by Vance Huxley
If Harold spent another night in her bed he’d turn over. Harold expected to survive butthen he’d be trying to kill Caddi and a hell of a lot of Hot Rods. Caddi wasn’t getting Mercedes unless she wanted him to, and she didn’t. Her comment in bed, about having to kill everyone in the Mansion afterwards, had been clear enough.
Harold didn’t think this was love, or any deep and significant feelings. On his part, he’d been snared by the lure of something beautiful, wild and deadly that might, just might, let him pet her. He had absolutely no idea what had fired up Mercedes.
Unfortunately, the visit wasn’t all pleasure. During the haggling over the gun repairs that Caddi wanted done quickly, Harold lost track several times. Mercedes enjoyed the laughing game, and between that and avoiding the attempts to flash her lack of bra at him Harold had to ask Caddi to repeat himself. “If you’ve pulled your brain out of her pants, would you like to buy my forge?”
“What, complete with the anvil and all those fancy pincers and whatever?” Harold would, or rather Liz would. The blacksmith had mentionedhumansacrifice as a way to geta proper anvil and tools,as long she could sacrifice a Hot Rod or Geek. “What’s happened to your blacksmith?”
“He’s fine. We never found the Murphies’ blacksmith but now we’ve got all his kit. It’s a lovely setup, all in a big horse box,somy bloke is happy to let the old gear go. Once the trailer gets to The Mansion, do you want the spare stuff?”
“I’ll ask my metals person.”
“Blacksmith. You’ve got a bloody blacksmith, and the proof is I’ll sell the forge gear for maces and Rambos. Maybe my bloke can make them with the new stuff, but that won’t be fast enough.”
Harold set into haggling but his mind kept wandering into Mercedes’ pants, if she wore any. As he avoided another bra flash, Mercedes leant in and whispered in Harold’s ear. “You’ll win if you look. I never wear one when I come to see you.” Her nails dug into his back, more brain cells went into meltdown and Harold couldn’t bargain like this.
“I can’t make a deal until my blacksmith sees what’s on offer. No, before you ask, my blacksmith doesn’t visit.” If Liz or any decent blacksmith visited the Mansion, Caddi wouldn’t let them come home. He’d admitted he would swap a lieutenant for someone who made decent blades and maces.
“What a pity I won’t be there.” Mercedes turned to give Harold a reproachful look and her other leg came over a bit to rub his fingers. The sparkle in her eyes said Mercedes knew damn well why Harold didn’t want to bargain now. Harold could forgive her, and not just because she tripped all his switches. The presents the refugees brought from Mercedes more than repaid any losses she cost him in trading.
“Yes, that is a pity.” Caddi could have meant either not bargaining now or not getting his hands on Harold’s blacksmith. “Where do we meet because I’m not bringing the gear here without a trade being agreed? That costs diesel.” Eventually they agreed on a place in Hot Rods territory, but near the border so Harold’s people could walk.
“If the trade goes through,yourvehicles deliver the gear here and collect the price.” Harold wasn’t trying to carry an anvil over a mile.
“All right,but I’ll definitely need the vehicles back because some dipstick lost two.” Caddi snarled that bit.
“I thought that was sorted.” Dodge seemed to be off the hook when Harold last saw him.
“Two more were ambushed and burned,and these little mishaps are all a bit too close to those lunatic bitches. Some of the lunatic bitches seem a bit too much at home over here. Have you got another other woman, Harry? One with a blond wig?” Caddi had switched to another regular complaint, the Barbies.
“Cripes no. I’ve got all the woman I can handle, right here in my hands.” That won a lovely smile and more muscle interaction from Mercedes, but Caddi wasn’t satisfied.
“So how come they keep dedicating songs to you? If another of my men mentions you and The Trooper, I might just shoot him.” Barbie Radio had decided that “The Trooper” by Iron Maiden made the perfect dedication track for Soldier Boy. There were other fighting songs as well, dedicated to Patty or Ru or the sexy bitches in Orchard Close. Much to Hazel’s disgust”I Want a Man with Slow Hands” had been added to smooch hour, dedicated to Alfie.Skipper always dedicated “Out in the Fields” to all the boys and girls working those rolling acres, and asked if the radio man could visit. Repairing Barbie Radio had been popular, and apparently the Hot Rod rank and file listened.
