Down on the Bayou

85.

It was over a hundred and Gilbert wished his van was a refrigerator. It was hotter than he'd been in a long time and he hadn't even gotten out of the van. He looked outside and swore he saw heat waves coming from the heat waves. The bait and tackle store he was parked in most certainly didn't have a very good ac system and Gilbert already dreaded the short walk inside. When he opened the door he felt the wave of heat and humidity hit him and sighed, it was going to be a long day.

"Help you with something?" Gilbert wasn't even fully into the bait shop when the grey haired missing toothed guy behind the counter asked after him.

"I'm looking for something strange." Gilbert had made the plea at four other local bait shops, he was already ready for the usual.

"Poaching's illegal, and I want you to know I won't support it."

"Do I look like a poacher to you?"

"You look lost honestly Mister." The inherent racism in the lost wasn't lost on Gilbert he'd dealt with it in every rural community he found himself in.

"I am lost, but I'm also looking for something, you ever hear of a Weado?" It was like the non existent cold found itself into the bait shop. The old man staring slack jawed to be disrespectful, closed his mouth and looked around like the very name could summon the creature.

"I think you should leave."

"You've seen it."

"Now, just leave now."

"I'm here to kill it you see." The man got out from behind the counter and he was armed, Gilbert had run into similar issues earlier and he hoped someone in the swamp would finally just give up the ghost. Unfortunately the influence of the Weado was too strong, he saw that now. He left and went out in the heat and humidity almost expecting a group of the creatures followers waiting for him, but the only person there was a midget, or dwarf Gilbert forgot what people who suffered from the condition called themselves.

"You're looking for the Weado?" Gilbert was hesitant, the information Clarissa had given about them mentioned they were sneaky and often would use misdirection to lead people to their doom.

"Nah I'm a poacher hoping to hire out for someone who can hoist a gator and keep their mouth shut." The midget smiled.

"You think I'm working with it?" Gilbert went to get into his van.

"Almost assuredly."

"Is there anyway I could convince you I'm not?"

"Take me to it."

"Deal." Gilbert suspected the small person was telling the truth, but even if he wasn't, if he took him to the Weado he could get the hell out of the bayou and into a climate not designed by Satan.