by Wade Adrian
“Right… but did you allow for leap years?”
“Of course I did. Besides, leap years add an additional day to the year, they don’t add additional days to a week. Still only seven.” He shook his head. “So far I’ve not had to figure in skipping a leap year on the requisite one hundred years. Kind of rare. And then of course one must consider that said year is not divisible by four hundred, in which case it’s still a leap year. It’s December forth, since you’re interested.”
Smith blinked a few times. “I don’t think I needed to know that.”
Timms sighed and his eyes dropped to more closely examine his stew. “Of course you do. Everyone does. That attitude is what we must rally against. Just… giving up on knowledge because it’s more convenient to forget.”
Smith frowned a bit. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I have my own bits of rather silly information I don’t think I’d trade for the world.”
“It’s not silly.”
“Come on, that bit was rather silly. Divisible by four hundred? I’d probably need scratch paper for that.”
“That doesn’t make it silly.”
Smith chuckled a bit. “Fair enough. I’ll make a note of it.”
The sound of several scouts preceded them, just as before. Morei waved when he noticed them. “Hey, guys. Oh, kitchen open?”
Smith shook his head. “Soon, probably.”
“Then how do you have food?”
Timms took another sip. “Pulled rank.”
Morei narrowed his eyes. “Oh that is so not fair.”
Smith smiled and leaned back in his chair. “Who promised you fair?”
The scout rubbed at his chin. “Maybe I can convince them I’m standing in for Ross, a sort of temporary division head.”
“Ross is still fully capable of making decisions.”
“Shh. You’ll ruin it.” Morei’s eyes rattled around in his head. “You know, I think I could convince them.”
“Are you his second in command?”
“I’m not sure he has one. But that helps muddy the issue…”
Even with the door closed, Smith could hear a metal triangle being all but murdered outside. “Well, no need for getting yourself court-martialed, then.”
The scouts filed out, with Morei at the rear. “Bummer, she would have bought it.”
Timms shook his head when the door shut again. “So little respect for the rule of law.”
“He’s just playing. Besides, that woman would have walloped him good with that spoon.”
Timms nodded. “No doubt.”
Smith hopped up, sticking his head out the door. “Hey, Morei. You see where they stashed Timms’ cart?”
The scout shrugged. “Not exactly, but I would have put it in storage.”
“Storage?”
He pointed at the building Smith was presently hanging out of. “Back end is storage. Relatively climate controlled. At least, as much as any place. Probably there. Ask Sally.”
Smith nodded. “Thanks.” He shut the door.
Timms tilted his head a bit. “Problem?”
“Eh, I just like to be sure of things is all.”
The little man nodded. “Wise. I would like to make sure everything made it in safe and sound as well.”
Smith tapped the bell on the counter. It was a few minutes before an annoyed Sally, hair still a mess but properly dressed now, wandered into the lobby. “What?”
He let her brash tone slide. This wasn’t her usual gig. “Hi. Wondering if you could show us to the storage portion of the building.”
She rolled her eyes. “End of the hall, but instead of going into the wash room make a right. There’s a door there, looks a lot like the wall. No number.” She reached over the counter and pulled a key off the wall. “This will open it.” She held the key out to Smith. “Anything else, or can I finish getting ready?”
He bowed his head politely. “Not a thing. Sorry to be a bother.”
“And yet you’re so good at it.” She shook her head as she disappeared again.
Smith held up the key to Timms. “Simple as that.”
“I fear she’ll retaliate in some way. Take away my pillows or rearrange the furniture or something.”
“Yeah, that sucks.” Smith started for the storage room.
Cold air hit him the moment the door shifted, but it wasn’t nearly so bad as walking outside. There were dim lamps already lit inside. Smith couldn’t see much for the shelves directly inside the door.
They wound their way in, looking for something familiar. Boxes and plastic bins of clothing and cans were the most common finds, though most of the shelves were bare. The center of the room was more open, with a light hanging form the ceiling. Timms’ cart was waiting there, with someone wrapped up in blankets stooped over it.
