Nearly two years had come and gone since the stranger, now known amongst his peers as Chuck, Mystery Meat, or sometimes just Meat, joined the White Moon team. Still, no one has ever seen the face he hides under his tattered hood, nor has anyone heard him speak, aside from muttering a few grunts and grumbles that could maybe be interpreted as some form of communication.
It was around that time of the season when everything was slowing down, and Crest Town's tourist population dwindled to near non-existent numbers. This also meant a lot of the local businesses downsized, laying off employees until the following spring when the temporary population boom would be upon them again. As for the White Moon staff, it was business as usual, but on a much smaller scale and at a more laid-back pace. A few months ago, the lack of later-day business had Pax pleading with Beth to close an hour earlier so they could have a little more free time. Not too keen on the idea at first, she realized she would save a little cash by cutting the hour off, so she eventually went with it.
Since it wasn't all hands on deck every day with balls-to-the-wall business, Beth opted to take this downtime and study Chuck, hoping to find a way to break through. Part of her felt guilty about waiting so long to try to communicate with him. It wasn't like she didn't try before, but the truth was she was never consistent about it. Sometimes, the interaction was as simple as Beth saying: Hey, you feel like striking up a conversation with me today? To which the silent cook would either grunt or shrug his shoulders, sometimes both.
It was the first day of the week, which was typically the slowest of the slow days. Beth had Harper bring her a cup of coffee as she sat in the corner of the café, observing the shift like a good manager often does while flipping through a recipe book she found on a recent trip to the next town over. In the meantime, Arvid and Pax hooked a wagon up to Boro, a stray donkey that Chuck mysteriously came home with one night last summer, and went on a small fishing expedition. Beth thought putting some local fish on the menu with the nights growing colder would be a good idea. No one was sure why, but everyone in Crest Town always liked eating fried fish as winter approached.
"Hey, I'll be right with ya'!" Harper smiled at an older gentleman who had just entered the café. "Let me take these dishes into the back, and I'll grab you a menu." With Arvid and Pax out fishing, Justice was filling in and bouncing back and forth between her regular station and dishwashing.
Beth was about to get up and greet the guest herself, but something strange happened. She watched as Chuck gestured for the man to sit on the stool closest to the kitchen.
"SaMe ThiNg As YeStErDaY?" Chuck mumbled.
Beth was shocked, literally frozen in place. For nearly two years, she had practically lived with this hooded traveler, all but pleading with him to say a word and never garnering a response. But there it was, plain as day, Chuck talked to the guest.
"Yes, sir," the man smiled, "how ya' been, Chuckie boy?"
"FiNe—YoU?"
" Holy shit," Beth said, and she said it loud, too, accidentally. The three customers in the café stopped what they were doing and stared at her. Just then, Harper came out of the kitchen with a fresh pot of coffee in one hand and a menu in the other.
"Alright, what can I get for ya' sweetheart? Today's special is—" She paused when she noticed everyone staring at her best friend. "Okay? What did I miss?"
"Meat talked," Beth said, this time trying to keep it a little quieter.
"Chuckie?" the old man cackles, "he always talks. Well, he's not reciting poetry or telling stories, but he talks—sort of."
"Seriously?" Harper couldn't believe what she was hearing and looked at the typically silent cook. "Is this true, Meat?"
He shrugged, and that was it. He went to work, and the rest of the day was business as usual.
Later that night, after closing, Beth and Harper were in the basement office working on details for a winter menu when they heard the sub-basement door slide open.
"He eats an abnormal amount of rats," Harper says softly.
Beth gagged a little. "If you ask me, any more than one rat is eating an abnormal amount of rats."
"Why don't you take the rest of the night off? I think I'm going to try to get ole' Chuck to talk to me."
"First off, I clocked out an hour ago, so I'm already off," Harper grabbed her shoulder bag and walked toward the door, "Secondly, if you wanted some alone time with Mystery Meat, all you had to do was say so."
Beth rolled her eyes, "Oh, ha-ha," she sarcastically taunted, "don't be jealous."
"Uh huh," Harper beamed and twinkled her fingers at Beth before walking up the stairs.
Beth felt a pain in her chest. At first, she tried to power through it as she had in the past, but now was not the time for a personal roulette match.
When was the last time I took my Vitality?
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small vial. Normally, she'd pour an ounce or two in whatever drink she was drinking, but for lack of a beverage in her presence, she downed half of the little glass container like a shot of tequila. The others had seen her dosing her coffee from time to time, but nobody cared to ask what it was or why she was doing it. Everyone except Harper had their own belief as to what it was—Harper knew because Beth had told her before. As for Arvid and Pax, they thought it was some type of rare, imported alcohol that she was casually slipping into her drinks. If anything, this made them more envious than curious. Justice thought it was just some type of medicine, and she wasn't wrong—it just wasn't your average run-of-the-mill, over-the-counter-type, though.
Beth waited for what felt like an eternity, at least to her, but in all reality, it was more like twenty minutes. She was overly excited at the prospect of communicating with her mysterious new, dare she say it, friend. Finally, she heard him carefully shuffling up the tiny, narrow stone staircase that led into the meat cellar. "Hey, Chuck, can I borrow you for a minute?"
Without hesitation, he effortlessly glided into her office and stood at the edge of her desk like some out-of-place statue. Now that she had him here, she didn't know what to say. Flat-out asking him to talk never worked in the past, so why would it now? "You've been doing fantastic work around here lately, and I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate everything you've done."
He bowed his head slightly, acknowledging her compliment.
"So, I heard you talk today. I didn't even know you could do that. Is there any reason why you don't talk to us?"
Again, no answer, aside from briefly shaking his head, no.
"None at all?" she followed up.
Nothing but another brief shake of the head.
"I see," not wanting to pry any further, she gives up just as quickly as she had in the past. "I guess I can walk you back to the inn," which she did.
Once they made it back to his room, he went inside and turned to face his boss.
"Alright, have a good night! See you in the morning, Chuck."
"GoOd NiGhT," he muttered in a guttural inflection, shutting the door and locking it. This left Beth in shock once again. She had started to wonder if maybe she imagined hearing him talk to the old man this morning at the café, but now she was certain he did.
Standing in the hallway, awestruck, Beth was literally glowing with excitement. If she could only see the scene on the other side of the door, her amazement would have reached even higher levels. With his robe off, the wanderer sat in the corner of the room with his long dark hair covering his face. His faded gray-tone skin feels the cool kiss of the autumn breeze whispering in through the cracked window. He runs his fingers through his hair, removing the blindfold. Tossing his tattered hood onto the bed, he settled down on the floor, letting out a deep sigh.
He sneers, picking a chunk of rat meat from his sharp teeth with his clawed fingers. In a long moment of silence, he cracks his neck and spine in an eerie manner, almost like a puppet. Sitting upright, his hair dangles once more, touching the floor.