Fall of the Cities: Putting Down Roots

by Vance Huxley

  “Come in Holly, and you, Harold. Fury was just saying hi.” Casper grinned.

  “He was threatening to pull off my head.”

  “Wimp. Look, he’s wagging his stump.” Casper pointed and yes, Fury’s stump was going side to side though that might be for Casper.

  “Cripes, who the hell will look at that end, especially with his tail cut off?” Harold relaxed because the Doberman really did like fair-skinned people, or at least tolerated them. “You should stand in the doorway with him when we have visitors.”

  “That’s why I’ve moved here, into the back of number two. Since it’s the guardhouse Fury can earn his keep. I can teach him about scroats who are pale, and nice people who are dark.” Casper smirked. “You watch, I’ll teach him the difference between locals and visitors in no time. Come through and look out the kitchen window.” Fury took a look at the visitors, then followed Casper.

  “If you ever get it finished it’ll hold an elephant, let alone a dog.” A line of posts made of old roof beams went up the garden and the nearest had mesh up to about nine feet.

  “Better still, if someone nips over the wall behind the guardhouse they’ll land right in Fury’s pen. Breakfast in bed.” Casper opened the kitchen door. “This will let him inside to keep me company.” Since the dog laid on the settee next to Casper while the humans talked for a while, that part seemed already settled.

  Ten minutes later Harold gave Fury a treat as instructed and left with Holly. “Can he do it, get rid of all that training?”

  “Maybe.” Harold looked back. “Even if he can’t, Casper seems to have finally found a friend. Maybe he can teach Fury to track lumberjacks.” Harold smiled. “He’s big enough for a dogcart to shift bricks.”

  *   *   *

  Two days later the corpse could have pulled a dogcart even if it wasn’t a dog. Harold inspected the victim. “Is that a giant rabbit or a really giant rabbit?”

  “Stop it. That’s a deer.” Patty patted her crossbow. “Though I was practicing on rats when it ran out between those houses, stopped, and stared at me.”

  “Maybe it’s a good job you were practicing. A Liz special would have only left the skin. Is it a baby one?”

  “No, that’s a full-grown Muntjac. I saw one in a wildlife park once and thought it was a baby.” Patty looked over her prize. “Barbecue!”

  “Not a chance, Liz will fight you over charcoal or gas. Maybe a roast but split eighty two ways it’ll be a really small slice.” Harold looked round. “Do they come in herds?”

  “Just a moment.” Patty looked around and shrugged. “Sorry, Bear Grylls isn’t here at the moment and there aren’t enough of us for a séance to talk to David Attenborough. Can I get back to you on that?”

  “I’ll get my people to talk to your people.” Harold bent over the deer. “I suppose you’ll expect me to cart this home?”

  “If you want your main squeeze to get her slice, yes.”

  “My what?”

  “Well she is a bit past girlfriend, but not married. Though Holly might qualify as a mistress with that cane.” Patty smirked. “Emmy is whatevered so main squeeze is an improvement. Unless Holly fancies wench though half the women in the city get called that?” She looked Harold up and down. “You could be her trophy, hunk, prize sucker, lummock or main man?”

  “I am not going to be stupid enough to make any comment. Not without some input from my main squeeze mistress whatever.” Harold heaved up. “I hope all the weight is meat.”

  A little later Harold found himself the target of a half circle of determined men and women. “That is not going into stew. That’s real meat. Have you any idea how long it is since we chowed down on a hunk of real meat?”

  “I know exactly, Bernie. My carnivore soul keeps track.” Harold shrugged. “I’m told there isn’t enough for everyone to have roast, and that stew is the most efficient way to convert a deer into calories.”

  “Not a chance or I’ll build a bonfire out there and spit roast the next one, then eat all the evidence.” Patty tapped her crossbow. “There will be a next.”

  “Amen to that, sister, though next time can you find a full-grown one?” Liz backed away, hands raised as Patty rounded on her. “Hey, no violence or I’ll stop supplying points.”

  “We can have a lottery?”

  “If so, Fury doesn’t get a ticket, Casper.” Several people grinned as Matthew spoke up because Casper did share his stew.