Smith raised an eyebrow as he wandered in. “Morning.”
The form shifted a bit, turning to reveal Bishop, pale and with sunken eyes… but he didn’t seem to be bothered by it. He had a handful of books in his hands. He glanced up at Smith, then back down at them. “In my wildest dreams, I don’t think I ever imagined you’d find so much.”
Smith smiled. “Fortune favors the bold, I guess.” He patted Timms on the shoulder. “Also this guy. There’s more, too. I figured maybe he can play at being a librarian, keep track of it all and make sure it stays in good shape.”
Bishop nodded a few times. “Agreed. Certainly agreed.” He set the books back down on the cart and wandered over. His right hand stuck out from under the blankets.
Timms shook it gingerly. “No offense intended… sick and all.”
Bishop smiled a bit. “I’m told I’m on the mend. Rawlins says I’m better off than most. I might actually have to do some work around here. Perish the thought.” He chuckled. “And we should all be fine, thanks in large part to what you brought back. Pity it may not last long.”
Smith shrugged. “Pharmacy is still there, too. Would take a few runs like ours to clear it out.”
Bishop rubbed at his chin. “I’m afraid it will have to wait until spring. It was dangerous enough having you out when the snows started earlier than expected. Food found in the wild will be scarce. Makes it difficult to plan appropriately, and more weight to carry there and back.” He shook his head. “Inefficient.”
Timms nodded. “Agreed. We stashed the literature, though I can’t say how the pharmacy will fair. Most of what is there was left by others anyway. And… those that did come around didn’t exactly understand enough to know how to use any of it.”
Bishop frowned a bit. “Have we fallen so far? That’s disheartening.”
Smith shrugged. “I admit we ran into some people who were less than social, but they might have spoken French for all I know. No reason to give up.”
A small smile crept onto Bishop’s face. “You’re right, of course. Look at all we have gained.” He inclined his head toward the cart. “And I’m told there is more. Tools.”
Smith nodded. “And seeds. Timms here is an accomplished gardener, and we have books on it in the cart there.”
Bishop shook his head a bit as he smiled down at the cart. “To be perfectly frank, I’ve had my doubts in the past. Doubts that we would survive. Doubts that we would hold together. People have always been the glue keeping this place running.” He bowed his head to Smith and Timms. “And they continue to be. Thank you.”
“Feh.” Smith shrugged. “Don’t get all sappy on me just because you’re medicated. Go get some rest. Baron’s got this thing for now.”
“Perhaps you’re right.” Bishop rubbed at his nose. “But it isn’t him taking on my job, is it? Recruiting. Morale. Organization.” He pointed at Smith. “That’s been you. Whether you realize it or not.”
Smith tilted his head. “And now I know you’re heavily medicated.”
Bishop grinned. It looked oddly young on his tired features. “No arguments. Guess I should get back home, then.”
“You can probably crash here. Warm, no
walking about in the snow.”
“My dear wife will be angry either way. I escaped, and she’s bound to have discovered it by now. Hiding here will only bring her wrath down upon others. No, I can’t do that.” He turned back to the cart and snatched up one of the books. He held it up for Timms to see. “Mind if I borrow this one?”
Timms shrugged. “I’ll make a note of it.”
Bishop grinned again. “Excellent.” He tucked the book into his coat, under his blankets, and turned for the door. “A few days, everything will be back to normal. Albeit, a snowy normal. Winters can be hard, but I think we’re off to a good start.” He pulled open a door to the outside Smith hadn’t even known about before giving them a final nod. “Gentlemen.” He didn’t want for a response before snapping the door shut behind him.
Timms tilted his head a bit. “The vaunted Bishop, eh? Somehow I expected to be more… intimidated.”
“He’s not as his best. But I don’t know where you got supposed intimidation from anyway.”
