by Mark Eller
"Rest of today? Around eighty-three dollars on the meter. I have to take the cab back at ten tonight."
"Then I'll give you two hundred. Pay the company and have dinner with me. Take me to a movie someplace. I always wanted to see one in a theater."
She looked hesitant. "Mister, that tip is six weeks wages."
"Lot less than you saved me from losing."
"I better tell you now," she said. "I only drive. I got an old man who don't put up with his woman fooling around. His last gal did that, and he almost killed her and her fellow." She looked apologetic. "Besides, you really aren't my type. I go for big strong men without--you know." She gestured toward his arm.
"Dinner and a movie only," Aaron assured her. "I'm new here. Don't know where anything is, and you saved my ass. Here's the money now. Your getting it doesn't depend on any decision you make."
After talking the matter over for a while she decided that she wanted to eat at Marood's. Marood's had a dress code so they stopped at a men's clothing store where he bought a very fine set of clothes for forty dollars. New shoes cost ten. Aaron was quite pleased with his appearance when he looked in a mirror so he bought a hat to finish it off.
By then, of course, she was the ragged looking one so he insisted she choose herself a new outfit too. That buying took considerably longer to accomplish than his had taken. Before she finished Aaron heartily wished he had kept his mouth shut, but after she modeled something like her six hundredth outfit, he was willing to agree that she looked nice in a pale green evening gown. Her legs were fantastic, shapely and firm, not showing the over developed mass of her arms and shoulders. The dress was a pretty match for her green eyes. One hundred seventeen dollars and a four dollar tip. No doubt about it, women's clothing cost more.
Marood's was everything she claimed it would be. Aaron tried wine for the first time in his life and liked it too much. He tasted foods he had never imagined existed. Each separate serving was presented on a small plate that was promptly whisked away when it became apparent his interest in it had waned. Before the meal was finished he wished he had a bigger stomach, but he had always been a light eater.
The movie they went to see after dinner was a disappointment. Aaron had hoped for an action flick, but she drove right past the screens showing Al Burridge and Hugh Times, two of the biggest names he had heard passed around by the other members of the militia. Instead, she pulled into a theater showing a holo flick about a woman on a farm. Three interminable hours later he finished watching the woman suffer through floods and droughts and lots of human strife while she agonized over her infidelity to an extremely faithful husband. By the end of the flick he had learned one thing--that he hated chick flicks.
At nine-thirty she dropped him off at his new apartment. Deciding to hell with the bus, he took her card and made arrangements for her to pick him up the next afternoon. He would prefer taking a chauffeured ride back to the service station in Gaines where the company would be pleasant, and the smell would be greatly improved.
Looking at her card he realized they had never traded names. Hers, it turned out, was Kara Perkins. The familiar sound of her name sent a flood of remorse racing through him. Even though they had done absolutely nothing, he felt guilty for sort of almost being on a date with her.
"Tomorrow then?" she asked as she opened the door to the lobby for him.
"I'd like to be at the station no later than nine."
"I can do that. I'll just trade off shifts with Jerry." She closed the door behind him, and he made his way to the elevators after he checked in his gun.
His room had been furnished quite well during his absence. The silk sheets felt great on his skin after he showered. When he suddenly remembered that Mrs. Turnbull's daughter was getting married he decided that silk sheets would make a fine present for her. As far as he knew, the material was nonexistent on the other side.
The next day he took a closer look at the stacked boxes in his spare bedroom. The amount of drink that could be bought for two hundred dollars amazed him. Because of the exchange rate of gold between the two realms, Aaron figured Cathy's wages for a day would buy enough liquor to supply the inn for two months.
After he finished taking inventory he called the cab company a full two hours earlier than he had planned. They chased down Kara Perkins and pulled her into work early.
She flashed him a smile when he climbed into the cab.
"Sorry I'm late, and I know I'm a bit whiff, but my judo class ran long today."
