Smith

by Wade Adrian

  She seemed to mull that over in her head for a moment before nodding and climbing to her feet. “Thank you, Mister Smith. I have chores to attend. So, welcome, and try to have a nice day.” She cast an errant glance at Bishop. “Don’t stay out too late, dear.”

  “Of course.” He nodded a few times as she left before shrugging. “My wife of some years. She remains hopeful that all of this will just blow over. As if it will turn out we’ve somehow been living in the middle of a golf course while the rest of the world went on around us, unaware.” He chuckled softly.

  Smith shrugged one shoulder. “A lot of people are like that. I kind of envy them.”

  “No hope in you, then?”

  “As much as I can scrounge up. A good bit today.”

  Bishop smiled. “A few safe walls and warm food will do that. The hunters and scouts walk through that gate and you can almost see the weight of the world lifting off their shoulders.”

  “I’m still a bit afraid this is a con and I’m going to get tossed out when you’re done robbing me.”

  “Of what, your blankets? Your shoes with no soles left? Your empty gun?” Bishop shook his head. “What you have that’s valuable is in your head. While I’d be delighted for you to share that knowledge, even if you teach ten more to be just like you there’s still no reason to get rid of you. You have a skill set that’s been sorely lacking.”

  Well, not humanitarian outreach then… but it still worked out in his favor. He nodded. “I’ll do what I can. Guess I should get started on the inventory.”

  Bishop rubbed at his chin. “If you like. I wouldn’t ask it of you today. Or tomorrow, really. You’ve got a few days to rest and get sorted, if you want them. We’ve got a room set aside for you. We keep a few ready for traders that come by and get stuck in bad weather or… other problems.”

  People. Other people.

  Smith nodded. “Appreciated. Don’t think I’ve had a roof over my head in… at least a few weeks.”

  “The things we take for granted, eh?”

  “Think I’ll start on that inventory, just the same.” Smith shifted his weight on the bench, one foot landing on the outside of the picnic table as he shifted his weight to stand. He stopped when his arm didn’t follow.

  Bishop held him down without showing any real effort. Guy was stronger than he looked. “If you’ll forgive me, I do have to consider the safety of my friends and neighbors. So… a question or two, away from prying ears.”

  Well, Smith had assumed this part might wait a few days. He sat back down and nodded. “Shoot.”

  “The work you did in there, what you say you can do? I believe you, and I’m sure we’ll all benefit. Us, and you.” Bishop let go of Smith’s arm as he leaned back across the table. “But I have to wonder why. Call it looking a gift horse in the mouth if you will, but a man like you shouldn’t just be walking around out there. Anyone could find a use for you, town, gang, or lone crazies. How is it you came to be out there alone? How is it you came to be here? Is anyone looking for you? Are there sizable groups looking to hit my walls? Am I going to have to double guard shifts?”

  Smith shook his head a bit.

  Bishop didn’t take his eyes off the man. “I’ll do it, if I have to. Especially if you help to arm them. It’s an edge we can use, but I can’t see it coming without a cost. Not with the way things are.”

  Smith leaned on the table a bit, his voice quieter. “I’ve lived a few places. Done work for them. Picked up new things from their own builders. But before that, yeah, I had a home. A camp. Bigger than this one. Pretty sure it was an old military base.”

  Bishop waited, his hands folded.

  “It fell apart. From the inside. Arguments. Infighting. Most of us just wanted to do our work. Make the place keep ticking. That was what was important.”

  “What was the argument?”

