It was just after eleven in the morning when Theodore rolled into Casper. He scanned the surrounding buildings for a gas station. The main street stretched out wider than he had expected. Both sides of the street were lined with cars, mostly four door sedans of different shapes and sizes. Pouring out of these four door sedans were large families heading to the various shopping centers that populated the main road. Those not rushing to the shopping centers were flooding to the small movie theater. It was a small yellow building just at the end of the first block. Having the façade of the building on the corner where the two roads met made it appear as if it was larger than it was. If one were to turn it center it would be dwarfed by the retail stores that preceded it. Several office buildings sprung up from the main street like tall trees at the foot of a desert. Their looming presence in the open wasteland of Wyoming seemed as if someone had picked them up from another city and transplanted them here to confuse the locals. As Theodore continued down the street, he spotted a café connected to pool hall. The café’s hours ended at the same time the pool hall’s began. Theodore chuckled, seeing several wives dragging their husbands by the arm to the café as the men stared gloomily at the pool hall.

Reaching the third intersection he spotted a gas station to his right. Only a handful of cars at the pumps and the line inside seemed even shorter. He was about to turn into the spot when the large building to his left caught his eye. The large red sign that extended off the side of the building read in large print “Henning Hotel.” The hotel was only three stories tall, but it felt like a Las Vegas high rise in comparison to the other building on the street, even the large transplanted office buildings. Theodore let his gaze travel up the building to the windows that overlooked the street. As much as he wanted to fill his Plymouth up, the fear that someone would spot Eollx in his back seat was too great.

Stepping on the gas he pulled past. He realized moments after slamming on the pedal that he squealed the tires a little hard in his haste to move from himself away from the hotel. A few wondering eyes lifted their heads to watch him drive away but nothing that made him feel that he was going to be followed. Pushing past all the streets and crowds he guessed there was a gas station at the far end of town where there would be fewer wondering eyes. To his surprise the squeal of the tires caused Eollx to jar awake in the back seat. She started to lift her head from the floorboards before Theodore stepped in.

“Keep your head down. We are traveling through the heart of Casper,” he said sharply.

Eollx dropped her head down below the seat. She rubbed the back of her head flicking the antenna as she did. Theodore cleared his throat.

“Please Eollx, don’t fiddle with that. I am not sure what you remember, but it is a trigger that sent you into a rage.”

Eollx stopped tugging at her antenna. As she pulled her hands away, her eyes widened at the sight of them. The damage they had caused in the room had left several cuts on her hands allowing her purple blood to shine through her gray skin. The cuts were slim but still very noticeable as the rest of her skin was quite smooth. She brushed the beginning of tears from her eyes and patted Theodore on the shoulder.

“Sorry,” she said in a quiet meek voice.

Theodore returned her tap compassionately.

“That’s fine. You weren’t quite yourself,” he comforted.

“Did I hurt you?” she asked.

“No, you…you hurt the room…a lot.”

“Are you in trouble?”

“No. Well, no more than usual. It worked itself out.”

Eollx slid back into the floorboards, grabbing the blanket, and draping it over her head. Theodore was sad to see her unhappy. He wished that he could have her sit in the passenger seat so she could see the environment and the people. See the happiness that the earth had to offer, not just the coldness of the department. He was nearly past the entirety of main street. He could see the rolling mountains that reminded him he was still in Wyoming. The last building before it returned to the open wasteland was small gas station on the right.

It was simple. Two pumps right next to the main building. A handful of display shelves that had anything from motor oil to cigarettes peppered around all sides of the building. The large main window was home to several tires on display that blocked anyone from seeing in the shop. The building was brick but unlike the buildings in town all the red from the bricks was washed away by time, leaving nothing but a pale tan color. Theodore wasted no time and pulled his Plymouth into the first pump. He popped open the door and made his way into the weathered building. The stale smell of tire rubber and gasoline filled his nose. Behind the counter was a skinny redheaded boy paging through one of the comics on the sale at the counter. Theodore quickly rushed to the counter, reaching into his pocket, he set a five-dollar bill down hard. The boy snapped himself out of his reading.

“Pump one please,” Theodore said trying not sound impatient.

The boy rang up the sale as his eyes slowly drifted out to the pumps. He clicked his jaw in a half yawn and pointed outside.

“You a…cover’n your friend too?” The boy asked sleepily.

