Smith

by Wade Adrian

Timms’ eyes scanned the shelves as he listened. “That might be all we can reasonably move, assuming a shopping cart. A shame to leave behind history, art, music, poetry…”

  “Time for that later. But I won’t begrudge you sneaking a few things in.”

  Morei nodded. “Gave me a rifle. I’ll carry some silly books for you.” He leaned closer to Timms. “I get to keep it, right?”

  Timms seemed surprised at the question. “I certainly won’t need it if I’m leaving.”

  “Excellent answer.” Morei smacked Timms on the back.

  Ross and Baron were waiting outside when Smith lead Timms out to meet them. His opinion on the matter was known, so he was sent back inside while they talked. Morei was allowed to stay.

  From what little Smith could hear, they were cordial enough, even Ross. It seemed like someone who helped him win a bad looking gunfight was worthy of a bit of civility.

  Smith busied himself with the bookshelves. They needed good, informative, and light books to carry back. Balancing act. Books were always a hassle to move. Really no different from transporting heavy bits of wood. Well, except you could roll a log. Books were inconveniently square by design and they probably couldn’t take shopping carts the whole way. Maybe a wheelbarrow, though…

  Smith took a few books down, but looked at them and put them back. Timms would know which were best, and might not be happy Smith was making a mess of things.

  He sat down with his back to the wall beside the ladder. He could climb it, sneak over, listen in… but he didn’t have reason to. Listening in wouldn’t change anything, and being caught certainly wouldn’t help Timms’ case.

  He pulled the gun out of his holster and popped open the cylinder. Still five rounds. He hadn’t needed to fire it again.

  A voice in the back of his mind gnawed at him.

  How many people back there had he killed?

  In the past he had avoided conflicts. Forever trying to stay out of arguments, just keeping his head down and working. None of those places had survived. The longest was a year or so, but that had been totalitarian rule. No one got a say but the guy on top. It had a lot of turnover. Ordering people to their death wasn’t all that uncommon.

  The crimes they had committed where not on him.

  But all it had taken was a few angry crazies barreling his way for him to pull the trigger. How many of those were on him?

  His father had tried to tell him a long time ago. You can’t unpull a trigger. You can’t stop a bullet once it leaves the barrel. You need to be resolved, entirely sure you’re in the right. That he was gambling his life and his freedom on each shot.

  And, well… he wasn’t sure. These things were always fuzzy. Muddy.

  He hadn’t heard a single one of the attackers speak. He didn’t know if they could. Did that make them less human, or just less fortunate?

  Smith shook his head as he put the gun away. He wanted to take the bullets out, but there was still two weeks of travel ahead, no matter what. He couldn’t say what would happen. He might need them.

  Just needed to be sure next time.

  Morei would doubtlessly say he had been sure. Baron would probably agree. Ross would swear it, from his poor circumstances.

  But had anyone tried to talk to them? Morei had made plain they simply assumed everyone out here was a whack-job beyond redemption.

  Well, that had been Smith not so long ago. If he had run into a patrol, instead of walking up to the gates, would he have ever seen the inside of the place? Or would he just be lying face down in a ditch somewhere?

  The new world sucked.

  He would be delighted to get back to his forge. And he had some shiny new tools, too. Maybe it wasn’t all that bad.

  Smith suddenly found himself wondering what Mary was up to. It must be getting close to harvest, but the rains might have been giving them a hard time.

  He pulled out his notebook. It had been an interesting day to say the least, though he might leave a few bits out.

  “Oh, good. I was afraid you’d been in here staring at the ceiling being all melodramatic because you got in a gunfight or something.”

  Smith hadn’t noticed Morei enter the room. Well, no reason to let him know how close to the mark he hit. “What?” Smith held a hand up to his ear. “Sorry, still ringing. Someone was shooting a rifle next to my head.”

