Fall of the Cities

by Vance Huxley

  “I’ll buy you one from the Geeks when we buy the cement. For now there’s another thousand miles to build connecting us to those houses.” Harold paused, pretending to count on his fingers. “Maybe only a couple of hundred miles.”

  “Hey, I didn’t measure them. It seemed like a thousand miles.”

  Sharyn and Liz lurked when the rest left. “Give, little brother. Is there more to this Mercedes thing than you let on?”

  “No, Sharyn, I swear. She’s the furthest thing from my mind, except when she shows up and then I can’t help it. She must give off hormones or pheromones.” Harold looked from one to the other. “I swear.”

  Sharyn rolled her eyes. “It’ll be hormones, his hormones.”

  Liz nodded, then smirked.”Maybe his pheromones are what’s affecting her?”

  “Cripes. Double cripes.”

  *

  Harold didn’t think about Mercedes if nobody mentioned her, but people kept teasing him so he thought too much for his peace of mind.

  At least when Caddi turned up to trade a week later he only brought Charger. Harold actually felt relieved,even if he wondered why Caddi had decided to trade here again. Last year the Hot Rod boss had insisted Harold came to the Mansion for any business. Perhaps Caddi had worked out that this way he could jump the queue for weapons and radio repairs.

  There were more guns to clean and repair, some of Caddi’s own that had jammed or just fouled up, and one where the brass had split inside. There were also more captured firearms, so maybe Mercedes still took some trophies home.”Are you going Wild West, Caddi?” Harold looked suitably serious. “It won’t work, you know, it’ll never shoot round corners.” Harold picked up the weapon, a rifle with a bowed barrel.

  “Very funny I’m sure. You should go on TV.” Caddi’s scowl held no humour at all. “The Murphy who had that is very, very lucky he’s dead. He’d jammed it in a grate and started bending the bloody thing even as my men closed in.” Caddi held out a hand so Harold handed the rifle over. “I’d have roasted the, er, person overa slow fire.” Caddi glanced at Patty’s crossbow as he avoided a fine for obscenity. He worked the underlever. “The damn thing still works, and look at the engraving.It’s a real Winchester, the proper cowboy thing. Can you straighten it?”

  “Not a chance. Rifle barrelsare tubes so they distort too easily,and even a tiny bit will jam the bullet part-way down. You really, really won’t want that, especially if straightening it weakened the barrel.” Harold looked the weapon over. “I can cut the barrel down to where it’s still circular, before any bend? If I clean it up and check the mechanism that’ll make a big clumsy pistol?”

  “Not worth paying for because there’s only five empties. We haven’t got any more brass to fit. Even if we had, there’s more shots in a revolver.” Caddi sighed and reluctantly held the weapon out again. “What about you? You’re always saying you want spares.”

  “It’s no good as spares, because nobody else has an underlever.” Harold assessed the weapon again, especially the smooth curve of the barrel. “I’ll take it and the empty brass in part payment for the other work, but you don’t get much for it.” Harold worked the action, and it didn’t seem to be damaged at all. “This will be a clumsy pistol, with only five shots, but if the bastards are closing in then five shots might be enough. Especially five big rifle bullets like these.”

  “Okay, but I’m not giving you the bloody thing.”

  Eventually, with the rest of the dealing over, Harold sort of asked about Mercedes. “You’d have made a better deal with your distraction along.”

  Caddi laughed at him. “Mercedes? If it’s any consolation, I get distracted watching you two. Christ knows why but I think the, er young lady actually has the hots for you. Nobody even got to hold her hand and then pow, she can’t get your hand on her ass fast enough.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “I didn’t tell her I’d be coming.She’s supposed to be out there, putting the fear of God into the Murphies, not lusting after you.”

  “Won’t she be mad at you?” It did cross Harold’s mind that if Mercedes got mad enough to top Caddi, she’d solve her problem.

  “Probably, but she daren’t do anything about it. If she tries, she gets staked out in the yard on a mattress for...” Caddi glanced at Patty. “Mack and Cooper would punish her, same asyou would if someone attacked Soldier Boy?” Patty narrowed her eyes but accepted the point with a sharp nod. Caddi turned back to Harold. “I’ll bring her next time, if it won’t cause any strife with your woman, becauseI can see the difference in prices.”