“Yes, ‘Arold, I wondered as well. In the last smooch hour I’m sure that woman dedicated’Je t’aime’ to Soldier Boy?” Mercedes smiledwith her eyes as well so she was teasing, not annoyed.
Harold grinned. “Maybe because they know about us?”
“Mmm, I’ll practice the lyrics, just in case.” Harold averted his eyes as she leant in again and felt hot breath on his ear. “Je t’aime, je t’aime. How was that?”
Deep, throaty, and sexy, definitely sexy, Harold thought. “Mmm, if I handle a couple more delectable bits, maybe we can get more feeling into it?”
Mercedes slid her leg slowly off Harold’s hand where she’d brought it over as she’d leant in. “Feeling? Oh, I’d love to get more feeling involved, ‘Arold, feeling and delectables.” Her fingernails ran up and down his spine a bit.
At least Caddi stopped complaining about Harold and Barbies, becauseeveryone could see which woman Harold wanted. The conversation went back to arranging the meeting, and if Harold would have the firearms ready by then. Caddi put off the smithy gear tradinguntil he could get his weapons back at the same time.
Mercedes walked back down to the gate with Harold’s arm round her, on top of her blouse. Both of Harold’s hands were placed on her ass for goodbye and Harold smiled a little at the comments Suzie would make. When he pulled just a little, Mercedes swayed forwards without hesitation. “What a pity you can’t stay here for Halloween, Mercedes. We could find you a lovely costume for trick or treat.”
Mercedes smiled and walked her hands up Harold’s front and around his neck. “Which would you choose, ‘Arold. Trick or treat?”
“I’d invite you inside for a treat. Then I’d ask you for a treat as well.” Harold looked right into her eyes, warm brown eyes just now with barely a trace of the dead ones. “We could swap tricks as well?”
Delight blossomed on her face, then she pouted. “I’m sure I could find a trick you liked, ‘Arold. Now what can I do so you aren’t tempted by anyone else’s tricks or treats?” Both Mercedes’ arms tightened around Harold’s neck andher lips stayed on Harold’s for long seconds this time. A ripple of murmurs came from the Hot Rods, while Harold’s firm grip wasn’t just because of the kiss.
As her arms tightened round Harold’s neck, Mercedes moved those last few inches and pressed herself against his front! The fag paper would have been smeared into oblivion, andHarold had to stifle an impulse to wrap his arms right round her. Mercedes had smashed another of her rules. Shepulled away with a smile, one that reached her eyes. “Imagine that, but without clothes.” With that she turned away, pointing to her ass and giving it a wiggle of course. As everyone laughed, the Killer Queen pulled on her coat, swaggering off down to the cars surrounded by Hot Rods.
When he’d wiped the daft grin off his face, Harold started worrying about Mercedes. Her eyes were still dead if they weren’t looking into his.If whatever she’d buried inside broke free, Mercedes was capable of more or less anything. Seeing Caddi literally lick his lips as Mercedes broke the clinch didn’t help Harold’s peace of mind.
*
Harold didn’t have time to imagine too much, because he had to talk to Liz before she worried too much about meeting Caddi. When he managed to visit her, a little later, it wasn’t the meeting with Caddi that Liz had heard about. “I’ll huff and I’ll puff?” Harold heard the bar being removed, to reveal a laughing Liz.
“From what I’ve just been told, you’ll have no puff left.” Liz beckoned, with a flamboyant bow. “Come into my lair,
wimp. Are you thinking straight after that parting shot?Imagine that, but without the clothes? I’ll bet you have, imagined it I mean.” She smirked and posed, but her sooty apron and the lump hammer in her hand spoiled the effect. “I’m going to steal it whenI get the last two prospective apprentices hot and sweaty in here. The one who likes the idea will be the right man.After all, my apprentice will have the same duties as yours.”
At leastthis talk with Liz,andHarold’s blush, were private. Once Liz stopped teasing, they worked on how to keep Caddi from identifying the blacksmith. Liz confessed to still having the occasional bad dream about that Hot Rod she hadn’t heard, about if he’d come into the forge instead of going after Celine. Harold knew she still worried, because Liz still kept the door barred.
