Bridgetown, Issue #1: Arrival
time, was a portent of bad news for
Jesse.
    He managed a slow march up the winding paved
road to the front gates of the ranch.
    A machined metal button sat dead-center upon
the left column of the perimeter gate. Jesse pressed it. After a
few moments, static leaked out of a speaker hidden somewhere.
    "Who is it?" — an unfamiliar voice.
    "Tell Wayne that Jesse is here to see him."
He put extra emphasis on his own name. He tried imagining what the
look on Wayne's face in a few moments would be. Maybe he had been
expecting him all along. Would he be joyed? Resentful?
    After an extended few moments of silence, the
voice returned. "Mr. Cole says to meet him in the parlor room."
    The gates remotely unlocked, and Jesse pushed
them open. He walked the path to the front door. A rotund,
gray-haired older woman with cherubic features let him in.
    "Welcome to the ranch, Mr. Cole," the woman
said, with the trace of a distant Irish accent. "He'll be waiting
for you, just down that hall. I'll show you the way."
    Jesse wiped his dirt-covered shoes on the
mat, and walked past her. He turned around and asked her, "What was
your name again?"
    "Martha," she said, with a little dip.
    "Pleased to meet you, Martha. Jesse," he
said, and shook her hand.
    Martha led Jesse deeper into the impressive
estate. The foyer held the unmistakable touch of Wayne's pragmatic
sensibilities. From high on the farthest wall, a black and white
portrait of Nikolai Tesla seemed to observe them.
    Martha took him to the parlor. Inside, two
men stood on opposite sides of a wet bar.
    Jesse's heart skipped a beat. Behind the bar,
tonic in hand, was Wayne.
    Wayne's hair was a little thinner, his skin
much tanner than it had been when Jesse last saw him. He had
allowed a little stubble to grow in, and he had trimmed some of the
paunch that had traditionally filled out most of his features.
Wire-framed glasses befitting the era sat upon his nose.
    Wayne raised his glass to Jesse. The ice
sloshed.
    Both brothers hid something—sadness, elation,
maybe something else entirely—behind their eyes.
    "Jesse, it's been too long."
    "Yes it has. How long has it been?"
    "Five years and change."
    Five years. The news hit Jesse hard. Did that mean he'd been
asleep for five years? Did it mean Susanna was five years older,
now, too?
    The brothers did not embrace.
    Wayne broke the silence. "Where are my
manners? Jesse, this is Sheriff White. He's been securing the city
and our industry for years now."
    White pantomimed tipping a hat to Jesse. "How
do you do?"
    Wayne, to Jesse: "Can I get you a drink?"
    "Yeah, sure." Considering everything that had
transpired today, it was the only reasonable course of action.
    He pulled a stool up to the bar and sat down,
next to White, while Wayne poured his drink.
    The sheriff took a sip of his libation. "So
how do you two fellas know each other?"
    Both took a sip of theirs in a bid for extra
time.
    Wayne was the first to answer. "We're
brothers."
    "Brothers! Well, fancy that. Always a good
time for a family reunion."
     
    Susanna heard Jesse's voice before she saw
him. Walking each long step towards the parlor, she was acutely
aware of the wood creaking beneath her feet. Her chest was tight;
her head reeling. She didn't want to be here. She wanted to be
anywhere but here.
    Suddenly, it all made sense. Her dream, the
night before. Her feeling of psychic unease all day long, and her
communion with the mountain. She had known Jesse had arrived at
last, five years late. She had felt it.
    How would he react when he learned the
truth?
    She was happy with her life, here—most of the
time. Jesse could wreck all of that.
    She emerged into the room, the three men
facing her, expectant.
    She locked eyes with him.
    They stood there, half a room apart, staring
into each other's souls as if no one else was present. She didn't
know for how long.
    She broke his gaze, and sat on the couch.
    Jesse held a faraway stare towards nothing in
particular.
    Wayne looked towards

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