Hosea drew himself up from the chair he had slept in. It was daybreak, and his breath billowed before his eyes. He stepped out of the motel room and started walking as purposefully as he could. He did not know where he was going, but it was a busy town, and he felt sure to find a breakfast.
There was a purpose-logic laid into places like this, like words to be read by tires and soles. He crossed a grassy median to get closer to a strip mall and left a trail of dew-prints. He hewed close to sidewalk on the storefronts, past beauty salons and knick-knackeries to find himself automatically stepping into a donut shop.
The donut shop smelled like faint fryer oil and bad coffee, with a haunting cicada-like buzz coming from the overhead lights. An older woman in a hairnet spoke to him, and Hosea noticed he said something in return. Before long, he realized he was eating a warm croissant and drinking the bad coffee. It did not feel as if he was in control of anything; he was living on rails.
As he ate, he kept his eyes looking out the glass storefront, into the vast parking lot ahead of him. There were about a dozen men shaped things waltzing erratically across it. Their faces were sigils and their mouths ringed with teeth, and they chewed on their tentacle fingers habitually. Stupid, void of will, cohered together from the asphalt of the lot.
A car eventually turned in and cut through the parking lot. The no-bodies bunched up in front of it and, save for one who had plunged its fingers into the grille, were thrown across the lot like bowling pins. The car sustained no damage, but the no-body was firmly attached, and when the driver finally parked and left the car, it slinked inside and planted itself in the backseat.
Hosea chewed through butter, flour, egg proteins, and tasted the full weight of exhaustion and resignation from the cook. Once things were evident, there was no going back, and just as Hosea’s eyes could see the no-bodies, his mouth could taste intent and motive. The coffee was less intense, with only a bitter aftertaste that rang “again? again. again? again,” in his mouth. He let himself eat calmly, letting the charge of his food roll over him, and before he knew it he was outside again.
He stood at the edge of the sidewalk, facing at the parking lot, with the single car several feet and rows away from him. With a scarred hand, he traced three parallel lines in the aether before him with a gesture, and then flicked each one to send it forward towards the waiting no-bodies. He watched his cuts fly lazily, like ships through water, with an absolute lightness to them. They eventually reached, crossed, and dismembered the no-bodies and Hosea watched their mangled forms sank back into the asphalt. He traced one more line and flicked it at the car with a bit more force, and he watched it quickly bisect the vehicle and shred the no-body into a flickering fog that receded back into nothing.
He was sure he looked like a crazy person, but he did not particularly care, and so he walked home without incident. Today was the day they were going to add someone to the team.