Gotta say, this ride feels like it’s taking for-ever. It’s occurred to me that I haven’t gotten any sleep in nearly twenty-four hours, and that fact is more and more apparent as we drive. I’m yawning every few minutes, and my eyelids feel heavy as weights. Thankfully, there was a five-hour energy in the glovebox, but that can only do so much, especially with the added exhaustion from all the action we’ve seen.

  As for Arthur, he’s nibbling on some of the military rations from the car’s storage, and from the looks of it he’s not enjoying it very much. I don’t blame him; it’s around noon now, and I’m just about famished by now. Hell, I’ve got half a mind to ask Arthur for one of those Uncrustables in his backpack.

  Right now we’re driving through some ghost town in Ohio, with every building being reduced to rubble and overgrown with foliage. Maybe if we found somewhere mostly intact, we could rest for a bit before continuing, but I can’t imagine we’ll find anything so convenient here. Besides, I want to get to the base as soon as possible—I’m sure I can power through this for a few more hours.

  A sudden shudder runs through the car and jolts me back to reality. That’s definitely not a good sound; looks like I’ll have to address it before moving on. I check the various dials and gauges on the car’s dashboard, and I immediately notice the needle on the fuel gauge sitting squarely at E.

  What the hell? The tank was nearly full when we started out! And this model of transport should’ve had enough fuel to get us at least a few more hours without needing to refuel. Something must be wrong with the car, and it would be best to stop and fix it up before continuing.

  Up ahead, I can see the only building in town that hasn’t been leveled: a small gas station with boarded-up windows. Lucky us, then. I roll up to one of the pumps and stop the car, and I can almost hear a groan as our battered vehicle comes to a rest.

  “Why did we stop, Murphy?” Arthur asks, “Is something wrong?”

  “Car’s outta gas. Looks like we’re gonna have to stop here and refill, and possibly fix the car. Stay in here for now.”

  I exit the vehicle and walked around to the gas tank. Behind the car, there’s a trail of moisture between the tire tracks, which gives me an idea of the issue. Bending down to look under the car, I can see that, sure enough, there’s a small hole in the gas tank that’s been draining our fuel reserves for the past several dozen miles.

  Juuust great. Thankfully, the hole doesn’t look too big—I could probably patch it up fine with some duct tape. It should last us until we get to the base, at least.

  I go back to the front and tell Arthur “Bad news, there’s a leak in the gas tank. Check to see if there’s any duct tape in this car.”

  We spend several minutes searching the various compartments of the car, to no avail. I’m starting to get nervous now; if we can’t find some way to patch up the car, we won’t have any way to find the base.

  Arthur points to the gas station’s convenience store. “How about that shop? There may be some tape in there, as well as some more supplies.”

  Somehow, I hadn’t even considered the convenience store as an option; I guess it just felt weird to steal from a store, even in the apocalypse. Still, these are desperate times, and we have to take what we can get out here. “All right,” I say, beckoning Arthur out of the car, “We’ll take a look inside, but be on the lookout in case there’s any danger inside.

  The two of us approach the store, which betrays no indication of what’s inside. Even through the cracks between the boards, it’s pitch-black. I check the door handle, and surprisingly, the door is unlocked. Instinctively, I grab my gun, and Arthur puts his hand on his sword hilt as well. With a mental three, two, one, I open up the door and visually sweep the area—but what I see is enough to completely strike me dumb.

  The door leads to a large, elegant foyer of what seems to be a high-end luxury hotel. The marble floors and pillars are polished to a sheen, the walls are decorated with ornate paintings. In the lounge area, a cozy fire is roaring with several plush chairs surrounding it.

  The foyer is completely empty, save for the receptionist at the desk to the right. It’s a man, visibly in his late fifties, with comb-over hair and a handlebar mustache flecked with gray. He’s dressed in a crisp suit with white gloves, and as we enter he smiles and says “Welcome to the Traveler’s Lodge! How may I help you?”

  I blink repeatedly, trying to dispel whatever dream this might be. I turn around to check that yes, the outside is in fact an ordinary, dilapidated gas station. I look back and forth between the two, trying to reconcile the anomaly. Yep, this is actually happening.