  “Yeah, you’re welcome about that.” The scout flopped down beside him. “Your little buddy is getting an escort back, though he had to agree to carry his fair share of the stuff. Win win for Ross. More loot, extra guy to get shot at if things go bad, and Timms, and you by the way, will owe Ross a favor later.”

  “I’m just glad they didn’t shoot him.”

  Morei rolled his eyes. “We don’t shoot a lot of people. We avoid them if we can. Fight them if we must. Our standing orders are to remain unseen.”

  “Well, we screwed that one up today.”

  “Ross screwed that one up.” Morei nodded. “Was him that got spotted and popped off those first rounds. Brought his people in to help, got them nabbed too. Don’t bring it up though, getting rescued will be a blow to his pride. Rescued by Baron is one thing, guy is a pretty well known bad-ass, but rescued by us? Yeah, don’t talk about it. But at the same time, in not talking about it, you’ll benefit. I’ll get better jobs, and you’ll get less flack. He might even speak well of you when you get back.”

  “What does that have to do with anything? I’m a division head.”

  Morei rolled his head to the side. “You’re a very trusting guy, aren’t you?”

  “No?”

  The scout shook his head. “New people just happen to get missions rather often. It’s part of the initiation. You think how convenient it was for Bishop that you were around for this? I grant, it’s handy you know about tools, but they sent you with a list of tools other people wanted, what was to prevent you from writing your own list for us?”

  Smith frowned. “I suppose.” These things were his specialty, what he was brought on board for…

  “It’s nothing personal, man. Think of it like your final exam. And so far, you’re passing with flying colors. Typical passing grade is doing exactly what is asked of you, no more, no less, and not running off. You’ve gone above and beyond a few times.”

  “Still… they could have told me.”

  “Knowledge of the test corrupts the result.” Morei tapped the side of his head. “No big telling you now, like I said, the only holdout you would have been facing was Ross, and he’ll sing your praises now. Well, at least he won’t voice objections. He’s not a singing kinda guy.”

  “I bet Baron is a lovely baritone.”

  “Right?”

  “So… why was Rawlins sent, then?”

  “Because he’s the medic, and there was the opportunity for medicine. He couldn’t just write a list. I mean, he did, but it would have been a lot better if he had been here to check the place out himself. His list was a last resort. Far better for him to pick and choose. You? I could bring you any hammer you want. I find you a tool catalog, you can even mark it up like a kid at Christmas.”

  Smith shrugged. “More or less.”

  The door to the back opened slowly. Baron stood in the opening. “Huh. Quite a few books.” His eyes fell on the pair. “Food. Come on, we need to discuss our next steps.”

  31

  They set up in the street, the hunters found some sort of meat. They had already cleaned and cooked it by the time it got to Smith. He was pretty sure it used to be a few rabbits. Much more of the meal came from a garden Timms showed them across the street. He had gardens set up in a several different places, hidden away behind short fences covered with vines or set up to look like piles of junk. The stuff Morei had eaten while he staked the place out had come from a few gardens Timms had forgotten about or didn’t frequent anymore. Over time he had closed in the circle he wandered until it was barely larger than the pharmacy.

  The little man was still a bit paranoid ab
out people taking his stuff, though… but given what the day had held, Smith couldn’t really blame him.

  Besides, technically they were taking his stuff. Did he have much of a choice here except to be okay with it? Not really. So good on him for choosing to see the positive side here.

  While the group got more acquainted, Smith wandered back to the hardware store, with Morei shadowing him. The sun was setting, but the large glass front made it easy enough to see. It didn’t take long to find what he was after this time. Drawers had all sorts of bolts, washers, nuts, wing nuts, lock nuts, cap nuts, insert nuts, toggle bolts, and even a few castle nuts.

  He fiddled a few of the bits together in the growing dark. They just needed to be more or less the right shape…

  Yeah. It looked like a bishop. At least to him it did.

  He dumped the rest of the bits into the pocket inside his coat. Having projects had always helped to keep him calm… and his nerves were still rather frayed. His ears were still not quite right, either. Maybe tomorrow.

