Fall of the Cities: Putting Down Roots

by Vance Huxley

  “I want to talk business, especially beer.” Cadillac settled back in his chair.

  “Me too, but I also need a plumber.” Gofannon grinned. “I can trade hops and malted barley. I’d pay even more for either a decent brewer or some lessons?”

  “We’ve got a brewer now, but note I am here to buy my personal supplies.” Cadillac shrugged. “Perhaps you could visit to deal with the rest of the business? It’s more firearms so you’ll have to look anyway before we fix a price.”

  After Cadillac left with his beer Gofannon really did want to talk about plumbing as well as buy beer, because the GOFS had a serious problem. The increasingly restrictive laws about only using tradesmen for plumbing and electrical work had left most people incapable of even minor repairs, and the GOFS’s problem wasn’t minor.

  *   *   *

  The GOFS’s plumbing problem turned out to be major enough for a visit by Rob which meant a GOFS hostage. Wayland grinned. “I volunteered because I want to talk to your smith about his artwork.” The GOFS smith shook his head. “Though crossbow heads like that really are too time-consuming.”

  Harold smiled. “I’ll ask but our smith is bashful.” Liz definitely worried about others knowing who she was, and everyone called her the smith to outsiders. “You might have to find something else to amuse yourself until our plumber gets back.” Outside the gates Rob and Bernie were getting into an SUV, one in a convoy of four. The GOFS weren’t risking losing the Orchard Close plumber, not with their toilets all backed up. Harold grinned. “We’ve got a library?”

  “Really?” Wayland looked genuinely interested. “Most of the books in our library were burned. We can swap for any that are doubled up, though a lot of ours are schoolbooks.”

  “I’ll check with the teachers. Conn will keep you company, just so you don’t get lost.” They both laughed because the library was easy to find, but the wrong side of the ‘No Entry’ signs. Visitors were restricted to one road of Orchard Close, with notices to mark the edges. “I’ll go and see if our smith is feeling chatty.”

  Harold smiled happily to himself as he walked to the garage near the girl club, the forge these days. “Hi there Liz. Someone wants to talk to our smith, one of the GOFS.”

  “Cripes no, Harold. I don’t want any of that lot knowing who I am. That Cadillac would kidnap me because the Hot Rods reckon his smith is crap, worse than me.” Liz shivered. “I really don’t fancy that creep getting me. Mouse, remember.”

  “Oh well. It’s a pity really. He was really taken with the artwork on the crossbow bolts.” Harold shrugged. “Must be an ironwork thing, with him being a blacksmith.”

  Harold smiled happily as Liz’s eyes widened. She lifted her hammer. “You, you, you, Wimp!” Then her face fell. “I can’t tell him I’m the smith. Damn. Where is he? No, don’t tell me. I don’t want to be too easy. Sod it, where is he? Is he really a blacksmith?” Liz glared. “If he isn’t, or he’s gay, I’ll kill you.”

  “His name is Wayland, and he’s got those big muscles you go all weak-kneed about. He might be either educated or gay, because he’s gone to the library instead of for a pint with the barmaids?” Harold shrugged. “Still, as you say, you can’t let on in case Cadillac finds out.”

  “You rotten little creep. You could have just not told me. Is this supposed to be revenge for the Holly licky-lips thing? Well just let me tell you a few things.” Liz paused. “No, just leave while I hit some metal and try and work out an approach that doesn’t involve drooling over his anvil. Can you bar the other women from the library?”

  “Hilda and Faith are the librarians.” Harold had trouble talking through his laughter, which was mean. Hilarious but mean.

  “You could close it for repairs, but not tell this Wayland?” Liz looked at Harold’s grinning face and shook her head. “Leave, now. I refuse to provide further amusement, but there will be payback.” Harold did leave, and winced as he heard hammer hitting metal with real feeling. He tried to work out how Liz could get Wayland on his own without losing her cover, but she’d go soppy about ironwork and blow it.

  *   *   *

  Though Liz had plenty of time to either work on methods or beat the hell out of metal, because Rob still wasn’t back by dark. Harold didn’t worry, because the GOFS were basing their offers to trade on the quality of their sharp steel so they wouldn’t give up the smith. The current deal for Rob’s plumbing included machetes, real weapons rather than the undergrowth clearing type looted from garden centres.