“My friend?” Theodore respond in shock turning quickly back to pumps.

There was a man staring into the Plymouth. He was dressed in a white leather jacket that came up to his jaw. On his head was a motorcycle helmet, also white, with a small brim that covered the top of his forehead. His goggles were gray stained with the dirt of the wasteland. His face was wrapped in a dark blue bandana that tried to mask a white mustache, but a few whiskers poked out the top. His pants were a dark fine dress material covered by dark blue chaps. Surprisingly to Theodore, his shoes were Oxfords that seemed freshly polished. He pawed at the window with his tightly wrapped gloved hand. Theodore rushed out of the shop. As the door clanged open, the man staring at the car feebly hurried over to his motorcycle, which was parked next to the Plymouth on pump two. The motorcycle was Triumph low build and also white in color. Theodore called after him.

“Hey! What were you doing?!”

The man shook his head, quickly mounting his bike and revving up the engine. Theodore stepped in front of the bike gripping the handlebars. He looked into the man’s eyes. They were bloodshot, almost completely red. The skin around his eyes was heavily wrinkled. He looked very tired and weak.

“Why were you looking in my car?” Theodore pressed again.

The man shook his head again, kicking up the kick stand.

“I…I…gotta go,” he stammered.

Putting the bike in first gear, he slammed on the gas forcing Theodore from the handlebars as the man rode back onto the main highway. To Theodore’s surprise the man’s skill on the bike seemed contrary to his feeble way of walking as the turns and pulls of the bike seemed natural to his body. If he had seen the man just on the bike and not walking Theodore would have guessed that he was much younger than the wretch he had just witnessed. He looked back to the car. Eollx was still wrapped in the blanket completely out of sight. He breathed heavily, wiping a bit of sweat from his brow before resettling his hat on his head. He strode back into the gas station to finish his transaction. The sleepy redheaded boy didn’t say anything, just handed Theodore a receipt without looking up from the comic. Theodore nodded simply and returned to pump his gasoline. Midway through he looked at his watch seeing that the time was crawling closer to noon. He wasn’t sure where Chester was going to meet him, but he knew if he didn’t see Chester past noon something must have been wrong.

He finished filling the Plymouth and returned the nozzle to the pump. He adjusted his coat and pulled open the door and set one foot in the driver’s panel when a large black limousine pulled up next to him blocking his way out. Gripping the door tightly, he stared intently at the tinted windows. The front passenger window rolled down. A small little man peered out. His nose barely reached over the steering wheel. His eyes looked glassy and weak. His hair was short but still managed to be greasy. His black suit was wrinkled, and his tie was loose around his neck. He looked at Theodore, opening his mouth and smacking his lips together. His eyes rolled back in his head and without warning he fell forward onto the steering wheel setting off the horn. Just as his head landed on the wheel and the horn went off, he snapped awake again. His eyes less glossy but still out of it. He turned his focus back to Theodore.

“Doctor Piller?” He inquired with a yawn.

“Yes?” Theodore inquired back.

“The Twillmen brothers request an audience.”

Theodore bit his lip and the sweat returned to his brow.

“Tell them I will meet up with them after I see Chester,” he said trying to get in his car.

The small man inched the limo a little forward pressing the front bumper against the Plymouth’s front wheel.

“Chester sent them in his stead. Please,” the little man said hazily.

The back door of the limo popped open. Theodore continued to grip the door of his car. He inhaled and slammed the door with such force it shook the car in its place. He adjusted his tie and made his way to the back door of the limo, peering in, he spotted them. The Twillmen brothers were identical in almost every way. Both dressed in white shirts with black suspenders snapped around their shoulders. Their collars were open, and their shoes untied. They were both massively obese, both weighing roughly three hundred and fifty to four hundred pounds. The back of the limo was littered with the smell of cheap cigars as both brothers were chewing on thick round robusto cigars. The brown cigar wrappers coated their yellow teeth with each chew. They were both bald, poorly attempting to hide it under large black fedoras. The only difference in the brothers was the one of the two had grown a small goatee that grew in patches on his chin. Theodore had to hold his breath just standing a few feet in front of the door as the massive number of unpleasant odors coming from the back of the limo was almost too much to bear. He waved shyly at the brothers, wondering how they could see him through the cloud of smoke.

“Derek, Duncan,” he said opening his mouth as little as possible.

