Smith

by Wade Adrian

  Ross knocked on the door in a long and silly sounding sequence.

  It opened.

  Smith wished he had been paying more attention.

  A woman dressed in scout garb answered. The inside looked just as bad off… but he could see a trap door standing open.

  A bolt hole. Huh. Smart. He’d never considered it when he was out here. He vaguely remembered walking by the place, but it looked like a hive of tetanus, wasps, and snakes… which made a lot of sense when he thought about it. Hiding in plain sight.

  Baron tugged on his beard. “Don’t get too used to these. We’ve only got a dozen or so, a few in each direction. Last one this way is a day’s journey on foot. Probably where we’ll stop for the night. Past that we’re on our own.”

  “These just places to hold up for the night, or is there some means to send information along?”

  “Walkie talkies, when they’re working. Rare. We tried CB, but it broadcast too far, and was too open. Anyone wandering through with the right equipment would know someone was here, even if they couldn’t see them.”

  Smith nodded. “Right. What about birds? Or… I dunno… telegraphs maybe?”

  Rawlins chuckled. “No one to train the birds, and a lack of pigeons anyway. Telegraph wires would be visible. Also no good.”

  Baron watched the exchange up at the shed, but stayed with them. “About the best we can do is have people who see suspicious things run the information. Station A sends a runner to station B, B sends one to C, etcetera. Slow, but our people know the terrain and how to move in it. Information usually out paces problems.”

  There had to be a better solution… but Smith didn’t know what it would be. His mind jumped straight to cell phones and texting, but there were no functioning towers anymore.

  Things had changed, though people were still adapting. Baron probably had the right idea, given what was available.

  “Guess the best I can think of is trying to scrounge up some rechargeable batteries for the walkie talkies, and some solar panels to charge them.”

  Baron nodded a bit. “Might work. Problem is that’s still open to eavesdropping. Not as bad as CB, since it would be less active, but someone might stumble onto it.”

  Ross returned a moment later, the door closing quietly behind him. Smith was expecting some screeching from rusty hinges. He was disappointed. “Quiet on this front. Nothing new since I passed this way early yesterday. They’ve noted who is leaving and are going to send runners to adjust the duty roster.”

  Baron inclined his head. “My people are already aware, but I’ll be grateful for any help yours can give.”

  “Maybe you should pick up a few more.”

  “Don’t have the time.” Baron was the first to get moving again.

  Smith fell in. “How many people are out here?”

  Ross raised an eyebrow at him. “That might be privileged information, new guy.”

  Rawlins rolled his eyes. “Baron has six, Ross has twelve.”

  Ross glared at the medic. “The hell, man?”

  “He’s a resident, and a division head. You really think the guy would take being out here alone over shelter and food?”

  Ross shook his head as his eyes swept back to the front.

  Rawlins shrugged. “Don’t mind him. Cautious to a fault. Makes him good at his job, but a little less so with people.”

  Baron only had six hunters, and three where with them. Ross had as many plodding along, but nine of his where still at their posts. This was an expensive venture indeed.

  The day dragged on. Smith’s feet where a bit sore, but he could cope. He’d survived worse. If he had been wearing his old shoes they might have fallen apart by now. He hadn’t moved this far in a day in ages.

  Rawlins was the one having a hard time keeping up. For all his talk of staying in shape, he was winded by mid afternoon. He kept on, and Ross and Baron’s people slowed their pace for him, but he was clearly annoyed with himself.

  They made it to the final checkpoint Baron had mentioned after the sun had gone down. Word hadn’t preceded them, so the scout inside was a bit surprised to see them.

  The group settled in front of the checkpoint, an old shack that looked like it had fallen in. Another illusion hiding a subterranean hiding spot. Baron and his hunters departed while Ross’ people made camp and got a small fire going. They made the fire in a small hole and built up dirt walls around it to hide most of the light.

  Rawlins rubbed at his feet and shins as he sat by the fire, grumbling to himself. Ross was speaking to the posted scout.

