3 Those who remained

Now.

"And so this was a sun drenched paradise, filled to the brim with tourists?" Jacques' question was responded to by some especially noisy raindrops, and nothing more.

Kindel, perhaps realizing how much he had just shared with these strangers, sighed as he sank into a chair.

"The rain came to Outpost two years ago, and it's been with us since.  Once people started leaving, the town just fell apart.  It may as well be ruins now.  Or a ghost town. "

"You said you were a stranger too, initially," Mrs. Trufflebottom noted.  " Why didn't you just leave?"

Kindel laughed - a laugh mixed entirely with dark humor and sorrow.  "I hope, for your sake, you never get asked that same question.   It feels quite different on the other side, believe me.   Let's just say I had my reasons."

Jacques was looking around the sparsely decorated room.  There wasn't much in the way of creature comforts.  He examined a music box on one of the shelves and wound it up.   A cheerful little ditty filled the room for a few moments while a dancer spun in place.  Strictly mechanical and could outlast about anything but rust.

Obviously a problem in this rain.  Jacques wound it up again.  Still such fascinating little keepsakes.  The tune played out again.

"I don't want to explain to our host how his belongings became smashed, so please don't wind that a third time."

"You would smash a fine piece of machinery such as this?" He replied, mock-horrified at the thought. 

"It's that or you, love."

He held it aloft, as if appraising it.  Smirking, "I guess I'll take my chances."  He looked around at the other memorabilia that must have been left from the resort days. "Have you had any visitors since then?"

"There's been a couple passersby,  but the town has little to offer except poverty and despair.  Most have left in short order.  A few made the unfortunate decision to try to rob and pillage," he said, muscles pulsing in his arms with his words, "although only briefly."

The insinuation wasn't lost on them -   Come here peacefully, or don't plan on leaving.

A crack of thunder above them added to the moment.  "Anyway, you won't be goin' anywhere until the storm dies down a little.  I'll set you up with lodgings for the night."

"Thanks, but I'm sure we can handle it," Jacques replied, still unsure of whether to trust this Kindel.  Mrs. Trufflebottom was echoing this with a knowing look.

Kindel shrugged, a resigned motion more than anything.  "I'm sure you'll might.  There were plenty of folks that tried when the rains first started.  Problem is, when it's coming down heavy that trail turns to a mud slide - and those folks turned to memories."

"So they're all gone?"

"Not everyone," Kindel was watching the rain fall through the doorway, staring off toward their cart. "Some had the good sense to wait for quieter moments before setting out.  Some chose to stay here in Outpost. And a couple of the kids from those mud slides made it back here safe - kids are amazing like that.  The town is their home now."

Mrs.  Trufflebottom nodded slowly.  She understood, alright.  Parentless and homeless, the town was their family.  "Where do they live?  Where do they go to get out of the rain?"

Still staring off through the door, " They go wherever they want now.  Outpost owes them that much."

Jacques watched as Kindel's head shifted, but without ever breaking eye contact.  And suddenly he understood.  "You - !

Jacques sprung from his seat and darted to the threshold and out into the rain. The deluge was upon him immediately and his clothing was again soaking through in cold liquid.  Holding his paw up against his face to shield his eyes he strode toward their cart. 

A pair of eyes was looking back at him over the top.  And another next to it.   Both of them small.  They had to be the children.

And then a voice from the alley alerted him to a third.  "Time's up, we're spotted!  Angel Marbles, disappear!"

Within three wet slapping steps forward Jacques watched as the trio somehow vanished into the rain.  He couldn't miss, however, the bundles they held in their arms.

He and Mrs. Trufflebottom had been robbed.

*****