The Ephemeral West

When Hiram woke up, the first thing he saw was another face, inches from his own. The face belonged to another boy who seemed to be roughly his age, with a pitiful feather-duster mustache and one of the more ridiculous outfits Hiram had ever seen. 

The guy dressed as if a cowboy and a circus clown combined styles. It didn’t work. Bright blue suspenders clashed with a ruffled, cream-orange shirt. His jeans were the wrong shade of blue when compared to his robin's egg suspenders. The monstrosity was topped off with black, spurred cowboy boots and a matching cowboy hat to boot. 

“Hiya!” The boy stuck out a hand, seemingly unbothered by the fact that Hiram was laying on the ground. “I’m Eddie Montoya. Pleased to meetcha.” 

Hiram had to strain to hear him. Eddie’s voice was a wheezy, soft rasp. It sounded oddly strangled for someone with a smile as wide and easygoing as Eddie’s. As Hiram’s awareness grew, he realized the softness wasn’t just Eddie’s voice. The ground beneath him rolled gently, brushing against his back in uncertain waves. Despite the ground being dirt, it didn’t feel that way. It felt like thread, weaving and bobbing underneath him. 

A sting of quiet unease bit at Hiram as he shakily made his way to his feet, ignoring Eddie’s outstretched hand. The ground felt even more unsteady underneath him, and he lurched, tripping over his feet. 

Eddie’s hand on his back was the sole reason he didn’t kiss dirt. Eddie gently lugged him back to his feet, brushing off his shirt with a near-inaudible chuckle. His smile was impossibly wide, dimples making themselves known near the corners of Eddie’s mouth. 

Hiram might’ve thought his smile was sweet, in another scenario. In this one, though, all he wanted was an explanation, and the fact that a stranger was smiling so widely at him made him nervous. Last he remembered, he’d been-

“You good?” Eddie tilted his head, and placed his fingers between his belt loops. “You’re not lookin’ so good, uh...” 

“I’m not telling you my name,” Hiram snapped. “Not until you tell me where I am.” 

“I’m not too sure myself.” Eddie raised three fingers, and placed his other hand over his heart. “Scout’s honor, I’m just as lost as you are.” 

“What’s with your getup then?” 

“I could ask the same of you.” 

Hiram looked down at himself. He was wearing pajamas-gym shorts, a tank top, and knee-high socks. His skin, however, was crackly and stiff. It was like he’d been dunked in an ice bath. He could hardly feel his clothes on his body, and that worried him. 

Everything was a blur, but he could remember a little gap-toothed girl giving him a necklace. 

“Cousin Hiram!” The little girl said, her chubby, dimpled cheeks burning with determination. “I gotcha a present! All by myself! Happy Han-nu-ka!” 

Hiram felt the words “Thank you, Miriam,” leaving his lips, before the rest of the memory turned into a haze. Yet, that haze was laced with the urgency to keep that necklace around him. His hands flew to his neck, and to his relief, his necklace was there. A simple, gold six-pointed star that rested over his heart. 

“You wanna travel with me?” Eddie looked giddy. “You’re the first person I’ve seen around here in a long time. It’s just been me on my lonesome, travelin’ the open road. A lonely soul, a cowboy saddling up for some adventure-” 

“-I get it.” Hiram grumbled. “You’re an annoying cowboy clown, sent to haunt my dreams.” 

“Is this your dream?” Eddie tilted his head again. “I…I feel very real. I have my own memories. If I’m fake, then bravo to ya, I’m a very detailed character, uh…” 

“Hiram,” Hiram hesitantly offered his hand, as if to apologize for his earlier slight. It wasn’t that he’d suddenly been struck with fondness for Eddie, but rather the realization that he was the only person Hiram could rely on for any sort of direction in this lawless land. “Hiram Wolfe.” 

Eddie shook his hand eagerly, though Hiram could hardly feel it. Hiram studied his hand in Eddie’s. Hiram could tell, from the way Eddie’s hand seemed to curve around his, that Eddie was giving it his all.

Why couldn’t he feel it? 

“Well, Wolfie,” Eddie said with a wide grin, “Why don’t we get to steppin’.” 

