Reset: The Gray-Matter Chronilcs Book 2 (The Matter Chronicles 5)

by P. G. Thomas

  Gayne then turned to Eric, “I have other business to take care of today. Would you like to join me? Or I can drop you off at the school?”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  *******

  Lauren, looking out the patio door, held the Old Wood staff. I wish it would quit raining. On the western skyline, the angry clouds began to dissipate, “Sorry, Sister,” and she headed back into the house. When the storm had broken up, she went out onto the patio, taking a seat at the table, rolling the gnarled staff between her hands, and thought of the visions seen the previous day. “Are you still high, or do you understand what’s happening?” Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the images of the black worms crawling in the brains of the drug abusing youths, and as well, a new image of the Midnight Sun. Then a third image of a berry bush appeared. Thank you, Mother. Any idea on where I can find it? She felt the staff lean towards the south, like it was pointing. Last one never did this. Standing, she walked into the backyard, feeling the staff pull her to the west. At the fence, looking into the neighbor’s backyard, she saw a fair sized flower garden. Between numerous stumps in the center was the berry bush that had appeared as an image in her mind. Jogging to the front of the house, she headed towards the neighbor’s but before crossing the property line, she instructed the Granite Guardians, “Stay here. Nothing is going to happen, and you may scare the neighbor.” Approaching the house, she knocked on the door as the dwarves and wolves watched from Gayne’s property.

  A young lady in her late twenties, standing five feet tall, opened the door. Her long brown hair cascaded over her shoulders, and she had an appearance of a model. There was no twinkle in her eye, but an abrupt tone in her voice, “Can I help you?”

  “Hello, I’m a friend of Gayne’s—”

  “Tell him he needs to do something about those dogs, if you can call them that, because the smell is disgusting.”

  “My name is Lauren. Have we met before?”

  “I am Danex, but I doubt it. How can I help you?”

  “I was wondering if I could look at your garden.”

  Her tone changed. “I would be happy to show you it.” Stepping out of the house, she explained the garden as they walked. “My husband Dorvan used to be a farmer, and I love flowers. When we bought this place, he knew how much happiness a garden, or my patch of joy as I call it, would bring me. He worked that patch every day for a week with his massive plow, toiled on it long into the night until it was just right, and he would not stop until I exclaimed that I loved it. At first, we both thought it was too small, so he continued to plow it until it was just the right size, and then, for a month straight, he planted it day and night until I screamed my pleasure to all of the neighbors.”

  Lauren nodded, and when they stood in front of the flower garden, she agreed, “It is beautiful.”

  Danex nodded, “The secret is to keep it moist. If it starts to dry out, it is harder to work, but Dorvan always enjoyed hard work.”

  The garden was over twenty feet wide, fifty feet long, and behind it, a small forest of different trees stood, several of which were bearing fruit. Flowers were the primary resident, but several rows of vegetables were also present, and numerous natural occurring berry bushes were mixed in with native plants.

  Danex continued to talk about the flowers, and how easily and beautifully they grew. “Dorvan still loves to work my patch of joy, and last year we started to plant vegetables as he now loves to eat from it.”

  Lauren, making a mental note to herself, wondered if she could get Ryan interested in gardening when they returned home, and then, with the rigid staff in hand, she absorbed the image of the garden. In it, the plants that had received the gifts from Mother began to glow brighter, and scanning them, the staff provided details of their purpose. “It’s a large garden. Does it take much work to maintain?”

  Danex smiled, “It is very special as we do not even weed it. In fact, we do not even plant seeds anymore. It just seems to know what we like, or it grows what it wants to.”

  Lauren pointed to the bush that appeared in her image, “Would it be all right if I picked some of those berries?”

  “It is an odd tasting berry that the birds like, but, yes, help yourself.”

  *******

  As Ryan walked to the door, Lauren could see the look of failure on his face. Sam and Hope were clinging to his hands, trying to encourage him, but when he saw her, he just shook his head, walking past without saying anything.

