AWOL: A Character Lost by Anthony Renfro Page A

opposite directions.
    The town was deserted, a ghost town, one in perfect, well-maintained condition. There was a jail, a small saloon with bat wing doors, a bank, a general store, and a two- story hotel; all these brown buildings, built with the same kind of wood, were silent, all were dark. A little further away from this cluster of buildings was a stable, with horses shuffling about on nervous hooves, a whorehouse, and a white church complete with bell and steeple.
    “Can I help you?”
    The character jumped. The strong voice had come from out of nowhere. When the character turned around to see who was behind him, he saw a small burly man, who looked like he could eat raw nails just to have some iron in his diet. He was dressed in black from head to toe. He had big guns on his hips, and he wore a button up shirt, jeans, and a cowboy hat. He wore no beard on his face, and under his hat was a perfectly trimmed hair line. The character trained his eyes on the Silver Star pinned to his chest, and he saw that it read SHERIFF.
    “So, can I help you?”
    “Take it easy boss,” another guy replied, the one standing beside the sheriff. He was also dressed in black with two guns on his hips. He was thin and tall, had to be at least six feet, clean shaven, with short hair under the hat.
    “There’s a lot of strangeness going on around here. Just trying to see where this one stands,” the sheriff replied.
    “I don’t think he’s the one we’re after. You can tell that by looking at him.”
    “Just keep an eye on him.” The sheriff rolled out a cigarette as he walked back to the jail, leaving the two men alone.
    “Don’t mind him. He’s just on edge since the killings started.”
    The character looked at the Silver Star on this guy’s chest and he saw it read DEPUTY.
    “The killings?”
    “It’s real strange. The guy doesn’t dress like anything anybody around here has ever seen.”
    “Really?” The character thought of the author, and he felt rage rise up inside of himself. He was so hoping to step into a nice western story, shoot a few guns, play cowboy, and either stay or move on. It wouldn’t be so bad if this was his home. It looked peaceful. Now though, he wasn’t so sure; and with this strange killer on the loose, he was sure it also wasn’t a typical western.
    “He wears this mask that covers his face. It looks like it has been knitted and it has two holes for the eyes and one for the mouth,” the deputy continued.
    “A ski mask.”
    “A what?”
    “Nothing. Go on.” The character thought that this is how the past gets screwed up when people time travel. It all starts with one slip of the tongue.
    “He also wears these big black boots with rubber on the bottom of them and what looks like some kind of roping system going up to the top of these boots. He wears white jeans that look like they had acid poured on them, and a shirt that has cutoff sleeves with a v design around the neck.”
    The character thought about this description for a moment. It sounded like the guy was wearing combat boots, acid washed jeans, and a v-neck tee shirt.
    The deputy continued. “His hair hangs long and blond from his mask, real muscular, and he kills with a big sharp knife.”
    The character thought it sounded like a killer from one of those slasher movies from the late seventies or eighties. “How do you guys know all this?”
    “A young couple who were out by the lake a few nights ago got attacked. We lost the boy, but the girl got away and hid somewhere. She said she could see him as he stalked the bushes. He eventually gave up and left.” The deputy looked at the character. “I’m not sure why I’m telling you all this since I just met you and all.”
    “I guess I have that kind of face.”
    “Still, though. I’ll need to take you back to the jail until we kind of figure out where you came from. We need to rule you out as the killer even though I’m sure you aren’t.” The deputy looked at the