  “A visit from Mercedes won’t upset any of my friends, will it Patty?”

  “Oh no, we had a lovely little chat while I checked her over, in private.” Patty smiled sweetly as Caddi jerked and stared. “I reckon she’d have preferred Harold to search her. Sorry, I mean ‘Arold.”

  Caddi relaxed again. “If he ever gets to do that and lives, he’ll have women turning up to have their picture taken with him like that blonde of yours.” A hint of a sneer showed as he eyed Patty. “It’s a pity about her being so hot and a blonde, or you’d have all the fans, what with being on the TV as well.”

  “You are so wrong about who has the hard-core fans. No man volunteered to risk death for the chance to sit and drink beer with Doll.” Harold held Caddi’s startled look. “Patty said yes and he put himself up as a target, a live decoy. I didn’t miss so he lived and got his drink, and he even bought the beer.” Caddi looked from Patty to Harold, both smirking, and then at Alfie who tried hard not to laugh.

  “Come on, give me the punch line.”

  “There isn’t one. Ask the GOFS. Cy’s even got a picture andhe insisted on getting Patty’s crossbow included. He’s got a picture with Doll in her hat and boots as well, because of the time they spent together at Beth’s. He only has to get one with Emmy and her rifle for the set.” Harold wouldn’t put it past Cy to get one, if only for his help in getting Emmy’s rifle.

  “You could have had one with Mercedes, or a video,if you weren’t so shy.” Caddi smirked, but it faltered because Patty just laughed.

  So did Harold. “Why would I need that, Caddi? I’ve got a 3D full technicolour memory.”

  The gang boss gave up on trying to tweak either of them. Instead, Caddi chatted about this and that, including capturing another pair of streets with a lot of Asians. That part Harold knew about, but reading between the lines, Mercedes seemed to be equally valuable as a scout or a killer. Harold could see why.He worried about someone getting a female spy into Orchard Close because a woman would be accepted much more easily.

  *

  The gang boss eventually left, with beer because the brewer he’d found wasn’t as good as Nigel and Berry. Not surprising, the father and daughter had owned and run a micro-brewery before the Crash. Patty gave Harold a hand to carry the weapons to his workshop. He found out why once they arrived. “Are you really going to cut that gun down, Harold?”

  “Probably. I can’t see a kink but I doubt we could straighten it. On top of that there’s only five rounds, or will be when I reload the brass.”

  Patty unwrapped the rifle, holding it up as if shooting which looked comical with the bend. “Are you going to teach me to shoot like Emmy? Long range with a bigger rifle?”

  “Yes, I told you I’d teach you to shoot. You’ll end up practicing with both mine and Emmy’s, just in case.”

  “I thought you might just mean the little one. If I can shoot properly it’ll be a waste if there’s only rifles for you, Emmy, and Alfie. Wouldn’t it be more useful to have an extra big rifle? Then I could help out and switch to a two-two when the five shots were done.” Harold stared as Patty blushed a little, giggling nervously. “I’ve never been a gun freak but I’ve gone all girly and gimmee over this one. Look at it, it’s gorgeous.” She stroked the engraving.

  A little smile tugged at Harold’s mouth. “Won’t your two-two get jealous?”

  “Stop it! I’m serious.”

  “So am
I, sort of. You learn on the little one first, if only because I don’t want to reload those five brass cases too many times. If we’re dead lucky there’ll be more here somewhere.” Harold waved at the jars and tubs holding empty brass found in the ruins. “Help me look.”

  Eventually they admitted defeat,but while they looked, Harold considered Patty’s request. The extra five shots before any attacker closed in would help, and Patty could switch to a two-two for close-up. He wasn’t sure about accuracy, but the weapon had a fitting for a scope so it must shoot a reasonable distance. After all, this wasn’t deer hunting,so Harold didn’t mind if the targetcrawled away and died later.

