The Engine What Runs the World

by Quinn Buckland

  He walked through the town, seeing nobody on the streets. He passed several buildings that seemed abandoned, including the shop that would have sold supplies. Smoke frowned as he realized he’d missed his chance to see if she had been there.

  It wasn’t until he reached the inn that he began to hear signs of life. To the side of the inn he could see another small shop; this one however looked to have had people in and out in the last few days. He’d have to hunt down the shopkeep to see if Blue had come this way before descending into the underground.

  He opened the doors and stepped into a barrage of beer, cards and people. The smell of alcohol and sex filled the air as he heard people laughing and grunting as they played cards. He could hear the slightly muffled screams of a woman in the middle of an intimate ordeal and wanted the man to feel he was doing a good job.

  A small band played on a makeshift stage. The singer was a heavy set man with a gravelly voice that paired well with the slender redheaded woman beside him. The rest of the band played a wide plethora of instruments including a violin played by a tall man with a neatly trimmed black beard, kettle drum played by a short tough looking man, a piano played by a woman with short blonde hair and a guitar played by a short fat man. Smoke smiled as he listened to the music, they were talented at their craft.

  He sat himself down at one of the very few vacant tables and flagged down the serving girl. She was tall and slender with a sense of power about her. It explained why the place seemed to be in such good shape and everyone seemed to be obeying order. Her hair was long and golden brown; it had been tied back to prevent it from swinging into people’s food and drink. “What can I get you?” she asked without a smile.

  “I’d like a drink of ale, something good, whatever your cooks are making and a room for the night. If possible I’d also like to speak to the shopkeep if he’s available. ”

  The woman nodded, “Alright, that’ll be thirty skins. If you have it.”

  Thirty skins was a lot for a meal, a drink and a room. At least it was in the underground. Smoke nodded and produced three small pieces of purple tanned hide from his pocket. The woman gave him a smile and took the skins. “The shopkeep is at that table over there. I don’t know why you’d want to talk to him; his store’s closed and he aims to keep in that way until morning.”

  “I’m not looking for supplies,” Smoke said as he eyed the shopkeep.

  “Figured I’d let you know,” the woman said. “Just in case.”

  She then turned and left to fetch his drink and meal. As she walked away he could see her in his peripherals look back and give him a smile. She didn’t realize he had been looking.

  Smoke looked to the shopkeep again, this time taking in a better look. He was a large burley man with a thick black beard and long, well-kept hair. He reminded Smoke of a man who should be more of a smith than a shopkeep.

  Smoke gave the serving girl a look and showed her to hold his ale until he returned to his table. He would be speaking to the shopkeep. She gave Smoke an understanding nod in response before he stood and walked toward the large man. He took a seat and looked the shopkeep in the eyes. “You the shopkeep?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

  “Shop’s closed for the night,” the shopkeep said softly.

  “I’m sure it is,” Smoke said as he felt the corners of his mouth give away his slight amusement. “I’m actually here to ask you a few questions.”

  “What sort of questions?”

  Smoke reached into his longcoat and pulled out the picture of Blue. “I’m looking for this girl. I’m wondering if she has been through your shop in the past week or so.”

  The shopkeep took the picture and stared at it for a moment. “I haven’t seen her,” he said softly.

  “Is yours the only shop in the town?”

  “The only functioning shop,” the shopkeep said. “Old man Cavers had the shop down the road, but nobody took it over when he died and mine came to be the only one running.”

  Smoke smiled and stood, “Thank you for your time. I apologize for interrupting your meal.”

  “Wish I could have been more help.”

  He took another look around the room. Nobody but the shopkeep seemed to have noticed him; if they had, they didn’t seem to care. He was just another face of many in the inn’s tavern. He walked back to his table and sat.