  Of course, he hadn’t come here asking for a project. No ,they’d come back for a second shopping cart to lug back the stuff from the pharmacy. Morei grabbed one for books, too. Smart guy. Smith’s mind was elsewhere.

  After dinner the work of sorting and storing the library began. Timms had the place lit up via a few solar panels on the roof and a battery storage system inside. It was rigged up in a way most fire marshals would not be okay with, but it seemed to work. Timms said he had found a book on it, and simply tried to follow along despite inadequate parts. That book ended up in the pile of things definitely going, and Smith and Morei ended up on the roof trying to figure out how tricky it was going to be to transport the panels back home.

  Morei had to run back to the hardware store for more tarps to go in the empty baskets. The basket itself gave Timms a hard limit on what he could bring this time, and the tarps were to assure him the weather wouldn’t be an issue.

  Once the cart was full, and Timms stood around questioning if those were really the best ones to take, everyone else started shuffling arm loads towards the front of the store and the electrical access hatch. One of the scouts climbed down and arranged them while everyone else acted as a slow and grumbly conveyor belt.

  The hatch filled up after darkness had settled outside. Most of the books made it in, though the access hatch was so densely packed that it was essentially filled to the top with books. It would be a pain in the ass to get them back out… but Smith probably wouldn’t be on that trip, so he didn’t care.

  The shelf and a half that were left would need to be stored elsewhere, but Timms was sure there were places.

  They closed the pharmacy up for the night and took Timms back to Morei’s loft with all but two of the scouts. They were left at the truck to guard the prisoners in shifts. It took some arguing to convince Ross to feed them, but he gave up and tossed scraps in. Probably just to shut Smith up.

  Smith was fine with that.

  Timms sat by the fire with Smith once everyone was where they should be, Baron at the window watching for intruders while also watching over the supplies, and keeping an eye on the truck and the scouts. The rest had found places to fall in and sleep.

  The shaggy headed little man seemed pensive.

  “Something wrong?” Smith poked at the little fire inside its hubcap. He had continued piecing together the parts. So far he had a set of pawns, but that was the easy part.

  “I haven’t been more than ten paces outside this town in… a very long time.”

  Smith smiled a bit. “It’s worth it. We’re headed for the nicest place I’ve seen in years, and that includes your town.”

  “You must understand that’s difficult for me to believe. If I wasn’t more afraid of armed people coming back than I am of you, I’d be staying here.”

  “That’s reasonable.” Smith shrugged one shoulder a bit. “You can take my word for it. I’m pretty on the level.”

  “It is, quite simply, odd for someone to speak of themselves in such a manner.”

  “It was kind of a joke.”

  Timms adjusted his glasses. “And yet that would imply you meant the opposite, and that you are in fact not on the level.”

  “Sarcasm is a bit more subtle than that. Just trying to lighten the mood.”

  “Duly noted.” Timms nodded his head a few times. “Thank you for looking out for my library. It has become my life’s work. I have been tempted to walk away countless times before, but… I can’t let such knowledge die. Fade away. It’s too important. I had to keep an eye on it.”

  Smith patted the little man on the shoulder. “That’s the long and short of it. These people are getting by on a little knowledge. I think more will make it a place that lasts no matter what else happens in the future.”

  “If they will allow me to continue my work, perhaps even bring in new books if they find them… I will be delighted to let others share in that knowledge. Provided they return them in a timely fashion, and in the same condition in which they were lent.”

  Smith tried not to smile, but he couldn’t help himself. That boiled up into a chuckle, and then a full on laugh.

  A few heads looked up from various places around the room, giving him annoyed glances before lying back down.

  Timms face was drawn down, apparently also not finding anything amusing. “What?”

  Smith managed to stop laughing, though it was near thing. “Sorry, sorry. I just never thought I would see the whole angry librarian bit again. One more thing I thought lost to the world without ever stopping to think about it.”

