by P. S. Power
Most of the things coming into the shop were all about damage being done to tires from people putting things on wrong. They were safer, if there was enough snow on the road, but it took a few inches. The problem was that the plows were getting out just enough to force people to run on bare roads for half a mile, then in five inches of snow. The city was a mess, which was the FBI plan, he didn't doubt. It was making his life harder. Which didn’t mean that it wouldn’t slow down the killers as well.
Luckily, he was a mechanic, not law enforcement.
He drove slowly, since being less than careful would be worse than being out in the dark. He wasn’t armed, but that was fine. After all, he wasn’t planning on killing the cops if he were stopped. Even if several people a day were being shot by them, in the evenings. All over the nation.
It was dark when he finally got to his place again. Early, however. As he hurried inside, one of his neighbors was busily doing the same. The man was familiar looking, which, after a moment, as they got to the building, he understood.
The guy pulled his face covering off, which was a nice blue scarf that had been wrapped around his neck and head. It was so cold that he was going to need to do that kind of thing himself, soon.
“Nice weather we’re having.” The man was a bit dry sounding, but not old. He needed to shave, just like he’d needed that morning, when he’d gotten the loading wagon. In Stena.
“Hey, Ken.”
That got a smile from the fellow, and a single nod.
“This is bullshit, isn’t it? Stupid terrorists. I keep freaking out, thinking that I’m going to be blown up at work. That or shot. What the fuck am I supposed to do to stop that?”
They kept walking, since it was going to be warmer inside. As long as the power stayed on.
“Not much, really. Just, you know, if you hear an explosion, run toward it, not away.”
The man stopped, cold or not.
“That doesn’t make sense…”
George nodded.
“Most people will run away, so in the Middle East the bad guys set up snipers at a distance, to pick them off. They can’t be too close to where the bomb just was, so that area is functionally cleared.” It was common sense, but not everyone thought that way.
Most didn’t, to be fair. They were good and soft. Not like him.
Then, being hard and manly wasn’t going to stop a bullet to the head for him, either. Not that anyone was coming for them.
“On the good side, while we might be hit accidently, we aren’t law enforcement, so that should keep us safe until the tactics change again. Someone is trying to prove a point, I think.” It made sense to him.
Ken, who was the first person that he’d ever noticed being in both worlds, blinked at him.
“Really? I don’t follow that one.”
“Taking on the police and FBI means something. They aren’t soft targets. They walk around armed, for one thing. Also, when is the last time you’ve seen a fed out in public? Cops, they dress in nifty matching uniforms so you can find them out on the street. They drive around in cars with lights on the top, for that very reason. The FBI, they’re nearly invisible to most people. A third of the people dying are in that group. It isn’t just about the deaths, it’s about people having inside information.”
It was simple enough, but the other man, getting cold from standing, just nodded, clearly not getting it, the cold sapping his will to care. It was going to do that to George soon as well. It didn’t matter how strong you were, no human being could beat mother nature. Not without a lot of tools and some luck.
“We need to get inside. I hear it’s going to get cold soon.” It was his turn to seem dry about things, but Ken got that one, since talking about the weather was nearly universal.
“See you later. Well, back to the mine.” The man walked off then, not explaining the idea behind what he’d said. It was a phrase, but seemed more important than it ever had before. Except that it probably wasn’t a thing, to be honest.
Regardless, he had to get inside. It was about fifteen degrees outside, which was survivable, given his heavy blue coat and gloves, but his nose was freezing. Everything was harder, and slower, trying to navigate the world with things covering his fingers. As soon as he got in, George moved to the television, sitting on the sofa in front of the flat screen. The soft brown thing, well-worn from years of use, made a sound as he did it. It wasn’t a protest, as much as a sigh. Air rushing from the cushions, along with a few springs groaning a bit.
There was nothing on the news, except that it looked like a blizzard was going to come in to the north of them. That wasn’t going to be fun, since it meant they were all going to be locked inside. Probably with the power going off. That was one part of what was better in Stena.
There was no power to go out, everyone using wood heat to get by.
Everyone had a home, as well. Most had to build their own, but they didn’t live in cardboard boxes on the street if they were homeless. They just created a house. That wasn’t how things went there, thanks to all the artificial rules that had been put in place. Supposedly to make the world safer, but the truth was that almost no one had their house burn down in Stena. The things had to be made well, or you died in the cold months.
In the U.S., they’d made it nearly impossible for a man or woman to make their own way in the world without being part of the collective. The nut jobs at the fringes, the ones who couldn’t pass like he was doing, ended up in dire straits. Not that Homess had a lot of other crazy people. Not that he knew of. Still, if they weren’t smart enough to build their own life, or lucky enough to have family that would take them in, then someone else would have.
There were no homeless people there, unlike in Chicago or even Springfield.
The television kept telling him nothing new, which meant he was sitting there when the phone rang. That part was interesting, since it was after work hours. Gary, or Wendy, wouldn’t normally call him that late. They could, if they needed him to work first thing in the morning, but he was scheduled for that the next day anyway. If anyone could get in at all.