  “I’ve thought it through, and we’ll try. Liz will beat on you over the wasted charcoal if this doesn’t work, but those five rounds might matter.” Harold watched the huge smile spread over Patty’s face. “You’ll be spending long hours working on this very carefully, and might still end up with a clumsy pistol?” Patty’s smile didn’t falter so Harold gave her the last downside. “I don’t think it’ll ever shoot like the other big rifles.”

  “I don’t care, Harold. I’ll risk it if you will?” Pattystroked the rifle again. “Close-up I can get off five rounds fast enough to scare the bejesus out of a bunch of scroats. Caddi will choke.”

  “Oh no. Caddi will go crackers, so you’ll have to hide it.” Harold laughed at her disappointed look. “You do that with firearms anyway. Come on, let’s work on Liz.”

  As Liz pointed out, if the bore was already flattened there wasn’t any point in straightening the barrel. After a bit of fettling she produced an iron ball the same diameter as a bullet. It rolled right through. Now Patty was on a mission, Liz was intrigued, and the following discussion definitely included diagrams. The straightening would include both soot and sweat, and very careful heating and pressure. Harold left Patty and Liz working out if they needed some type of rod, or softer tube with rod inside, to put inside to help keep the riflingintact. Both were wondering how little heat they needed to straighten the tube without any more damage. Liz had started talking about car jacks and customised clamps so the pair were definitely serious.

  *

  Liz and Patty spent ten days getting the barrel true again, without wrecking the metal by overheating or leaving a kink. Liz claimed to have stress-relieved the result and swore it would stay put. Harold had intended trusting to luck on the accuracy as it would be used at shortish ranges, but Patty more or less begged him to make it truly accurate. Liz and Pattyhad repeatedly rotatedthe barrel while looking through it, to judge their progress with the straightening. Theywere adamant the actual bore now ran true.

  Harold went out four times to get the sights right, a bloody pain because he had to keep reloading the brass. Patty came every time, and the last time, the trainee riflewoman tried the Winchester out. Probably due to the repeated nagging by Harold, Patty managed to keep the kick under control, actuallydancing a little jig after hitting the target. While testing the other repaired firearms, Patty practiced again. After that Harold started taking her out into the ruins in daytime justfor extra training, andPatty quickly became lethalwith either the two-two or the Winchester up to a hundred yards.That made her the fourth and, potentially, the third best shot in Orchard Close, because Alfie’s eyes spoiled his shooting over three hundred yards. MeanwhilePattykept the riflehidden; if anyone saw it they would talk and eventually Caddi would find out.

  More refugees arrived butfewer came alone, and now most brought tools or weapons.Many of the men were older, bringing their wives and teenage daughters or young children. Severalnewcomers claimed some amateur skills, some of which would complement what Orchard Close already had. Others brought brand new crafts. One of the oldest, fifty-one year old Kharon, carried a rucksack full of tools and parts for repairing clockwork from watches to grandfather clocks. He found himself inundated with work, because every battery watch had died long ago.The scavengers didn’t need asking, they scooped up every broken watch or clock they could find.

  Work on preparing the new housing moved into overdrive, because most of the new arrivals were sleeping on settees or floors. Rob and his apprentices broke off from finding leaks to fit one bidet per house, so that the first composting toiletscould be installed. Eager refugee labour dug the trench for a thick power cable to the houses, which Finn connectedto a custom junction box. In a massive three-day purge, willing hands dismantled and transported sectional garages from deep in the ruins. More hours of dedicated labour relocated the stored goods and food intothe garages.Even while the protective walls were still being built around the Annex, the first of Patty’s Demons moved into the first habitable house.

  *

  Meanwhile, Rob, Finn and Charlie continued their work on another project, and announced a proper test.The trial run needed darkness so as dusk fell two days before Easter,all the lights in Orchard Close were turned off. Along all the streetsalmost everyresidentcame outside and waited hopefully.Finn and Charlie ran back and forth with their apprentices, water gurgled, and more and more windmills squeaked and rattled. Eventually the creaking and squeaking of bearings smoothed out, almost dying away as they sped up. Charlie, Finn and Rob presented Harold with a box trailing several wires. “You do the honours. Just pull the handle from there to there, contact.”

  “This looks a lot like those things in the films about demolition.Are you sure Bernie didn’t help with the wiring?” A ripple of laughter ran round the people nearby, because Bernie made the pipe bombs. “Shouldn’t we have a celebrity Beauty Queen?”

