“And a slice of apple pie,” he said, handing the menu back to her.

“Iz cherry alright hun? We ran out of apple this morning,” she responded as she quickly scribbled his order down.

“Cherry is fine,” he said, a soft sound of disappointment in his voice.

She gave a half grin revealing small stains of lipstick on her teeth. She was still young though, with dark curly brown hair. Tucking the menu under her arm, she trotted back to the counter, click-clacking heavily on the checkerboard floor as she did. He pulled a white neckerchief from inside his coat. It offset his brown suit as it was completely clean while the rest of him was still quite dusty. His white dress shirt was very trim, avoiding the wrinkles that his jacket had sadly taken the brunt of. His black wing-tipped shoes were littering the freshly waxed floor beneath him with an even greater layer of dust than his coat. His tie, which was also black, was slightly loose revealing a small, patchy amount of facial hair growing up from his neck all the way to his jaw. His hat rested on the table to his right. It was a dark brown fedora with a stained white band and tattered brim.

The diner was poorly lit he had noticed when he had entered that evening around dusk, now that the sun had set its low glow was even more prevalent. Large shadows swallowed up whole areas of the diner. Where it wasn’t covered in shadows the light was glitchy from the blubs rattling in the slowly turning wooden ceiling fans. The red walls added to this low light but were countered by the silver trim of the windows and doorways. The counters were a light burnt tannish color that in current light made each table look as if yellow custard stained them. The faint sound of grease popping, and the clinging of metal utensils could be heard through the small window behind the main counter.

From where he sat, he could see the double doors leading into the diner. Three booths separated him from directly seeing the entrance. The diner was mostly empty, save for two men sitting perpendicular to his booth, close to the door. They both were hugging the far corner of the booth, tucking their eyes under their fedoras trying to hide their sun damaged skin. He noticed them occasionally shooting him sharp glances before looking blankly out the diner window. He couldn’t tell if these grueling looks were racially motivated, as he was uncertain how Wyoming residents felt about blacks, or if these two were just unhappy about the burnt state of their own white skin. The jukebox in the back of the diner was slowly playing a new rhythmic blues song “The Great Pretender,” so their feelings on this subject were quite confusing. He felt it best not to dwell on the thought. The waitress returned to his booth with a short beige cup of coffee.

“Thank you,” he said with a soft smile, attempting to avoid eye contact with her stained teeth.

She didn’t smile, just nodded and returned behind the counter. He fastened his glasses back on his face, pulling the long hooks around the lower lobes of his ears. Pinching the handle of the cup, he slowly sipped it as he pulled his brown satchel onto his lap. He unclipped the top buckle, releasing a small cloud of dust that settled on the table. He pulled out a folder, just as dusty as the rest. Setting it on the dust covered table he flipped through several pages of handwritten notes to the last page which was a type written form stamped with the seal of the US Military. Fishing into his pocket, he produced a small black fountain pen. He touched the ink to the form and wrote with large flowing cursive lines.

“Dr. Theodore Pillar PhD.

Final Report for Agent Steven Oakley

Douglas WY And Surrounding Areas

July 13th, 1956”

He signed his name as the bottom and clapped the folder shut, sending another cloud of dust into the air which eventually rested on the surface of his coffee. He sighed as he put the folder back in his satchel. Lifting the small spoon, he attempted to skim the dust off the top of the mug. His attempt was in vain as his hand was shaking rapidly. The spoon rattled against the ceramic and most of the dust sank deeper into the cup. He set the spoon down and attempted to control his shaking hand.

The bright glow of headlights lit up the dinner brighter than it looked during the day. Theodore brushed the sweat from his forehead and took another sip of his dust filled coffee. He always hated these but tonight it was going to be worse. He grabbed the spoon again to stir the coffee in a weak attempt to calm his nerves. Small puddles of coffee began filling the edges of the saucer. The headlights dimmed, slowing fading off, returning the diner to its weak, glowing light. The loud creak of the door echoed throughout the wasteland followed quickly behind with the sound of it slamming. Theodore held his breath. Removing his glasses again, he cleaned them, although they didn’t need it. He refused to lift his head. He knew who it was; he didn’t have to see them come in. The third sound he heard was the ring of the bell as the main doors swung open. He took another sip of coffee, brushing the dust from his lip.

