New Dawn

Chapter 27 | Lord of flies

He found himself seated at the end of a long dining table. It had been set with plates and cutleries fit for royalty, elegant glasses holding their right corners company. Candles lit the dark room, casting flickering shadows upon the walls. Somewhere in the background a fireplace crackled pleasantly.

Suddenly, as if they had walked through the walls, servants began to dance an unnoticeable waltz through the room. In an adequate manor they served dinner; a meaty soup made from boar, red wine flowing into his glass.

They left the room as mysteriously as they had entered.

Owen looked across the table and noticed an old man seated at the opposite side. He could not remember if he had been there all along, or if he had arrived with the waiters.

"Isn't it just the perfect time to dine, Mr. Kelly?", the man rather confirmed than asked. "It's colder than a polar bear's arse outside, and here we are, warm and snug. Away from all the crazy things happening out there."

The man looked painfully familiar. Owen peered his eyes at the man as if it would help him to remember where he had seen him before.

"Ah, you don't recognise me?", the old man said in suppressed disappointment as he blew upon the surface of his soup. "It has been years for you, yet the blink of an eye for me. I've been keeping one of them on you, Mr. Kelly. Last time I saw you, you were worse for wear, and now... You just seem to trade one mess for another, don't you?"

Owen took a sip of his wine, a spicy aroma bedewing his throat. The man looked older than when he last had seen him. His aura of intimidation and authority seemed to have faded with his age, but Owen knew better than to underestimate him. The man was a con artist, and if it were in his interest he would gladly let the world think of him as wrinkled and frail.

"This soup is delicious! You'll have to remind me to give my compliments to the chef. Much better than peas, don't you think?", the man chortled with a glimmer in his eye.

Owen did not touch the food. Instead he asked; "What do you want?"

"Cheer up, boy. It might be the end of the world, but it's never too late to do things properly. I have a business proposition for you, and it wouldn't be of the right caliber if it wasn't over dinner", the man smiled and took a slurp of his soup.

He put down his spoon and leaned back in his chair. As he wiped his mouth with a napkin the servants swapped out one dish for another.

"You still owe me, boy. It's time that you start to repay your debt. Besides, you'll want to be on my team when shit hits the fan."

The old man got up from his chair, walked around the table and sat on its edge to light a cigar.

"Wasn't this nice?" A crude smile spread over the man's lips.

"It depends on how you see it", Owen mumbled.

"Don't be sour now, my boy. The fun is just about to begin."

He looked at his watch and waved his cigar. A stream of grey followed his hand as he said; "It's time for you to go, I'm afraid."

"Who are you?"

The man played surprised, raising his hat to wipe away a pearl of sweat with the back of his hand. "This is exactly my problem... See, if it were a hundred years ago you would've never had to ask."