So, it was a bit of a shock when he picked the thing up.
“Hello?”
The voice that spoke his name wasn’t familiar. A female, but no one that he could put a face to.
“George?”
“Um, yes?” He was about to demand she explain who was there, when there was a soft exhalation.
“Oh, hey! Um, Gina here. We met a month ago? You helped me with my car?”
He nodded, the brunette coming back to him. The thin woman who was probably a year away from not being a stripper any longer, if she didn’t back off the drugs.
“Oh? I recall that. I didn’t give you my number though.”
She laughed then, as if it were humorous.
“I know. My bad, not getting that at the time. Anyway, I’m going to need some more car work done. I can’t afford it right now…”
She was leading him someplace, which he understood. What he didn’t get was how she’d gotten his home number. Though after a moment he just nodded, since there were two avenues that one could have taken.
“So, did Wendy or Gary give you my number?”
That got another laugh.
“Gary. He’s cute. Gay though. I mean, that’s clear. Cool that he’s married, but a bit weird at the same time. Anyway, he figured that I could sleep with you to get the work done? I can afford the parts, but the work is… Well, you know, money.”
He nodded, then was rude, since the whole thing was a bit too strange for him.
“It all goes to meth? That would be hard. You should cut back on that, by the way, if you can. You look good still, but it’s going to hit your looks in a year or two and that won’t work for you very well.” It was too blunt, and more than a little mean, but just got a sigh.
“I know. I know. Still, for now I can use what I have. So, is it a deal? I can come over and start on that, if you want? I’m skilled, so it isn’t just going to be
me laying there while you do all the work. Please?” The last work was plaintive and drawn out. Wheedling, as if he were actually going to resist her for all that long.
“Tell you what, cut the drug use in half for a month, and I’ll do the work for you. This isn’t a time to have an addiction like that, if you can help it.” He laughed a bit, then went on, lecturing the woman as if he had a right to. “Then, if that kind of thing were easy or simple, no one would have problems with chemicals, would they.”
“No shit, right? Um… Sure. I can try that. It’s hard to get anything right now, anyway. So, I can come over now? Or… Bring my car in, in the morning?”
He nearly told her just to bring him the vehicle, the next day, but the storm coming in was going to make that hard for her, he was willing to bet. Then again, having her there all night, while tempting as hell, wasn’t going to work either.
“We can go out sometime? Bring me the car, as soon as the road will allow for it. Just… As a warning, I’m crazy as a loon. I can’t recommend getting involved with me. Not that I don’t want the sex.” He smiled, figuring that would be about enough to have her hanging up on him, or at least not wanting to engage with him. Instead, she took it as flirting.
Probably showing that she had real problems of her own.
“Ooohhh. A bad boy, huh? I’m intrigued. Okay, we can do that. Let me… I’ll be by in the morning if I can? I’ll need to find a ride. Nothing against you or your workplace, but sitting at a garage for two days, waiting for my heap to be workable again isn’t a great thing, to my way of thinking.”
He could see that one, actually. The shop was kind of boring if you didn’t have anything to do.
“Sounds like a plan. See you then. The weather is about to get bad, so keep that in mind.” The phone clicked then, with the woman hanging up on him.
George shrugged. Even if she were a stripper, he wanted to bang the fuck out of her. The thing there was that he didn’t want to get involved, long term. It was, he decided, time for him to rationalize his way into letting himself sleep with her for fun. She was the one that had come to him for that, after all. Gary, who he doubted was gay, being married and having kids like he did, seemed to think that sounded like a plan as well.
Of course, his boss was probably thinking that his worker needed a woman in his life. It was true, if you didn't know about what he had going on.
He ate a small meal for dinner, keeping it low carb, though that wasn’t going to work for too long, if the power went out. He had cans of things to eat, if they didn’t freeze, and some packages, but the truth was they all had a lot of carbs involved. A good diet for him was electricity contingent.
The rest of the night was fairly sedate, which reminded him of Stena. Only with less talking and more computer use. It was all about research that evening, since he wanted to learn how to set up a plumbing system, if he could. The inner workings of a toilet weren’t all that hard, but he was going to have to make one out of wood and clay, since ceramics weren’t a thing in that other world. Others had done it, but porcelain was pretty much the standard for a reason. It was hard and durable, not collecting scents easily.
After hours of that, which included learning how to make a septic system work, since it was easier than a sewer, he finally went to sleep. That was a lot nicer than in that other world, since his bed was soft and comfortable, compared to the one filled with straw that he had in that other place. It would, no doubt, be worse as soon as he hit the road there. The big trick would be in having warm blankets and a good pillow. Everyone always cut that last part, since it was hard to carry around, but it made all the difference, if you were going to be sleeping on the ground. Even a bundle of clothing under your head helped make that work better.
The morning came too early, but at the first sign of the sky getting lighter he left. The clouds were horrible, and he had to fight with his chains for ten minutes before leaving, but they were, as projected the day before, needed.
