Smith

by Wade Adrian

  The scouts climbed into the tent without question. Ross was their head honcho, after all. Morei didn’t look happy, but technically he was also under Ross’ command and subject to his whims.

  Baron shrugged. “If you think you’ve got it handled, alright. Come on, Smith.”

  “I sincerely doubt I’ll be able to sleep.” Smith shook his head.

  Baron chuckled. “You don’t know how tired you are yet. Hold still long enough, you’ll be out like a light.”

  Smith’s place by the fire was still clear. Not much else was, though. Place was carpeted with sleeping scouts and hunters. Timms’ chin was resting on his chest now, too. Rawlins hadn’t moved an inch. Maybe Baron was onto something.

  The cart behind Smith rattling, the gun going off, and all the yelling said otherwise.

  Baron bolted outside, his sidearm in hand. Smith followed.

  His eyes weren’t prepared for just how dark it was after being inside with the fire. While most of the lights were still standing, and two of the fires were still lit, the closest one was a scattered pile of embers.

  He was shoved aside as others filed out of the tent, weapons in hand.

  Once his eyes adjusted a bit he could see Morei ducked low, his rifle trained on the dark.

  Ross was on the ground behind him.

  Smith grabbed hold of the scout boss and yanked on his jacket, dragging him back to the tent. He groaned a bit. “Thing charged us. Another came from our six.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Everyone is outside. We’ve got them all covered.” He shoved the tarp open. “Rawlins!”

  The medic was sitting up, his eyes bleary. They cleared up when he saw Ross. “By the fire. I’ll need light.”

  Smith obliged, moving Ross as gently as he could. He pointed at Timms. “Give him a hand.”

  The librarian blinked a few times before nodding.

  Smith ducked back outside, his hands pulling free his gun and knife.

  It was quiet. Still. People stood in a circle, everyone wary. Baron and Morei had the third fire built back up.

  The scout scoffed a bit as he stood and readied his rifle once more. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear they were trying to make us waste firewood.”

  Baron leveled his eyes at the darkness, his head sweeping back and forth slowly. “Nonsense.”

  Smith couldn’t see a thing in the gloom beyond their pocket of light. “Ross underestimated them, too. For now, let’s just assume they’re as smart as we are. How would we deal with human attackers here?”

  “Unarmed ones? Pretty much what we’re doing. Limit their avenues of attack, prepare to repel them. Granted, we probably wouldn’t be using firearms for that, but…” He shrugged.

  “Oh, no. No. I’m on board with guns. I’ve met the green eyed bastards before.” Smith tilted his head a bit, trying to keep his eyes peeled. “Hey, Morei.”

  “Eh?” The scout didn’t lower his rifle.

  “What did the thing look like?”

  “Like a fuzzy gray blur.”

  “Damn.” Smith sighed. “Well, I guess the mystery remains.”

  Baron’s voice was level, no mirth in his words. “If we bag one you can stuff it for display.”

  “Huh.” Smith pondered that for a moment. “You promise?”

  Baron chuckled.

  Morei shifted his scope back and forth. “Wonder what they taste like…”

  The night dragged on. The only sounds Smith noticed were from inside the tent. Ross wasn’t the most helpful patient while he was getting patched up. He said some things that Smith couldn’t repeat in polite company.

  Timms ducked out of the tent a few times. Each time he would dig in the cart full of pharmacy stuff for a moment and then head right back inside.

  Ross stopped groaning and complaining after an hour or so. Probably when the painkillers kicked in.

  He might have been the only one that got any real sleep the rest of the night.

  The fires became popular hangouts, carefully tended even as they shrank… after the snow started falling.

  35

  The sky lightened well before the sun rose. It didn’t take a trained eye to see the prints in the light dusting of white. The things had been stalking them all night. Watching. Waiting for an opening.

  Smith wondered how long ago they had given up to find a place to sleep. Completely unfair. It couldn’t have been that long, the tracks were fairly distinct despite new flakes falling.

