Wayfarer [Bill Cipher x Reader] [REVISED]

Chapter Seventeen: Maps

"So, it's corn season now, huh?"

The mid-afternoon Texas sun shone hot and flat over the gas station canopy as you crouched next to a rusted red pickup truck. Beside you, the old man in the fold up chair gave you a toothless grin.

"Oh, absolutely! The best time of the year. You know, I look forward to it every year because there is simply nothing that beats a nice, fresh cob of sweet corn. Grill it a little with some butter and a pinch of salt—just a pinch—and mmm, you have the most delicious side dish on the planet. Make it all the time at my family barbecues!"

Despite dinner being two hours away, the hollowness in your stomach spread at the mention of food. "Mmm, sounds delicious. Was this corn raised around here, or... ?"

"Oh, it sure was. It's from my farm just a ways down the road," he said, jabbing a thumb in the direction of the highway. "Been raising corn there for over fifty years."

"Wow, talk about field to table! You must've picked it, what, today?"

"Came out of the field this morning," he said with a nod. "And," he tapped the cardboard sign beside him, "it's only ten cents an ear! Come buy some while it's still fresh, why don't you?"

Ten cents per ear? Wow, a real steal. Especially considering how sick you were of eating plain ramen all the time. "Sure!" you said, opening up your purse. "Could you give me six, please?"

"Alright, six ears, coming right up!" he said, his watered-down blue eyes crinkling at the edges. He pulled out a plastic bag and plucked a few ears out of the pile. He slowly turned them over in his hands, peeling the husk back a little on each one, before setting them in the bag and handing it to you. "Here, take these," he said.

You took the bag and placed a couple dimes into his open palm. "Thanks for the corn."

"No, thank you for the business! You have a lovely day, miss."

"Aw, thanks. You too!" you called back.

You headed back to the car, corn in hand. Popping the door open and hopping in, you settled down into your seat and turned to drop the corn onto the seat next to you, only to pause. Oh, yeah. Bill wasn't back yet. You set it down in the back seat instead.

Then, you turned back and gazed upon the vast fields around you, eyes glazing over in the glare. Despite having driven north all of today, you were somehow still in Texas. God, this state never ended. You could go from dark, oak-laden woods and gurgling water to this long, uninterrupted flat wash of dusty green leaves and sand-colored dirt without crossing a single state line. No wonder it was going to take you until nightfall to cross into Colorado!

And speaking of dark woods... In a way, yesterday had faded off into the distance, and yet it still lingered, like the woods had imprinted themselves onto the insides of your eyelids. Just what on earth had happened back there? And why was Bill so secretive about it?

After all, despite your best attempts to cajole a bit more information out of him, he'd stuck to his guns on his version of what had happened: just a chance meeting with the friends of a friend. A friend, huh? How did Bill know this John guy, then? Well, John was a guy that he'd run into a few times at parties. But when? Where? Out on the coast, a couple years back. He didn't remember many details—he was tired. The whole thing had drained him. Why didn't you just leave him be and let him go to sleep? What was this, the Spanish Inquisition?

Your brows pinched together just thinking about it. The offhanded way he'd tossed vague statements at you got under your skin. There was something he just wasn't telling you, and no amount of question dodging would convince you otherwise. Well, as they said, persistence is a virtue. You ought to keep on looking. Something would surface eventually, right?