Fall of the Cities

by Vance Huxley

Wamil’s embarrassment became a nostalgic little smile. “My brother shouldn’t have taught me, but he couldn’t say no when his baby sister insisted. I only wanted to keep fit, but he wouldn’t corrupt the teaching so I had to learn properly or not at all. Women aren’t allowed to learn this fighting, but I think he was a little bit proud of me even if it had to be a secret.” Her smile morphed into downright wicked. “He will have a shock if he meets some of your women. I can make them very dangerous,if I can find the time.I daren’t teach Ru before, even if she is my friend.She would have hurt someone, or killed them.” Her face fell. “I’m not sure I can actually hit someone myself, not full strength.”

  “Don’t worry, because others like Ru can and will. Take all the time you need, because you don’t have any other work now. This is an official job even if nobody else knows exactly what you are doing, apart from keep fit classes.” Harold looked around the room, thinking about how Wamil had been leaping about. “I’ll sort out a schedule for the keep fit classes, in the dance rooms. We should keep the advanced keep fit exercisesseparate. I’d like them to come as a surprise sometime.” Wamil nodded enthusiastically and with real anticipation. “I’ll want some tuition myself, because in a brawl I usually revert to knuckles, knees and head-butts. A bit of finesse might come in handy.”

  Wamil looked startled. “But I thought the Murphies are frightened of you?”

  “Because I can shoot them a long way away, or beat them with a stick or machete.None of them have seen me fight without weapons.” Harold sobered, trying to convince her. “So I’d be obliged if you keep very quiet about my practice.” Wamil nodded, speechless. As he left, Harold smiled quietly at the thought that, unarmed, the quiet woman in a sari might possibly be the most dangerous person in Orchard Close.

  *

  For now, Wamil’s lessons would take second place to Emmy’s needs because it was planting time. The gnomes moved into top gear, dragging anyone who looked to be skiving out into the fields. The new recruits were torn because some were both garden gnomes and fighters, and there just weren’t enough hours in the day to practice both. As the weather improved,some residents were finding time for football again. That took off properly when Fergie announced the weather had warmed up enough for the first swimsuit match of the year. The new refugees were stunned, then some became enthusiastic.

  Harold had to agree the players could have a second pitch near the walls, providing the teams cleared extra land for planting. Despite the gnomes, enough people found enough spare time to make a start. This time they weren’t waiting for the grass to grow,overgrown lawns deep in the ruins were dug up and brought back as turf. A few of the gang visitors were intrigued by occasional remarks, then fascinated when they asked for details. Nobody mentioned swimsuits, but the first enquiries came in about ordinary football matches, visitors versus Orchard Close. So far nobody felt that confident, even after a few Barbies and GOFS were allowed to watch. Harold didn’t know how the players found the energy to play football after a day gardening and practicing with weapons.

  *

  Some residents had found a way to combine fighting and gardening. “Hup two three four, hup two three four.” Harold looked up from weeding as seven women and three men marched past with Doll calling out the time.

  “Hey, no fair. You should be gardening.” Harold stood up, frowning despite Doll’s sunny smile. “Is this the firing practice you wanted, because you never mentioned skiving to do it? Emmy will skin me.”

  “Your skin is safe. We are cutting down the undergrowth under the baby trees for rabbit food, and machete practice, and so the scroats can’t hide there. Later on we are gathering leafy stuff from the ruins, more garden gnome work. We’ll stop for the shooting practicebefore bringing back more yummy rabbit food.” Doll brandished one of the sacks for the greenery. “Tomorrow we’ll go out to get bricks for the wall around the Demons, and practice some more.”

  Harold looked them over, and all wore a pistol but none carried a crossbow.”Are your cowgirls going in for pistols, because I’m short on propellant?”

  Doll nodded enthusiastically. “There aren’t enough crossbows, so we let the Demons have most of them. A few have crossbows but we all want to learn how to usea pistol.We only fire three shots eachbut practice as often as you’ll let us. That will save ammo in the long run, because we’ll be accurate if there’s a fight.” She indicated her recruits, still marching off towards the line of saplings. “Come with us, because I’d like you to make sure I’m doing it right.”