  He had been seated with his back to the tent, his front facing a dwindling fire. The wood had run out an hour ago. He’d pondered the notebook again… but it hadn’t come to that. Besides, it wouldn’t have bought more than a few moments.

  They’d certainly be gathering more firewood in the nights to come, though.

  Breaking down the camp didn’t take long. They mostly just folded things back into the carts. No one was in great shape to move, but staying put wasn’t much of an option either. Baron had the scouts wander ahead to keep an eye out, as well as make note of defensible stopping points. Walls of any sort were better than none if the green eyes followed them.

  Smith rearranged the carts some, keeping all the solar lights tops up to soak up all the sun they could today. They might end up being useful tools for scouts and hunters to take out into the wild. A last resort option, but better to have than not.

  He also ended up with Timms’ solar panels and battery setup on top of his cart so Ross could ride on top of Rawlins’ cart, his right leg splinted and his left arm in a sling against his chest. It was red in places, but Smith didn’t pry about his condition. If they wanted to talk about it, they would.

  The morning was slow going. Ross almost fell a few times when the road got rough, but each cart had two people manning it, which saved him from the worst of it.

  Smith shook his head as he watched, and as soon as the midday stop was called he started poking around for parts. A litter was easy enough to make with wood and what they had lying around. The tarps weren’t important at the end of the road, so he cut strips from one to weave together.

  Ross made a face when Smith offered it, but Rawlins jumped at the idea. Ross didn’t want any extra fuss on his account, but Baron pulled rank and got two of the scouts to carry it. They were supposed to trade off with others every hour.

  Rawlins patted Smith on the back. “It occurred to me, but I didn’t think we had the stuff, or the time. Figured the cart was the best we had.”

  Smith shrugged. “A pocket knife, some duct tape, and a can of WD-40, I can make you a house.”

  Rawlins chuckled. “I don’t doubt it. Here, by the way.” He reached into his pocket and held his hand out to Smith.

  He was holding a claw. A big one. The size of Smith’s pinkie finger.

  Smith took it gingerly. “Wow.”

  Rawlins nodded. “Was stuck in his arm, fortunately nowhere near any arteries. Looks like it broke off. Ross says Morei unloaded into the thing and then hit it with the butt of his rifle. Kind of makes me wonder if they can shed them like a lizard’s tail.”

  “Huh.” Smith turned the claw over in the sunlight. It was almost three inches long, and sharp enough to cut with little pressure applied. “Geez. Glad they didn’t get any closer.”

  “Definitely. Doubt there’s anything I need it for. Keepsake for you. I’m sure we’ll get the rest of one later so you can make a rug or whatever.”

  “I would be afraid for the welfare of my feet.”

  The medic grinned and clapped Smith on the back again.

  Baron called for them to get moving.

  Smith tucked the claw away into his pocket as he got his cart moving again. There was no one to take over now.

  He didn’t even know how many claws the things had. He had four marks on his shoulder, but that might not have even been the whole paw.

  By all accounts, Ross had fared better than Smith had in his attack. Not surprising, given his background, and backup when it went down. He’d probably be
back to work in a week or two. Or a few days if he had his way.

  Having seen the claw, Smith found himself rather glad the green eyes had hit him where it did. Lots of bones. The claw was easily long enough to have killed him if it had met a less obstructed organ. The thing could have cut him to ribbons.

  They met up with a scout they had sent forward as the sun began to set. There were old buildings ahead where the other forward scouts were already busy constructing a camp. The road was flat and safe enough to travel with some light, which was easy enough to provide with the solar lamps. Smith stuck a few into the front of each cart to act like headlights.

  Baron wasn’t happy about the growing dark, but everyone was inspired enough to reach safety to keep everything moving. The sun was just giving up when they rolled up on an old house with fires burning.

  They tied up the carts and headed inside where they were greeted with food and a roaring fire in the living room. Ross was moved to an old couch, and promptly fell asleep after eating. Rawlins kept a close eye on him. The man seemed to be much better with a task to occupy his mind. Smith could understand that. His collection of chess pieces had been growing each night.