  Lauren waited for Logan, “What happened?”

  “They kept an eye on us the entire time, making sure we didn’t stray from our route. They just didn’t trust us, and after we had completed all of the deliveries, they escorted us back to the bridge. Sam and Hope never had a chance to move from the back of the wagon, where the cask contents were overpowering.”

  Lauren found Mirtza and Ryan on the patio talking to Eric and Steve.

  “Okay, I understand your frustration, Kid, but we might still have options. If we had more time, I would suggest misdirection or chaos, but from the sounds of it, we need something now. Do these Darkpaye guys look or dress any different than the rest?”

  “There are some that still hold onto their old customs,” advised Mirtza, “but most have adopted our less class oriented wardrobe.”

  “Is there anything different between somebody from Darkpaye and Calicon?” asked Steve.

  “Other than the way they act, and their clothes are more expensive, not really.”

  “Is there any way we can mimic their appearance or behavior?”

  “I doubt it,” Mirtza replied.

  “Well, if we can’t blend in, then we need to be invisible. Are there any beggars, or those motionless kids on the north side of the river?”

  “North of the Key? There is no way they would let somebody like that over there.”

  “From what Ryan said, they consider their servants to be lesser,” continued Steve. “Are there any from Calicon that are employed on the north side that your Darkpaye friends wouldn’t look at, even if they saw them?”

  Mirtza shrugged his shoulders.

  “What’s the worst job somebody from Calicon can have north of the Key?” asked Ryan.

  “Street cleaner but why?”

  “Lowest of the low, nobody ever sees them,” advised Steve. “It might be a crappy job, but we should be able to go where ever we want.”

  Ryan nodded, “How do we get hired?”

  “Mirtza, how long has Rimple been on the council?” asked Steve.

  “Over twenty years.”

  “I imagine there are some constants in every universe, so we buy our way in. We just need Gayne to bribe him, I mean, make a donation to his re-election fund or retirement account.”

  “So what’re you suggesting?” asked Lauren.

  “We purchase the rights or permission to clean the streets north of the Key. We should be able to travel where we want, and nobody will ever look at a wagon full of crap. I imagine that most from Darkpaye will cross the street just to avoid us.”

  *******

  The next day during the morning meal, Logan explained how the Watch had followed them the previous day. Steve suggested how they could go wherever they wanted north of the Key, without anybody ever seeing them.

  Gayne pushed his plate away, “You want to do what?”

  “The way Mirtza explained it,” Steve began, “your Darkpaye neighbors are very class-conscious, but horses don’t share that same affliction. They do their business when and where they have too, but because cleaning up that business is beneath the new immigrants, they hire Calicon citizens to do it for them. I’m hoping that it’s a council-controlled department, so Rimple can help to get us a permit or hired on.”

  “You want to shovel—”

  Ryan nodded, “We need to travel where we want to, and if Steve is right, this is the only way.”

  “There are people who do this for a living?” asked Gayne.

  Lowering his head into his
hands, Steve whispered under his breath, “Ever thought of moving to the north end of town?”

  “The ointment also amplifies sounds it hears, and no, I have never thought of relocating. I have a large school to run, and I am aware that most seldom clean up after themselves. Especially horses! So how can Rimple help?”

  “If it’s a council controlled department, I was hoping he might know the person who operates it, helping us to get a job.”

  “How do we do that?” inquired Gayne.

  Steve held up his hand, rubbing his thumb between the first two fingers.

  Gayne did the same. “What does this do?”

  “The ointment doesn’t translate sign languages,” advised a smiling Logan.

  Steve shook his head, “Gold.”

  “You want me to do what?” asked Gayne.

  “Bribe him. He’s a politician so that would be the fastest way.”

  “You want me to take gold into the Council Hall? It is worse than the docks so you cannot be serious?”