  “As long as you protect me from Emmy.”

  “Deal, wimp.” They both hurried to catch up with the group. Because he’d come along, they kept going through the saplings to practice immediately.

  The group all knew where to go, stopping in front of a whitewashed house. Everyone began to adjust their belts. Fergie tied her holster to her leg, western gunslinger style, and when he looked around Harold saw the rest were now all slung low. “Accuracy, not speed, Doll. Just because they’re cowgirls isn’t an excuse.”

  “Not cowgirls because some are boys. They’ll find a name sooner or later.” When Harold turned, Doll had also tied her holster down. She dipped her hand and her gun came up fast,aimed away from the people. “We practice speed for if there’s an emergency close-up, but don’t waste ammo when we do.” She smirked, because she knew what Patty kept under her jacket. “A fatal surprise, just like Patty keeps saying.”

  “Fair enough. Where are the targets?”

  Doll pointed. “Drawn on the whitewash.”

  Harold looked at the figures drawn on the house, then the line of trainees. “That’s about eighty yards. I thought everyone practiced at fifty with pistols?”

  “But if we can hit one man reliably at eighty, it’s got to be worth the practice.” Doll looked a little unhappy. “That crowd would have broken thirty paces sooner back at the Mart fight. Patty said you taught everyone to hit a group a lot further away, and used that on the General. This is one step further?”

  Since Doll had nearly died in the Mart fight, Harold could see her point. “Fair enough, and they are your squad. I’ve never learned to shoot pistols, not properly. I just went on what a couple of soldiers told us in London, and a few leaflets found in shooting ranges. How is it going?”

  “There’s five of us who can hit a man nearly every time at eighty yards. We could do with more practice?” Doll flashed a brilliant smile. “I’d say pretty please, but I reckon you’re immune just now.”

  “Not immune, but my resistance is high.” Harold hesitated, but Doll’s request made good sense. “Just the five best.They can have another three shots a day. Will that be enough?”

  “Can we save them up and shoot twenty off at once? That works better because we can correct and try again a few times.”

  “I’m convinced.” Harold looked at the group. “Or I will be if you prove your point.” Ten minutes later Harold agreed the point had been proved,which made sense in retrospect because rifle shooters improved by practicing. On the way back, he wrestled with a problem. He couldn’t afford the propellant for everyone to practice like that.

  *

  The practice seemed more urgent with the Hot Rods involved in a war. When Caddi made another move into the Murphy streets, the warlord sent a hostage and asked Harold to visitthe Mansion. Haroldassumed the recent visits to Orchard Close were at an end for whatever reason, so he braced himself for the usual hassle.Caddi met him at the gate, his first surprise since usually the gang boss waited in his house. “Are you running short of diesel, Caddi?”

  “I’ve got enough put by if the electricity suffers a mishap.The sort of problem your man can’t fix.” Haroldthought he knew what sparked Caddi’shalf-smile, but waited until he’d been searched and most of his weapons were locked up. Sure enough, once they were out of earshot of any Hot Rods, Caddi admitted he’d realised why the residents deserted Glasgow. He had a couple of diesel generators tucked away, but wanted to buy the expertise to copy the
Orchard Close system once it had been perfected.

  “But we can’t actually deal for that until it’s perfected, so why are we wandering away from your house?” Harold looked around but couldn’t see any obvious reason for Caddi’s detour.

  “I’ve got something needs looking at, a very special prize.The usual weapons for repair and some loot to trade are in the house.” Caddi unlocked a garage, and stood aside to let Harold see a heap of electrics. “What do you reckon?”

  “Pass. I don’t even know what it is.”

  “That is supposed tomake up a transmitter, when it’s put together. The Murphy who surrendered reckoned this lot came out of a radio station.” The pair of them stood looking for a few moments. “There’snot many obvious controls or dials, andit’s been sat in a shed for several years.”

  Harold believed that because dust, dead leaves, spider’s webs and general filth caked every bit he could see. The biggest problem seemed to be… “Why is it in so many bits?”

  “Back then, someone set the radio station on fire. The blokes who ripped this out were in a hurry but didn’t know which bits they needed.” Caddi shrugged. “I’ve got no idea what’s there, and nobody else has. Do you reckon it will work?”