  “It wasn’t one argument, it was several. Which way to look for water, to send hunters. If we allow trade or lock the gates. Some wanted to shoot strangers on sight. Some were against it, not for humanitarian reasons, but because the retort would draw more attention.” He shrugged. “Sadly, pretty normal stuff. But things only escalated when no one could find common ground. This group against that group. Us against them. With us or against us.” He shook his head. “Got pretty bad. In the end, I was one of the last ones to walk out when it became clear we didn’t have the people to keep it safe anymore. Place was just too big, and ten of us couldn’t maintain it. We started out as a group. Some wandered off. We joined smaller camps, but given time we usually left again. Some people do… things out there we couldn’t go along with. Well, most of us. Each time it seemed like we left one or two behind. Those willing to sacrifice whatever principle for the roof and food. The last camp was small, but stable… until it was raided and burned in the night. We scattered. I never found any of them again. Place was a smoking ruin when I went back the next day. I waited a few days but hunger got the better of that. That was… about a year ago. Since then? Walking. Following the road. Only a handful of stops.”

  Bishop took it all in. “You know, that’s the reason I’m here. I didn’t ask to be the top man, but it makes things simpler. People disagree, someone has final say. Lets the loser be mad at me, rather than taking it out on detractors.” He smiled a bit, but it didn’t seem very mirthful. “Didn’t have this gray when I got the post. Two kids? No gray. Keeping this place together? Well, just my luck all the drug stores are sold out of hair color.”

  Smith let a small smile climb onto his face, but he didn’t feel it had any place there. “Long story short, no. I don’t think anyone is looking for me. I didn’t sneak out of a war camp in the middle of the night or anything.”

  “Good. Puts my mind at ease. But I still say not to worry about doing anything work like today.” Bishop hopped up from the table. “Wander around, talk to some people. Introduce yourself.”

  It took smith a few moments to get on his feet. Maybe he could use the rest… but the main lesson he had learned wandering the wild was that there is no time like the present. “Think I’d like to get my bearings in the shop first. Then maybe branch out.”

  “Oh fine. Suit yourself.”

  Smith’s neck popped as he stretched. “Are Cooper, crowbar, and hatchet available to help, or just stalk me?”

  “Crowbar and Hatchet?” Bishop tilted his head. “Oh. Miles and Stevens. Yeah, they can help you out.” Bishop whistled.

  Cooper looked up from where he had been standing the whole time. Miles and Stevens appeared from the buildings.

  “Sorry to cancel your easy day boys, but there’s work to be done.”

  6

  The scrap yard hadn’t changed a bit. Cooper was the furthest back as the four of them walked. Miles, previously crowbar, lead the way while Stevens, formerly hatchet, walked beside Smith.

  The same large door stood open, just as it had, letting in light. It was a bit brighter now as the morning grew long in the tooth.

  Smith tugged on his beard. “Not sure what to do with all of this stuff. Don’t want to pile it against the fence, would make a ramp. Guess there’s room to set most of it outside behind the place.”

  Miles shook his head. “Why bother? Probably easier to make a new workshop.”

  “Maybe, but I kinda like this one. Besides, it has history.”

  Cooper scoffed. “Mason was a prick.”

  “See? History.”

  Cooper slacked off a bit as the others set to moving things around. Miles and Stevens would pick up things, and Smith would say to either put them in the middle of the room or carry them outside.

  They found a set of tarps still in bags and rigged them up to create a shade against the back wall of the place. Those things without an immediate use got dumped out there for now. It would keep most of the rain off… not that some of this stuff could get much worse.

  Lunch happened a bit after one, going by the sun. Apparently when none of them left, people decided to send food t
o them instead. A pretty young woman with hair so blond it was almost white lugged a basket with both hands. She was dressed like the people working in the fields, overalls and a t-shirt. Both had fresh dirt on them.

  Cooper waved and gave her a friendly smile. The first positive emotion the man had shown around Smith. “Afternoon, Mary.”

  She didn’t acknowledge him in the least.

  Lot of that going around.

  She gave a polite smile and a wave to the rest as she set the basket inside. She even waved at Smith. So, a newcomer, but not Cooper. Huh.

  She must have met the guy before.

  The woman departed again without a word, Cooper wearing an annoyed look all the while.

  Lunch consisted of water, bread, some fresh sliced up vegetables whose seeds had already been removed, and dried meat. Probably the menu most days, but it was a welcome sight to Smith. Eating like a king.