"I don't have to ask if you are any good," Aaron said, remembering the previous day. She did smell of fresh sweat but the odor was not offensive.
"Semi-okay," she said, "but I'm better at a few other things. I actually have first and second degree black belts in five different disciplines. I'm still working on my black in judo." She shrugged. "Some of my teachers are disappointed that I haven't taken any discipline further, but I think it's better to be well rounded in a lot of areas than to be an expert in one. Fortunately, my judo instructor feels the same way. So, what's on the schedule?"
"Shopping first, Kara," Aaron said.
"Call me Perk. I don't go by Kara."
She proved to be more than happy to help him with his shopping. For Cathy, he bought a slim silver sapphire studded necklace with four small diamond pendants dangling from it. With a little further searching, he found a bracelet to match. For Sarah, he found a heavier plain silver necklace that was more of a solid wire than anything else, figuring that she would not like anything that could easily break.
Aaron decided Sarah would like a pocket knife, so he had Perk find a custom knife maker. Once there, he picked out a five inch spring loaded lock blade made out of imitation Damascus steel. Its rose colored stainless handle was inlaid on both sides near the top with tiger eyes. A leaping tiger, mouth gapping, claws extended, was engraved in silver and gold immediately beneath each tiger eye. The seller praised his fine choice and gave him a refrigerator magnet with Keefer's Custom Knives printed on its front side.
Perk drove him back to Gains early in the evening, dropped him off at the station and kissed his cheek goodbye. Because the money meant nothing to Aaron, he gave her half of his remaining coins, slipping them into her pocket and making her promise she would not look in it until the next morning.
Since he was early he played video games for a couple hours, doing poorly because his left hand was only good for pushing the fire button. Even then, his hand did not always react when he wanted it to do something. The counter girl was kind enough to get him a chair to sit in while he played.
At ten thirty he borrowed the restroom key, lifted his duffel, headed around back, and almost tripped on a pair of half-naked people grunting on the ground outside the restroom. The woman's eyes were glazed and distant, looking at Aaron without really seeing him. Jaws moving methodically as she chewed, she shifted her gum from one side of her mouth to the other. Though pretty, her face was bruised and her make-up smeared. Three teens stood around the busy couple, making jokes while they waited their turn.
Aaron went into the restroom and changed back into his Isabellan clothing, noting that the restroom was cleaner than the last time he had visited it. Because he still had time to spare before Gore came around to pick him up, he spent fifteen minutes of hard effort scrubbing away a good bit of the graffiti. When he left the restroom his newly purchased clothes remained on the floor.
Exiting he found that the boys were gone. Now totally naked and looking used, the girl still lay on the ground. Her glazed eyes refused to focus when they passed over Aaron. Two dollars and some change lay on the ground beside her. She blew a bubble.
Looking down on her, Aaron felt nothing but pity. He doubted she was older than Cathy, though he would not bet she was younger. He saw a wasted childhood, a ruined life. He saw a drug fogged mind, a body that was treated as nothing more than a common commodity, and a life that was lost. The sight depressed him. Here was another area where his new home excelled.
Female prostitution was very rare in Isabella. There were far too many willing participants for the profession to pay. Of course, rape was another matter. Rape was the crime of a sick mind, and there were always those who were vicious or insane.
Seeing this girl, he could only think that she was the victim of those sick minds.
"Is your name Mary Cunningham?" he finally asked, remembering the writing in the bathroom stalls.
Green eyes tracking to his face, she blinked them several times before they finally focused. "Uh huh. Ya wan? Fif cens."
"No, hon." Pulling her up, he helped her slip her clothes back on. They were filthy, no more than the remnants of discarded remnants. By the time he finished, her eyes were focusing better. She gripped two dollars in her right fist, the change in her left. Aaron pulled out his money, separated out one hundred forty dollars, and gave the remaining eight hundred and change to her. She wouldn't take the money, did not even recognize that he was giving her money, so he stuffed it into her front pants pocket. Four two hundreds, a fifty, several tens and a one. Mary still clutched her two dollars with a death grip.