  “I’ve no idea. It looks like one of those 3D puzzles without a picture to help me put it together. My radio man might know?” Harold walked around the heap but still couldn’t make sense of it. “There’s got to be pieces missing, and who knows if any of the rest still works?”

  “Yeah, well I need your man to have a look at it because Hot Rod Radio sounds good to me. That’ll stick it to those fucking dykes as well. I’ll pay for your bloke to work out what it needs?”

  “I’ll want Cooper as the hostage.” Caddi opened his mouth to object but Harold kept going. “You might trade one of the others to get my radio man. You would for our brewer or the GOFS smith, and they know it.”

  Caddi relaxed, laughing. “They’re right. Cooper it is, but that means there’ll be no overnight.” The warlord shrugged, still with a smile. “He’ll never behave himself that long, then whenyour women try to cane him he’ll go fucking crackers and get killed.”

  “Short visits, as many as needed?” Caddi nodded.”No guarantees.” Harold didn’t want Caddi getting his hopes up because the supposed transmitter looked more like scrap. “I’ll take a couple of phone pictures back so he can think about it.”

  “Fair enough.” Caddi waited as Harold took several shots from different angles.”Now let’s get comfortable and sort out the guns.”

  *

  When they finally made it to Caddi’s house,the maid showed Harold into the lounge. “You may as well come in here now, since you made yourself at home last time.” Caddi grinned and Harold smiled back because he had… sort of.

  “Hey there Mack. Don’t nod off in that comfy chair.” Mack had a seat, instead of standing as he usually did when the trading took place in Caddi’s study.

  Mack smiled amiably, completely unfazed. “Not unless Mercedes is ‘ere to keep an eye on yer, ‘Arry. I ‘ad a night off last time.”

  Harold sat in the same armchair as last time, asking the maid for coffee with two sugars. Helooked over the collection of weapons on the coffee table and pointed. “Those must be your guns and will probably be fixable. The others are a mixed bag. I hope your blokes know enough not to use crowbars on jammed weapons?” Harold didn’t care much if they did, but he was jacking up the price at the moment. “Some idiot Geek did and actually made it worse, so I doubled the price of course.”

  Caddi burst out laughing. “I’ll bet that made them happy. My men know I’ll use a cane or crossbowon them if they cause any extra damage.” He gestured towards the captured weapons. “So what about them?”

  After looking them over, Harold nodded slowly. “I’ll have to let you know about the rifle but the rest look to be the usual neglect, unless there’s split brassjammed inside?”

  “In that one. How come that happens?” Caddi waited while Harold looked steadily back at him. “Yeah, all right,but I’ll bet none of your rounds blow up in the gun, do they?”

  “Nope.” Harold wasn’t offering to anneal or resize Hot Rod brass, he’d rather it split as often as possible.”Have you got original ammo for testing?” Harold would swap out Caddi’s good rounds and test with his own reloads.

  “Yes. I’ve also got this.” Caddi lost his scowl,turning to reach down behind his chair.

  Harold did a double-take. The weaponlooked about five feet long, definitely a firearm butit must have weighed a ton. With relief, he recognised the swan-neck device right where the bolt should be.”That’s a flintlock musket, what they used to call a Brown Bess.”

  Caddi chortled. “I knew you could fix it.”

  “I didn’t say that.” Harold looked the weapon over. It had been hard used but nothing appeared to be broken. “What’s up with it?”

  “If I knew that I wouldn’t need you, would I?” Caddi ran his eyes over the weapon, not at all happy. “It won’t work,and none of our peoplehave any idea why. The bloke was stuffing things down the barrel when he was shot so maybe he blocked it.” Caddi reached down and round and brought out a leather pouch, which he threw to Harold. “Here, this was with it.” Caddi rooted around again. “He was using on the barrel.”

  That was probably the ramrod, Harold thought. He was keeping a carefully blank face. Until he had the musket in Orchard Close and in bits, Harold had no bloody idea what it would want. There were a couple of things he remembered, from films and historical novels. “It’ll be short ranged and a bitch to aim.” He looked pointedly at the ramrod. “Bloody slow to reload as well. Do you really want to spend coupons on it?”