  “This is your house for the night.” Harold smiled. “Please don’t sleepwalk. There are guards and they are twitchy about strangers, especially if you climb the back fence.”

  “Not a problem.” Wayland waved a cowboy novel. “I like your library, and it was interesting meeting some of your people when they aren’t aiming sharp things.”

  “We’re quite civilised when we aren’t under threat.”

  “As I’m finding out.” Wayland smiled at Holly. “For a start you are quite charming, instead of a blood-stained maniac. That was a bit of a relief really.”

  “I’ve mellowed since people stopped threatening me.” Holly had her arm hooked through Harold’s. “Finding a man with manners helped.”

  “There aren’t many left. All of us are forgetting, or the veneer is slipping.” Wayland shrugged. “Your smith really is shy, but please let him know we aren’t interested in kidnapping. I just wanted to talk metal with another iron beater.”

  “I’ll pass on the message. We’ll see you in the morning.” As he walked Holly home, they both agreed that it was a pity Liz hadn’t been able to suppress her sooty yearnings enough to talk to Wayland. The ringing of hammer on metal in the forge underlined how Liz felt.

  Sooty yearning were forgotten as Harold came in the door to hear Sharyn repeating “cripes, cripes, cripes” in a voice that wanted to really swear.

  Harold walked through to find glass all over the kitchen floor. “Blimey, is Daisy learning to juggle? You should start her on tennis balls.”

  “Don’t. I’m not in the mood. Those jars had lids, proper screw ones for reusing, and now they’re smashed.” Sharyn gestured at an open cupboard. “I was stood on a box putting some more in there and slipped, and grabbed. The whole blasted shelf came with me. Why aren’t they fastened in properly?”

  “Pass. I’ll ask Sandy.” Harold jiggled another couple of shelves, gently. “None of them are, it’s how they’re made. I’ll look out for more jars.”

  “They won’t be any good because the lids will be rusted. Curtis reckoned we can make vinegar if the mart stuff is expensive and make pickles later.” Sharyn took a broom from a cupboard and started on the mess. “We’ll need even more jars for jam and I’ve ruined all this lot.”

  Harold bent to sort through the glass, carefully. “Save the lids. I’ll get jars with rusted tops and then try to get a match for these.” He frowned. “There should be pickles and jam at the marts. There had to be warehouses full when the crash happened.”

  “Yeah, and designer jeans, and corned beef, and real Coco Pops, and a thousand other things. Oddly enough none of them survived. Where do you suppose they ended up?”

  “Market Rasen.” Harold spoke to himself but Sharyn stopped brushing.

  “Where?”

  “Someplace not inside a city where those smiling people on the mart adverts go to do their shopping? Sorry, just thinking aloud.” Harold smiled. “To cheer you up, let me tell you about Liz.”

  *   *   *

  “If I had a hammer, I’d hammer…. Cripes, you’re up early.” Liz looked around, almost shifty, but everyone else was still getting up or having breakfast.

  “We wanted to check on Wayland, but I suppose he’s smiling.” Harold was, and Holly was starting to as she caught on.

  “What makes you think that, or that I’d care?”

  “From the ground up? Dinky boots I’ve never seen before, short leather skirt ditto, lovely lacy white
blouse without a trace of soot, cream all over chin, and then there’s that singing?” Harold sniggered. “Who stole our sooty, iron-beating butterfly?”

  “I thought you were worried about him finding out you’re the smith?” Holly had been giggling while Harold spoke but was serious now. “Or about him telling Cadillac?”

  “I’ve told him I’ll pass on his comments to the smith, but then I explained the smith doesn’t put on those little spikes and twirls.” Liz smirked. “I explained about how I used to make ornaments but I’m too fragile for the heavy work. We got onto how much I admired all those big muscly men, beating on iron.” She sighed. “The rest is not for delicate ears but probably hit level thirty three. I’ve invited him for the Harvest Festival, so we’d better have one.”

  “I’ll have a word with the boss.” After the level two mouth to mouth word Holly smiled. “He says yes but I might have to make sure later.” The two women hi-fived each other and Liz carried on up the road, singing happily. Both Harold and Holly laughed as Liz put out her arms and performed a couple of little dance steps before going round the corner towards the girl club.