  The serving girl noticed and walked toward him. She placed a large mug of dark ale in front of him. As she set the mug down she bent over, giving Smoke a good look at the space between her sizeable breasts. This was intentional on her part; she could have placed the mug without bending over quite easily, but the woman wanted to be seduced and Smoke was a man she hadn’t met before. He was alone and non-threatening, an ideal mate for a night…. at least so he assumed.

  He thanked the woman and pretended not to notice. If she did something similar when she brought the food he’d consider taking her up on the nonverbal offer. Provided he didn’t decide to just eat and go to sleep.

  He took a drink from the mug of ale. It was bitter, not near as good as the ale he’d come to love in the underground. It hit the spot though and gave him the desired effect of mild intoxication. As he continued drinking he could feel the effects becoming more prominent; this was a good thing since it made the ale taste better. The mug was large, big enough to be considered a stein. If it had been made of stone or had been ornamental he would have called it as such. The mug was made of synthetic plaster; it was cheap and suited for a place like this. Cheap mugs meant the place didn’t lose many skins when people got drunk and rowdy and broke things.

  When the serving girl returned she brought him a big plate of potatoes, carrots and two large sausages on an iron plate with iron cutlery. Smoke hadn’t seen that much food on his plate in years, not since his time in the fourth below, not since before coming to the first below. The serving girl did the same as she did last time, showing him her cleavage; this time when she stood straight she gave him a wink and placed a small folded piece of real paper beside his plate.

  He unfolded the paper and read the note. ‘Your room is #5, talk to the barkeep and he’ll give you your key. He already knows your face, you shouldn’t have any trouble. I will be there after I’m done work. If you want me, take the note with you. Show me you took it. If not, leave the paper on the table and I’ll leave you alone. I don’t need to know your name, nor do I plan to give you mine. Anonymous is more fun anyway.’

  Smoke smirked and read the note a couple more times before placing it back on the table. He hadn’t decided as of yet if he would take the company. It had been a while since he’d known the touch of a woman, but at the same time he couldn’t afford to get distracted. He mentally applauded the woman for her brazen attempt at silent seduction. She knew what she wanted and she wasn’t going to be asking herself ‘what if’ later.

  He took the iron knife and fork and cut the sausages into small bitesize pieces. He popped one into his mouth and felt as the hot meat juices erupted on his tongue and flowed down his throat. It was a taste he wasn’t familiar with. It had a bit of a salty flavour along with the taste of being a domesticated animal. He eventually narrowed it down to pig as he finished the last of the sausages. He didn’t think pigs existed anymore, but here was his proof.

  He poked his fork into one of the slices of carrot and ate it. He smiled as the buttered carrot rolled around his mouth as he chewed and filled his taste buds. He didn’t know who cooked the food, and frankly he didn’t want to know. All he cared about was whoever they may be; they were excellent at their craft. The ale may have been better in the underground, but the food was not even close to being comparable.

  Once he’d finished his plate he pushed it away. Once the serving girl came to retrieve the plate he showed her the piece of paper. He smiled as he placed it his pocket. He could see the woman get red as she noticeably tried to suppress a smile. She took his plate and cutlery and brought it back to the kitchen in the back.

  He
took another drink of his ale and grimaced at the taste. The heavy food had absorbed a great deal of the alcohol and sobered him up. He cursed lightly and took another drink and frowned as he noticed the bottom of the large mug showing the drink was coming to an end.

  He finished his ale and stood from the table. The rush of what was left of the alcohol in his system rushed to his head as short lasting light-headedness. He smiled to himself as he collected the key from the barkeep and wandered to find his room.

  The inn had been constructed of spare lumber a long time ago. Smoke entered the hallway, he could tell from the smell of musty wood and the departure of the scent of booze he had exited the tavern and entered the inn. He could see the above floor through the gaps in a few of the floorboards above him. The inn was two stories tall, something Smoke couldn’t help but think as a safety hazard. All buildings in the underground were single level with the possibility of a basement if an owner was lucky.