  Arthur breathes a sigh of relief. “What a stroke of luck!” He says, “It looks like this shop has an inn as well. We should recuperate here before moving on.”

  “What are you—oh, never mind,” I mutter, raising my gun, “I’ll be the judge of that.” I then address the receptionist: “Hey! Who are you and what did you do to this gas station?”

  The receptionist doesn’t react at all to the gun, still smiling. “Ah, is that where we ended up now? Fascinating. Forgive me for not introducing myself sooner—I am Jeeves, the owner of this establishment. The Traveler’s Lodge appears wherever it is needed, which is how you found it in, as you say, a gas station. I take it you two are in need of some lodging?”

  “Indeed,” Arthur chimes in, “We have been traveling far and wide, and we are quite weary. If we could rest in your establishment, that would be much appreciated.”

  “Of course! It’s but a small fee—”

  “Hold it, hold it!” I interrupt, “Jeeves, give us a minute to talk this over.” Jeeves nods, and I turn around to huddle with Arthur.

  “We can’t stay here!” I whisper, “We’re on a deadline, remember? And besides, this Jeeves guy is crazy suspicious! He’s gotta be a Wizard for sure.”

  “I sense no hostility from him,” Arthur replied, “Even if he is a Wizard, I believe he can be trusted.”

  “Even if he is, we’ve got somewhere to be! Stopping here would mean more time before we get to the base, and who knows what could happen in the meantime.”

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  “That’s exactly why I think we should rest here. We are already weary and hungry from our travels, and who knows what we could face on the road ahead. If we aren’t in our best shape, we may get caught off guard by an enemy, or worse.”

  As if in response, both of our stomachs growl loudly. I can’t deny that a hot meal and a shower would really hit the spot right about now, and Arthur does have a point about being in good shape to travel across the dangerous wastelands outside. I sigh and say “Alright, one night, and then we get back on the road.”

  Arthur nods in acknowledgement, and I turn back to Jeeves and say “sure, we’ll take a room. How much for one night?”

  Jeeves claps his hands together excitedly. “So happy to have you here! For one night, it’ll be…let me think…ah yes, from each of you I’ll need six fingernail clippings, two strands of hair, and one of your shoelaces.”

  Yep, already starting to regret this. While Arthur is already bending over to unlace his left shoe, I say “You can’t possibly be serious.”

  “I can assure you, it’s a more than fair price. I have a pair of spare clippers if you don’t have your own.” He produces a pair of shiny metal fingernail clippers with a smile on his face.

  As Arthur plucks his hairs, he says “Give the man his dues, Murphy, he—yowch!—he is being very generous to us for this offer.”

  I mean, it is an excellent deal—and that’s the issue. The fact he’s only charging various bodily detritus to stay in his high-end hotel means there’s got to be a catch down the line. Everything worth having comes at a price, after all.

  Still, I’m in too deep at this point and I’ve got to press on. With some apprehension, I unlace my boot, clip my nails, pluck my hairs, and present it all to Jeeves along with Arthur.

  Jeeves examines the goods, then nods and sweeps it all into a plastic baggie. “Very good, sirs!” he says with a smile, “Now, how would you like a meal while I prepare your rooms?”

  “Yeah, alright. We are pretty hungry.”

  “Perfect, then follow me.”

  Jeeves leads us around the corner to a restaurant-looking area, and says we can take any seat we like. The restaurant is completely empty, giving it a somewhat eerie and liminal atmosphere. We pick a table close to the window, out of which can be seen a number of green, rolling hills framed by a clear baby-blue sky. This incongruent scene is just another uncanny aspect of this hotel; it almost reminds me of a computer desktop background with how artificial it looks.

  The table and its settings are, like the rest of the building, very ornate. The plate is surrounded by a dozen assorted spoons and forks, and frankly I can’t imagine trying to discern the proper use for every single one of these in the state we’re in now. Arthur picks up and examines some of the forks from his plate; clearly, he’s just as stumped as I am, and I don’t blame him.

