Nowhere Woman

Nowhere City. It's the end of the line, the place you go when you have worn out your welcome everywhere else. I came to Nowhere City in search of a young man on the run from the law. It wasn't my job to bring him back; it was my job to find him and bring back an exclusive interview.

I arrived by freighter. The wharf was deserted, and I was the only cargo offloaded.


I could see from the start that it was a rough place: a body run over and left on the street to die under a street lamp.

The natives had interesting taste in literature, too.

Any justice was rough justice indeed. This kid didn't look old enough to deserve to hang. But I wasn't here to have the townspeople sign a Bill of Rights. I had a job to do.

I started looking at the club, but it, too, was deserted. The only denizen was the skeletal remains of a man in a Camping Chair. The sign above his head said he had earned three lindens. Hardly seemed worth it.

As I began to explore the city, heard noises. I was not alone. Suddenly, I was hit from behind, and all went dark.


My attacker had left me for dead, but my head was harder than that. I sat on a park bench to recover my wits.

Clearly, my big mistake was not showing the big guns. I drew my weapons before checking out the convenience store. At first, it seemed empty, but I heard sounds coming from the back. I moved silently to see if I could surprise my quarry.

Someone shoved me against the stall divider. My head wound opened again, and I staggered.

Before he could stike again, I regained my balance and pointed my weapons at my assailant. It was my quarry! But there would be no story: I could see in his eyes that he was completely insane.

He was unimpressed by the firepower - or perhaps thought I wouldn't use it - and he lunged at me again.

He was wrong. I fired twice, and both bullets hit their target at point-blank range. The man went down, and stayed there. I trudged back to the docks to await the return of the freighter, and wondered what to tell my editor.