As Theodore looked to the floor, he saw the man’s sleek Oxfords untouched by the dust of the land. His pants were black, perfectly ironed, disappearing seamlessly into the dark background of the diner. His coat was equally trimming, with a crisp hem landing perfectly against his waist. His cuff links were silver. Even in the dim light they lit up on his wrist like fireflies. His shirt was perfectly white, evenly cut, and perfectly starched. His tie, like Theodore’s, was black. Unlike Theodore, however, his was tightly fastened to his person by a silver tie clip. Theodore still refused to lift his head, hoping to prolong the inevitable. The man made a sharp left turn, swiftly kicking up his Oxfords towards Theodore’s booth. He snapped his fingers towards the counter catching the waitress off guard.

“Coffee, gorgeous!” He said, demanding but civil.

The waitress straightened her apron and rushed over to the coffee pot. Theodore knew his peace was over. The man sat in the booth across from him. He dropped his fedora on the table. It was black, with a dark gray band. Theodore gave up and lifted his head to meet his visitor. The man had crisp blonde hair, almost as white as his shirt. He was completely clean shaven from his neck to his ears. His eyes were a steely blue, almost matching the silver of his cuff links. He cracked open a black cigarette case. Dancing a cigarette between his fingers before lighting it with a large puff that fill the whole booth.

“Nice to see you, Teddy,” he said with a half-smile through each puff.

“Chester,” Theodore said blandly.

“How were your travels?”

“Uneventful.”

“That makes me sad, Teddy.”

Chester breathed another puff through his nose and smiled larger. Even his teeth were perfectly straight without a single blemish. The waitress brought a fresh cup coffee over to Chester and set in front of him.

“Thanks doll,” he said still looking at Theodore.

“Any sugar hun?” She asked.

Chester turned his look at her, slightly biting into his cigarette.

“Not unless you can find some way to jump in this cup,” he said with a wink.

Theodore lowered his head in embarrassment. The waitress blushed and began stuttering over her words.

“Well…I…he…Can I get you something to eat?”

“No, this coffee is fine. Maybe some pie later?” He asked flirtatiously.

She laughed nervously and turned to Theodore.

“Your food will be out soon, hun.”

“Thank you,” Theodore said.

Chester gave her another wink and she walked away. As soon as she was out of ear shot Chester’s smiling expression changed to stone. He rolled his eyes and took a deep gulp of coffee.

“Need keep the yokles distracted and Betty Boop’s head over there is as empty as the land she inhabitants, so it’s not hard,” he said sternly.

“She is just trying to be friendly,” Theodore responded.

Chester’s expression didn’t change as he crushed his cigarette into the saucer.

“What do you have for me?”

Theodore produced the folder out of his satchel. He set it on the table and slid it over to Chester. Chester lit another cigarette and began flipping through the folder. His silence made Theodore uncomfortable. His steely eyes combed over each line like a laser trying to burn through the page. The ash from the cigarette fell in large clumps between the pages. Theodore tried not to sweat. Chester flipped the page over. The page revealed a road map of Wyoming. Large areas were circled and noted. Chester pointed to the bottom right hand corner.

“You sure it was here?” Chester asked still looking the folder.

“Yes…,” Theodore responded hoarsely.

Chester looked up at him briefly and nodded, returning to the folder. The waitress walked over to the table. She set down a plate with a medium sized overcooked Salisbury steak and fries still popping with oil. She set it down in front of Theodore with a knife and fork. Theodore nodded a “Thank you,” to her.

“Can I get ya anything else?” She asked.

“No,” Theodore said quickly.

She glanced over to the folder.

“Oh, I know that canyon. My boyfriends and I just took a drive down there. We thought we saw some lights near the base. It was right around this area.”

She leaned her hand to point at the map. Just before her finger met the paper Chester’s hand caught her wrist tightly. The assault caught both her and Theodore by surprise. She let out a small gasp. His eyes glared forward at Theodore. Without a word, he softened his grip, cupped her hands in his, and looked up at her with a smile.

“I actually am feeling this coffee could use some sugar, doll. Do you mind?”

“No…,” she said sheepishly.

“Thank you,” he said, drawing each word out through his bright smile.

He patted her wrist tenderly and slowly let go of her hand and she walked back to the counter. His smile faded and quickly closed the report shut, setting on the seat with him.

“Like I said, empty head. Everything looks good.”

He crushed the cigarette into the saucer and lit another. Theodore began cutting into his steak. The soft sound of the knife clinking against the plate filled the silence between the two.