  Lauren slapped the table, “Yes, he is!” Then Ryan grabbed her hand, and she took a deep breath. “Gayne, you’ve been extremely helpful to us and to the people of Alron, but these are my daughters. I’ll do what I can to help heal Mother so that the people believe again, but if there is something else we can do, well I want to try.”

  He nodded, “I will do whatever I can to help.”

  Lauren turned to John, “When they head out to visit Rimple, are you going to the school to examine the root?”

  Gayne suddenly realized that Lauren had reshuffled his priorities for the day, and while John quickly answered yes, he was uncertain of what could be done at the school.

  After Steve, Ryan, Eric, and Gayne had left to visit Rimple, taking John with them, Mirtza asked Lauren if she had any plans for the day.

  “Mother provided me with a berry to help those motionless children so I would like to see if it works.”

  Chapter 22

  “Seriously, you want a job shoveling—”

  Steve looked at Gayne, shaking his head as they rode in the carriage, “Yes, even you didn’t realize that somebody did it, so it’s the perfect job to hide us in plain sight.”

  When the carriage pulled in front of the council house, Gayne leaned out the window. “To the Calicon entrance.”

  “What?” asked Ryan.

  “Our generous Darkpaye neighbors, who are slowly taking over everything north of the Key, have already segregated the council house. I am unaware of how they received enough votes, but we cannot enter from this side. The driver knows it since he is a lesser-born from Darkpaye, but he is just trying to make his point and to increase his fare. Since there are two ways to the other side, he will take the longest route possible.

  Steve gave his head another shake, “Then why didn’t we stay in the first carriage?”

  “They have denied the Calicon carriages permission to work this side of the river.”

  Thirty minutes later, when they arrived at the other side of the building, the four exited the cab, and Gayne paid the driver before they headed inside.

  “Why didn’t we get out at the first stop?” asked Steve.

  “It is forbidden.” Once inside, Gayne stopped at the reception desk, paid the admission fee, inquiring about the office they sought, to which a lady directed them to the basement—to Rimpel’s new office. As they headed to the stairs, he whispered, “Something is wrong, as it took years for Rimple to get an office on the top floor, and I fail to understand why he would now be in the basement.”

  When they entered the decrepit office, Rimple seemed to be both packing and unpacking boxes, but they never saw him place any contents into the beat-up desk, which was missing one leg. He looked up, “This is unexpected, Gayne. How can I help you?”

  “Are you moving in or out?” asked Steve.

  Rimple’s reply was simple, “Yes.”

  “Are you going somewhere?” asked Gayne.

  “I remember you talking about a town on the other side of the central spine, and I was thinking of going to visit it.”

  “I wouldn’t,” advised Steve, “it’s not a safe place anymore.”

  “Yet the Bright Coast is? They voted in their temporary councilors this morning. How do you ask? Half of the Calicon membership never showed up for the vote. From the rumors heard, a few will never vote again. Am I going somewhere? Yes, the only questions are where and how fast can I get there?”

  “Before you go,” Gayne started, “we need your help with a small matter.”

  Rimple, smiling, looked up from behind the stack of boxes, “A small matter? Would it be something…significant to you?”

  “Yes, my friends are looking for a council-controlled job, and I was hoping you could use your influence in this matter.”

  “Those jobs, they are expensive to purchase since most are gifted to family members and such, but it is possible. How high of a position where you looking for?”

  “We’re actually looking for the lowest of jobs,” Steve advised, “We want to clean the streets north of the Key.”

  “You want to shovel—”

  “Yes,” interrupted Ryan, “can you help?”

  Rimple explained the permit they were looking for, and then he hastily began packing his boxes, “Not with that request. The counselor who oversaw the sanitation department turned up dead last week, and they voted in his Darkpaye replacement today. Last week I could have obtained a contractor’s license for you, but now I could not even get you a job scrubbing the sewers up there.” He picked up the box, “I have been advised for health reasons that I should take a couple of weeks off. If you need me, leave a message at the front desk, and I will pick it up when I return.” Then he bolted out into the hall.