  Harold looked up and down the empty street. “Perhaps we should keep that quiet, and give Wayland a little while to recover?”

  “Cripes yes. You once said you wanted to walk me around Orchard Close hand in hand? That should take long enough.” Holly hugged Harold’s arm with hers. “We could check on sentries to give you an excuse.”

  “How long do you reckon it will take for Wayland to stop smiling?” They went off to check on sentries still sniggering.

  Liz was nowhere in sight when Rob came home and Wayland left, though Wayland was definitely smiling. Rob wasn’t when he reported.

  “Maybe the GOFS aren’t trading women but women’s rights have died, big style. I was offered a girl, or asked if I wanted one.” Rob sighed. “Though to be honest maybe it wasn’t the same offer Cadillac or the Geeks would make. Maybe a prostitute?” He frowned. “Maybe there is a brothel, a voluntary paid one?”

  “Did they ask for pay then?”

  “No, but the phrasing was did I want fixing up with a girl. They do seem more civilised round their women than the Geeks, or the bosses do. The rank and file are cruder. You’ll know about Cadillac soon but we’ve heard and seen enough to know the Hot Rods’ attitude to women. I’d like to think at least one neighbour doesn’t act like that.”

  “So would I.” Harold didn’t want to have to tell Liz her sweaty fix kept an unwilling woman. “Maybe Bernie will know?”

  “No, Bernie turned the offer down as well. He might have been worried about her not being willing, or spoiling his chances with one that is.” They both smiled at that because Bernie had been walked home at least once by Sal without a dance first.

  “Apart from that, the women, what do you make of the GOFS?” Harold wanted some idea about other gangs before he saw whatever Cadillac had come up with.

  “The GOFS have a real stronghold, an old school with a central courtyard. There’s a little community in there and at least some of the women, the ones I saw, seem to be voluntary or just paid help. There are cooks and cleaners and all the rest in the stronghold, not just gang girlfriends, and some non-gang men. I also fixed some leaks where pipes had frozen in the housing on one of their streets, and their people didn’t seem terrified. Wary, but not outright frightened.” Rob shrugged. “They’ve got the same system as the others though, the people in the houses pay protection.”

  “But they’re not nasty bastards like the Hot Rods, or vicious little shits like the Geeks? We can trade with the GOFS without having to count our fillings and fingers afterwards?” Harold thought Cadillac would try for both by bargaining hard or threats, and the Geeks would try to steal both and preferably from a body.

  “Probably, if we look strong enough.” Rob smiled at Holly. “Now I’d like to go and get the same sort of greeting I bet you did this morning.”

  “Cripes yes. Sorry.” Harold smiled. “I’m a bit worried.”

  So was Bernie, and not about the GOFS themselves. “If we get a woman visitor wearing a blonde wig, get a squad locked and loaded.”

  “Why, and how can we tell if it’s a wig?”

  “The wigs are a uniform, and the women could be any colour and probably covered in tattoos. They’ll also be carrying a lot of weapons, chase men and women, and don’t think much of rules.” Bernie sniggered. “The ordinary soldiers, that’s what the GOFS call them, are scared of being caught by them.”

  “Wayland and Gofannon never mentioned that.”

  “Did they mention Barbie Girls, because that’s what they’re called? They live in a shopping mall and nobody visits unless they’re tied up and dragged there. They tortured one of Cadillac’s men to death.” Bernie frowned. “Though he might have asked for it.”

  “Are they at war with the GOFS? Why would they come here anyway?” Harold stopped and gave Bernie a chance to answer.

  “Not a war but there’s guards on the border, shooting guards.” Bernie smiled. “The Barbies stole some beer and want to know where it came from. They’ve offered a truce in return for more beer, Berry Beer even if it had no labels.” He stopped and looked alarmed. “They try to kidnap tradespeople as some sort of sport or hobby.”

  “Them, Cadillac, and possibly the Geeks. Right, watch out for dangerous blondes.” Harold put his arm round Holly. “Oh look, there’s one right here, help. Thanks Bernie, now go and see if you can find a blonde for yourself.” Both Harold and Holly laughed at the speed Bernie went blonde-hunting.

  *   *   *

  Holly hugged. “I’m worried about you going to the Mansion.”