  Smith tilted his head as he stared at the fire. “Bikes.”

  Rawlins glanced up. “Eh?”

  “Bikes. To move information faster. Yeah, your movements might be more obvious, but when you fly by and someone on foot can’t hope to keep up, you’re still ahead. Bikes.”

  One of the scouts shook his head. “We move over rough terrain. Bikes won’t do that.”

  Smith shrugged. “Mountain bikes. Or just use them for running information, and not general movements.”

  Ross settled in. “What’s all the pie in the sky talk about now?”

  “Bikes.” Smith nodded. “Faster than walking, people powered.”

  Ross scoffed. “If you see one in tact, let me know. I’ll think about it.”

  Smith frowned. “Ah. Yeah… might have failed to consider that.”

  Rawlins was staring at the fire. “Isn’t this a bad idea? Letting people see us.”

  Ross shook his head. “We minimized that as much as we can. They’d have to have elevation on us to get more than a flicker now and then. We’ve got too many bodies to hide in trees. Besides, fire keeps the wildlife away.”

  Smith shivered a bit when he remembered those green eyes staring at him… and the claws that had made it through the fence.

  Ross poked at the fire before tossing on another bit of wood. “We don’t have any reports of human activity in the area. We’re pretty thorough.”

  Rawlins inclined his head toward Smith. “He snuck by.”

  Ross’ shoulders slumped a bit. “Nobody’s perfect. But since you mentioned it…” He turned his eyes to Smith. “How did you get that far in?”

  Smith shrugged. “I honestly had no idea any of this was out here. I was following the river when I noticed the fence. I stayed in close, sure to be up high whenever possible, letting foliage hide me.”

  Ross rolled his eyes. “I instruct my people to stay on the ground unless they’re hiding from an animal or need to sleep. You’re a sitting duck in a tree. Any half-assed marksman will drop you.”

  Smith smiled. “Don’t disagree. Just telling you how I got by.”

  “Huh.” Ross grunted.

  Baron and his hunters returned almost an hour later. It didn’t take them long to clean and cook the night’s meal. They’d found a body of water and some fish. A few of them had rabbits, but Smith preferred to take his chance with the fish.

  He scribbled up the day’s limited events in the notebook. He wasn’t sure of the actual date, so he simply noted it as day one. He was heartened to find there were scouts out here with them, even if they didn’t stretch out too far. It meant the area around the town was safer than he had thought, and the fence was the last line of defense, not the only one.

  He didn’t mention that those same scouts hadn’t kept the green eyed things away in the night. They probably weren’t capable of that. Keeping themselves safe was probably task enough. No doubt taking one of the things out would be a special effort.

  And he also didn’t mention that being out here felt… familiar. Almost normal. Every day inside the walls he had been on edge, waiting for them to find reason to throw him out. Not wanting to step on any toes, or say something disagreeable. To prove his value, his worth.

  Out here he was just a man, for good or for ill.

  He was pretty sure Mary wouldn’t want to hear that.

  22

  Smith and Rawlins were permitted to
sleep inside the bolt hole for the night. It wasn’t exactly spacious in the sunken wooden structure, and Rawlins snored a bit, but the night passed without incident otherwise. Baron woke them while it was still dark out, and they were moving before first light.

  No one said it out loud, of course, but they had some time to make up.

  The roads Ross had them travel weren’t exactly… roads. Goat paths might have been generous at times, too. But he seemed to know where he was going, even if it all looked like pretty much the same level of overgrown nothing to Smith. He liked road-roads.

  They stopped when it got too dark to keep moving. Everyone did their normal job, Ross and company making camp while Baron’s people scrounged up supper. This time they managed to find a wild pig and some berries.

  Smith was afraid his insides might protest. He’d learned to eat what he could find, true, but that had never involved killing a pig, boar, or whatever the hell it was. He’d practically become a vegetarian by necessity.

