"When you arrive on the site, you need to contact the individual in charge of the site, it doesn't matter how you do so, they will know you are there." Said the boss to the man, as he sat quietly in the chair.
"Is that really needed, I worked there for several years, one of the other guys will hazard train me, walk me through the process of checking the place. If it was not for you paying me triple what I previously earned as a supervisor, I would refuse to go back."
"Hmm, so you are still amongst the living?" a voice on the other end of the phone said, as the man leaned against the door of his truck, "I would have thought you dead by now, I hadn't felt you since you left." Suddenly the man was pushed sideways by an unseen force as a truck rammed the vehicle, and the man awoke.
He stared at the ceiling for a few moments his arm numb from sleeping on it in an awkward position, the room cooler than normal, the propane must have given out he thought, and he sat for a moment listening to the television blaring in the other room. Finally he got up, put his socks and shoes on, grabbed his coat, and went outside to transfer tanks, and reset the heater. But the backup propane tank had fouled, so after several moments, he started loading the truck, came inside, grabbed his stuff, and his dog, and headed to town.
It was a pleasant day, so the window was half down, the radio was playing his greatest hits selections from an old iPhone, and the heat was off. It was still cool, but it was downright hot when compared to the weather a week before, when they had seen nearly two and a half foot of snow, and Arctic like temperatures. It had happened at a good time, as far as he was concerned.
He exchanged the bad tanks, it turned out that several had failed, the floatation devices inside would freeze up, and he was not in the mood to bang a propane tank around to unfreeze them. Even he knew that propane tanks did not blow up like they do in the movies, but he was feeling especially lazy this day, it tended to happen when he had dreams he considered bad.
On the way back to his home, the dog which rode with him everywhere yelped out of surprise. Something that did not happen often, so he took a moment to glance into the rear view mirror, and saw a man sitting in the back seat next to the dog. It was odd enough that he reached for the pistol he kept next to him, until he noticed something very odd about this man, his eyes. More preciously the lack of any eyes, as the man quietly reached into the pocket of his coat and placed sun glasses over where his eyes should have been.
Then someone else spoke in the truck, an easy going laid back southern drawl, something you would hear in a Western Movie, or more exactly, something you would hear from a movie about the old South, but taking place in the west, "Mind if I grab a smoke off you?"
In the passenger seat of the truck, a man wearing a full blown cowboy outfit, missing only the six shooters everyone is accustom too. Not even a holster to be found, the man reached over the dash and grabbed the pack sitting there, and the lighter, commenting "This sure as hell beats riding on some old nag," before he gave an easy chuckle, and lit up.
The driver sat, continuing down the road, wondering just what in the hell was going on, but knowing what he knew, he knew that these two men, were not of this world, so he sat waiting for the message, the meaning, or the next world war to break out in the truck, all the while he knew the pistol would do no good, if it came to it.
"So, I have to ask," the driver said to his passengers, "who are you, and why are you here?" He knew it was a stupid question, demons would not be honest, angels might be if it suited their desire and orders, spirits were a toss up.
"Ah, come on, you know me, hell we was best buds a while back. When I was created you had just finished reading a book by that King fellow. My look was based on Roland, but the personality was a cross between yourself, and some other things. You even disliked guns, so, I never carried one. Since I am of the line of Arthur in those books, might as well call me that."
There was a pause as the man calling himself Arthur took a drag, "The man behind me, is the one you called Sam, the brother of Amattia, who is already present in this world of yours. As for why we are here, you'd have to ask him, but we all three know how well that will play out. That damn malakhim wouldn't give you a straight answer if the Almighty himself compelled him to do so."
The man sat there, he had suspected that something lurking in the shadows had been something he created back in the day as a character for a novel, a game, or for some reason or another. "Yeah, that sounds about right, so what do you know?"
"All I know is, and I think Sam is in the same boat, is that we was told to meet up at the old forgotten Synagogue in Rhy'din way, with Uri. We was to wait until the rift opened up, and all three come to this reality. Uri didn't show, the rift opened and here we is. Talking to the man who created us. I would say it was an honor, and it is, it ain't often people get to meet the man that made'um. Sides that, it'd be outta character."
"So, Amattia sent for you, brought you here, without telling you anything of worth. Sounds like he is back to his old games, from when I wrote him. Anything else I should know, can I expect visits from other characters from that place?" the driver asked, but already knowing answers would be few and far between.
"Can't rightly say there buddy." The passenger side window rolled down, and the butt was flicked. "I'd say it is possible other creations of yours will be arriving, but I can't say for sure. You know Amattia, never goes off half cocked, but always does odd things."
"Yeah really" came a response from the one in the back seat. "Just know, when things get thick, we will have an idea of what is happening. Until then we will try and keep a low profile."
And within minutes of the conversation beginning, it was over, and they were gone. The dog laying back down to sleep the rest of the ride home.