“You're sure you don't need special treatment?” she asked me when we reached the 'Dead Fish'.

“No,” I said. “I'm fine. Shower, peroxide, bandage... and a little bit of a drink. That's all I need.”

“Well. I'm out there all day, every day. If you need a ride... do you have my number?”

We exchanged our numbers and she rode off back to her territory.

I entered the shop, dusty, dirty, sweaty, bleeding, and stinking. There were several customers inside: a pair of gentlemen at the first to the door table, a girl a little further, and Ivan at his favorite place.

“Some ways are rather dirty,” said one of the gentlemen when I passed them – without mockery, more like a fact statement, so I didn't take a note.

Ivan was drunk as a skunk. When he raised his head and saw me, his face first broke out in a smile, but then turned into a grimace of terror.

“Fuck me!” he shouted. “Have you fought some local popos or something?”

I fell in a chair at a nearby table.

“Worse.”

“Shi-it. You look... Dow! Hey! The man needs water and food! Provide, you fucking Scrooge!”

Dow, however, was already busy. He went to me and asked if I was going to eat first or go to my room. I felt, that I needed to talk first.

“Bring me food,” I said, “and something to drink.”

“Woah, dude, that's an unknown side of ya! Didn't think that, didn't think.” Ivan was drinking vodka, he made a shot and breathed into his hand.

“Say, have you ever thought that you made a mistake?” I asked him.

“Pf, why, all the time. All the fucking time dude.”

“What would you do? If you realized, that this was too big a mistake, what would you do about it?”

“Nothing, man. You do nothing. You're chosen. She chose you, and she decides you... You go your way, that's it. That's fucking it, man.”

He poured himself another shot, meanwhile, Dow brought me a bowl of fried potatoes with chicken and a bottle of gin.

“And what if I can't go my way?”

“No 'can't', dude. You go, or you get fucked and then still go.” He threw the shot up. “What the fuck have you been through, anyway?”

I told him my story: about the building, about the ghosts, about the bodies, about the preacher, about the asshole in masks, about them knowing my real name.

“Damn,” he spat, “that's some wacky shit.”

“You know what's...” I said while eating my meal. “This is too much! Who are these people? I mean... I think I know of them! Of those, who were hanging there. How? Why? Why does she do this to me?”

“Why do you think it was she, though?” Ivan took several potatoes from my bowl and smacked them. “I mean... that 'bodies' thing. Why do you think it was she? It could very well be those fucks in maks... sk... suh-kuh-suh.” Another shot of vodka was poured into the glass.

“You know, it may not even be real,” he continued. “This shitty place in-an-ovitselve isn't quite real, after all. Fucking illusion, to fuck with you specifically is what that was. And is.”

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

I finished my meal and poured myself gin.

“This might be why they knew your name. Because it's your personal place. T's your own factory, dude, ha-ha!”

Meir's words rang in my head: she's merciful and knowledgeable. Well, if that's the case, it might indeed be something to do with me. That whole mess in its entirety.

“Whatever it is, how am I supposed to go through this?” I asked, and Ivan started getting ready to pronounce the sentence that I already knew, “Okay, I get it. I have to figure it out.”

“T's-right, dude. Cheers!” We clinked and drank, and he hit the glass hard into the table.

“Hey, Ivan, aren't you good?” Dow asked from behind the counter.

“Yes, brother, I am good! Bring me another one.”

“Yeah, but that's what I mean – you are good already, don't you think?”

“Hey, I decide when I'm good myself! This is my way, for fuck's sake, bring it!”

He got up, then sat down, then turned around, dropped his glass to the floor, and sat up straight again.

“Hey, you stay here?” he asked me.

“Sometimes here, sometimes at Meir.”

“Oh, yeah, that fuck. Pardon, I mean, man. Yeah, he's a good man, for real. And Maisha. You're lucky as fuck that you've met them! Good people. They are.”

“That's another thing that bugs me,” I started but then stopped for a minute. “I mean... I don't want to sound mean, but why are they helping me? They already gave me so much...”

“Pff, because you do! Because that's how climbers are. You seen it yourself!” Ivan threw his hand at me, pointing at my hurt leg and dirty clothes. “What shit we all go through here. We ain't doing it on our own, you know! We help each other. That bitch...” he looked around and defiantly raised his voice. “That fucking whore! She ain't helping us! She chose, and she's done, ain't know nothing, bitch, go fuck yourself. We!” he raised his hand preachingly. “We – are here to help ourselves. And so we do.” He thumped the tabletop with his finger and began to get up.

“Awight, fawks... oh shit.” I caught him as he swayed at my side. I helped him get to his feet – he could barely stand.

“Well, I guess... I am good, ha-ha!” he toppled over to the counter. “Dow! Where's my fucking bottle?”

“Bro, haven't you said it yourself that you're good?”

“Eht's-right. I'm good – here! But I'm outa here, and I need a balloon of gas for the road. You get me? To stay good, all the way.”

Up – I finished inwardly. All the way up. No detours.

Ivan and Dow quarreled at the counter, and I sat with the glass of gin thinking. I noticed a sheet of paper on Ivan's table.

“Dow,” Ivan shouted, “I'm tellin' you, I'm leaving!”

“That is right, Ivan, and you, again, said it yourself, that we all care about each other! I care about you not being able to reach home...”

“You... pff-fuck you! You care? You're fucking Scrooge is all, your booze reserves is all you care!”

I took the sheet and read what was written on it.

> “Have you ever thought of

>

> “Easy way of getting all the precious things like

>

> “Silver, jade, lapis, gold?

>

> “She will halp you with this!

>

> “Tsu-nly will require you to go through water, fire, wind and dust, and she will garandmotherly stockpile it for

>

> “Ye!”

It was an acrostic verse with the first syllables of every line spelling her name. I twisted the sheet in my hands, marveling at the ridiculous way this thing was spelled: 'halp', garandmother', 'Tsu-nly' for 'it is only' (followed then by 'will' for some reason). Then I turned the sheet to the opposite side; there it read, “And yet I still want...”

Ivan kept on arguing with Dow. I thought at the table, watching them, studying the verse, thinking.

What do I want?

I wanted to shower. Then I wanted to sleep. And then I wanted to spend some time in a good place, with good people.

Somehow Ivan forced himself a bottle out of Dow.

“Eht's right, Ahoi, asshole!” he screamed grabbing it. He turned around – some tableware flew off the counter and broke on the floor. He then rammed several tables and chairs, rushed his way to the aisle through furniture with loud unintelligible swearing, and suddenly stopped still.

The door to the shop was wide open. Outside it was late evening. The sun was not visible, it was in the west and obviously very low; the plain was yellow and the mountains in the distance were lit directly from the side. It was a typical view, empty desert, empty sky – but not for Ivan. He stood silently and then grinned with a devilish smirk.

“Stand still, bitch. I'm coming.” He went ahead swaying from side to side, not turning away from what he saw.

“Send my regards to Meir!” He cried from the doorway and left off.

“Okay, I'll have to call Holly,” Dow mumbled at his counter.

I sat at my table watching Ivan go away into the desert. I thought about what I wanted: I wanted to shower; I wanted to sleep; I wanted to spend time with Maisha and Meir's family – to spend time with good people. I wanted to get a new backpack. I wanted to find some easy-to-carry weapon. I wanted to fix my skill and agility. And then...

Well, I guess I – just as well – still want to reach that mountain.