Prologue A: P1
Dez felt it in his bones, his gut, his head—a rising pressure, like a torrent barely dammed inside him. It told him today would be anything but ordinary. He relied on his instincts; life had made it essential. It might sound odd; most wouldn’t claim to feel something like this. Yet Dez always sensed trouble approaching—by a smell or a tingle. Today, it was thick in the air, making his skin crawl. The scent was distinctly sulfurous.
When he was younger, he had assumed everyone had it. Talked about it often, too, but learned that he was treated differently and kept it to himself. Dez had asked Mr. Little, his father, about it once, but the man had merely shaken his head at him, not taking the matter seriously.
He tried to ignore the maddening sense, focusing instead on the dense woods that gave Eyeville its name. The trees stood like ancient pillars, their branches and leaves interlocking to form an unbroken barrier between road and forest. People vanished there, the place a maze without end. Eyeville itself was carved from harsh wilderness where few dared to live. Yet someone—perhaps a desperate settler, too stubborn or too hopeless to choose better—had claimed this spot. Others followed, and through sheer grit, built a camp, then a village, then this small, struggling town.
For Dez, Eyeville was a constant annoyance. Secluded and modest, the town was also stifling. Despite the age of technology the world was in, most folks found phones and the Internet too expensive or inconvenient here. The residents were stuck in the past—people were too unwilling to leave. And if Dez was being honest, it was a white town. Most folk here barely knew other colored folk, and generally distrusted them.
That may have been the true reason Dez disliked Eyeville so much. The Dez family was one of about a half-dozen black families, compared to dozens of white families. And while the times had supposedly changed elsewhere, Dez saw none of that here and now. Racism was alive and well, more subtle now for most, but bold and powerful in Eyeville. Combine that with a town with seemingly nothing to do, and people who are unchanging and intolerant. And Dez had grown to hate it all, desperate one day to leave it all behind. To start over.
Dez groaned as the headache and irritation worsened. He cursed himself for thinking too much with a pounding skull.
“Yo Desmond.” A voice broke him out of his stupor, its tone a mix of concern and mockery, a contradiction that simply was Hooks. The man was his best friend, and by all metrics, his brother, the only family Dez had nowadays.
The two made for an odd pair. Dez was a short, buzzed-cut man, and Hooks was towering with dreads tied into a neat ponytail. Dez’s face seemed to be locked into a frozen scowl, while Hooks contrasted that with a cocky smirk.
Even their personalities seemed to clash. Dez was a relaxed guy in general, content to do whatever and generally enjoy his time. Hooks was a schemer, someone always plotting something, chasing his next interest of the week. Dez was genuinely disliked throughout the town for his reputation and attitude. Hooks was beloved, seen as charismatic and, even by white folks, as one of the good ones. But the two agreed on a couple of vital things: the dislike of the folks of Eyeville, particularly the constraining racist. And a desperate need to leave this town and its way of life behind. “To escape to the present,” as Hooks often referred to it.
Though for Hooks, the need had seemingly intensified. Dez had noticed the man was more agitated. His energy was restless, his determination to leave stronger than ever. His attitude in general had changed. Now, his optimism was laced with impatience and agitation.
“You being just normal weird, or is it extra weird today, brother?” Hooks interrupted.
Dez scowled, caught again. The sense was a private secret—an oddity he alone experienced. Sharing it always brought trouble, but Hooks knew. Years together and a night of partying had made Dez admit the secret. Hooks kept it but stayed skeptical, only annoyed when it came up.
“Yeah, so what if it is? Sometimes it comes in handy. It even flared that night…” Dez said. “Besides, it gives me a headache – I can’t ignore it.”
“Oh, be a real brother and thug it out.” Hooks mocked. “That feeling is just you spazzing out, my man. Ignore it. Today is going to be a great day. The new start to our lives, my Brother.”
Hooks had been repeating that a lot lately. Dez didn’t mind. Maybe the more Hooks said it, the more likely it would be. Both men had been similar for years. Two recent high school graduates, just treading water. Dez was kicked out by his father. Hooks, a strong student, hated school. They got an apartment, scraped by. They lived, partied, and dreamed that things might someday be better. Then Hooks won the lotto.