  He sat against the back of the couch beside Morei, his supper in hand. He was pretty sure it was chicken. “So, how far out are we now?”

  “If not tomorrow, the next day.”

  Smith nodded and let out a sigh. “Good.”

  Morei grinned. “Aww, don’t be like that. I was going to invite you on the next supply run.”

  “No, thanks. I’m sure I have work just piling up.”

  “Uh-huh. Wuss.”

  Smith shrugged. “Hey, things need making.”

  “Yeah, like that litter. And the headlights. And thinking to grab solar lights at all. You could do a lot of good out here.”

  “Right up until I’m eaten.”

  “Everybody’s gotta go sometime. You going to feel better dying old in a bed? There’s no guarantee of that these days anyway.”

  “Appreciate the vote of confidence, but I think you’ll need me in my shop more than out here.”

  “Bleh.” Morei shook his head. “Fine, fine.”

  “It’s okay. You can visit. I’ll drag up your lady friend, set up a picnic…”

  Morei narrowed his eyes at Smith. “You’re a monster.”

  Smith grinned. “Oh, sure. You can harass me, but I can’t respond in kind? Hardly. Push away. See how that works out for you.”

  “You’re no fun.”

  “I am way to tired to be fun. You’re lucky I’m still communicating verbally.”

  Baron’s voice rose above the others. “Alright, get some rest. We’re close. Tomorrow we’ll roll in as heroes, whether we’re still hauling things ourselves, or, hopefully, when the local population lends a hand.” He nodded a few times. “If you’re in the watch rotation, you know about it. If you’re not, get all the shuteye you can.”

  Morei gave Smith a nod. “First rotation. See you in the morning.”

  Smith waved. “Thanks for volunteering.”

  The scout laughed. “Volunteering. You’re funny.”

  Timms was already out. Rawlins was sitting up… but snoring. Smith settled in behind the couch where he sat, pulling up the collar on his coat and wrapping himself in his blanket. Should have packed a scarf.

  “Smith?”

  He lifted his head a bit at the sound of Ross’ quiet voice. “Yeah?”

  “Thanks.”

  He smiled a bit. That was probably the most he would get out of Ross. “Happy to help.”

  “When we get back, I’m going to be stuck in town for awhile…”

  “Probably, yeah.”

  “Set up that picnic for Morei. I want to see him squirm.”

  Smith chuckled to himself. “Done.” The man must have been on some pretty good painkillers.

  He didn’t even realize he had fallen asleep when a nudge woke him. Soft light was coming in through the front windows. The sun wasn’t up yet, but the sky said it wouldn’t be long.

  They were already packing up. Baron was standing in front of Smith, with his foot nudging Morei, seated to his left, curled up like a ball. The scout grunted and ignored him, burrowing in like he was going to roll away.

  “It’s go time, kid.”

  Morei sighed. “Do I have any paid leave saved up? This has been the worst assignment.”

  Smith climbed to his feet. “Oh, come on. It’s not all bad. You got a rifle. You met me.”

  “Like I said, worst assignment.”

  Smith nudged the Morei ball with his foot, knocking the scout over.

  Baron shook his head and went about making sure everything else was ready.

  They were moving again before the sun cleared the horizon, More snow had fallen, making the path difficult to locate beyond a lack of trees. At least there were no new tracks. The night had passed without a threat.

  Maybe they were territorial? That would be both good and bad. It would mean some green eyes considered the town part of their territory, but wiping that group out might mean more wouldn’t necessarily pop up any time soon.

  The carts had a hell of a time with the snow. They were just being shoved along as often as they were actually rolling. In places people had to work in pairs to get them over obstacles.

  Smith wasn’t asked to push one that morning, nor was Timms or Rawlins. They were on guard duty, weapons in hand, though more qualified people had the dangerous weapons.

  He wasn’t sure if it was a reward for pushing the carts the entire day before, or because they thought they had done so entirely too slowly. Either way, not pushing a cart was a victory in Smith’s book.