“Get to steppin’?” Hiram sighed, falling into lock-step beside an eager Eddie. “Who says that?” 

“I do,” Eddie replied. “For as long as I’ve been here. I’ve been livin’ it up.”

“What is here?” Hiram could hear the frustration lacing his voice. “Is it a dream? A nightmare?” 

Hiram tried his best to think if he’d done anything different last night. Hell, yesterday in general. Anything that could shed a light on this place. 

All of Hiram’s memories were jumbled in a confusing, opaque cocktail. He found that he could only remember useless things like helping his cousin Miriam brainstorm her talent show act over the phone or having a picnic with Miriam and her parents on the beach. Nothing that could help him in his current situation. 

A tumbleweed, half-formed and stringy, limped sadly across the dirt. 

“I don’t know,” Eddie shrugged. “All I know is that this world is a very nice, but very lonesome place.” 

Eddie gestured at the vastness around them. The sky, picturesque, seemed endless. Each cloud was the same, all white, with three perfect fluffy lumps to make up the shape. The road ahead and behind them was a long stretch of dirt. The tumbleweed was an anomaly. 

“Was it like this when you showed up?” Hiram asked. 

Eddie shook his head, his big smile dimming a little bit. “Nah. Uh…it was more uh…oceanic. This-” Eddie knelt and thumbed the thread-like dirt between his fingers. “-was rolling waves, and the sky was stormy. And Sylvie was here.” 

“Sylvie?” 

“A little girl.” Eddie’s features strained with the act of remembering. “She had uh…she had a pretty nasty burn scar down the right side of her face. I could see her jawbone. She was really nice, though. Loved playing pirates. We went on a voyage, gathered a crew, but she uh…that woman…”

Hiram looked away as Eddie wiped at his eyes. Eddie was cheerful, to the point that seeing him cry felt like an unforgivable intrusion. 

A memory pushed heavily at the corners of his brain-his father slumped over a bottle of gin on the couch, silently crying while reruns of Jeopardy played in front of his vacant, wet eyes. Hiram just watched him from the shadows, paralyzed with the fact that he didn’t know what to do. The memory ended with his father locking eyes with him, eyes filled with an undisguised humiliation, and the feeling of bitter cold as Hiram was forced out of the house. 

His father wasn’t a cryer. It was a trait he actively discouraged and berated in Hiram. 

Hypocrite.

Hiram couldn’t remember the context behind that memory for the life of him. He could now remember countless fights he and his father had-most of them resulting in Hiram being thrown out of the house on his ear to gain some perspective. The reasons all blended together into a coagulation of resentment, exasperation, and dissimilitude. 

“Are you remembering things too?” Hiram asked, desperate to break the quiet. It felt like they’d been walking together in silence for months. Eddie seemed like a talker. Hiram imagined that silence was like torture for him. 

Eddie perked up slightly, nodding his head. “I remember more every minute. I remember movie nights with my Pa. Comedies and Westerns were our favorite. I think I’ve memorized whole scenes from Blazing Saddles. I also remember us sharing a soda, and snacks that we’d snuck into the theater.” Eddie smiled, not quite as widely before, but it was clear his memories were happy. 

“Was the movie good?” Hiram felt his palm connect to his face. That was a dumb question, considering their circumstances.  

Eddie laughed, throwing his head back. What came out was a wheezy, coughing sound, but Hiram had a hunch that Eddie had a very full laugh. It just wasn’t coming through in this world. 

“You’re funny, Wolfie,” Eddie nudged Hiram. “It was a great movie.” 

Above them, Hiram saw the clouds shift. Some remained the same, but others began to become more imperfect shapes. Like clouds ought to be. 

“Did you have any friends?” Hiram asked. He couldn’t remember any friends of his own, sans Miriam, but he didn’t think cousins counted. Eddie was a pretty smiley guy. Hiram bet he had friends. Friends that were probably much better conversationalists than sullen, awkward Hiram. 

“No,” Eddie’s happy demeanor evaporated. “I don’t. Just me and Pa, for so long. I had enemies. I remember this one boy…Mikey…” 

Eddie’s hands begin to shake. Hiram moved closer, gently tapping him on the shoulder. Eddie shivered. 

