The Walker

The doors closed behind them as Daisy and Walker entered the bar. She flicked her visor up and stared, open mouthed, at the sheer activity in front of her. The ceiling hung low, but the room felt immediately large and very busy. Tables and chairs were everywhere, except for a wide area of floor, near the back of the smoky room, where people were dancing to the music.

Daisy had never heard anything like it in her life. It was... basically noise, but rhythmic, tribal, rising from the floor and shaking your bones. It made you want to move, shake your arms, kick your legs and jump about. She found herself nodding along with the beat.

The room was lit, but in a strange, dark way, and coloured lights shone and spun through the smoky air, twisting with the music. Sullen grey clouds billowed from somewhere, wreathing the dancers in a strange mist. She began to panic, telling Walker that the building must be on fire. He waved a hand dismissively, assuring her it was false, made by a machine. Everything here was new and strange.

“I think I need a drink.” She murmured.

Walker cupped his hand to his ear and shook his head, indicating he couldn’t hear her. He leaned closer and bellowed in her ear. “I NEED A DRINK.”

He walked towards the bar and pushed through the crowd of people clamouring to be served. He shouldered his way to a spot at the bar, and motioned for her to join him. People would shoot argumentative looks, but noticed the casual way Walker had his pistol on display, a clear warning to even the most flash addled mind. The waitress came, and Walker ordered two whiskeys, neat.

Daisy turned to look out at the club again. On the far side of the room were some comfortable looking booths, partitioned for privacy, where people lounged, smoking, laughing and drinking. The waitress returned with their drinks, which Daisy accepted gratefully. She sipped and was surprised; it was smooth and warm, not like the rough sawdust drinks she was used to. She sipped again and turned to Walker, leaning in so she could hear him.

“What are we doing in here, then?”

He downed his drink and grunted. “I need to see someone about a book.”

“A book? Which one?”

He turned to the barmaid, pointing to his glass and signalling for another. “It’s not important, girl. Just keep an eye out for him.”

Daisy looked at him. “How am I supposed to find him if I don’t even know—“

Someone tapped Walker on the shoulder, and the two of them turned. A slender woman, all shadowed curves and gleaming cheek bones, stood unsmilingly behind them.

“Mister Charles asks that the two of you,” she eyed them disdainfully, wrinkling her nose at them. “Wait for him in the booths over there.” She waved an arm to the far wall. “A table has been set aside for you, and a waiter will be on call for drinks, which are on the house.”

Again, she wrinkled her nose, sneering at the unsavoury idea of the two of them drinking for free. “If you’d like to follow me.”

She turned gracefully, the crowd parting around her slender frame. Daisy glanced at Walker, who shrugged and grabbed his fresh drink.

“Come on. Might as well get comfortable.”

Daisy took her drink and followed the two of them through the bustling crowds.