walking forward as if she had frequented the diner for years. Everyone went back to their business and ignored them, the children making noise while playing with their food. Deen picked the furthest table, two tables behind the truckers. They might be of help if the drunk frat boys came by. The PCM cop wouldn't arrest them, and they might continue looking for Deen and Erind.

"I think… I think I like this place," Deen measuredly said, unsure of how to complement Erind's choice. Deen sat on a metal chair and glanced at the framed newspaper clippings on the walls.

"I was expecting someone to catcall you," Erind said in a low voice, sitting opposite Deen.

"Catcall me?"

"You know those movies, where truckers or construction workers harass women?" Deen frowned. Erind's grip on reality was loosening. Was this another side effect of her seeding?

"There are many rude people," Deen said.

"But you shouldn't be judgmental of every trucker based on what you see in movies. They're hardworking people taking a break for dinner in this diner."

"You're right," Erind mumbled, sheepishly grinning.

"Sorry to the truckers. If we're talking about actual harassers, we already have the frat boys outside. I hope they don't mess with your car. If they do…"

"We'll probably do nothing if they leave us alone afterward," Deen said.

"If they scratch it, I can have it repainted. We shouldn't draw attention to ourselves by, erm, doing something out of the ordinary."

"Out of the ordinary? Like what?" Erind innocently asked.

"You know what I'm talking about." Erind shrugged and turned to the wall, reading the newspaper clippings. Most were about the awards the diner had received decades ago, and the famous people who had eaten there. A former president. A child actor who was in her mid-forties at present. There was also a singer whose name Deen couldn't recall. But something else caught Erind's attention—a smattering of news articles about the 'Dune Stalker'.

There were Dune Stalker shirts at the gift shop near the entrance of Barstow Station. What was this about? Reading the pieces herself, Deen learned that more than twenty people had gone missing thirty years ago, and they blamed this unseen creature.

"Dune Stalker, huh?" Erind scanned the wall.

"Must be an Adumbrae. I don't see anything about it getting killed."

"Because it was never found." The waitress behind the counter had come to their table, handing out menus.

"Disappearances have stopped, though. Either the wretched monster transferred residences, got bored with all the sand, or the government killed it, but kept the operation all top secret, you know?"

"Wouldn't the government announce extermination to calm everyone?" Deen asked.

"Got a point there, dearie," the waitress replied.

"But there are rumors that the Dune Stalker was some important person. A high-ranking guy at the military base, shedding his human form at night to hunt people here in Barstow. A crazy story, if you ask me. The base got scanners for their important places, yeah? The thing with people, though, is that they'll believe crazy stories."

"Whether that military thing was true or not," Erind said, "the government probably just decided it was better that no monster officially existed around here. Can't stop people from making conspiracy theories that'd make the government look bad if they came out to say they caught the Dune Stalker."

"What about the missing people?" Deen asked.

"Were they found? Their bodies, at least?" Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

"Got some traces of bones and blood," the waitress drawled, as if bored with the topic.

"We shouldn't talk about that when you're about to eat. What'll it be, girls?" She took the pen tucked behind her ear and poised to write on a small notepad. Deen stared at the menu—it was full of calorie bombs, fatty and sugary foods she avoided. She checked Erind; her best friend had a smile on her face. Deen should fulfil Erind's cravings so she wouldn't go after humans and be the second Dune Stalker of Barstow. I have no choice.

Deen continued staring at Erind, trying to send a message that Erind should order for both of them. For the sake of appearances and friendship, Deen was willing to put trash in her mouth. Her regeneration would take care of the food's unhealthy effects. Erind raised a brow at Deen and then rolled her eyes.

"It's all food. Everything is edible," she said, correctly guessing what was on Deen's mind. Pressured to order, Deen asked the waitress, "Do you have tea?" She preferred coffee, but tea might help detoxify her body.

"None of those fancy tea leaves kind of stuff," the waitress replied with a shrug.

"Probably a box of teabags left in the cabinet."

"I'm fine with that," said Deen.

"By the way, do you have honey? Can you please use honey instead of sugar?" Deen noticed Erind cover her mouth to hide a smile. The waitress wagged her pen.

"Honey? Got none of that. We ain't no bee farm, dear."

"Oh, just sugar then." Deen stopped herself from asking if they had any artificial sweeteners. She knew she'd never hear the end of this from Erind.

"Honey is still sugar," the waitress said.

"Sugar is sugar. What else?" Erind ran her finger down the menu.

"We'll have a grilled cheese sandwich. Can you slice it into two, please? We'll share it." Erind glanced at Deen before continuing, "Waffles too. Oh, better make it chicken and waffles."

"We ain't got no honey to go with that, okay?" the waitress interrupted. Deen looked away, her cheeks turning hot with embarrassment. She didn't want to give the impression that she was a sheltered princess. The waitress pointed at a bottle hiding behind the hot sauce on the table.

"Got only maple syrup. Hot sauce too, if that's your thing."

"I love maple syrup," Erind assured the waitress.