“Morei.”
Smith rolled his eyes. “Look, no one here is out to get you, man. This may be the last spec of civilization we’ve got. We’re trying to hold onto that.” He pointed at Timms. “And you’re helping. That’s why you’re here. To remind people how leap years work. I know I had forgotten.”
Timms rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “Perhaps.” He glanced around at the empty shelves. “Do you think I could unload the cart here? Get a thorough catalog going so I can keep tabs on what has gone out and come back?”
Smith shrugged. “I’d say go for it. But it would probably be polite to ask Sally first. And she might forward you up the command chain to her father who usually runs this place.”
“Of course. Proper channels.” He picked up a few of the books and rearranged them in the cart. “Is there a schoolhouse I can confer with? I doubt I have duplicates, but subject matter might overlap.”
“Umm.” Smith tilted his head a bit. “As far as I know? No. No schoolhouse.”
Timms frowned. “But there are children?”
“Yup.”
“That is unacceptable. Their education is being neglected.”
“I think they’re getting a more practical education. Farming and whatnot.”
Timms shook is head. “Hardly appropriate. They can learn simple skills later. They need their basics established.”
Smith chuckled. “You’re absolutely right. I’d take that up with Bishop when he brings that book back, if I were you.”
40
The door to the shop creaked a bit when he opened it. He’d followed his own footsteps back. Those and the rut in the snow outside the door made it plain that he had left, if anyone cared to look. The rest of the snow was starting to melt under the morning sun, but it was cold enough it might only make a sheet of ice.
A fire was burning in the forge again, lighting most of the workshop. He had to admit, it certainly worked as a big fireplace. The rest of the lamps were lit as well.
He pulled the door to, shutting it with a bit of force. No reason to hide now. She was clearly up and about.
When he turned from latching the door, he could see Mary up on the second level looking down at him. It was difficult to make out her face for her mussed hair and the strong light behind her, but he had an ace up his sleeve.
“Breakfast?” He held up a mug of hot stew and a freshly baked roll as he walked toward the stairs. He kicked off his boots at the bottom stair, and when he reached the top she was still waiting on the bench, wrapped up in a blanket. She patted the spot next to her.
He handed over her food before falling onto the bench beside her. Stomping in the snow wasn’t exactly fun, and his work boots weren’t actually meant for it.
She held up the stew and roll a moment before pointing at him.
He shook his head. “I had some already, talked to Timms and Bishop so I ate while it was hot and got yours when I got away from them again.” It was… true enough.
She patted him on the cheek before sipping at the mug of stew. She smiled and set the food down before laying her head on his shoulder, the blanket draped over him a bit. Smith closed his eyes. It was warm up here with the various fires going. Comfortable.
She smelled nice, too.
Familiar swishing and scratching caught his ear.
Mary was holding up a little pad when he opened his eyes. “You have more clothes, you know.”
He smiled a bit. “I don’t doubt it. But when I got up, I didn’t know where they were. I did manage to fall in a tub while I was gone, though.”
She ruffled his hair before shaking her head and scribbling. “Tub is downstairs.”
“True.” He nodded. “I don’t know how to use that one though. And I was worried about Timms, but he seems fine now.” He glanced aside at her. “Couldn’t help but notice a lot of your clothes in the bedroom, though.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Do I have to worry about your father showing up with his shotgun? He told me all about it. Pointedly.”
She grinned, scrawling a single word. “Maybe.”
“He’ll probably be mad I’m crashing at your place.”
She pointed at the roof, then at him.
“My place? Hardly. Full of your stuff. Then again I don’t really have any stuff.”
She held up a hand, swung it in a circle, and then pointed at him.
“Bullshit.”
She smiled and shook her head before chomping on the bread.