  Which reminded him to make more notes in his notebook. No one else was keeping a log of activity, so it was up to him to write up what had happened to Ross. Unfortunately, he wasn’t privy to all of it, but he noted how he had been patched up and transported afterward.

  He took the claw out of his pocket and traced around it, too. A record even if he managed to misplace it, somehow. Maybe he would make a necklace, or attach it to a knife’s pommel. It would be pretty intimidating… if one ignored the standard rule about a weapon never hurting its wielder. Probably a bad idea.

  It was mid morning when they encountered the first scout bolt hole. The typical occupants were out, so Baron left them a message before signaling the lot of them to keep moving. When they stopped at a second bolt hole for the rather late midday break, two scouts from the first caught up with them, and another was inside.

  It was heartening to see new friendly faces, and wonderful that they were willing to help with transporting the goods. Well, “willing” might have been a stretch but scouts or hunters, their superiors were here and telling them to help. It made life easier on the last stretch for those that had come so far, snow or not.

  The mood lightened considerably, talk and laughter appearing in the open world for the first time in weeks. The story of their trip was told for the first time, but absolutely not for the last time. Smith was certain of that.

  Once Timms’ part in events and various introductions were dolled out, he was treated like an old friend. He hadn’t spoken much on the trip, but he spoke even less now. He didn’t seem to do well in crowds or with new people.

  Smith walked along beside him. “You okay?”

  “Hmm?” The librarian adjusted his glasses. “Indeed. An easy day, after yesterday.”

  “Tell me about it. I don’t think my feet will ever be the same.”

  “I have uncomfortable shoes as well.”

  Smith smiled a bit. “Don’t fret the new faces. I honestly don’t know most of them either. These folks are scouts and hunters. They answer to Ross and Baron, and all of them right up to the top are rarely seen inside the walls.”

  Timms frowned. “So my attempts at socialization have been in vain?”

  Smith couldn’t help himself. He laughed softly. “Well, I’m going to be in there. Rawlins, too. And if you see an
y scout or hunter it will most likely be Ross or Baron, so I wouldn’t say wasted. Besides, consider it practice for everyone you’ll get to know.”

  Timms nodded a bit. “Perhaps you’re right.”

  “I often am.” Smith nodded sagely.

  They kept on walking long after sunset. Most knew exactly where they were, and there were plenty of hands to keep things moving and lit. Ross was a reminder of what remained in the wide world, however, so while voices might have been jovial, weapons were readied and Smith’s solar lamps were in every free hand.

  Smith felt weeks of tension fade away when the gates came into view.

  36

  The single light atop the wall was a bit… strange. And despite the crowd outside, lit up like a wandering circus, the gate remained closed.

  Baron narrowed his eyes up at the gate. “What’s this about?”

  One of the scouts that had joined them shook his head. “Don’t know, haven’t checked in in almost two weeks.”

  Timms frowned. “Two weeks?”

  Morei nodded. “The further out we’re posted, the less likely we are to check in. We don’t need many creature comforts, as a general rule.” He glanced about. “What, are all of you ring scouts?”

  Most of them nodded. Ring scouts were apparently the furthest out. The scout that spoke up shrugged. “We haven’t heard much, most of us were waiting for you guys. The homestead is usually quiet. Or, well, their problems aren’t usually our problems.”

  Baron held his hands up on either side of his mouth. “Hello the gate.”

  Silence reigned. More than one scout found his weapon back in his hands.

  Smith did, too. All of this seemed… wrong. And there had been a green eyes just outside the first night he was inside those walls. Maybe they had finally made their way in and…

  Oh no.

  A small eternity later a second light appeared on top of the gate, pointed straight at them. “Oh, hey. Cool.” Cooper’s voice echoed down, though all Smith could see in the gloom was the spot of light. “Just a moment.”

  Smith let out a relieved sigh.

  “A moment?” Baron grumbled. “We’ve got wounded. Hurry it up.” He barked up at the gate before he turned and waved for Smith to follow. They wandered a few steps towards Rawlins and Ross. The medic had been keeping close to his patient.