Once they’d worked out a way to keep her safe, Liz asked for charcoal, as much as possible because her baby trees still weren’t growing fast enough. When Harold complained, she produced a bowl with a leather chinstrap, a helmet, a shiny metal one. “I’ve managed to melt some metal, at last. This is an alloyand a lotsofter than steel,but it should turn a blade.”
The two of them hit it a few times with edged weapons and the helmet deflected a blade unless it hit solidly, full on. Even then it might mean a cut and concussion instead of a split skull. They tested the weight and fit, andthe helmet would be uncomfortable even with a bit of padded cloth inside. Harold reminded her they’d got all the middles out of ruined cycle helmets, and crash helmet linings. A bit of a diagram, and Liz reckoned she could make them fit inside the next attempt. As he came away, Harold briefly wonderedwho he could raid for trees to make charcoal. He’d laid awake nights worrying about the lack of decent head protection, now that the few crash helmets and bike hats were all ruined.
Harold had barely finished letting a few select people know about helmets, thenexplainingwhy there weren’t any yet, when Patty wanted him to watch the new practice. The first dozen Ant-inspired shields were ready, curved plywood faced with thin aluminium to stop splintering.The old cladding from the caravans finally had a use. The Demons lined up with locked shields, and a Rambo to slide between them and stab an opponent in the gut. The second rank poked broom handles forward between their heads, to simulate spears, but in a real situation they’d wait until after the crossbow volley.Patty chose shorter women for the front rankto let the taller fighters reach through easier, ones who swore they’d stab a real person if necessary. A substantial percentage of thesevolunteers had been abused or threatened by the gangs,and now they fancied some payback. Harold worried once again about turning them into Barbies, but their own logic defeated any protests.
According to the front row women, their attackers wouldn’t see any threat in young womenhiding behind shields. Once the bastards were close enough for the big knives, it would be too late. Several intended putting on makeup if they had time, to help suck the bastards in because they had a score to settle. Theirtreatment by the gangs had made some women into potential killers just as efficiently as HM forces did to their recruits, even if the mental scars were different. This training should turn potential into deadly. After a quiet discussion, Patty promised to keep an eye on just how bloodthirsty some were getting.
There’d be backup for the Demons, becauseHarold and his biting woman had spent a lot of time together. The increasing number of hybrid firearms weresplit up, with boxes of ‘parts’ being stowed in three places whilehalf a dozen complete weapons were scattered around in various houses, for practice. The squad leaders and their deputy knew where the weapons were, and who could use them.By the time Orchard Close had a score of the new style muskets, twice that number of people weretraining as musketeers.
The new musketeers spent long hours becoming adept at loading a hybrid musket and dropping the crude sight on a target. Now they also learned to ride the kick to keep it there. Thanks to Stephan the carpenter, Liz, Rob the plumber and some experimentation,the training weapons had a kick without firing. The butt plate on three dummy musketsincluded a spring that smacked it back into the shooter’s shoulder when the trainee pulled the trigger. The beam of a torch, strapped under the barrel,told the trainee if they’d kept the barrel down andpointing at the man shape painted on a wall.
*
All the training stopped for Halloween. At dusk, curtainswere closed and any outside lights were turned off, then the wind and water generators started up. Orchard Close lit up with various sizes of coloured bulbs, turning the familiar streets into a magical fairy grotto. The first ones to benefit were the youngsters, but one of them wasn’t even slightly enchanted. “But I’m older than most of them. I can shoot a crossbow so I’m a guard, one of the Riot Squad.” Daisy glared at her firework fairy costume. “I need a proper costume now, like Fergie or Sukie’s mum.”
Tessa, Sharyn and Harold all winced before Sharyn answered. “You are seven, young lady, not seventeen. You don’t have to wear that costume or go trick and treating, but in that case you don’t get any sweets.”
“But I don’t need this costume. Sukie’s mum is wearing shorts and she says she’ll get something better than buns and sweets for her treat. I’ve got shorts?” Daisy stopped suddenly, turning her curious gaze on Tessa. “What sort of treat, AuntyTessa? Millie’s mum said you’d get special treats as well.” This time both Harold and Tessa had blushes to go with the wince.