  His room happened to be on the first floor, something Smoke felt thankful for. He pulled the steel key from his pocket and put it in the keyhole. He heard the kind click of the lock as the door opened. The room was small, holding a small desk with a chair as well as a bed he could only imagine over a thousand people had slept in before him and a thousand more would after. Across the room a small bath sat with a tap overtop; a bar of soap and a folded towel sat on a small stand beside the tub. Smoke smiled to himself. A nice bath to clean him up would be in order, especially if a woman was coming to him later.

  He walked into the small room not bothering to remove his boots. He sat down on the bed and let out a sigh. The mattress was soft and filled with down, real or not, he didn’t care. He smiled as he thought about the sound sleep he’d get; though he’d have to be careful to not sleep too long. He stood and moved to the wash bath. He turned on the tap and watched as the hot water began to fill the tub. He walked to the front door and removed his boots before going back to the bed and removing his clothes.

  A large mirror hung over the tub, Smoke looked at his naked body. He ran his hand down his abs and chest, after looking at the men from the surface he saw people who had been living comfortable lives and had the stomachs to show it. It was a rarity for someone to have any sort of wideness in the underground.

  As he descended into the tub he saw the scars on his legs and scoffed at them in disgust. They had been from a long time ago, and while the skin had reattached itself to his muscles, the scars remained. He tried to take his mind off the scars, but every time he saw them he went back to his days on the forth below; the dark days of his childhood and teenage years. If he hadn’t met her… he shook off the thought and did what he could to enjoy the hot water.

  Plumbing was something accessible along all the floors and classes. It didn’t matter where a person was located, they’d be able to access a bath or a functioning toilet. The ocean water that pumped through the pipes to the underground told Smoke the water was clean and good for bathing. So long as the pipes were regularly cleaned it wouldn’t matter how much salt went through them. Bathing was a very important part of living in the underground, if a person was able to keep themselves clean their odds of getting sick decreased exponentially.

  He found a small bar of soap on a ledge beside the tub. He ran it along his body and watched as the dirt and grime from the surface and the underground stained the water a brownish grey. When he had finally cleaned himself of the sweat and dirt, he climbed out of the tub and dried himself with a towel that sat beside the soap. He pulled the plug and watched as the water emptied from the tub.

  He dressed and sat at the desk and opened his journal to go over his findings for the day.

  It was still dark when Smoke awoke. He looked to the naked woman sleeping beside him. She had come in promptly after her shift had ended. They made a good night for themselves and had fallen asleep without saying a word to each other. He watched as her naked breasts ascended and descended as she calmly slept. He left the bed and began the search for his clothing. He dressed himself and gathered his equipment.

  “Where are you going?” she asked as she woke.

  “The underground,” he said as he put his boots on. “I have a job to do and I can’t stay.”

  He looked back to her. She had a smile on her face as she exited the bed, “Would you like some company?” she asked. “I’d like to go down to the underground, I think it’d be a great adventure.”

  Smoke shook his head, “I’m not on an adventure,” he said as she dressed. “I’m looking for a young woman. I can’t just bring someone along; I’m not expecting things to be safe.”

  “Then you’re definitely going to need me,” she said with a smile.

  “What makes you say that?” Smoke asked coldly.

  “You saw how people down there behaved with me around. If I can keep a tavern in line while it’s filled with drunks I can keep you safe as well.”

  “Be that as it may,” Smoke said as he draped the longcoat over himself. “The tavern has had you long enough for the people to know not to mess with you. Believe me, I don’t doubt your abilities, I doubt the usefulness of those abilities in a different surrounding.”

  “You can’t stop me from coming with you,” she said as she climbed out of the bed.

  Smoke was beginning to feel annoyed with the woman. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath and felt a primal energy fill him. “You’re not coming with me,” he said as a command.

  “Give me a chance,” she said as she began to dress herself.