The whole world was covered with white. The sides of the road were higher than normal, the piles of snow there fresh and white looking, coated with new snow. It was coming right down, dumping at a rate that was going to make the next day a lot harder than not.
Still, they opened by eight, even if he were the only one there at the time. Gary got there at nine, his wife with him. They just worked, making certain that all the cars there were ready to go by noon. About then, Gina pulled up on the road that had finally been plowed about an hour before. Another, far nicer, car was right behind her. Instead of a man climbing out of the other thing, it was a woman, however.
That was a bit of a surprise. Most of the time, when women needed help, they went to men. Especially the pretty ones. Gina was the kind of woman who used sex to get what she needed in life, so it would make sense for her to do that with everyone she met. Not that George blamed her. She had been gifted with that particular trait, the pretty card, so should use it, while she had it.
That day she seemed tired, and not all that twitchy at all. They had a deal in place, which it seemed she was working toward already.
“George!”
He waved at her, smiling.
“There you are. Gary already got the parts, so this should be ready for you by tomorrow. I’ll just need the keys and for you to fill out some paperwork, so the police know we didn’t steal your car from you.” Not that it would work that way, since they were a garage. It was just something Gary liked to have done, so they did it.
That part was boring, but didn’t take long. Even the work was kind of straight forward. Interestingly, his boss didn’t tease him about the woman. Or ask if he were going to get anything from her for his efforts. No, the good looking blond man just worked on the other car they had in, fixing it so that the fellow who owned it could get back to his normal life without having to worry too much.
It wasn’t until they were leaving for the night that Wendy said anything about it, coming out to the garage, smiling at Gina’s old beater.
“So… My hubby mentioned that you were taking trade now?” She was being flirtatious about the words, instead of questioning his taste.
George rolled his eyes.
“Yep. In this case I made her promise to cut her drug use in half for a month. Things are slow here anyway. I have the time.” That was true enough, though they were making enough to keep the place open and his pay coming. That was about both snow and terrorism.
His boss’s wife touched his arm, squeezing it at the bi-cep, right in front of her husband.
“You’re a great guy, you know that George?” She looked troubled for some reason, but moved back toward the front, turning lights off, since they all needed to move out before night came.
Gary shook his head a bit, then shrugged, gently.
“Wendy… When she was younger, she had some issues with drugs. It wasn’t easy on her. That is nice of you though. I figured that you’d just get laid a few times. Gina is cute, don’t you think?”
That was true, so he nodded.
“Yeah. I did tell her that I’m insane though, so that should fix any potential relationship problems. I don’t think she believed me though.” It was true, but Gary just smiled.
“Yeah. Women love troubled men, for some strange reason. Just be careful and it will be fine. Well, we need to get gone, before the police come and start shooting at us. Not that I’d blame them.”
George wouldn’t have either. The curfew was no fun, but it still made sense to him.
After all, if people were hunting him, he would have taken some pretty extreme actions himself.
Chapter five
George just stood there, his eyes opening on a scene that didn’t make any sense to him at all. Or, rather, it did, but the time difference was too great. It was at least several months later already. There were men, half trained farmers, given their clothing and rough movements, who were in the snow, attempting to fight each other. Poorly, but that wasn’t a huge problem.
Ea
ch man had a spear and shield. There were two groups, at the moment, with one wearing red coats and badges, showing they were army men. They weren’t brilliant fighters, but were tighter and worked as a group much better than the irregulars were doing. A third group was standing back however. Waiting for their own turn.
The whole thing came back to him then, nearly rocking his world. Over the last four months he’d been in several small villages, showing them how to fight the Tollan. This demonstration wasn’t about that really. No, it was to show the brass from the military the difference in fighting styles. The farmers going up against the soldiers were working the way they’d been trained. It was a fighting line, similar to what the Romans used, but with less efficient shields. They used round targets, instead of the long shields of centurions. Their swords were steel however, making them stronger than what those men of old would have been able to match. Iron was a known thing in Stena.
The irregulars, ones trained by Captain Herret, did all right, really. They would have died in a real fight, but looked comparable to the hardened soldiers they were facing at the time. The big issue was that they flagged over the course of half an hour. They all did, since fighting was exhausting. Even the real fighters had that problem. The farmers were nearly useless after a while.
That got the man in charge, General Sayner, to wave at Captain Herret.
“Call it. That was a fine enough effort, men. You should be proud of your progress.”
They probably should have been. The issue was that the barbarians didn’t fight that way.
Captain Herret was happy enough with the praise, but also understood what was about to happen, since they’d worked together the whole time. Instead of letting the now tired soldiers fight, he waved for a fresh group of men, about forty strong, to take the place of the other men in red and dark brown. They were going to be fighting in mud, since the ice and snow had started to melt already.
“We have another group as well, trained in the alternative method. Would you like to see that, General?”
The older man, who was known to be fair enough, if you could prove you weren’t wasting his time, waved. There was no smile, however.