by P. S. Power
“I do have something, if you don’t mind. I can set up the training for the irregulars here, but the next town over, Weston, they don’t have anyone to teach them. Renner sent a note, asking for us to help them with that. Good people, but not fighters at all. Barely a village, but that just means they’re an easy target. Are you up to teaching fifty farmers which end of the spear not to sit on?”
George thought for a second before answering. Much like that mine, the town of Weston was isolated enough that if attacked it might be most of a day for anyone to get there to help. If they could get word out in time at all. That meant they had to handle things for themselves.
“Right… Ken, from the mines? He was talking about things, but it occurred to me they have a similar issue out there. No one can get there in time to help them. Do we have a plan to teach the miners anything?”
The man looked at him, shaking his head slowly.
“Not that I know of. Get with Renner on it? If you’re willing and have the time to take on Weston, you’ll get a military contingent as well. Probably just some private with enough training to be annoying and an abiding assurance that he knows more than you do, but you get some help. This thing will carry four?”
The man patted the little sleigh. It had enough seats, but you didn’t want to overload things if you were going out in the snow. It was too easy to roll the things, if you weren’t careful. Rather than mention all that, he just agreed with the fellow.
“Not men and the gear, but we could put a team of two on this. It has the attachments.” It could also be shifted easily enough to work for one horse at a time, but that would mean carrying less, even if it was being pulled. It wasn’t heavy, but a horse could only do so much.
By doing it his way, which wasn’t unheard of at all, he could double the horse power. Literally. That was another thing that caused him to consider for a moment that the world of Stena was the real one. Cars were measured in horse power. That didn't make a lot of sense at all, unless you were used to being around the beasts.
Rather than go into his obvious brain damage, Cleot kept to his word and didn’t mention it again. Not that no one else would find out. That was part of why he’d painted it as being an imagination thing. A lot of people had an inner life that was different than their outer one. Even there, people probably did. Most of them wouldn’t think anything much of him being a bit strange that way. Not if he did his work, day to day.
It was part of why he’d mentioned the idea of him not being a Witch or anything. He wasn’t a psychic, or anything. That was a respected enough position in life, but was rare and as far as he could tell was more than half make believe itself. Part of it was just about knowing science tricks, or what herbs did what. Nothing he’d heard of had ever caused him to think it was much more than that.
Then, Homess didn't have any magic users directly, and it wasn’t like you could just see what they were doing on television. So, it could be that kind of thing was real there, and he was just not up on the idea clearly.
His Weapons Master looked at the shining wood of the sleigh again, finally touching the smooth surface with his hand.
“This is less than perfect, teaching farmers and the like. Still, we go on. We do what we have to, protect our people and then, if we can, protect everyone else from the worst of things. There’s a cost to that though. Always. In this case, young men like you, who should be starting a business and family have to go and do things that we have no right to ask of anyone. We have to, though. If we don’t have George Elder to guide the new troops, we end up with someone lower in skill, lacking in leadership ability.” There was a soft tone of bitterness in the words. An undertone in it that spoke of something that was rare, in any world. Worry for a person that most wouldn’t think to care about.
Not unless they were given reason to.
“I know that. I’ll get with Renner, as soon as I can. He went off to the Lewet camp?” That was about seven miles away, and was nothing more than a bunch of simple log buildings, from what he’d heard. The snow wasn’t deep though, and his boots were good for walking. Well enough worn that he wouldn’t get blisters from it.
Hopefully.
“Right. Do that. Remember to bring up the mine issue. That’s a good call, even if we don’t have the resources to handle it. Not knowing about it won’t help anyone either. You can head that way in the morning?”
They had a practice that night. Every day, in fact. Even on holidays. That was probably going to come to an end soon, if he had to go off to help the people of Weston. That one didn’t seem totally correct, to be honest. He could do it, but teaching battlefield fighting was different than what he normally did. Even his prior military experience had been different than what would be needed there.
Except, he understood, that wasn’t really true.
The Tollan fought using guerilla tactics. Hit and run, ambush, assassination. Lining up to fight them wouldn’t work, since they’d evaporate, running away to fight some other time that favored them. They might just have to work outside of the normal box for that, if they wanted to live. It didn't really matter how they fought, as long as they won. Not to him.
Which would have to be handled carefully. Suggesting to farmers and herders that the best plan was to sneak up behind someone and bash their head in was going to seem lacking in honor, he didn’t doubt. The Weapons Masters practiced that way, but a lot of people that might have been interested in that path never took it, fearing it lacked morality. They weren’t wrong, but being moral and dead wouldn’t serve anyone.
“I’ll head that way at first light. I have some ideas, but… Well, I don’t know. I doubt anyone will love them. It might not come up, thankfully.”
The other man looked at him, then bowed a bit. It was a strange thing, since no one did that there. It was a slightly odd mannerism, to be honest. A thing that he’d never really noticed from Cleot before. What it meant, he couldn’t tell.
