(D2, EM, Maize Cafe) Hangover Square

[Marlowe Phillips]

"It's been a lot like you say. " I nodded. "It feels a lot like a ghost town. There are even strange dreams to go with it."

[Tiffani Noelle]

"You've had them, too?" Tiffani looks up from the impenetrable blackness of her coffee, giving Marlowe an intense though not unfriendly look. She leans forward on her elbows to lessen the distance between the two of them, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I've only been out of Arcadia for a few months. I've been making my way south ever since with only the possessions and the money I had when I was taken. I have passed through multiple dozens of small towns like this, having to ask or even beg people for just one night out of the cold."

She looks around at the other nearby tables to make sure no one else was taking an interest in their conversation. "I can tell you this much: I've never been to a town that felt like this one. Other small towns simply felt like a disappearing part of Americana - many of them in worse economic shape than this one. Yet the people there were generally friendly, curious, and were more than happy to help me. This place, on the other hand, a town that probably hasn't seen a newcomer since 1954, should be going nuts with so many outsiders invading their town. The fact that everyone is pretty much ignoring us is more than a little creepy. I mean, have you had even a single conversation with one of the locals? I haven't - and, well, if you'll pardon the conceit, I often draw attention. Especially when they realize I'm from Britain."

She leans back again in a more proper sitting posture. "If you don't mind me asking ... what were your dreams about? Corn?"

[Marlowe Phillips]

"A lot of corn." I nodded. "I don't think I've ever had dreams of corn before. It didn't feel right."

[Tiffani Noelle]

"Yeah, this whole corn thing is becoming ... I don't know ... like ... the fabric of our reality or something. I had dreams like that. I was standing in the middle of a cornfield. I mean really in the middle of it somewhere, not on the edge of it. And the stalks ... the only way I can describe is if there could be ghosts of plants, that's what the cornstalks were like. As if they were images of corn from the afterlife."

She picks up her coffee cup and drains the last of it - and only then did it occur to her that she's really not even a coffee drinker. "And they moved, Marlowe. The cornstalks were actually moving. I mean, they weren't crawling around or anything, but they were swaying to breeze that just wasn't there."

"Uh ... this damn corn is getting into our heads. How can anyone live here?"

When the food finally came, there wasn't much on Tiffani's plate since every dollar spent was a dollar she no longer had. In fact, when she had her Pounds converted into Dollars in Bismarck, she lost a fair amount. Heh, not that she needed to, but at least she would lose some weight, what with all of this walking and hardly eating. So ... she stabbed the sausage link with her fork using a bit too much force, as if she were trying to kill it rather than simply eat it.

"Sorry ... just frustrated." She decided to watch a man sitting in a chair at the next table. Tiffani shamelessly eavesdropped - though not in any obvious way - and even allowed herself to "find his pain" if he had any. She wanted to see if any of the locals were affected by these strange occurrances.

[Marlowe Phillips]

It was hard to watch to the girl and not think of Bonnie. A teenager taken to Arcadia and separated from her family and friends for years, returned to a different world. If she was out there somewhere, I'd find Bonnie. But, Tiffani was here now.

"You want anything else? I bet they make some good pancakes."

[Tiffani Noelle]

Tiffani looked rather pained at Marlowe's question - like a child who desperately wanted that new toy but was just too polite - or afraid - to ask. She looked down at her laminated menu with its pictures of freshly made, perfect-looking food with dripping butter, pools of maple syrup, juicy meat, eggs that were masterfully cooked. She swore she could literally smell the scent of it all rising from the menu itself. Tiffani then looked back at Marlowe with a rather tortured expression.

"Y'know ... I'm just a beggar now. Wandering south just to be homeless in a better climate. But ... uh ... I swear I wasn't always like this. I had a job at a jewelry boutique at the mall in Bedford. I was invited to join Mensa last year ... no, wait ... dammit, not last year but ... you know what I mean. I even had a scholarship at either Oxford or Cambridge. My choice. I had a life ... one that was going somewhere, that I hoped would mean something."

"And now here I am thousands of miles and decades away from home accepting charity from someone I just met - simply because I haven't eaten anything in nearly 2 days now."

Her stormy grey eyes misted up for a moment as if she were about to shed tears. But that didn't happen. Instead, she seemed to find resolve from somewhere, squared her shoulders, and took another look at the menu. "I could definitely use a few pancakes, 2 eggs sunny side up, and those funny things you Americans eat ... uh, hash browns. Maybe ... no, that's it. I'm afraid I'd bankrupt you if I kept going."

Tiffani went silent for a long moment before saying in a voice barely above a whipser, "I'm sorry ... you shouldn't have to feed me like this. If I can find a way to make up for it, I will."

[Marlowe Phillips]

She was a good kid. She didn't deserve what happened and could use a little help. I could do that much.

"Eat your fill and don't worry about it." I assured her. "I've been there. Coming back isn't easy. Let me help you out."

[Tiffani Noelle]

Tiffani gave her order to the waitress - and she pretty much kept her order to what she said she was getting. Except she did throw in a glass of orange juice, as well. When that was settled, she simply leaned back and shook her head slightly.

"This town is odd. I'm not sure why ... it just is. Like a gut instinct. Ever been in a dark room but you keep walking ... and then there's this odd sixth sense of some kind that tells you that you're about to walk into a wall. Know what I mean? That's how I feel right now - that I'm about to walk into a wall."

Another cup of coffee is poured and she takes to it right away.

"Are you going to that, uh, corn thing they're having tomorrow? Some harvest festival if I'm not mistaken. Well, assuming you're staying that long."

Tiffani took the time during the question to give Marlowe a more detailed look. Strange that she hadn't before - she figured it was merely because she reasoned he would be another fading memory in a day or two. Surprisingly, she found herself not wanting that - wishing things could be different. But the universe never cared before about what I want - why start now? she thought to herself rather bitterly. She gripped her spoon with white knuckles though she was totally unware of it. Thrice be-damned fey. Ugh ... and I kind of look like one!

[Marlowe Phillips]

"I know that feeling well." I sipped my refilled coffee. "It's pretty common in my line of work. Festivals aren't, but I'll probably take a look around."

I watched her for a quiet moment, then lowered my voice a bit. "This may be an awkward question, but where are you staying? A bunch of us are over at the motel. I could get you a small room there, if you'd like."

[Tiffani Noelle]

Tiffani sighed inwardly - more charity. Oh, it wasn't that she didn't appreciate the offer. And it certainly wasn't because she wasn't happy that she had an alternative to sleeping in someone's cold garage that stank of petrol and mothballs. But she did not want to be the person everyone saw coming and ran because they all assumed she was after another handout.

"Well ... what I usually do in little towns like these is go talk to a priest or pastor at the local church. They almost always let me sleep in one of their spare rooms or sometimes even in the church itself." She chuckles at something before adding, "In this little place called Highmore, South Dakota, I slept on the altar all night." Tiffani chuckles again. "The priest never knew - I was gone before he got up."

Tiffani looks past Marlowe and through the window behind him , noting the grey clouds, the people dressed in heavy parkas, the puffs of breath as they walked. It was damn cold outside.

"But hey ..." she said, reaching out to touch Marlowe's arm. "If the priest doesn't work out ... then yeah, I gratefully accept your offer. I just don't want to sleep in the cold tonight - if you can really call it sleep. Somehow I'll make good on it. I ... really don't know how yet, but I'll find some way."