  “I voted for one in a swimsuit.” Fergie looked Harold up and down. “The girl club and Coven voted for beefcake, but had to settle for you.” The laughter rippled again.

  “In that case, we have to hear a countdown. Four!”

  “Three!” That included everyone nearby. “Two!” Harold took hold. “One!” Harold wasn’t sure how many voices said that, but they were drowned by the cheer as he pulled the switch. A score of Christmas lights came on here and there nearby, then moments later more further away. Even more lit up soon afterwards until small clusters glowed all over Orchard Close, bright in the gathering dark. They were strung across streets, around windows, on trees and walls, and even around some chimneys. A hush fell over Orchard Close as the coloured lights transformed their home into some sort of fairy grotto.

  “Wow!” For once Liz sounded awed, hesitant. “That’s beautiful, sort of magical.” Phones flashed as some tried for a picture. Harold could hear people talking in hushed tones, and some quiet laughter.

  Despite the ethereal effect, what excited Harold was much more prosaic. The little clusters didn’t produce a huge amount of light, but these lights didn’t rely on the government electricity!”These little wires did that?” Harold peered suspiciously at what came out of the box.

  “No chance. There’s apprentices all over the place tripping switches, but the first few lights told them when.” Finn pointed to a cluster that barely glowed. “Some are flickering, some are a bit dim and a few didn’t come on, but we can do it Harold.” He looked around, assessing the result. “Or at least we can if there’s enough rain and wind.”

  “There isn’t much wind tonight, and no rain?”

  “But just as Charlie said, it doesn’t take much wind if the windmill is balanced right.” Rob pointed up towards the rooftops. “We cheated over the rain. There’s tanks of water in some attics,to provide a flow down the drainpipes and simulate rain for the test. We can collect old header tanksand store more water up high in case there isn’t enough when we want it. Just in case the government cut our water as well.”

  Looking up and down the streetHarold could see people, some of them families with children, wandering about just looking up at the lights and windmills. Some were also listening to the gurgling in downpipes, explaining to others. Here and there couples were dancing, slow dancing without music, or staring up at the lights with their arms around each other. “You three done good, Finn. I honestly don’t thin
k they’ll be cutting us off tomorrow, but by the time they do?” Harold spread his hands to take in the scattering of bulbs. “We’re all believers now, so you’ll get your scavengers and helpers. For now, I’m going indoors to get warm.”

  Harold walked home deep in thought.This would be a hell of an operation and might still be going on next year, not something to share on this night of this success. Already, voices were calling for the monthly dance to feature a lights and lighting theme. Two nights later, manyof the dancers wore fairy lights, only glowing because they were powered by rechargeable batteries.

  *

  The next visitors were definitely not fairy-like. Three days after the dance Casper rang from the gate to report three heavily tattooed Barbies in a car. That seemed strange because Barbie visitors usually sneaked through GOFS territory on foot.Casper told him the one in a blonde wig wasn’t Chandra, but shewanted to talk to Soldier Boy—officially. Harold phoned to ask Patty if she could come and be his bodyguard,and arrange foranother guard, a man.He also phoned Sharyn to ask her to join him, in case the Barbie wanted to trade.

  Harold waited at the end of his road for Patty and Sharynbefore walking to meet the Barbiesoutside the Embassy. One glance showed him thatthese Barbies were one of the elite and twoserious fighters. When Casper explained the delay,he’d neededan extra two people to carry the weaponry off,the Barbie laughsconfirmedthey were on a friendly visit. The delay had given Patty time to dress as a real bodyguard, with a sheath knife and her sabre in a machete sheath. She stood to one side,just behind Harold, with her crossbowloaded andno doubt at least two pistols under her thick jacket.

  The senior Barbie wore a long blonde wig caught up in two bunches by red bows. Her clothes were new, but the flowered blouse with short puffed sleeves clashed with her extensive tattoos. The very professional tattoos of hearts and knives, snakes and skulls and a wolf’s head looked to be new. Some of her faded, amateur tattoos would have broken the foul language rules if anyone had read them aloud.