Dez barely remembered the day; they had spent it all drinking. He was at his latest job when Hooks arrived—with a brand new car and the smuggest grin Dez had seen on the man. Hooks was suddenly rich and determined to leave, and had determined that Ritz and Dez needed to go with him. Ritz was sick, so Hooks and Dez celebrated the newfound wealth alone—a night of drinking, drugs, and wild energy that later brought them grief and a setback to their plans.
That night, they ran into another group partying, a mostly white one that apparently knew Ritz. Inebriated as they were, it went well at first, the two groups mixing and socializing normally. However, the leaders of the two groups, Jack and Hooks, had gotten into it, and tempers flared into a brawl. Dez had rushed forward to defend his friend, and Jack’s friends had done the same. It had caused a massive scene and had required cops to be called to settle the matter.
Ritz’s friend Jack wasn’t just anyone—he was the Sheriff’s son. He used his connections to clear himself and his friends, while assuring that Dez and Hooks would take the fall.
Both served a year in jail. They paid fines. Eyeville lacked long-term facilities, so they were sent elsewhere. After months served, Hooks eventually bailed them out.
“Brother, if you don’t lock in.” Hooks chided, but his voice carried an undercurrent of worry. “Ever since we went downtown, you’ve been even moodier. It’s like you can’t shake the weight off. You’re acting like a female bro.” Hooks’s usual teasing held a note of concern; he clearly noticed Dez’s lingering pain and frustration since their imprisonment, and it made Hooks uneasy, too.
“What do you expect me to do—be ecstatic to have been imprisoned? Should I be excited we’re finally out?” Dez replied, voice tight with resentment and pain. “Brother, while we sat there, I did nothing but think over my life. That damn night—” The weight of regret and self-blame pressed down on him as he spoke, mixing guilt with anger at his situation.
“Drop it already, man, I didn’t plan for that.” Hooks complained, a hint of guilt flickering in his frustration. “Besides, you mean he kept crossing your mind. Forget about what Mr. Little said, brother…”
Dez was silent, proving Hooks right, but the man had pulled a low blow to win. Mr. Little was his father, Dez himself being named Desmond Little, though only Hooks ever called him Desmond. Mr. Little, insisting on being called such by even Dez, his own son, was a strange and constricting man. Fitting for one of the longest residents of Eyeville. One of the few decent black men in town, he was known as the owner of a humble thrift shop and as the leader of the church choir. He was seen as a role model. And had for most of Dez’s life insisted on creating Dez as his mirror image. Something that, as Dez had gotten older, grew to resent. Mr. Little was a member of the community and loved Eyeville despite its faults. But Dez despised it, and that, along with Hooks, had created a rift between father and son. It was why Dez went by such, refusing to go by the name his father chose for him.
“Yes, he did,” Dez admitted with a shrug. “How crazy for a guy to think of his family when he’s rotting in jail.”
“I feel ya, my man, I really do. But that’s what I’m saying, you’re stressed out and resentful. I know it’s because I feel the same, brother. But we gotta keep our cool, we’ll be heading out of this shitty town soon enough…” Hooks said.
Dez hesitantly nodded in response, anxiety tightening in his chest. The man was right; he just couldn’t shake this subtle feeling of dread, and it left him troubled and unfocused.
After jail, things weren’t as dire as Dez had feared. Hooks bought their freedom. He found them factory jobs. Now they could finally plan to leave Eyeville. Tonight, they were out for one last night. They were on their way to fetch the third musketeer, Ritz.
Ritz was the third in their trio, a man who had earned both of their respect over time. He came from a large farming family within Eyeville, but was estranged from them all. Among Eyeville’s residents, his family was famous for their discrimination and open hatred of those different, but Ritz was different, even willing to stand up for them against his own blood. For “moral integrity”, his family had cut him off, leaving him alone in the city. Most young men would’ve been crushed, Dez included.
Ritz, thanks to his skills, became independent. He got a low-paying restaurant job. He managed to get his own apartment. In his free time, he used his farming skills as a side hustle. He knew they were going out tonight, but not that Dez and Hooks planned to leave. He certainly didn’t know they wanted him with them.
The car lurched as Hooks cut off a small smart car just for fun. Its horn blared, but Hooks only laughed harder. Dez shook his head, but secretly smiled. Hooks loved his new car and enjoyed defying Eyeville even more...