  Jeeves appears from the door to the restaurant’s kitchen, now sporting a waiter’s apron and carrying a pitcher of water. He fills both of our glasses and says “Here’s some refreshment for you, gentlemen; your meals will be out shortly.”

  Confused, I ask, “Uh, shouldn’t we get, like, a menu or something?”

  “Oh, that’s not necessary here,” he says proudly, “We have everything you need already.” With a reassuring smile, he left our table and back through the kitchen doors.

  Okay, add another suspicious thing to the list. I lean over the table and whisper to Arthur “Still got a good feeling about this place?”

  Arthur strokes his chin thoughtfully and replies “Well, I do still trust this Jeeves, he doesn’t seem ill-intentioned to me. Though, I will admit that the decor of this establishment feels somewhat…overbearing.”

  Honestly, that’s a pretty good way to put it. Ever since we made our “payment,” I’ve had the weird feeling that something is bearing down on us, like the walls themselves are looking over our shoulders. Overbearing might be an understatement—it’s borderline intimidating, even.

  After a ten-minute wait, Jeeves returns with two piping-hot meals on a tray. “Thank you for your patience, gentlemen—here are your specially-prepared meals.”

  In front of me, Jeeves sets a plate of corned beef, baked potatoes, steamed vegetables, and a whole wheat roll. He then opens up a bottle of Guinness and sets it down near the platter.

  That…that’s my favorite meal. Just the way my Mom made it. And that’s my favorite drink too. How the hell did he know?

  For Arthur, Jeeves presents some chicken tenders and french fries and barbecue sauce, and pours a glass of orange Fanta. Judging by Arthur’s glazed-over expression and watering mouth, this is his favorite meal as well.

  “Well, if you need anything else, just call out and I’ll be there in a jiffy,” Jeeves says, “Enjoy!” He then walks away from our table and stands by the kitchen door with a blank expression on his face.

  Arthur quickly digs into his meal, and his expression melts with pleasure as he takes his first bite. “Oh, you really have to try this,” he says through a full mouth, “it’s delicious!”

  The meal before me certainly smells intoxicating, and my mouth is watering after just a few seconds of smelling it. Still, I can’t help but be suspicious. I mean, has this guy been reading our mind? Is this food actually safe, or even food at all? Arthur seems to be fine so far, anyways. Gingerly, I slice off a small corner of the beef and put it in my mouth.

  Holy shit, it’s even better than I could’ve expected. The meat is tender, juicy and perfectly seasoned, without even a hint of gristle. It’s just as good as I remember, made all the better given that I haven’t had it in what feels like ages. Without thinking, I devour my meal with the ferocity of an animal, my hunger I had been ignoring suddenly becoming apparent.

  It doesn’t take long for both of us to finish our meals. Once our plates are scraped clean, the two of us just sit in silence, letting the food settle in our stomachs. I feel completely full from this one meal—hell, I can’t remember the last time I felt this full at all. After two and a half years of mess hall food and field rations, it’s nice to have some real food for once.

  Except it can’t be real, can it? The destruction of the Wizards means that almost all farms and supply chains are useless, but this tastes fresh as can be; I can’t imagine he’s had all this on ice and just popped it in the microwave. And of course, there’s the fact that he’s pulled both of our all-time favorite meals apparently straight out of our subconscious and recreated them down to the last detail. Even as I sit in the satisfaction of a filling meal, I can’t help but feel a lingering sense of unease.

  Jeeves notices we’re done and strolls over to our table, still grinning as wide as ever. “Was your meal satisfactory, gentlemen?”

  Arthur nods contentedly. “Yes, indeed…that was one of the finest meals I’ve ever eaten. My compliments to the chef.”

  “Oh, I’m so glad to hear that!” Jeeves said with a sigh of relief, “Would you like to retire to your room now?”

  “I don’t see why not,” Frankly, I feel like I could sleep for a week after a meal like that. ‘

  “Excellent! You can pick up your keys at the front desk.”

  Looks like we’ll be spending a night here after all. Even though I would love nothing more than to crash on a real bed for ten to sixteen hours, I have a feeling that spending too much time languishing here could be more trouble than it’s worth. If I could only figure out what’s up with this Jeeves guy…