“Enough! If you won’t wear that, off you go, upstairs. Georgina and Joey are both older than you, and they’ll be trick or treating with us. I’ll tell them you want them to have your share.” Sharyn’s hands had gone on her hips, while Wills-Womble and Eddie-Pirate were watching round-eyed from by the door.
“Joey is going?” Daisy’s rebellion collapsed. “Georgina said she would trick or treat him, but if he’s coming with us she’s got no chance. He likes me, he said so.” She ran upstairs with the dress. “Bet I get more sweets than Wills or Eddie.”
“Won’t. Bet I win.” Eddie wasn’t as resigned to Daisy as Wills had become.
Sharyn rolled her eyes. “I swear I’m going to gag Suzie. She keeps opening her big mouth where little ears can hear.” Her face softened into a little smile. “If she’s wearing shorts, I wonder which character she’s dressing as?”
Harold manfully withstood the thinly veiled references about who might wear shorts or stockings, and what treats someone dressed that way might get. Thankfully, now Daisy had made up her mind she didn’t waste time and soon hurtled down the stairs again, ready to go. Tessa and Sharyn didn’t give her time to speak, hustling the three children down the road to meet the rest. Harold stayed home to dish out treats.
This year overa dozen young children went door to door, an old-fashioned trick or treat. Mums, sometimes dads, and even some of the young teens escorted them to collect little sweets or fruit and pastry treats. Despite ferocious smiling and eye-fluttering, Harold only allowed Daisy one treat when the gang knocked on his door. Joey looked ready to run, with Georgina on one side and Daisy on the other, glaring at each other.
Afterwards the young teens gathered at Betty’s house where she’d laid on treats, burgers and fruit juice with one drink of small beer each. The numbers in the computer club had grown to where they sometimes spread out of her front room, but the eldest residentliked having youngsters in her house even if she teased them about their terrible musical tastes. She also insisted that Alfie should stay in her spare bedroom,rather than move into a flat now he’d reached eighteen. There were quite a few thought Hazel would like to get Alfie in his own flat, or anyplace Harold couldn’t see. A few were wondering if Betty might be more broad-minded than she seemed to be when she laid down the law to the computer club. Hazel certainly spent a lot of time visiting.
Later that night,a large number of strangely dressed young men and women ran around Orchard Close banging on doors. Not exactly magical and fairy-like, despite the lighting and several victims looking decidedly spellbound. Only a few really went for shocking, and most of those had a target. As Liz delighted in te
lling Harold later, a couple wore their version of a Mercedes outfit and offered grab-ass to their chosen victim. Suzie wore very small shorts, real Daisy Dukes, and found thigh highs from someplace but only Billy gotan invite to grab. The gossip mill seized on that with rumours of gartering.Between then and Guy Fawkes, plenty of other rumours over who tricked or treated who spread through Orchard Close.
Five days later,the soldiers on the bypass accepted that fizzing and sparkling colours and lights, on Guy Fawkes night, wouldn’t be threatening. The men and women with chips and soup might have helped, ormaybe it was the line of young women in costumes,waving from the bottom of the access road and inviting them to the bonfire dance. Sarge warned Harold his squad would be rotated out soon, so the women should be more careful. This sergeant took a copy of Curtis’s picture to pass around a few other NCOs. He’d get word back if anyone saw the gardener, just to confirm he’d made it. Harold kept that from Emmy, in case it came to nothing.
Barry the ex-fireman had been experimenting with chemicals again, because this year he presented a wider variety of colourful fireworks. He still avoided any bangs or shooting flares, just in case a soldier had an itchy trigger finger. Harold chased Daisy, Eddie and Wills around the bonfire until they were tired, while the dogs chased everyone and stole treats.Eventually Tessa and Sharyn helped him carry the children home to bed. This year Harold went to the dance afterwards. He’d accepted that the new refugees in particular were reassured by seeing him there, dancing with whoever asked. In any case, from the jokes, he wasn’t on the hunting list because he’d already got two.Someone chose shopping as the theme, to celebrate the visit to Beth’s, sothe mystery competition contestants dressed as shop dummies. Their attempts at lingerie kept the single blokes intrigued and hopeful, as usual.