“Can I ask you something?” Theodore asked after the first two bites of steak.

“Sure,” Chester responded grabbing a couple fries off Theodore’s plate.

“There were lights. I put them in the report. Are they a problem?”

Chester smiled, swallowing the fries and clenching the cigarette between his teeth.

“Course not, just the usual procedure.”

“I noticed the atomic radiation was higher than normal. I suggested that we take-”

“Teddy, I just read your report. You did good. Celebrate, get some pie, you earned it. We’ll take care of the rest.”

Theodore nodded and continued to eat his steak.

“How’s Sally?” Chester asked finishing of the end of the cigarette, flicking it into the saucer as he lit another.

“She’s good, starting school soon,” Theodore said, nodding his head.

“College?”

“Yes.”

“Hell of thing. Good for her. Guess we’ll have to learn to iron our own shirts,” Chester said jokingly.

Theodore smiled with a mouth full of steak doing his best not to engage. Chester grabbed another couple of fries.

“Do you remember that mathematics professor you used to go on about from Stanford?” Chester asked.”

“Yes?”

“Heard he’s at my alma mater holding a workshop. Do you know want to know what it’s about?”

“I would assume mathematics.”

Chester smiled again as he crushed the cigarette into the pile of ash building on the saucer.

“No, artificial intelligence.”

“What is that?”

“A new field of study, my friend. The thoughts of machines.”

“Machines don’t have thoughts.”

“You’d be surprised what does.”

The waitress brought over a small sugar bowl and carefully set in the middle of the table. She quickly turned away to head back to the counter. Chester caught her wrist again and brought her to his hip. He produced a five-dollar bill from his sleeve and stuffed it in her apron.

“You’ve been great gorgeous. The coffee is to die for.”

He let her go and puffed a large cloud of smoke around her.

“Thank you…sir,” she mumbled.

She walked away from the table again. Chester snatched up his hat and the folder and downed the coffee in one gulp. He put out his cigarette in the coffee cup, before lighting another. He tucked the folder under his arm and tossed a ten-dollar bill on the table.

“That should cover the meat and potatoes. I’ll be in touch.”

Straightening his tie and coat he turned to walk away, but quickly spun back to Theodore. He gripped the table tightly, leaning his cigarette close Theodore’s face. His eyes were back to that dark steely glare.

“Is there anything else you want to tell me about your time in the wasteland? Anything you might have found?”

Theodore’s voice was caught in his throat. He was in the middle of finishing the last bite of steak. He quickly chewed and swallowed it, coughing a little as he did.

“No.”

Chester kept his eyes on him staring at him like he was the folder. He softened and smiled.

“Great. I’ll call you when you reach Casper.”

Without another word, he turned and swiftly walked out of the diner. His headlights clicked on followed by the roar of the engine and he was gone. Theodore leaned back in the booth looking up the slow creaking ceiling fan. He could hear Patsy Cline now on the jukebox. The music was a slow crackle through the broken speakers. The waitress returned and set a plate of cherry pie in front of him. He smiled up at her.

“Could I possibly get this to go?”

“Sure hun.”

She picked up the plate and started back to the counter.

“Sorry about him by the way. He is gets very overzealous.”

“Friend of yours?”

“No.”

She walked back in silence. He pushed the plate of steak and fries away from him and took another sip of his coffee, which is was now cold. He grabbed his hat and set it on the satchel. She brought the pie back in a brown paper bag. They didn’t say anything to each other. He grabbed his satchel, the hat, and the bag, dropped a few dollars and walked out without another word. Stepping out into the night, he secured his hat on his head. The wind was whipping heavily against him now, nearly blowing his hat off. He walked to his car. A 1948 navy blue Plymouth Deluxe. The dark blue melded into the night. He jammed the key into the door, quickly turned it, and opened it. He sat in the driver’s seat for a second before grabbing the brown paper bag and setting it in the back seat.

“I hope you like cherry,” he said softly.

A young-looking woman with gray skin lifted her head up from the back. She gripped the bag and brought it to the floor of the car where she was laying. Her eyes were as large as the saucers in the diner. Her hair was dark black, as long as a curtain. He turned the key and started to drive down the highway.

“Where are we going to?” She asked in a broken, hoarse speech.

“Not Casper,” Theodore said softly.

As Theodore drove down the highway, he didn’t even notice Chester’s car slowly begin to follow him.