He leaned his head back again. It had already been a long morning. Baron had found him at the kitchen with notes Bishop had given him the night before. “So, apparently Bishop worked up some future expansion ideas while we were gone. He wants to build out towards the creek first, then fence in some of the outlying fields. If the creek is a no go, then a pond for raising fish. Think the creek will work fine, though. I can make bars to keep things other than fish out.”
Mary tilted her head a bit as she wrote. “I thought you were a blacksmith, not a city planner.”
“Unfortunately I think the ‘division head’ bit means I’m privy to all talk of new things. And since Baron and Ross are never around, the clever bastards, your dad never seems to leave the farm, Rawlins lives in his clinic, and I’ve never even seen whoever runs the ranch… I am the one who is going to get bugged. Almost like everyone else has learned to hide.”
She smiled before trying to look sad and patting him on the cheek. Her meaning was simple enough to discern. “Aww, poor baby.”
“Well, I intend to drag Timms in on whatever I can. Granted, I’m sure plenty of what is actually built will start in this very shop, but he can play sounding board for Bishop as well as I can. I’ve got things to do.”
She held up her notebook. “He doesn’t have your experience. Inferior opinion on building things.”
“Pfft.” Smith threw her a mild glare. “I have actual work to do, I can’t play architect all the time. You should be on my side here. Bishop doesn’t need your help.”
She grinned, almost bubbling as she scribbled. “But I have such aspirations for you, dear.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Oh, I get it. You were still single because you’re evil.”
She stuck out her tongue at him.
“And immature.”
She hit him in the shoulder.
“Oww. And violent.”
She leaned in close, staring at his eyes for a moment before kissing the end of his nose.
“Hmm. Okay, I’ll scratch off immature.”
She smiled and leaned in close, he could smell her breath… before she paused.
He glanced around, unsure what had happened to make her stop. She made a face and reached into his coat pocket. Probably got jabbed by a spoon.
She blinked at the little metal thing he had built from a bolt, washers, and particular nuts. “Oh, yeah. That’s a rook. Or, the best I could come up with at the time. Got some other ones, too. Should have enough bits lyin
g around to make one side of the board at least.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out the pawns and other rook he had already made, along with the castles. He held up the toggle bolt. “Think if I take one side off this I can make a knight. Will look a bit like a robot horse, but should still get the point across.”
She stared at the pieces in his hand, carefully picking each one up before turning her eyes to him. It looked like she was trying not to cry.
“Um, sorry? Didn’t think I did that bad of a job. We can probably carve some from wood if you prefer. Shouldn’t be that tricky.”
She set most of the pieces down on the table and pressed a finger to his lips. He understood that one. Shut up.
The little rook stayed in her hand as she held it up, looking it over. A wide smile blossomed on her face and she held it close to her heart.
Well, seemed like she liked it. “I doubt anyone could break those, but it might be fun to see them try.”
She shook her head and carefully placed the rook with the other pieces before taking out her pad, scribbling so fast he couldn’t follow. “How did you know?”
“Morei mentioned Cooper broke your set. Can’t just waltz down to a store and get a another anymore, and those would still be breakable, so while I was there I figured metal would work. Then again, that’s generally my first answer to making anything.”
She grinned and stood up, setting her mug aside on the table and wandered into the bedroom.
He climbed up off the bench. It took some effort. Too much sitting still and he’d be asleep again. He yawned as he walked down the stairs, hand on the railing just in case. His coat pockets were still a mess of spoons and other random junk he had picked up. He had more spoons in his bag, in addition to smaller bags full of feathers in his shopping cart full of tools. Probably looked a lot like a crazy person to the untrained eye. And maybe a few trained eyes. Meh. As long as it was a useful mania.
As he set the things out on the workbench he noticed a few scraps of paper he had missed the night before. He pulled them over and shuffled through them.
One looked like a design for a grinding wheel using pedal power from an old bike. Huh. He glanced up to find an old bike missing wheels waiting on the other side of the room beside a large grinding wheel. It had just looked like some junk that found its way back in the night before. At the time he was preoccupied with all the new things.