“Good. I’ll have a letter for you to take, if you’re going anyway. I need to go and watch my shop. Deidre wants to see about doing some washing this evening.”
That was the man’s wife. Most people were married at a fairly youthful age, after all. Then, farmers didn’t need to take ten years to become expert, so they could marry at eighteen without it being a hardship on them or their new families. George was the odd one that way, which was going to show soon, if he didn’t meet a girl. That, or take a religious vow of chastity. If he did that, no one would think anything of it in particular. They didn’t have pedophile priests there.
After Cleot left, there was work to do, since it wasn’t that late in the day or anything. No one came in, so the rest of the day was all about working on his pet project.
He had to admit, the thing looked good. Expensive. Anyone seeing it would assume he was rich, he didn’t doubt. The Ferrari of fancy sleds.
Smiling, George got back to work, since there was nothing else to do, other than think about the fact that things just weren’t right in his life. He did that almost all the time, but it never really seemed to help anything. No matter how hard he did it.
Chapter four
The point that he came back into the world, Springfield, was different than he would have expected. It caused him to jump back, his eyes forcing open after the hard close that came when he shifted between realities. Or delusions. A small scream came from his lips, as George scrambled to turn the shower to a slightly warmer setting.
He was under a stream of water, at his gym, he thought. Thankfully no one else was in the place with him, since the cold water wasn’t letting him seem all that smart at the moment. Why he’d been standing under the chilly flow he didn’t know. From the feeling of it, his skin was hot on his back. Like he’d climbed out of a hot bath and then got under the cool water instantly.
Which, as the memories hit him and his hand turned the warm water on, he understood better. It wasn’t that he’d been in a hot tub, which his club didn’t have at all. No, he’
d been in the sauna. Cooking himself full blast for half an hour for some insane reason. It wasn’t the kind of thing he did. Not if he were in control of himself. Then George also didn’t hop into ice water showers, as a rule.
As soon as the water warmed to a human acceptable level, he tried to recall what was going on. That part got him to jump, just a bit. He was tired, from a hard workout, having hit cardio like a madman that day, as well as a very different weight routine. Lifting medium things more times than he normally did, to build endurance.
The freaky part, when he considered what was going on, was how long he’d been gone. At least a month. That didn’t match with what had happened in Stena however. That part had been a single day, if that. The sleigh was finished, and he’d moved back to his parents’ house after his evening practice with the Weapons Masters. Now he was back, remembering a whole lot of things that almost didn’t make sense.
A lot of it was just work and exercise, thankfully. Looking down at his middle, he noticed that he was thinner, with the flesh over his middle showing more abdominal muscles than they normally would have. It was a bit odd, but a thing that had kind of happened before. Except that it really hadn’t. He’d been stuck in one of the two worlds for weeks on end, more than once, but this was the first time that he’d had a big chunk of missing time. Little ones had happened before, but this was just strange.
When he got out, dressed in clothing that seemed to be new, a thing that he recalled as soon as he saw them, having gone to purchase them about two weeks before that point, he left, with people waving to him as he did it.
“Great workout today, George.” That was the counter girl, Deb. Not that she was a kid, really. The blonde was sporty seeming, having short hair, clear skin and a nice smile. Her teeth were very white and straight. She worked the desk, but was also a trainer, he thought. At least he saw her working with older women and men at times, trying to help them get back into something approaching shape.
Instantly, recalling what was in his head, he raised a hand to wave, even if it was the second time that day. That was interesting, since it seemed like a certain him based automaton had been flirting with Debbie rather firmly, for weeks. It wasn’t the plan he had for his life, but when he was gone, he wasn’t really in control of that kind of thing. Not that it was hard to figure out why he’d been doing it. The lady was hot. More than good enough to catch his attention.
Only, he wasn’t avoiding women because they weren’t good enough for him. George loved women, after all. They were great, for the most part. Especially in bed. At least he vaguely recalled that kind of thing. It had been a while after all.
“Hey!” He let himself light up on seeing her. Nothing great came to mind, as a line to use, but real flirting didn’t always take that kind of thing.
She smiled, as if he’d been brilliant, instead of suddenly stopping and staring at her, with his mouth open. Not that he had. George might not get to be with anyone, due to brain damage or delusions, but he managed to be halfway smooth with women, day to day. When he bothered to try. Part of that was down to his looks. Men, if they stayed in shape, tended to be all right that way. Women did too, for the most part. Then, he wasn’t really in a position to be picky at the moment.
She went on, waving at the wall, which was probably meant to indicate the small speaker there, behind the desk. It was playing a talk radio show, which was becoming the norm. After Chicago, there had been three more attacks while he was gone. All inside a five-hundred-mile area. Interestingly, they weren’t more bombs, but had been sniper actions. Police and FBI agents being targeted directly, which was setting the world on edge.
“They got another one last night, I guess. They didn’t release that it had happened until about an hour ago. I wonder why?”
Thinking about it, he answered, the idea not all that surprising to him.