  Smoke’s eyes grew wide. It was rare for someone to ignore his command. He began to go through the entire conversation in his head; everything that had been said and everything that could be said. There was no possible way for him to convince her otherwise. He didn’t have time for an argument and there would be no way for him to stop her from following him, with the exception of physical violence, “Why do you want to go?” he asked.

  She gave him an uncomfortable look, “I have my reasons. I know it’d make things easier if I told you, but I just can’t right now.”

  “Alright,” Smoke said with a sign of regret in his voice. “I’m only doing this because I know I’m not going to talk you out of this. However, just so you’re aware, when or if you do decide to tell me what’s going on, I am not going to be able to help you. I’ll give you what you need to survive down there, but that’s all. I am busy with my own job and that’s just how it is.”

  She gave him a look of understanding as she walked towards him now fully clothed. “Sounds fair to me,” she said. holding out her hand, “I’m Constance Ibot.”

  Smoke shook her hand, “Smoke Callahan. We should be off. We have a lot of ground to make before the sun rises.”

  Constance giggled, “So much for the anonymous tryst.”

  “We’re on a timeline,” Smoke said coldly.

  Constance nodded, “I’ll be back in a moment. I just need to grab a few things. Meet me outside.”

  Smoke nodded as she left. As she left he looked up and down her shapely body. She’d fit in well in the underground. She had a toughness about her that said she’d be able to handle the majority of whatever came her way. It wouldn’t be easy for her, but there was a chance she’d survive. He hoped they wouldn’t have to go too deep; it would be a whole new world for her, not something she’d be able to gauge and react to as well as she expected.

  He made one final look for his equipment, making sure he didn’t leave anything behind. He didn’t expect to be back, at least not any time soon, if ever. Once he was sure he had everything he exited the room and walked down the hallway towards the tavern. He gave the barkeep back the key and exited the tavern without stopping. He could have sworn the barkeep had given him a dirty look as he passed. He found a small bench and sat and waited for Constance to exit.

  He didn’t have to wait long before she emerged the tavern with a small sack across her shoulder. “Okay, let’s go,” she said with a grin.

  Smoke looked at Co
nstance as she walked up to him. She had changed from her tavern outfit made up of a tight cotton shirt and tight slacks; a tactic to get drunk men to give her more money. She now wore a loose fitting shirt with comfortable pants. This would go well with the underground. People never dressed to impress, but for comfort. “You ever been to the underground?” he asked promptly.

  “A couple times,” she said as she let the bag across her shoulder hang in her hand. “Why do you ask?”

  “Your attire,” he said with a smile, “It’s suiting.”

  “That’s good,” she said as her grin became wider. “Let’s go. We don’t have long before we miss the lift.”

  Smoke nodded, “Indeed.”

  They saw the old man as they crowned the hill above the lift. He gave Smoke a smile, “I wondered if you were going to make it.”

  “I don’t really have much of a choice,” he said as he shook the old man’s hand.

  The old man looked over to Constance, “Hello madam, you weren’t with the mister yesterday.”

  “I’m a new addition,” she said with an excited grin.

  “Let’s get down to the first floor sir,” Smoke said with a professional look. “Are you expecting anyone else?”

  The old man shook his head, “Not that I know of. You’re still going to have to wait. The sun hasn’t begun to rise as of yet.”

  Smoke nodded and turned to Constance, “We’re going to have to wait a bit.”

  Perfect,” Constance said happily, “I have a question about the underground.”

  “Alright.”

  “I know the people in the underground have a sign language that’s universal to all levels. I’ve seen a few of the signs, but I have no idea what they mean. If I’m to fit in I’m going to at least know the basics.”

  “Alright,” Smoke said with a straight face. He put his forearms together in the shape of an X. “The forearms are a sign of respect, but how you use them means different things. This means good fight,” he slapped his forearms together once. “This is a salute to a commander. You probably won’t need it, but it’s best so you don’t accidently salute someone,” he slapped his forearms together twice, “this is a sign of respect for someone. I’d recommend using them when I do it.”