  “Don’t worry; I’ll say no.” The Berrying was worth it to see Holly cheer up. Harold hugged her again and set off after a level three.

  “Come on, put him down.” Alfie smiled but a strained smile. He’d volunteered as Harold’s escort and pointed out that he wouldn’t be taking any offers either.

  “Do I take over his duties?” Charger, the hostage, held up both hands when Holly glared. “Only asking, and only joking. I was told you’d mellowed.”

  “I have when I’ve got Harold’s hand to hold. Fair warning, I might be a little bit short tempered until he’s back.” Holly stalked off.

  “Sorry, that really was a joke. Can I ask for a beer without risking bloodshed?” Charger did look sorry, but the Hot Rods all seemed to be adopting insincere as a way of life.

  “Beer isn’t a problem, as long as you remember the other rules.” Casper waved a hand up the street.

  “Hell yes. Caddi, Cadillac, has adopted your little caning lesson and that is brutal. At least it is the way he does it.” This Hot Rod was older than most although he also wore overalls and carried a machete.

  Harold checked that nobody would be going out scavenging today. He worried that someone might be tempted to raid while he was gone even though Emmy, Casper and Holly were perfectly capable of organising resistance, as were several others. In the end Emmy shooed him away. “Go, before I start crying and Alfie gets corrupted by your escort.” Harold’s escort consisted of a pickup with four armed Hot Rods in the back.

  Harold drove his pickup, because Alfie had never learned. He took note of the route and mileage, almost four miles from door to door, and also took a good look at the housing estate the two vehicles passed by. That had an SUV parked across the entrance with armed men inside, men with firearms. The entrance to the Mansion had been built to stand an assault, protected by a gate and brickwork breastworks at each side. Harold brought a pistol and his two-two but left them in the pickup along with Alfie, because Harold suspected inside Cadillac’s home could be upsetting for anyone from Orchard Close.

  “Rules, Soldier Boy. We all have them.” Cadillac smiled as Mack quickly frisked Harold but allowed him to keep his sheath knife. “I told you my place was called the Mansion.”

  Harold looked around the walled estate of large detached houses, all probably quali
fying as mansions. The Mansion, the one Cadillac pointed at, had to be the largest of course. Cadillac had claimed a huge house built of rustic brick, with timbering and stonework on the walls in some attempt to make it look rural. “Very cosy. Couldn’t you find a big one?”

  Cadillac laughed. “Come on, we’ll get comfy. Would you like a blonde as a comfort fuck since you’ve not brought your own?”

  “Some of us just like pleasant company, and prefer them voluntary. What are the rules in here?” Harold smiled as best he could, because Cadillac seemed to have decided to push him. “If someone gets too lippy and I slap him down, what’s the fine?”

  “Nothing, because they aren’t allowed to do that to my visitors. We don’t have many visitors so the language might bruise your delicate ears, though if you do let rip none of the women will object.” Cadillac caught hold of a young woman. “What would you say if my friend here pushed you over the bench and said he was going to give you a good fucking?”

  “I would explain that I’m not here for that, Mr Cadillac, not while I do my job.” She glanced at Harold and lowered her eyes again. “Then I’d send your friend to the girl’s house.”

  Harold wanted to hit Cadillac, but today Big Mack stood right behind his boss holding an aluminium baseball bat. “No thanks.”

  Cadillac let the woman go and she hurried towards one of the houses. “That’s true, she’s safe while her cooking is up to scratch. I liked your idea of all the girls in one house so I’ve done the same, though not for the same reason.” Cadillac swaggered towards his own house. “Not for me of course. I like my comforts handy, but so do you.”

  Harold decided to just let it wash over him. Cadillac seemed intent on indulging in his usual winding up but here the raw edges, the real Cadillac, showed. Harold looked up at the bodyguard. “Have you been busy?”

  “Cadillac keeps me busy, keepin’ ‘im safe.”

  “So how come we never see you when he visits these days?” That didn’t add up to Harold.

  “I keep an eye on this place while ‘e’s visiting.”

  Cadillac turned at that. “Only while I’m visiting the neighbours. After all, we wouldn’t want one of this lot arranging accidents and assuming they’d live. Here we are. The study is through that door, it’s what I use for business.”