  He was the first back on his feet once the food was gone. He wanted meals like that to keep coming which meant pulling his weight, even if it was more weight than anyone else was pulling or asked him to pull.

  They made some good progress. One corner of the place, the one the workbenches and tool chest were in, got cleaned out. Not spotless, but it was in a state that it could be set in order now that all the random junk that had surrounded it was outside.

  The others made small talk while they worked. They laughed and mocked each other in a familiar fashion. It all seemed… strange to Smith anymore. People outside didn’t act this way. Not that it was bad, just… strange.

  Work slowed considerably when the sun began to set. There were grumbles for about half an hour as Smith continued to toil in the dying light.

  “Okay, enough is enough.” Cooper laid a hand on Smith’s arm. “Dinner is going to be cold if we don’t get there soon, and we can’t leave you here alone. So we’re all going. Now.”

  Smith tugged on his beard and leaned back against the workbench. “That’s fair, I suppose. Very well. Thanks for all the help today, by the way.”

  “Tch. Thank Bishop.” Cooper started for the door.

  Miles shrugged.

  Stevens shook his head. “Don’t worry about him. He’s a prick. To him, everyone else is a prick, but as my dear old dad is so fond of saying: if you meet an asshole in the morning, you ran into an asshole. But if you meet assholes all day, you’re the asshole.” He pointed after Cooper. “But don’t worry. He’s all bark.”

  Smith smiled a little. “Good bit of wisdom, there.”

  Stevens, hatchet, had been perfectly willing to intimidate him that morning but it seemed like he had gotten over that. Cooper, on the other hand, was just as abrasive as ever.

  Miles stretched his neck a bit. “Come on. Food. If you want, I’ll come back with you after with a lantern or something.”

  Hard to argue with that.

  Most of the fields and other work had folded up when the sun dipped below the horizon. The occasional person was out messing around in the quickly fading light, but they were few and far between. The town, on the other hand, was probably near capacity.

  It occurred to Smith that in his time outside he had noticed some light in the evenings… but he hadn’t expected this. The trees on the inside had more uses than shade or occasionally growing apples or something. The underside of the canopy was painted bright green by a large central bonfire and lanterns around the outside of the square.

  There were no seats to be had at the picnic tables when they arrived, even though lights in most of the other buildings showed figures within, too. A few fold up tables had food arranged on them.

  Stevens patted Smith on the shoulder and pointed at the spread. “We’ll find somewhere to sit, I’m sure. First thing’s first.”

  The concept of a buffet had long since found its way out of Smith’s mind. Standing in line between Stevens and Miles, clutching his plate like an urchin, was a novel experience. He didn’t gather much food as he passed. Some chicken, an abandoned end of a bread loaf, a few tiny tomatoes, and a mug of water.

  He was wary of eating too much. He seemed to recall people could do themselves harm by gorging after fasting for extended periods of time. It hadn’t really ever been an issue before, but this was the first third meal in a day in at least a year. Hell, several years when he thought about it.

  They sat on a wooden beam on the ground that was laid out with three others to surround one of the larger trees. A sort of make shift planter or flower bed to keep water in and feet out.

  He poked at his food and ate what little he had gathered. He didn’t want to be rude or let any of it go to waste. This stuff was worth more than gold now.

  They must really think he was worth something to share it with him.

  Granted, he had some knowhow, but other people knew as much as him. Some definitely knew more. Just luck that none of them had happened by before him.

  No, that wasn’t right. Bishop had said they could use ten like him. Maybe they would have let him in anyway if another smith was already here, but the entrance audition would have been much more difficult with a watchful and knowledgeable smith and all the proper tools.

  He was no slouch… but he had seen some impressive work done by others in his time. His half made file knife wouldn’t measure up to them on their worst day.

  A hand waving in front of his face made him blink. He turned his head toward Miles, who pointed forward.

  Bishop was standing in front of them, a small smile on his face. “I said, how did it go today?”

  Smith almost dumped the scraps left on his plate as he set it aside and stood up. “Good, good. We made it to the workbenches. I’m going to head back in a few minutes.”