  Rawlins made it through the second day without slowing their progress much. He seemed determined to do better, but it left him a bit short tempered. Smith gave him his space.

  No roof that night, unfortunately. Smith and Rawlins were exempted from standing watch. The word “townies” was thrown around. If that’s what they wanted to do, Smith was fine with it. He’d take uninterrupted sleep any day.

  His notes on their traveling got a bit longer each day. He talked about the places they wandered by and passed on bits of things Baron and Ross, however reluctantly on Ross’ part, taught about the wild and traversing it.

  For all his time out here, Smith was still something of a novice. He’d survived, sure, but these people thrived. They supported the town more for the idea of a safe haven in dire times and because people there provided services the wild didn’t. Smith’s work was adding to that, so most of them seemed happy to have him along. Ross’ opinion of Smith wasn’t shared by his people. They were alright sorts. A few put in requests, which he wrote down and promised to look into once his shop was up and running. Others asked about his bows somewhat skeptically, even though Baron vouched for them. Seeing was believing these days.

  They were five days out when the weather turned on them. The outdoorsy types had seen it coming, but there wasn’t much they could do about it. They lacked shelter to hunker down, and didn’t have the time to wait it out anyway.

  The rain was cold. Dry places to sleep were difficult to come by and dictated the stopping point for two days.

  They spent the seventh night in a few old cars to keep the rain off. Smith and Rawlins had stayed in the back of a work van that only had windows front and back.

  The next morning as they were breaking camp Rawlins slipped on the wet ground. His foot twisted and he bit off a cry.

  They got him back to the van as the rain started up again, making everything just a bit more slick. It cleared up a few minutes later, almost as if the sky was mocking them.

  Baron leaned against the outside of the van. “Good a place as any to hold up.”

  Ross shook his head. “No. We press on. Leave the rations and we’ll pick him up on the way back.”

  Baron tilted his head slightly. “You want us to just ditch him? He won’t be here when we get back. No one stays out here alone and immobile for long.”

  Ross kicked the front passenger side tire. “We don’t have time for this.”

  Smith frowned. He was going to offer to stay with him, but he knew it would be argued down. Both of them were along for their expertise at the end of the road. They might well be down one, they wouldn’t stand to be down two.

  Baron tugged on his beard. “We leave two with him. One of mine, one of yours. Keep a safe camp going with fresh food. It’s only a twisted ankle. He’ll be able to move by the time we get back.”

  Ross rubbed at his temples. “We need all the hands we can get to carry supplies. We’ll be losing out on a third of what we could be bringing back.”

  “Better that then coming back with nine loaded down people and no medic. His welfare isn’t negotiable. Bishop wouldn’t hear of it.”

  Ross sighed. “Fine. Whatever. But we’ll have to lug extra back to this point, and they can take some of it off our hands.”

  Smith tilted his head. “How is the road from here?”

  They turned to look at him. Ross crossed his arms. “What?”

  “The road. Is it still all wandering through the woods, climbing hills, and wading streams? Or is it more like, you know, a road?”

  Ross pointed at the highway under their feet. “We follow this the rest of the way.”

  Smith nodded. “I’ll rig up something to carry more stuff. Just need some wheels. A wagon, a wheelbarrow, hell a shopping cart would do. On pavement we can force multiply and then divvy stuff up when we get back here.”

  Baron cut his eyes from Smith back to Ross. “Sounds reasonable to me.”

  Ross shook his head. “Fine, whatever. But we have time to make up, so no more dilly-dallying.”

  Smith ducked his head inside the van and patted Rawlins on the shoulder.

  Rawlins grumbled “Stupid weak ankles… here, Smith.” The medic held up a piece of paper, scrawled over back and front. “Shopping list I made for myself so I wouldn’t forget anything. Names of medications, broken down by use. You’re looking for antibiotics and painkillers mostly. Antiseptic would be great, but at this point any alcohol will probably do. All of it will be out of date. Doesn’t mean it’s trash, just means it’s probably less effective than I would like. Still better than nothing.”

