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His knuckles rap against the metal of the door.
“Delivery!” He shouts over the howling wind, peeling his goggles away from his eyes. Immediately, he has to start blinking dust out of them and he quickly slips them back on. “For mister Ulysses!”
He hears footsteps echoing inside the shack. There’s the sound of locks clicking, something heavy being moved, and the door creaks open. It only opens partway, but Rudolph still sees Ulysses’ hand holding the knob, recognizable from the intricate scarification, keeping the door from flying open with the wind.
“It’s me, Rudolph! Rudolph Shields?” He shouts.
The door opens wider, and Rudolph sees an eye poking through it. He pulls down his headscarf and gives his trademark grin.
“Sorry ‘bout the wind! Mind if I come in?”
If there’s an answer, he doesn’t hear it over a sudden, howling gust that makes the nearby shacks creak. In the distance, he thinks he hears children squealing from nearby houses as the wind makes the walls tremble.
But the door opens even wider, Ulysses’ hand disappearing. Before the it flies off it’s hinges, Rudolph grabs the knob and keeps it steady, making just enough room for him to slip inside and closing it behind him.
There’s an immediate relief without the wind tearing at everything it could reach. Rudolph sighs and pulls off his scarves and goggles, letting both hang around his neck. Sand shifts from the folds of his clothing as he brushes them down. He looks up and sees Ulysses, who’s watching him with a keen, curious eye and crossed arms.
“Should get an in-facing door, instead,” Rudolph says, observing the place. It was small, but the space was used well; workbench and ammo table on one side, stove and fridge on the other, a rickety bed frame in the corner, and a room in the back, what he could assume was a bathroom. There was an Old World flag hanging on the wall over the bed, intact and as clean as Rudolph’s ever seen one. “Nice place you got here.”
“You’re here again,” Ulysses says, a hint of mild surprise in his voice. “Been only a week after that delivery.”
That delivery, where Rudolph had the pleasure of shaking his hand. Where his bag was left lighter, having lost its copy of The Odyssey. He only shrugs.
“Yup. It’s been busy. Couriers come and go in here, but not a lot are looking to stick around with the first route. Me?” He thumps a fist against his own chest and gives a proud smile. “Well, you could say I like the challenge. ‘Sides, I like this place, wind and all.”
He expects a laugh, maybe even a joke or a scoff, but when he looks at Ulysses, he’s surprised to see something akin to awe on the man’s morose face. It glitters something fierce in his eyes, and it reminds Rudolph of their first walk together, when Ulysses had been staring out into the distant lights of Hopeville.
“You brave the road here many times,” Ulysses says, and oh boy, that voice was sending tingles up Rudolph’s back. “Always coming back. Breathing life into this place, when not many would. Your trail made it that way.”
“My trail, huh? Well, when you put it that way,” Rudolph chuckles, feeling his face warm, “gee, makes it sound like I’m doin’ something right.”
“You know it well; the work of couriers. Connecting others through the roads they walk, the packages they deliver. Not something to take lightly. Irony, in what you say.”
Rudolph shuffles his feet, not sure how to reply in that moment. The ground underneath him crunches with the sand and dust that came in from the outside. There’s a certain discomfort that comes with being so scrutinized, but with it, there’s the relief of understanding that quells it. Not many truly appreciated or understood the work of couriers, who crossed the miles when no one else could. That was something only couriers themselves could relate to. As far as Ulysses was concerned, he was sort’ve right; Rudolph wasn’t sure how many couriers ever passed through the Divide before him, if any, but he’s blazed a path that he finds being used more often these days. Still, it felt odd, claiming that trail as his own.
“Heh, not proclaiming to be the best out there, but I’ll take the compliment.”
Ulysses nods slowly, and wow, his eyes were the most intense set that Rudolph’s ever seen. The man looks pointedly at his pack and Rudolph sputters, his hands flying down to the buckle.
“Oh! Right, sorry ‘bout that!” He undoes the buckle and opens the flap, digging around through the parcels. His eyes read the names and locations quickly, falling on one closer to the top. A small, hessian-wrapped package that clinks each time he moves it, probably holding something metallic. He closes the flap and makes sure the buckle is secure before turning back to Ulysses and holding it out to him.
“Here ya go, comes from a missus Paula Gillian from Hopeville. She stopped me on the way up the high road and asked for you.”
Ulysses takes the package, eyeing it with interest. “Hmm. Thank you.” He looks up at Rudolph. “Delivering in between Hopeville and Ashton now?
“For a bit, yeah. I’m waiting on delivery orders from the Mojave in two-days time or so, then I gotta get back through the road. Decided to do some deliveries in here, too, while I wait. Say, I don’t reckon that’s your job here?”
“Not often, no. Mostly tending to the animals instead. Sometimes, helping others here settle, building structures. Community needs all the hands it can get.”
Rudolph grins at that. “Heh. Cozy place like this, I guess people would be comin’ to you.” He looks up at the ceiling, noting how the wind wasn’t too loud in here, compared to the other buildings he’s been in so far. “This is a real secure place you got. It don’t shake much at all, holds well. Didn’t peg you for an architect fellow.”
Ulysses only grunts noncommittally, nodding to Rudolph’s packages. “Plenty of messages to deliver.”
“Ah, I got it, I got it.” Rudolph sighs as he brushes the remaining dust off his scarf and wipes smudge marks out of his goggles, putting the both of them on. He turns to the door with a salute. “See you, Ulysses. Best wishes, yeah?”
Ulysses says nothing as Rudolph begins to open the door. There’s an immediate gust of wind that nearly yanks it out of his hands, but he holds on tight.
However, before he gets a foot out of the door, something comes to mind. He turns to face Ulysses, who was setting his package down on the workbench.
“Hey, are you, uh, busy tomorrow or somethin’?” He asks, deciding to chance it while he’s still here.
Ulysses looks at him, and Rudolph is already regretting it when he sees the bewildered look on the man’s face. No doubt waiting for more of an explanation.
But seeing it is enough to make him regret it, and he high-tails it, halfway out the door. “Never mind, bye!”
He closes the door, flinching when he unintentionally slams it with a bang. Real smooth, Rudy.
But despite the biting winds all around him, Rudolph’s face still feels heated with embarrassment, and there’s an odd giddiness he can’t shake as he braves the Divide storm and makes his way to his next destination.