  Bishop chuckled as he shook his head. “We’re not planning to toss you out, Smith. You can relax. Hell, you did more work today than most everyone else. Well, except the poor bastards I sent with you.”

  Cooper grunted.

  Miles shrugged a bit. “Wasn’t that bad.”

  Smith rubbed at the back of his neck. “Sorry, just want to get it done. See what’s there. You know?”

  Bishop nodded. “Well, you’re welcome to it. We don’t set work hours, though I would ask you to try and keep the noise down after, I dunno, eight or so. Kids sleeping and all.”

  “Right. Sounds fair.”

  Miles inclined his head toward Smith. “I’ll keep an eye on him, make sure he calls it a night at a reasonable hour.”

  Bishop patted Miles on the shoulder. “Good. Thank you.”

  “No problem.”

  A quick glance around showed more than a few wary looks leveled at Smith, even in such company. Others tried to avoid looking at him, or turned their eyes as soon as his met them.

  Bishop might want him here, but so far he wasn’t in the majority.

  That didn’t mean anyone here wanted to do Smith harm… but they weren’t rolling out any welcome wagons either. Not quite against the idea enough to call Bishop out on it, or maybe they were just waiting to see how things shook out.

  Hard to argue the point. He’d do the same in their place.

  He picked up his plate again. “Guess I should be going then, if you’re ready, Miles.”

  The young man stretched his neck a bit. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  Bishop gently took one of the lanterns from where it hung and held it out by a wooden handle. “Should have a few hours of light, but do please try to be a little quieter, hmm? Just bring it back when you’re done. The big building over there is where you’ll be staying tonight. I’ll let them know you might be getting in late. Someone is always up and about there, unless you roll in at four in the morning or something.”

  Miles took the lantern and checked its oil reserve. He nodded.

  Smith tugged at his beard as he looked over the building Bishop pointed out. It was one of the largest. An old barn with relatively fresh paint. None of the boards were loose or missing, and a concrete slab stuck out of the front. Probably where someone had been
keeping cars or something. “We may not get much done tonight. I don’t want to drive off poor Miles, here.”

  “Oh, good. Thank you.” Miles rolled his eyes.

  “Just a few things bugging me, and then make a plan for starting again tomorrow morning.”

  “Morning. Good. Great.” Miles sighed.

  Smith shrugged. “I’m fine to move the stuff. You can just keep an eye on me if you like.”

  “That’s not terribly neighborly, even if I am spying on you.”

  “Wait… you’re spying on me?”

  Bishop rolled his eyes. “Okay, yes, very amusing.”

  Miles chuckled a bit as he started back toward the workshop and waved for Smith to follow. “Come on, lets use what little light we have to get back there with ankles in tact.”

  7

  Smith upended a rusted out metal barrel in the middle of the room and patted the top. Dust jump up as it made weak drumming sounds. “Good spot for that lantern.”

  Miles set it down, shadows jumping this way and that with the moving flame as he looked around. “Cleaning it up is one thing. Can’t see this place being… I dunno… nice any time soon. No place to work on rainy days or when its cold out.”

  “Forge will more than take care of the cold. But yeah, it’s going to need some work. That’s why step one is getting non essential stuff outside so I can fix up the walls. Water tight when the doors are shut is a must for the sake of tools and materials.”

  “Doubt you can keep humidity out, no matter what you do.”

  “Mmm. Metal needs to be oiled, and kept covered as best I can. But there are some other things I can make in the meantime.” Smith found his way back to the pile of PVC. He pulled one of the pipes free and took it over to the workbench. “See if you can find some straight bits of wood. At least a two by four. Thicker would do, too. I need about… three to three and a half feet long and as straight as possible. It can be bad after that, we’ll cut it to fit.”

  While Miles poked around in the piles, Smith dug into the tool chest. Some of the lower drawers had been inaccessible before, and they were pretty rusted… but he got them open. One of the higher drawers had a little pry bar. Handy.