  Smith took the page and added it to the pile. “Anything I can do for you before we get out of here? Sure I can skin a car seat for a blanket or something.”

  Rawlins shook his head. “My keepers will handle things. You get moving.”

  Smith nodded. “Back as fast as we can. You hang in there.”

  Rawlins scoffed. “Just a stupid ankle.”

  Smith hopped out onto the road. Baron and Ross were waiting. He glanced up, shading his eyes. “Think the weather will hold?”

  Baron shook his head. “No. So we need to be gone.”

  “Right, right.”

  The highway was littered with old cars. Some had been burnt, whether by accident or design, but plenty were just abandoned and served as useful shelter when the rains got really bad. They tried to make up time when it let up. The flat road helped a lot. Smith didn’t need to estimate the safety of each step.

  None of the cars had anything of use, really. They had long since been picked over. Most of them had trunks standing open. Some had their hoods up. It was rare to find one that hadn’t had the gas tank emptied or most of the glass broken, but they existed. And when they didn’t, they could hang coats over the windows to keep rain out… most of the time.

  Smith was sure they could have blocked all the windows, but they insisted on leaving ways to see out.

  It made sense in a “you’re letting in the cold” kind of way.

  His notes were a bit dull that day. Rusted and sun baked reminders of the past as far as the eye could see. Well, that and missing Rawlins. He was more willing to talk than the rest of them.

  So he wrote to Mary instead. The days mashed together into a rainy blob of highway walking. With the solid road underfoot, they were willing to travel by night when the clouds broke enough for the moon to light their way. Smith couldn’t really object, even if his feet were sore. Too much had been conspiring to slow them. Progress was progress. Each randomly cold gust reminded him of it.

  They made up some of the lost time because it was on day twelve that they reached the town as the sun was setting.

  Ross had them leave the highway and stay out of sight in some overgrown woods to the west of the place. It looked like it had been a park once, but the tall grass that was everywhere now was more than sufficient to shield them from prying eyes.

  “Alright, wait here.” Ross pointed at Smith, Baron, and the pair of hunters tha
t had come with them. “We’ll do a sweep and try and make contact with Morei. He’s been keeping an eye out, but won’t be expecting reinforcements yet. We’ll have to make the proper signals to call him in. Might take awhile if he isn’t watchful. Just… stay here and keep your heads down, eh?”

  Baron nodded. The hunters started making a small camp, throwing up a leanto made from coats and local sticks, covered with tall grass. Smith tried to stay out of the way.

  He sat under the leanto when so instructed and pulled out his notepad. His first impression of the town was that it seemed smaller than he had imagined. It was a place he wouldn’t have looked at twice driving through a decade ago. Not unless he needed gas, and then he would have been sure the place was overcharging to squeeze every dime out of travelers.

  He would be surprised if it had more than one stoplight. But its size and forget-ability might be why it was still here. No telling until they had a chance to poke around.

  Baron started a small fire, as was the custom, in a hole and shielded from view. It didn’t provide much in the way of light, but that wasn’t the point. It provided warmth and something to cook over.

  Rabbit had an… odd taste Smith didn’t think he’d get used to. Incredibly bland. Saying it tasted like chicken would be a disservice to chicken. The little buggers didn’t have much meat on them, either. Smith hadn’t really had time to get used to three square meals a day, but being out here was already making him miss them.

  More than once on the trip he had dreamed of Mary showing up with food, as she always seemed to when he wasn’t eating enough to suit people.

  Of course, that might not have had much to do with food.

  She spent a lot of time wandering through his thoughts on the long walk. It had been… a long time since anyone got stuck in his head like that. He counted himself fortunate he was too distracted and busy back in town to get flustered by her. Of course, that might not be the case anymore. Now he was looking forward to getting back there, his mind delighted to call the place home.

  Hopefully there was enough of a rapport build up to withstand his usual people skills.