Aaron did not blame her. She had paid a great price for those two dollars. In comparison, his money was meaningless.
Aaron went back into the store and gave the counter girl the hundred. She had been more than kind to him, and he had no need of it where he was going. Not surprisingly, her reaction fell between sputtering stunned and clutching greed. Her attitude became effusive gratitude and clinging attention. Before long Aaron felt an intense need to brush her off his clothes.
Gore picked him up three minutes later. "Where's my change?" he demanded as soon as Aaron climbed inside the van.
Aaron gave him the forty-three dollars he had left.
"That's it?" Gore demanded. "How could you spend that much on whores and booze in only a couple days?" He stuffed the money in his shirt pocket. "Well, can't be helped, but damn, you cost me money. I'm making some pickups, and I don't want you seen, so you had best get in back again."
Aaron moved into the back of the van. Three stops later it was filled with women, and before they neared the compound he was covered by a blanket while the women sat on him again. Surrounded by the soon to be lost sisters of Mary Cunningham, he wanted to cry for every one of them.
They made it through the gate without any problems. Gore stopped briefly in front of the admin building, whereupon Aaron was unceremoniously chucked out the back of the van by several willing hands. Rising, he hobbled to the building and used a key Gore had provided to let himself back in. Once there, he used a pocket flash that Gore had also provided to find the procurement office where he took care to wipe the automatic clean and put it back in its drawer. Maybe it had been missed. Maybe its absence had not been noticed. Aaron did not care either way. As things stood, he would be the last person anyone but Gore suspected.
His arrival room was empty and unlocked, which was good because Aaron did not know how to open locked doors. He lay on the now bare floor and tried to fall asleep. Failing, Aaron counted imaginary sheep and daydreamed about an afternoon picnic with Cathy and Sarah until Sergeant Aimes finally opened the door at five in the morning. Aaron opened his eyes while holding the memory of Cathy's body pressed against him, feeling her arms around his neck while her lips, soft, sweet, giving, touched his. Seeing the Sergeant's grizzled face once his eyes fully opened, he regretfully closed them again and wished he were back in his dream.
Sometimes, he decided, reality sucked. Sometimes it really, really sucked.
Chapter 16
"Turner. What a surprise. Have you finally realized that I have better things to do with my time than to stand around waiting on you?" Aimes' face was uncharacteristically pleasant. His lips almost curled into a smile.
Aaron reopened his eyes and slowly stood erect. Legs swaying, he saluted. "Making up for being late the last time, sir."
"At least you show respect sometimes," Aimes observed. "You may be the golden boy, Turner. I may not be able to get you under my thumb yet, but I have more than one way to make you miserable. Remember that." He peered at Aaron narrowly. "You sure took a beating since I saw you last. Somebody must have had too much of your insolence." He smiled, making Aaron think of a shark chasing chum. "Good for them."
"Sir!" Aaron shouted. It was as good a thing to say as he could think of at the moment because there was no getting on the good side of Aimes. All things considered, Sergeant Aimes was a pumped up, arrogant bastard. He had been forty-two when he joined the militia, an age far past that of the normal recruits. His hard assed no give attitude and the meanness of his soul had quickly raised him up to Corporal and then Sergeant. His inability to bend had kept him from rising higher.
"There is a meeting in the yellow room in two hours," Aimes said. "That's nineteen hundred hours to people like me who do more than pretend to be in the military. Until then you can help Corporals Hill and Gore move your supplies."
"Yes sir!" Aaron snapped a salute. He held his stiff pose while Aimes moved back from the open doorway, fuming inside because Aimes did not even try to hide his snicker. Aaron's fury rose at the man's attitude. It wasn't Aaron's fault that his salutes looked ridiculous. It wasn't his fault that his bad arm was a curled impostor lying against his chest.