The twin with no beard belched out a cloud of smoke that as he leaned forward, nearly bumping his large belly into his brother.

“Doc! Good god do ya look tired. Hop in I sure we got som more cigars to wake ya up. Duncan where da rest of da cigars?” The brother bellowed.

“Gone,” said the other brother with the poor goatee.

“Gone! What do ya mean gone? We just got a box of dem in Denva.”

Duncan shrugged his shoulders and bit the end of his cigar so hard he nearly sliced all the way through. Derek turned back to Theodore.

“Doc get in ya letting the smoke out.”

Theodore nodded, slowly lifting himself in the limo and shutting the door. The haze of smoke filled his eyes and lungs and he let out a loud cough. Derek shook his head.

“See dis why we needed ta get him a cigar. Sounds like he’s weak to da flava. Ain’t that right Duncan.”

“Yes,” Duncan replied puffing smoking out of his nostrils.

Theodore tried sitting at the far end of the limo to create some distance between himself, the brothers, and their ungodly amounts of smoke. Derek waved his hand toward Theodore.

“No! Doc come sit next ta Duncan, so’s we don’t have ta shout, bad for da lungs.”

Theodore nodded and reluctantly sat next to Duncan, sandwiching himself between the two brothers’ stomachs. Derek grabbed an already open bottle of champagne and chugged a few gulps like it was beer. Brushing the bubbles off his lip and his collar. He shoved the bottle into Theodore’s chest.

“It is still early for me boys. Perhaps this evening,” he said, trying to be polite.

“Nah, nah we screwed up da cigars and dis is like a treat before bidness cause you been doing so good. We like helping da good ones. Ain’t that right Duncan?”

“Yes,” Duncan replied putting his arm around Theodore.

Theodore grimaced and reluctantly took a swig from the bottle which tasted exactly as he expected, like a bubble that had been soaked in an ash tray. He mustered his strength and swallowed the liquid quickly, handing the bottle to Duncan. Derek tapped some ash on the seat before biting into the cigar again.

“So’s, doc, down ta bidness. Chesta said he needed ya out in Idaho by next week. Some big surva what needs to be done out dare. But he wanted us to, ya know, bring you into da fold as it wer.”

“What does that mean?” Theodore asked not wanting to know the answer.

“So’s what we heer is that yus been workin with dis department for like six or so month now. Ain’t that right Duncan?”

“Yes,” Duncan replied, squeezing Theodore arm.

“So’s since we no we can trust ya we gonna take ya to one of our science places. Ya know those places ware they got da white coats n stuff.”

“Labs,” Duncan answered, still gripping Theodore.

“Rite, labs,” Derek continued, “We got one hare in da town it’s got som stuff we figure you’d want ta see. Perhaps give us yer scientific opinion as it wer.”

Theodore nodded.

“I am a geologist and mathematician; I am not certain as to what help I would be in a lab.”

“Nah, nah ya missin wat I’s sayin. Dare is a nuther doc at da place. She said she needed a maf doc to help with wat shes doin. So’s natur ally Chesta said ya. Ain’t that swell Duncan?”

“Swell,” Duncan replied, breathing heavily on Theodore’s neck as Derek took another big swig from the champagne bottle.

Theodore moved uneasily in his chair.

“Okay, if you will give me the address, I will meet you guys over there.”

Derek spit bubbles down his chin and wiped it with cigar causing ash to fall down his shirt.

“Nah, nah we can just go rite now. Save us all som time as it wer. Plus, Duncan and I can give ya some tips about the department. Ain’t that right Duncan?”

“Yes,” Duncan replied tightening his grip on Theodore’s arm so much he felt the tips of his fingers start to go numb.

Theodore squirmed in his chair.

“I agree, Derek that would save us all a trip, but I really can’t leave my Plymouth at a gas station they might tow it,” Theodore begged.

Derek belched out more smoke and bubbles.

“Yer in-luck, Chesta said he wood grab ya car. Such a great chap. Ain’t he a great chap Duncan?”

“Yes,” Duncan replied gripping Theodore’s other arm, making him stop shaking.

Derek hit the window with the base of the bottle.

“Mick! Take us to da science place and keep it on da road dis time.”

The limo lumbered over the curb and bounced into the traffic, pulling away from the gas station. As it did, the side window rolled down and Derek tossed Theodore’s keys onto the Plymouth’s windshield.