  Steve turned to the group. “I don’t like it when politicians run scared. Well, not unless they’re running from me.”

  Ryan fell to his knees, “What do we do now?”

  “Quarterback sneak,” Eric replied, “if all we need is permission and can’t buy it at this house of corruption, let’s seek out another.”

  “Jedimac?” inquired Gayne.

  “I imagine he has forgers on his payroll, so we get him to provide us with a document. As long as we’re cleaning the streets, I doubt if anybody will even ask to see our permit, or whatever it is that we need.”

  *******

  As Mirtza guided the covered wagon down the rainy street, Lauren, Logan, Sam, and Hope stared at the motionless children that filled the dark alleyways. Four Guardians watched, being wary of potential threats, while the two blood wolves had their heads hanging out of the windows with their tongues extended into the wet breeze. On the back of the carriage, two more Guardians stood on the rear bumper.

  Hope looked up to Lauren, “This place is yucky. Can we go?”

  “And it smells bad,” added Sam.

  “Not yet. I need to talk to a few people first.” Scanning the congested alleys, each looking like it was ready to vomit out the filth on that it gagged, Lauren was unsure of where to begin, or if she could help at all.

  Logan pointed to a derelict building that had collapsed. Most of the roof had slid off to the side, forming a very crude shelter, where three dozen youths had gathered underneath. “That might be our best choice since they can’t run out the back, and there’s no more room for any to join them. It should also be easy for the dwarves to protect you if anything goes wrong.”

  Hearing Logan’s comments, Mirtza looked back to Lauren, who nodded. He stopped the carriage across the street from the peculiar shelter and waited. Reaching into her pocket, Lauren pulled out a cloth that held four dozen large white berries.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Logan.

  Looking at the scenes of despair, in a land that had birthed misery, Lauren smelled the raw sewage of the afterbirth and wanted to cry. It was one thing to help those who had no interest in defending themselves from what lurked in the shadows, but here, the gradients changed so quickly, she wonder
ed if the suns or any other light could lessen what the darkness now hid, being able to cleanse the landscape of the despair that washed over the unclean youths? Even if she could free them, it would be like opening a cell door, but leaving the prison gates locked.

  She looked at Sam and Hope, “You two remain here,” and then turned to two of the Guardians. “Please, stay and protect these two with your wolves.” Not waiting for an answer, she opened the carriage door, stepping out into the rain, followed by Logan and two Guardians. Pulling the cloak hood forward, grasping the heavy staff, she began walking around the puddles. Once under what remained of the roof, she scanned the tangled mess of innocent youths, who were tainted with the substance that both consumed their purity and hope. She walked up to one young girl who appeared to be conscious, “How are you?”

  “I not inta that.” She pointed to the other side of the shelter, “Goes talk to Krisp,” but she also looked up at Logan, winked, licking her lips.

  Turning, Lauren saw a second young girl, about eighteen years old, her hair oily, her face covered with dirt, and her clothes barely covering her body. She walked over, “How are you?”

  The young girl smiled, “Wants some company? They call me Krisp da kitten, cause I purr when I—”

  Lauren shook her head, “NO! I came here to see if I could help you.”

  “I knows. Give me a bath, and you can joins me if you want. I cleans up real pretty. Then after you helps me, I’ll help you—purr,” and she smiled.

  “That’s not what I meant,” declared Lauren.

  Krisp looked up to Logan, “Ya want to watch as jor husband—”

  “NO!” exclaimed Logan.

  “Husband looking for some—”Krisp pointed to one of her male friends, “It cost ya more, but he be real good.”

  Logan’s eyes went even wider, “NO!”

  Lauren held up her hand to silence the young girl, who was so willing to sell what remained of her tarnished youth. As the new voices sounded their refusal of the offered transactions, the other motionless children began to stir. She took a deep breath, “I know you are only trying to—earn gold to get Midnight Sun, but I have something better.”