“You’re freezing, Wolfie.” 

“Sorry. You, um…you just looked really upset. I, um…I didn’t know what else to do.” 

Eddie gave a small smile, though it was clearly hard for him.

“Thanks. What about you?” 

Hiram sensed the desperation for something else to focus on. He didn’t particularly want to talk about himself, but he would do it, for Eddie’s sake.  

“Well, I have a father who likes to put me outside when we fight. I have a cousin named Miriam who gave me this necklace.” Hiram showed his necklace to Eddie. “I don’t remember her face after a certain age. Just her voice. I don’t think we’ve seen each other in years, but I know I love her. And I miss her. And that I…I didn’t really have anyone else in my life.” 

“Oh.” The floor barely made a sound as they walked, though the jingling of Eddie’s spurs made up for that. “I’m sorry.” 

Hiram shrugged. “Not your fault.” 

The silence returned, neither boy wanting to speak more. As they walked further onwards, Hiram found his memories continuing to return. As they did, he noticed the world around them changing as well. A sheriff’s office sprouted up, building itself from the wispy threads of the ground, followed by dozens of cacti, tumbleweeds, horses running by, inns, shops, and something else that seemed to be taking longer than the others. Hiram couldn’t make out what it was, but looking at the wavy, unformed structure, made a lump form in his throat. 

“What the hell?” Hiram stopped cold. “Why’s the place shaping to be…this?”

Eddie’s hands shook. “I love this stuff. I…uh…always wanted to be a cowboy when I was little. I thought it was the coolest thing in the world. My Pa used to say that our side of the family were descended from vaqueros.” 

“Vaqueros?” 

“Basically Mexican cowboys. They’re the guys that Western Cowboys copied from. Or, at least, that’s what Pa claimed.” 

Hiram gave a slight nod. Around them, the town began to burst with life. A lively, doughy woman threw open the doors to the inn and waved at Hiram. The Sheriff-a man whose badge gleamed harshly in the sunlight-led away a criminal who spat at Eddie as he passed. A few school-age children wove around their legs, playing with sticks. 

It was clear that this world wasn’t for Hiram. It was for Eddie. The only problem was that Eddie didn’t seem to be in control of his own world. 

“Sylvie.” Hiram snapped his fingers, causing Eddie to startle and look at him. “When exactly did you meet her? How long ago?” 

“I…I don’t know. Time is…um…weird here.” 

“Fuck,” Hiram sank to his haunches. He couldn’t keep himself upright. He didn’t know where he was, or if he could ever get home. “This is fucked.” 

Eddie got on his knees to perch by Hiram. Even in his own world, with all the uncertainty, Eddie seemed more worried about Hiram. The idea that someone could care that much after such a short time together made Hiram feel dizzy. 

“When I met Sylvie, I was in pajamas too,” Eddie gave Hiram’s shoulder a light shake. “Maybe that means something. I think I was in her world. And now you’re in mine.” 

Hiram peered at Eddie, who was trying his best to flash a smile at Hiram, but it was a watery, uncertain thing. “Eddie,” Hiram’s voice caught in his throat. “What happened to Sylvie?” 

Eddie gulped, the memory seeming to grab him by force. “She was thrown overboard by one of the crewmates. No warning. This gray-faced woman grabbed Sylvie by her collar and threw her into the ocean. Even with its uh…flexible qualities, it just swallowed her up. She didn’t even scream.” 

“How old was she?” 

Eddie held up ten fingers. Hiram swore. He looked towards the ephemeral structure, the one still in construction. The base came together, a simple, wooden rectangle, with a tiny stool in the center. A tall, rectangular plank was beginning to slowly sprout from the left side. 

A small whimper left Eddie’s throat. It was as if the world had narrowed in on the two of them. The townsfolk were looking at them with smiling, unmoving faces. Tears slipped down Eddie’s cheeks, and his breathing became labored. 

“Shit!” Hiram grabbed at Eddie’s collar, hurriedly unbuttoning the top to give him some air. 

He froze. A ring-around-the-rosie of finger pad bruises circled Eddie’s neck. He looked down at himself again. He’d been stiff and numb before, but he hadn’t realized just how bad it was. His fingernails were blue, and his skin near translucent. 

