Loreless

Pidgin

Billy stood silently swaying on the steep shoulder of the highway.

"What now?" he thought.

Sullenly he turn and walked back down the road and into the relative security of the floodlights. On the side of the highway was a battered road sign peppered with bullet holes. It read, "Welcome to the Middle of Nowhere: Population... Sheep: 22,500, Flies: 2,000,000 (approx.), Humans: 6." So where were the humans he surmised, not to mention the sheep. As far as he could ascertain he was the only living thing in the immediate vicinity, except for the insects. He took a deep breath, turned his back to the roadhouse and facing the blackness beyond tilted his head toward the sky. His eyes slowly became accustomed to the dark.

It was a hot moonless night, still, deathly still. There was a cool gentle breeze blowing on his face making the hair stand up on the back of his neck. Compared to their hushed surroundings the noise in the background of the lights and bugs sounded like a piece of industrial machinery running at high speed. The stars, Billy had never seen anything like them. He had spent his entire life in the city and rarely ventured out into the country. Except for the fireworks on New Year's Eve, he had never seen so many points of light in the sky.

He was astounded, there were millions of them. A thick band stretched from one side of the heavens to the other. It was as if someone had taken a wet paintbrush and flicked white droplets in a wide sweep. He felt tiny and dwarfed under the celestial canopy, no bigger than the insects circling the floodlights behind him. He also felt incredibly alone. He was used to the clamour and noise of the city. There was always someone around. You were never completely isolated. Even when it was quiet at night you could still hear the hum of distant traffic. This amount of silence was abnormal to him. It was almost tangible and he felt as if it was pressing down on him. Apart from the self-inflicted banging in his own head, all he could now hear was his own blood rushing past his eardrums. It was very unsettling.

For a moment he stared with a mixture of awe and disconcertion at the view above him. He lowered his gaze. A shiver ran down his spine. Standing in the glow of the roadhouse lights and on the opposite side of the highway was a figure. In shock Billy sharply sucked in his breath and held it. The figure was predominantly human. For the most part he was an Aboriginal man of indiscernible age. His face was almost completely obscured by a long white beard and he was slightly hunched over what appeared to be a metre-long club. Both hands and his chin rested on it. The man was, from what Billy could make out, perfectly scaled down to about half the size of an average adult. He wore a long dark cloak, draped loosely over his shoulders and stretching down just below his knees. The cloak had a strange iridescent glow, reflecting the dim light from the roadhouse and appearing to subtly change colour as it flowed gently in the soft breeze. It appeared to be constructed entirely of feathers.

Two other features stood out in particular. One was that his unshod feet weren't feet at all, they seemed to be the talons of some kind of bird. Fascinated and transfixed by them, Billy watched as one of the talons flexed and grasped at the loose stones at the edge of the highway. It buried itself a little in the soft sand. The second feature that caught his attention were his eyes. In the shadows it was almost as if they produced their own source of light. They were a piercing bluish green and their intensity was such that they cut through him.

Billy spluttered. He had forgotten to breathe. He took a few short gasps of air and attempted to compose himself. His head was swimming, the pounding in his temples had all but subsided to a dull thud.

He heard his own voice inquire in his head, "Who are you?"

To his surprise an answer came, "You can call me Pidgin."

Billy was totally disorientated and was unsure if the voice had come from within his own head or from across the road. The sound of blood rushing in his head began to increase in volume. It completely enveloped him. His eyes locked onto those of Pidgin's and he felt himself drawn into them. They were mesmerising. Billy felt himself inexplicably pulled towards the strange bird-man and took one cautious step forward. He placed one foot on the edge of the asphalt. The road felt warm beneath his feet, still harbouring the heat from a day of baking in the sun.

Pidgin raised one hand motioning Billy to stop. He held his ground.

Suddenly there was the deafening sound of a klaxon and a blinding light coming from Billy's left, flushing the side of his face. An enormous road-train roared between the two men. The associated wind blast lifted Billy into the air and sent him flying backwards. He came crashing down heavily in the dust. The vehicle finished rumbling past and rolled off into the distance. Billy lay spread-eagled on his back in the dirt with his heart pounding furiously. He waited until his heartbeat had slowed to a normal level before propping himself up onto his elbows.

He peered through the dissipating bull-dust towards the other side of the road. There was nothing. Pidgin had vanished.

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