Feeling useless, Aaron watched while Hill and Gore slowly filled his arrival room. There wasn't much he could do to help the two Corporals. The job was not exacting, and they gladly let him act as a supervisor. Hill made sure to get Aaron's last three coins and Aaron secreted his presents for Sarah and Cathy in the supplies. Once done, Hill and Gore sat against the stack of goods and closed their eyes.
Aaron no longer wondered why those two always seemed so tired. The truth was that they were always tired because they stayed awake most nights until far too early in the morning. Aaron definitely got the impression that they were in the Militia for no reason other than they had it pretty easy here. Since they were known as scam artists and connivers, they were the first two people Aaron had approached when he had wanted to cadge extra supplies off the base shortly after he began transferring over to Last Chance. The ease with which he had found these two made him wonder how many people in the Militia were here to further their ideals and how many were here because it was a relatively easy living. After all, it wasn't as if the Militia had to actually work to acquire their funding. General Field had been born with the advantage of owning two very rich parents. They were now long dead, but their money seemed to be more than sufficient for the General to support the Militia without feeling any financial pinch.
After a bit his two helpers yawned lazily and rose to continue on about their business. Gore offered Aaron his room to nap in but Aaron had slept enough in his empty room so he used the extra time his early arrival gave him to visit the facilities and to get a bite to eat.
When he sat down in the cafeteria he felt a lump in his back pocket. Standing, he fished it out and found that the refrigerator magnet from Keefer's had folded itself into a little ball. He had automatically put it in his pocket when he changed clothes at the service station.
Curious, he saw that there was a neat fold bisecting it, separating Keefer's Custom Knives Inc. from the address. He smiled ruefully, shoved it into his front pants pocket where it joined the rest of the miscellaneous trash he tended to collect, and then he sat down to eat. Dinner, Salisbury steak on a metal tray, tasted like leather covered with mud. He ate two helpings because, basically, he kind of missed the flavor of institutional cuisine. As a rule, his stay in Last Chance was marked by one overriding factor. He never got the chance to eat really lousy food. Part of him desperately wanted frozen pizza in a cardboard box.
Actually, eating two of the steaks was probably a good idea in and of itself. He was going to need lots of extra energy today. Keeping a string of lies straight and believable took a lot of effort and even more concentration.
* * *
"Raiders attacked Last Chance, and I was injured," Aaron lied. "
The townspeople fought them off, but only after a great loss of life. At least half the adult men were killed. About a quarter of the women died or were carried off. I took charge of the rescue efforts after the raid was over, and then I took control of the town itself. The town's former leaders did not want me to be in charge, but the store was the most complete building left in the area since I sat in my doorway and shot anyone who approached it. Because of this, I happened to be the only person with access to adequate food and money. They had to make me happy if they wanted to eat."
"And your injuries?" General Mays asked, eyes filled with interest.
"My head was injured by a thrown ax. I think I was struck by its handle. We never figured out what struck me in the back." Aaron looked at Mays and wished he would shut up. It took unbroken concentration to come up with these lies.
"Since I gave them no choice, I was elected Mayor, and then I formed my people into the beginnings of a military organization. Two days ago I started training several people on how to use firearms, and when the training is complete I will have them attack either Joss or Burnridge. Convincing them to kill their neighbors should be easy since they are sure their attackers came from one of those two places."
"Once the town I finally choose is subdued, its remaining population will be absorbed into my existing organization. From there it should be easy for me to expand until I have the entire region under my control."
Aaron stopped and looked expectantly at his audience. Since he had no trouble transporting himself over from this side and thus had a ready escape route, he really did not care if they believed him. He just wanted to be alert enough to see their disbelief in time to use that route, although he doubted he had any reason to worry. His tale was almost completely unbelievable since everything had supposedly taken place in just over one week. However, the plausibility of his lie was not its main selling point. General Field's desire to believe any good news he heard was the winning factor.