Chapter 52

“This… this place…” Anya stared at the sign in disbelief. “Emma…” The girl turned toward the woman but when she looked, the woman was gone.

“Emma…?” She called out, the sound of her voice echoing from building to building. “Emma?! Where… where are you!?” Not only was her companion missing, but so was everyone else. The once bustling streets were now completely devoid of life.

“I… I don’t understand…” Anya looked all around her, there was no sign of life. The noise of the crowded streets vanished without a trace as only the subtle howl of the wind remained.

“Where… where is everyone…?” Her gaze returned to the strange shop. “Boone’d Stew…” She muttered for the name sounded familiar, like a memory of a distant dream.

“It can’t be...”

She took a step closer and as she near its door, the sound of running water entered her ears. Anya continued to approach, and with each foot forward, a new tune was added to the combined melody. First, it was the sound of chopping blocks that clattered repeatedly. Then the gurgles of boiling water accompanied by the sizzling of searing oils. Finally, the grumblings of a man’s deep and hoarse voice.

“This voice…”

As she walked, the little details of the shop came into view. She saw that the door was held open by a little block of brick near the bottom to keep it from closing. Holes within the walls were mended with a sort of gray plaster that did not match its color. Anya’s eyes further darted around as she took her first step inside, unsure of what was to come.

It was a small restaurant. Within the main room were a few tables, some held two seats while others held three. The furniture seemed aged and worn, but still stable and functional. To the side was a counter filled with random trinkets, decorations, and a bulky metal box. A four-legged, unusually tall bar stool was placed behind it to provide seating. The place had no consistent theme, it seemed as if all the furnishings were scraped together from various locations for the sake of having them.

As the girl delve deeper into the store, the sounds of cooking became even clearer, she could even smell the delectable aroma that swarmed the air. Anya took a few whiffs, the scent soothed her mind. It was a friendly sensation, a relaxing and homely feeling that she dearly missed.

“Darn dang, the hell am I paying her fo’!”

The sudden shouting broke Anya out of her trance.

“That’s not possible…” the child muttered. Quickly, she approached the door to what she assumed to be the kitchen. The sound of boiling water became even louder while high pitched whistles of kettles rang through the walls. Step by step, her heart pounded a little faster until her sight finally met with the figure.

Anya froze, her eyes opened wide as she awkwardly gazed at the man before her.

“You’re late missy.” Said the man as he sampled his stew. “You ain’t getting paid to be slackin’. Next time you better be haulin’ ass.”

“BOONE!” Anya leaped at the man, wrapping her arms around his waist and nearly knocking him over. “I missed you!”

Taken off guard, the man retreated a few steps back with the child still latched on.

“You miss me? What has gotten into you, missy?” The man wobbled as he regained his balance. “You trying to get me killed or somethin’?”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” The girl began to apologize, wailing as her face slammed into the man’s stomach.

“What in tarnation?” the man exclaimed. “The hell’s gotten into you, missy?”

“I’m sorrrryyyyyy...!” cried Anya, whipping her snot into the man’s apron. “I didn’t mean to do it…”

“Bein’ late…?” the man sighed, gently patting the child’s head. “Well... It ain’t that big of a deal.”

“No… that’s not it…” Anya replied, staring at the man with her teary eyes.

“Then the hell you sorry fo’?”

Anya furrowed her brow in confusion and contemplated for a short moment.

“I… I don’t know…”

“You… you don’t know?” shouted Boris as he attempted to pry Anya of, finally noticing the snot. “Girl, if you don’t get offa me this instant.”

The child backed off and patted down her dress and wiped away her tears. After just a few short moments, all traces of sadness were gone and Anya surfaced her trademarked, innocent smile.

“Oh yeah… sorry about being late!”

“Sure, ain’t hear that one befo’.” The man returned to tending to his station, seasoning and tasting his stew. “If your goin’ be sorry, then put on your apron and get to work, missy.”

“Right! Umm….”

The man sighed, he placed his ladle on a nearby bowl and pointed to the other side of the kitchen. “It’s ov’r there.”

Anya hastily rushed to the corner of the room where an apron of her size was hung. It was a little dirty, but overall in good shape. Little yellow creatures decorated its surface which made no thematic sense, but the girl found it adorable nonetheless. Once Anya had knotted the back of the apron, she rushed back to the man.

“Anya, reporting for duty!” she saluted.

“Bout time.” the man as he wiped his hands on a nearby towel. “Get out there and watch the shop. You remember the menu, right?”

“Eh...” The girl’s eyes shifted off to the side.

“Girl!” lamented the man as he pressed his hand against his face. “You shoulda memorized it, mushroom and jerky stew with a side of roasted roach. Got it?”

“Isn’t that just one thing…?” The child said as she pursed her lips. “That’s not really a menu…”

“Are you gettin’ sassy with me, missy? You ain’t wanna get paid?”

Anya immediately straightened her stance.

“No, sir… I mean yes… no… sir...?”

“Just get your ass out there!”

The child rushed outside while the man continued to prepare his daily batch of brew.

“Oh an’” she hard the man shout from behind, “more stew is comin’, I’ll tell you what they are when I figure out what I'm goin’ to make.” Hearing this Anya giggled, as the man seemed just as unprepared as she was.

