Chapter 52 (1/2)
Dan found himself outside of the Red Creek Ranch the next morning. Teleporting to the entrance was a simple matter, given the many pictures peppering the helpful pamphlet that Tawny had handed out. The place was clearly attempting to be a tourist trap, and failing rather spectacularly.
Dan ran his hand over the ranch's front gate. Wrought iron, but adorned with polished silver ornamentation, the massive piece of metal felt like a monument to the owner's vanity. It lay open, welcoming, but in a horribly imposing sort of way. There was only one path available, a long dusty road leading to a distant building. A small white sign was threaded through the bars of the gate, listing the hours of operation. Dan gave it a glance to confirm that he wasn't breaking any laws, then willed himself towards the converted farmhouse that served as a front lobby.
He appeared on the front steps in a cloud of dust, the windy day playing havoc with the reddish dirt coating the road. Dan gave silent thanks to Abby's dress advice, as gravel battered against his brown duster. The longcoat made him look like he had just walked off the set of a western, not that Dan was complaining, but he hadn't put much effort into maintaining the theme. Worn blue jeans, high-quality hiking boots, and an ugly but extremely comfortable brown shirt, Dan dressed as sensibly as possible. He hadn't thought to acquire a cowboy hat, much to his chagrin. His hair was now flecked with red and brown.
Dan entered the lobby, shaking off the dust on a large mat at the entrance. Almost immediately, he was accosted by a cheerful man dressed like a maître d'.
”Good morning, my fine fellow,” the newcomer said, gripping Dan's hand and shaking it vigorously. ”Welcome to the Red Creek! My name is Elijah Burnett, the owner of this fine establishment. What can I do ya' for?”
The man's accent wavered between heavily Southern, and refined French, as if he couldn't decide which sounded more professional and so decided to use both. The result was jarring enough that Dan spent several seconds staring, flabbergasted by the man.
Elijah was near Dan's age, maybe a year or two older. He was Caucasian, though heavily tanned, with a square chin, a heavy brow, and skin mottled by the sun He wore a tuxedo, bow tie and all, and his long black hair was slicked backwards by an overabundance of hair gel. He appeared, to Dan's eye, a man trying very hard to be something that he was not.
Dan smiled back, regardless. This was one of the most normal people he had come across in months.
”G'morning,” Dan echoed the greeting, his own accent coming out slightly. ”I'm with the S&R class at the Austin Police Academy. We're supposed to be meeting here in,” Dan checked his watch, ”about five minutes.”
”Ah.” Elijah grimaced sadly. ”Of course you are. Uncle Michael's class. They haven't arrived quite yet, but his other guests are out back, in the parking lot. Feel free to,” he waved a hand at the lobby, ”take a look around.” With that, he scuttled away.
”I guess he thought I was tourist,” Dan murmured to himself, as he took in the scenery. The lobby was wide and open, with a small reception desk tucked into the corner and unmanned. Like most tourist spots in this world, the Red Creek Ranch was attempting to follow a theme.
Unfortunately, the building was experiencing a crisis of personality. It couldn't decide what it wanted to be. In one direction, Dan saw the kinds of decorations that filled the Pearson. Old Western paintings, a well-stocked bar, dart boards, authentic hand-carved tables and old decks of cards. In the other direction, all the modern sensibilities that Dan expected to find in an extremely high-class hotel. Expensive, unrecognizable machines that dispensed every beverage known to mankind, a massive television mounted on crystalline projectors, sofas made of some sort of futuristic space-mesh that probably felt like clouds. The place was dressed to the nines, yet the theme was scattershot. Dan felt like he had gotten whiplash just looking at it.
He turned away, ready to vacate this eye-watering hell, only to run face first into a broad chest.
”Greetings Daniel!” Gregoir boomed from on high. ”Have you prepared yourself for a day of glorious labor!?”
Dan took a step back, massaging his nose. ”Morning Gregoir. And, I guess so?”
”Wonderful!” The giant blonde clapped Dan on the shoulder, nearly knocking him to the floor. ”Professor Tawny sent me to collect you! We have arrived!”
”I can see that, Gregoir,” Dan said dryly.
The big man beamed. ”We convene in the parking lot! Come!”
Dan found himself bodily dragged out of the lobby, and dropped unceremoniously in the parking lot behind the farmhouse. Gregoir presented him to Professor Tawny like a prize won at a carnival.
”I have procured Mr. Newman, as you requested, Professor!”
The aforementioned professor was dressed similarly to Dan, with thick blue jeans tucked into his boots, and a light button-up shirt. He lacked a duster of his own, as, unlike Dan, he actually had to physically exert himself to move around. Not overheating took priority over getting his clothes dirty. He wore a ball-cap on his head, with what looked like a headlamp clipped to the bill.
Tawny sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. ”Thank you Gregoir. Daniel, good morning.”
”Morning sir,” Dan replied automatically. He quickly examined his surroundings, finding both Fred and Freya nearby, along with half a dozen unfamiliar faces. ”Fred. Freya. People that I don't know. G'morning everyone.”
He received polite but scattered responses, which were interrupted by Professor Tawny clapping his hands together.
”Alright everyone,” the dog-eared officer began. ”We're all here. Let's do introductions, then get started.”
Time passed in a blur of explanations.
The students were paired off, Fred with Daniel, and Freya with Gregoir. Dan attempted to convey his condolences to the poor girl, though his relieved grin probably worked against him there. The three certified volunteers that Tawny had recruited for this training session were then divvied up, two of them going to Gregoir's group, and the remainder joining Daniel's.
”M'names Karl McCallister,” the volunteer offered cheerfully. He was a skinny man, with lanky limbs and a long gait. His brown hair was poorly groomed and hung raggedly around his head, and his face was in desperate need of a shave. His clothes, however, were perfectly suited for the outdoors; well-worn but tough, with sturdy boots and an orange visibility jacket.
Introductions were made, then Tawny once again spoke up.
”Officers Dunn and Dunn have graciously agreed to act as our lost hikers,” the professor explained, pointing to a pair of dark-skinned men who were clearly twins. They both waved agreeably. The pair wore clothing comfortable for hiking, long pants and light shirts. Their badges hung on lanyards around their necks.
Tawny continued, gesturing to Gregoir, ”Officer Pierre-Louis will lead group one,” more than one person winced at that announcement, ”while I will lead group two.” He met Gregoir's eyes, as serious as Dan had ever seen him. ”Gregoir, your team members are evaluating you. Those two are fully certified, and if you break protocol I've given them permission to relieve you from command.”