  Timms adjusted his glasses and sat up a bit straighter. “But I’m not a librarian.”

  “You are now, man.”

  “Hmm.” Timms rolled it over in his mind a few times before nodding. “I suppose, under the circumstances, the appropriate schooling can be forgone.”

  Smith chuckled and started working on a castle. He had a special top for them. Castle nut. Go figure. Probably the best looking piece so far.

  Less than an hour later he was laid out beside the fire, his eyes heavy. Timms was already asleep, sitting up with his chin resting on his breastbone. Guy’s neck might never be the same.

  Even if Timms was only faking, Baron could handle it. There would be a shift change soon anyway, someone better rested to keep an eye out.

  Civilization was really pretty great about things like that.

  He pulled out his notepad and scribbled a few more things in it while they were still bouncing around his head. No mention of the chess pieces, though. He wanted that to be a surprise. All in all, he really did miss his rickety shop now. All of this… freedom crap was for the birds.

  Irritating light woke him the next morning. He was in just the wrong place, light from the window having a straight shot at his face. Timms was protected by the couch, and his own back.

  Smith grumbled a bit as he sat up. He was sore from sleeping on the boards, but he’d endured worse.

  Ross was at the window and most of the others were already up and moving. “Morning.” Ross inclined his head without looking back at him.

  Smith stifled a yawn. “How are things?”

  “Not exactly clockwork, but good. Prisoners tried to make a run for it. Found out the truck is locked from the outside. But that was the point, really. It will keep them from doing it again.”

  “What are we going to do with them when we leave?”

  “Well, we could just leave them in there.” Ross shrugged.

  One of Smith’s eyebrows climbed a bit.

  “But we won’t. Policy is to not take life needlessly. Few enough people as it is.”

  “Well, thats good to hear.”

  “We’ll change the brace on the door, set up something they can break with a bit of effort. Wood, but sawed to weaken it should do. Convenient you’ve got the tools. Then we throw in food and water enough for a day, and we leave. We’ll be following the road, so no need to concern ourselves with covering
a trail. By the time they get hungry enough to break out, we’ll be a day or two away.”

  “It doesn’t sound like you came up with that last night.”

  “Pretty standard. Roads are good for travel. Flat and level most of the time. Hard on livestock and horses without shoes, but heres hoping you can help with that.”

  Smith tilted his head a bit. “Never made a horseshoe, but I found a book last night with some more farming related smithing information. Pretty simple, really.”

  “Right, I forgot. You’re a war smith.” Ross chuckled.

  Smith smiled a bit with a shrug. “Take it you don’t want a sword, then?”

  “What would I do with a a sword?”

  Morei held up a hand as his face appeared outside the window. “I want a sword.”

  Smith chuckled. Well, it had taken a few weeks, but Ross didn’t seem nearly as bad. Smith wasn’t entirely sure if the man needed to warm up to people, or Smith had just gotten used to him. Maybe it was due to Smith passing the “test” Morei had mentioned. Either way, it seemed like a positive thing.

  The scouts had apparently been at work for an hour or two already. Timm’s remaining books had been ferreted away in the duct work of the building next to the pharmacy. Not like anyone was going to turn on the heater, or have reason to poke around in there.

  Smith stretched his neck as they finished up breakfast in the yard below Morei’s loft window. The shopping carts were ready to go, a few replacement wheels lashed to the sides of each with wire just in case. Three in total: tools and hardware store, straight up books, and the pharmacy cart with medicine and all the stuff Rawlins had asked for, as well as all the gauze and stuff they could get in there. That third one also had solar panels and the battery system strapped to the top. They hadn’t exactly been carefully removed, but then they hadn’t exactly been carefully put up there, either.

  Ross made the adjustments to the truck and tossed in bottles of water and some dried meat himself before loudly stating that the next guard shift had arrived. That shift consisted of three birds sitting on top of the truck. They fluttered and pecked at each other a bit. A clear case of insubordination.