  “Too true. I reckon Mack could handle it.” Mack grinned genially, and Harold thought the big man probably could. “The bloke who was hit with the bullet had a fucking great hole right through him, and did a back flip after he was dead. Something like that might come in handy now and then.”

  Harold opened the pouch. Rough looking powder, a scoop, bits of cloth, some bits of stone that might be flints, and… Harold held up one of the musket balls and grinned. “So would you if this hit you, Caddi.” The ammunitionlooked to be well over half an inch diameter and might be getting on for twenty millimetres. He threw the ball to Caddi, who rolled it back and forth on the chair arm, smiling.

  The maid brought the coffee, but Caddi didn’t ask if Harold wanted a blow job or something similar. That puzzled Harold, and it must have showed because Caddi laughed. “You never say yes, Harry, and even if you did it would be a terrible waste. I reckon Mercedes would take a knife to any woman who looks twice at you. Then she might kill you as well, which would spoil the fun.”

  Harold smiled, relieved that something had finally stopped the hassle. “You mean it would stop her getting you better prices.”

  “True, but she’s busy tonight so you can use both hands to eat.” Caddi eyed Harold and thought about that. “My mistake, but I’ll make sure she’s here next time. You’ll have to sleep in that cold hard bed over in the other house tonight.” The bed would be soft enough, but definitely colder without Mercedes. Harold dragged his mind back from memory lane to concentrate on haggling.

  The prices for the work took some serious negotiation, with the usual question marks left until the weapons were stripped. The musket stayed a big question mark until Harold had inspected it properly. Caddi loved to bargain but Harold thought he’d done all right this time. Along with beer making supplies, charcoal and coupons, more thin wool would head to Orchard Close. The women using the knitting machine had nearly run out. Someone the other side of the Geeks actually liked the thin jumpers so the Geeks wanteda score, a bit longer and plain black without the stripe.

  Harold insisted on plenty of charcoal, the type without chemicals, because he accepted a selection of bent machetes and broken crossbows as part payment. The new recruits needed both. Liz would sort out the blades while Harold, Liz and anyone else with any idea
would repair the crossbows.At worst Harold would pay the Geeks to sort them.Patty’s Demons in particular would be pleased.

  *

  The evening meal tasted delicious, so Caddi must still have the chef. Oddly, despite being relieved about Mercedes not helping Caddi in the negotiations, Harold missed her. A pretty young woman in a very short, tight white dress sat down next to Harold.Caddi smiled happily and pointed at her. “Not up to your usual standard, but just in case you feel playful. This one will let you have your hand back no matter where you put it.”

  “I’m all fixed up these days, ta.”Harold let the lass eat in peace. She didn’t join any of the conversation around the table. Only Cooper and Dodge ate with them tonight, with their women, neither of whom spoke much.

  Back in the lounge, Caddi went to take coupons from the safe to pay Harold for half the repairs upfront. After turning back, the warlord’s face broke into a wide smile. As Caddi looked over Harold’s shoulder a very familiar voice said, “Why didn’t someone tell me ‘Arold was here?”

  “We didn’t expect you back tonight, Mercedes. I had to find him another dinner guest.” Caddi looked a happy boy, because the evening’s entertainment had arrived.

  Harold sighed inwardly as a miniskirt moved past at eye level,a real bloody mini with the hint of stocking tops already showing. “I didn’t know until I came down. I had to go back upstairs to take off some clothes.”More stocking top showed as Mercedes seated herself on the arm of Harold’s chair and installed her legs across his thighs. “Have you been unfaithful, ‘Arold?” She pulled Harold’s hand round her with a,”Hardly worth all that asking business these days” and put it on the skirt over her thigh.

  “Never unfaithful in word or deed, Mercedes. How could I be, with all those lovely memories of you?” Theanswering long, slow flicker in her eyes surprised Harold. He’d expected to have to try harder.

  “It’s a good thing I’ve undressed for company, or your company anyway. You might want something to keep you remembering.” Mercedes glanced down at her legs so Harold made a point of giving them a long look.