“Are my lips, um…purple?” Hiram heard the dread in his own voice.

Eddie nodded, the realization hitting him as well as his hands flew to his neck. 

“Howdy,” the sheriff said, leaning down to cast a shadow over Eddie and Hiram. His complexion, however, was a startling gray. “You boys ready for an adventure?”

“That’s what she said. The woman who eventually threw Sylvie overboard.” Eddie’s voice quaked. “That it was time for an adventure.” 

“What the hell is this place?” Hiram wrapped his arms around Eddie’s shaking form, blocking him from view. He wasn’t going to let these cowboy freaks gawk at Eddie. 

The sheriff sighed. “This is supposed to be fun. I had a whole section of the town I was going to populate with Blazing Saddles lookalikes.” 

“Can we…go home?” Eddie mumbled. 

The sheriff shrugged. “Sometimes.” 

“I miss my Pa,” Eddie sniffed. “And I miss movie nights. It was Mikey that was the problem. He just wouldn’t leave me alone.” 

“I felt sorry for people like you,” the sheriff said, his voice even. “That’s why I make these worlds.” 

The sheriff took a revolver from his holster, and made a show of beginning to load it. The town was expressionless and silent as the sheriff spoke, standing behind him like puppets with no master. 

“Eddie Montoya,” the sheriff loaded his first bullet. “Lifelong lover of Westerns, from the vaquero roots claimed by his Pa to the comedic Hollywood version shown in his favorite movie.” 

“I don’t want to die.” Eddie’s plea might as well have been silent. He sounded like he was choking on nails.

The sheriff loaded the second. “Mikey LeFlor, a violent bigot, who didn’t like the way Eddie dressed, spoke, or looked.” 

Eddie’s hands closed around his own neck, out of a sort of twisted reflex, to belatedly protect himself. Hiram found his blood beginning to boil. He tightened his grip on Eddie. 

“Eddie’s goodhearted, but naive Pa, who insisted Eddie was capable of walking to and from school by himself.” The sheriff loaded the third bullet. “Eddie, too optimistic and eager-to-please to counter his Pa.” He loaded the fourth. 

“Finally,” the sheriff loaded the fifth bullet in the chamber. “Mikey followed Eddie after school, and shut him up.” 

“Shut up,” Hiram spat. 

The sheriff’s features puckered with an even-keeled exasperation. “I’m just telling you all the facts. I can go over yours next, if you want, Hiram Wolfe. I brought you, freshly, frozenly dead, here to be Eddie’s companion for his adventure before I gave you your own hero’s journey, but if you want, I could reap you instead, and let Montoya start over-clean slate. No adventure for you, though.” 

Before Hiram or Eddie could blink, the sheriff leveled the gun at Hiram and fired a bullet. Yet no bullet came. 

Hiram felt something vaguely warm begin to curl around him, coming from the changing structure-a gallows-nearly complete. It was nearly done, except for a rope, which was slowly being made around Hiram’s neck.

It felt warm. Hiram hadn’t felt warm in a while. Hands pulled at him, struggling to keep him upright as he was dragged to the gallows.

Eddie’s face once again invaded his vision, though instead of a smile, he was weeping, reaching desperately at Hiram’s to keep him there. His hands finally found a purchase around Hiram’s necklace, tugging at it. 

The necklace broke off in Eddie’s grip. Hiram wasn’t as upset as he should’ve been. The only worthwhile part of him, proof that he’d ever been loved, was now safe. He could imagine a world where Eddie escaped this place, and gave it to Miriam. Or even wore it around his own neck.

He imagined Eddie meeting Miriam, reassuring her with that dimpled smile of his, telling her that life can be cruel but there’s still joy in things like silly Westerns and quality time with someone who loves you. 

Hiram wasn’t good at being reassuring, or kind. His talent show call to Miriam ended up with her calling off her magic act due to nerves. All of those qualities seemed to come so easy to Eddie, even when Hiram was a perfect stranger. 

So, Hiram did the thing he thought Eddie did best, as his feet began to lift from the ground. 

He smiled.