Once she had arrived at the counter, Anya rolled up her sleeve as she prepared herself to climb the bar stool. Thinking back, Anya felt that choosing such a tall chair was a mistake. At first, she thought it would be pretty fun to be able to sit so high up. But the bar stool was taller than she was, and Anya now found it somewhat insulting. The legs of the seating had a relatively short spread, so it was a bit unstable when compared to the usual chair she would sit in. Getting onto it was a chore and a better solution would be just to use another chair, but her pride would not let her admit defeat. Having gathered her will, the child grabbed onto the seat and stepped on the lowest ledge.

“Wah~!” Almost immediately, the added weight began to tip the bar stool causing forcing Anya to leap off.

“Hmm…” Anya stared at the seating. “How did I get on this before…?” She asked herself. It quite bizarre to her in that she remembered sitting on the stool, but cannot seem to remember how she was able to scale it. The child brushed it off as she concluded that she may have just struck her head too hard on one of the attempts.

“Ah!” exclaimed the girl, for she had an idea. Anya positioned herself to one edge of the seating and attempted to climb. She kept one of the chair’s leg between her legs and pressed her body close to the body of the chair. The child had figured since the corner protrude outward the most, it should provide more balance than the flat sides. As the girl ascended, she carefully made sure that her body’s center of mass was close to the stool’s. And after a few moments of climbing, Anya had reached the top, seated and wearing a smug smile.

The girl felt a great sense of accomplishment, even though she had supposedly done this many times before.

“No head injuries!” she cheered, raising both arms in celebration.

“What are you yap’n about?”

“Oh umm…” Anya quickly retracted her hands to her lap and blushed. “I… I got on this chair by myself.”

“Heh, pretty proud of yourself huh, missy?”

“...Yes…” the girl shyly replied.

Seeing this, the man has a slight chuckle before he placed a bowl of soup on the counter in front of the girl.

“Here you go, have it while it’s hot.”

The child’s face lit up as she turned toward the man.

“Is this…?” A streak of drool began to creep from the side of her mouth.

“What do you think, missy? I ain’t goin’ be the only one tastin’ my own food.”

The child stared at the man as if waiting for permission.

“Well, go on. Food ain’t fo’ decoratin’.”

“Thank you! Thank you!” Anya stared at the stew, appreciating its aroma before she attempted to dig in. The seat she sat on elevated her to almost the height of the stand, so it was slightly awkward to scoop from the bowl.

The man smiled upon seeing the joy on the child’s face coupled with the unladylike mannerisms.

“Make sure you ain’t burnin’ your-”

BLEH! Yelped Anya, fanning her tongue. “It’s hot...!”

The man burst into laughter and turned around, heading back into the kitchen.

“What you think freshly cooked soup was goin’ be like, cold?” He took his towel from his waist and swung it over his shoulder. “Now make sure you ain’t makin’ a mess, missy.”

Anya took another scoop of the stew, this time ensuring that it was sufficiently cooled before she placed it in her mouth. The instant the liquid touched her tongue, she was brought into a bliss. The intermingling flavors struck all at once, giving a savory taste like no other. With each swallow, she felt her entire body warm up. And as she chewed the small pieces of soaked jerky, juices and expunged from its surface, rushing in another wave of euphoria. The girl went for one spoonful after another until the soup was no longer scalding hot, then she simply gulped the rest down.

“Ahh…” she voiced with satisfaction, staring at the empty bowl. However, only moments before she came to a sudden horrifying realization.

“Boone…” the girl shouted.

“What?!” the man yelled in response.

“Are… are you going to make me pay for this…?”

“Well, did you finish it, missy?”

“... yes…?” Anya replied hesitantly.

“Yep, it’s comin’ outta your pay.”

“That’s unfair!” the girl complained. “You didn’t tell me this first.”

“Well, you ain’t show'n up on time. So I guess we’re even, ain’t we.” While the man spoke, the sounds of the chopping block abruptly returned. “Be glad I ain’t chargin’ you fo’ the room.”

“But…” the mumbled in response, just barely loud enough for the man to hear.

“But nothing! An’ besides, what you need money right now fo’ anyway?”

“I don’t know… stuff…” Anya thought about the question for a moment. “I guess it’s just nice to have…”

“Greed ain’t good, missy… I ain’t swimmin’ in money either. Just watch the shop, will you?”

“Suuure….” replied the girl disinterestedly. Despite her little tantrum, Anya agreed with the man. She did not really need the money as she felt perfectly content as is. Good food to eat and a nice bed to rest in at night essentially filled her entire checklist.

“Wait…” Anya scratched her head.

“I…” Something to her felt off, her memory was a bit hazy and dwelling on the thought seemed to lead to further confusion.

“Hmm…” The girl began to massage her temples. She felt slightly uncomfortable, not the type of discomfort one feels when ill, but that displeasure that comes about when something is out of place.

“Why am I…”

At that moment, someone had entered the restaurant. Having noticed the potential customer, Anya pushed aside her thoughts and hastily descended her seat.

“Welcome! Take any seat you’ll like!” She said as she rushed to her patron.

“How are you doing, Anya?” the woman greeted, to which the child responded with a hug.

“I missed you, Emma! Do you have any more stories for me?!”