“Well… It’s probably about trying to find the person or people doing it. I mean, I can see the police trying to do that kind of thing. Not telling the bad guys what they knew. That or the government wanting to not let people be too scared for a while. This is so screwed up. I mean, what’s the end game? No one can benefit from the cops and feebs getting worked up, which is already happening. If this keeps up, we’re going to end up living in a police state.” Not that they weren’t already.
A curfew had been proclaimed the night before, after all. It hit the entire country, which was insane. Most places weren’t having too many problems. That meant it was mainly about making it seem like something was being done. It was clear, when he thought about it that there had to be more than one group doing the killing. There was no way that the three cops that had been murdered in Florida were done by the same person as what had happened near them. At least one of the killings was only two hours after one no more than ten miles from where he was standing.
Apparently, his auto-pilot had been paying attention to the news. Not that everyone wouldn’t be doing that. It was only natural, given that there was a threat in the area. Soon, everyone would be looking at the rest of them to see if they were the ones doing it all. Shortly after that, George didn’t doubt that the government would come for him. At least to get an interview.
A wounded former military sniper who worked out all the time… He was a mechanic as well, so had potential access to different vehicles, which meant that he could have been the one doing it. Probably because he was disgruntled over the treatment that the VA gave him, which was nothing, since he’d never really bothered with it, after he’d gotten out of the hospital the first time.
Except that wasn’t his issue in the world. George wasn’t disgruntled. War was, as the old saying went, hell. Of course people got hurt. He’d been more or less lucky that way. Sure, he had some scars, but there was a sense of pride in having served. A sacrifice, as it turned out, but nothing that he hadn’t been willing to pay at the time. Or even now. Also, it was kind of clear that there was a national attack going on. No one man, or woman, could be doing it. The bombs were huge, when they went off. At least Chicago had been. The sniping could be copycats, but he didn’t think so. It was decently well done.
Then again, George lived inside driving distance for a lot of it, so it made sense to come and look into where, and what, he was getting up to in life. Thankfully he’d been pretty predictable, off flirting with women, instead of doing stupid shit like that. The memories were clear that way. All he had to do was start mapping out where he was each day and collecting a file on it. That would make it easier to explain it all to the authorities when the time came. He really had no doubt that it would.
Debbie, part time gym desk woman or not, clearly wasn’t a moron. She nodded at him, her slightly thin lipped mouth quirking enough to be cute, even if she were deadly serious.
“I know. Having to be inside by dark each day… It’s like I’m sixteen again. I get it, but this can’t go on.”
Taking a deep breath, he glanced out the window. The parking lot had been well plowed, but the street had snow on it again already, since the plows had the same restrictions as everyone else. It was killing the local economy. That and people being afraid to do anything in public, since that might end up with them being dead. Gary was doing all right, since enough people still had to have their vehicles fixed, but a lot of stores weren’t even opening each day. That the gym was had to do with the fact that the people who worked there needed to exercise anyway.
That’s what they’d been saying. It was probably more that they had bills to pay as well as anyone else did.
“I need to get home, I guess. Hopefully this will end soon. It’s a bit dark, for my taste. If I wanted to be in a war, I would have reenlisted.” That got a knowing smile from the woman. She knew that much about him, since they’d been talking about a lot of things. For instance, he knew that she had a women’s study degree. Which was why, she’d assured him, that she worked at a gym.
It had been that or teaching college, and she really wanted out of that kind of life,
not hating men enough for the modern world that had been created in those small pockets.
“Bye! Drive safe. The roads are murder right now.” She seemed perky enough, but was collecting her own gear to get home. It was getting dark, and the police were being a bit strict about things, shooting anyone that was caught out at night, who looked wrong. That really meant seeming Middle Eastern, but with everyone wrapped up against the cold, it was hard to tell who was the “right” color at the moment.
Especially in the dark.
Thinking that, he put on his own jacket, feeling exhausted from his workout. It wasn’t a horrible thing, and was one that was familiar from both realities. Technically he worked out harder in Springfield, but life itself took more energy in Stena. Debbie smiled at him, then spoke softly as he started to turn.
“I’d ask you out for coffee, but…”
He got that one, and smiled back.
“I hear you there. Just in case it ever comes up, I’d say yes.” Which was true enough. It was a horrible plan, given what he had going on, but the raw fact of the matter was that he was getting both lonely and felt horny enough that the next woman who was nice to him was probably going to have a lot more control over his life than not. It was even worse in the other world. There he was younger, which meant that there were more hormones slapping at him all the time. They didn’t do casual sex over there either. If you wanted nookie, you were getting married.
His words got a small, knowing smile from the blonde woman. Her eyes seemed happy enough for the time being, it seemed. That didn’t mean that they didn’t need to get going. The clouds were dark enough that it was going to get dark earlier that day than the one before. Snow would fall, which was already happening. In the morning, he was going to have to put his chains on, again. That was there, in his head.