"I'm fine with it, too," Deen blurted. Scratching her chin, Erind continued to order, "We'll also get hash browns and a slice of apple pie."

"You girls really hungry?" the waitress asked.

"A bit, yeah," Erind replied, chuckling.

"Had a long drive. We've heard nice things about Barstow Station, especially the food, so we want to try lots." She flipped the menu to the page with the drinks.

"But we hadn't come across the Dune Stalker while researching places to stop by on our way to Vegas."

"Not that famous of an urban legend," said the waitress.

"Not really an urban legend either, since it's true. Some folks say that the shirts and pins we got for sale 'bout the Dune Stalker are in bad taste."

"What's important," Deen said, "is that the Dune Stalker is no longer here. There have been no more disappearances recently, right?" The waitress made a face.

"I don't want to scare you, girls. But… some people went missing last year. It's why there's a resurgence of Dune Stalker merch—it sounds so silly, now that I say it."

"Like, is that actually true?" Erind asked, still reading the menu.

"Not just rumors?"

"Most definitely true," said the waitress.

"Got evidence and the like. Not enough of it, though. Police couldn't pinpoint exactly where the people had gone missing, just that they were last seen by cameras here. Maybe something happened to them further ahead, in the Mojave Desert or elsewhere."

"Were their cars found?" Deen mixed fear in her voice to cover anger. She was positive that Cecilia was responsible for this. Working with the mad scientist didn't seem right to her, even if Cecilia could find a cure for seeding someday.

"Nope. They drove off Barstow Station's parking lot and were never seen again. Anyway, be careful while traveling." The waitress tapped her notebook with her pen.

"Anything else?"

"One chocolate milkshake for me, please." Erind pointed at the menu.

"This large one with sprinkles and chocolate bits."

"Coming right up!' The waitress picked up the menus and walked away.

"Do you have honey?" Erind said in a high-pitched voice, shaking her head left and right in a mocking way. She grinned at Deen. Deen lightly kicked Erind under the table.

"What's wrong with asking for honey? I'm sure other diners have honey available."

"Hmmm… You're right, there's actually nothing wrong with your question. I think the funny part is you asking it. You give the impression that you're a fish out of water in this place."

"And you're not?"

"I've eaten with my family at diners before," Erind said in a neutral tone, staring at the TV.

"But that was ages ago, when Dad was still around."

"I…" Deen didn't know what to say. They hadn't talked about Erind's father before. However, Deen had researched him when she wanted to learn more about Erind last semester—Erind's father died in a car accident when she was a teenager. Deciding to avoid the painful topic, Deen said, "Even if they had honey here, it'll probably be artificial."

"Artificial?" Erind was still looking at the TV.

"Genuine honey is much pricier than most honeys sold in grocery stores. Those have cheap sugar syrups mixed with them."

"Sugar is sugar," Erind said, repeating the waitress.

"Not so," Deen said.

"Honey is made from nectar. Some beekeepers even commit unethical practices like force-feeding bees with sugar water, instead of letting them forage for flowers. This results in a lower quality nectar." The mention of animals changed Erind's mood, as Deen had expected.

"That really works? What if I feed bees a chocolate drink or something? Would they give me chocolate-flavored honey?"

"As much as I want to support you, that sounds unethical."

"Right, right. Chocolate might kill the poor bees. They probably won't—" Erind turned to the TV. So did everyone else in the diner. The waitress went around the counter to have a better view. On screen was a news reporter with flashing police lights behind her. The banner below mentioned that this was in La Esperanza. Deen had an inkling what this was about before hearing more.

"Turn the volume up, Linda," said the man with the newspaper.

"…four students dead and five others injured," said the reporter, "when an Adumbrae attacked a bar at Fenhern Beach. The Adumbrae has been killed by BID agents, but the damage has…"

"They got BID agents and Corebrings there," a trucker loudly said, "and they can't stop this from happening?"

"How many Adumbrae have shown up there now?" wondered another trucker.

"More than the fingers of one hand? If it becomes two hands, I'd freaking bet my burger there's a Purple Bloom there."

"Mommy, should we be scared?" Deen heard one of the children ask.

"Adumbrae attacks continue," Deen said in hushed tones, leaning forward so Erind could hear her better.

"I'm glad we left La Esperanza when we did."

"Where are the Adumbrae coming from?" Erind asked, still watching the TV.

"I think we're missing something here."

"We shouldn't attempt to find out," Deen sternly said. It was unfortunate that people continued to die, but this wasn't their job to fix. They had their own problems.

"Something's bugging me about this whole thing. Fenhern Beach. I feel like I've heard about that place before. Like, very recently."

"We were supposed to go there to talk to… Johann's contact," Deen said.

"Remember? Myra was looking for her sister, and this man at Fenhern Beach had some info. But he had moved to Marsh Row because to follow his boss." She put an emphasis on the last word, reminding Erind that she was the gangster's boss.

"Oh… right. I think Cecilia… might know something about the Adumbrae attack," Erind said in almost a whisper.