  “Neither does Sooty, or any other cat or dog.” Harold smiled at Patty. “Patty gets a slice as the mighty hunter, we raffle the bits that can be sliced, and the rest goes in stew.”

  “We’ve got new potatoes to go with either.” Curtis held up a hand against the hopeful stares. “Just once, because we need the veg to grow big.”

  “Roast venison and new potatoes.” Patty looked skywards. “Take me now Lord, cos it won’t get better than this.” The group switched from arguing over the deer to working out who actually went in the draw because some were leaf-lovers, and the children wouldn’t appreciate it properly. At one stage men were going to be banned as well since they had no taste and could make do with roast spam. By the time a final agreement had been reached on the size of slices, the deer was almost cooked.

  *   *   *

  “They’re not the same without butter.” Holly poked at her new potato. “This is all wrong. I’ve been dreaming of new potatoes and now there’s no butter.”

  “I don’t dream now.” Harold saw Sharyn’s sharp look and smiled. “I sleep peacefully, honest sis.”

  “Me too. An alien killing machine at the end of the road is reassuring. Actually in the bed is even better because I finally feel safe and there’s side benefits. Ah, right, butter. No butter.” Holly blushed and then poked her new potato into the gravy. “This is all wrong.”

  “You’re the lucky one since you’ve got meat with yours. Considering who is in charge, that has to be a fix.” Sharyn looked at the half slice of meat on Holly’s plate. “Though to be fair you gave us all a small piece.”

  “No fix.” Harold smiled. “We might get more soon since all the real meat fanatics are going to be scouring the place for another, or a big brother. Now eat your stew because it’s good for you.” Harold glanced meaningfully at an oblivious Daisy, happily stuffing herself with the potato and stew and a selection of salad, because she still wanted to grow faster for archery.

  “Oh yes, stew. So meaty, so delicious, so nourishing. We should have it again soon especially now we have spinach.” Hazel grinned and carefully coated her bit of new potato with stew. “Can’t we make butter from milk?”

  “No because the milk from the mart is, according to Liz, double-skimmed. That means all the goodness removed twice until it’s basically white water, and is why the cream cheese experiment didn’t work out very well.” Harold gestured towards the kitchen. “There’s cheese in there. That’s just hard butter?”

  “There are two sorts of cheese from the mart. Hard, as in rock hard, and rubbery. Neither have taste unless they are grated into something else or toasted on bread, and then I’m not sure the taste is how I remember cheese.” Sharyn sighed. “So new potatoes with stew it is. Oh yummy, how good for me.”

  “Tomorrow you can have gooseberry in one of several ways instead of rhubarb.”

  Sharyn looked upwards. “My cup runneth over.”

  Holly sniggered. “The toilets might.”

  *   *   *

  “Cripes Holly, are you sure?”

  “Don’t you like my knees showing? It’s not exactly short, or a dance frock.” Holly looked at her skirt and did a little twirl. “I wore it for you, Harold.”

  “Oh, definitely on the short side and I really appreciate the result but we’re meeting gangsters. Are you sure?” Harold hesitated, torn because Holly looked lovely in a light blue pleated skirt and flowered blouse, and dead right for a summer day. Except that the visitors wouldn’t think that way. “They’ll think,
well, you know.”

  “I’m your main squeeze Harold, and you’re my toy soldier, so I can dress to set your clockwork running if I want to.” Holly sniggered. “Though I won’t actually say that to those philistines. The scroats won’t say a word about my skirt because I’m taking my cane, just as a hint. Suzie and Doll have gone above-knee as well, because summer is here.” Her face became very serious. “We talked about this, and we refuse to live in permanent fear of some nasty little toad getting out of hand. If they can’t control themselves over a bit of knee, then its spanking time. They won’t do it three times.” That referred to all those being caned now also being told they were crossbow targets next time.

  “What about Matti?”

  “Any above knee there just might involve Jeremy and her needing a garter. Doll reckons she needs a calendar now instead of a stopwatch. Barry and Finn have moved in next door to Alicia, Louise and Celine, so both sisters moved into the girl club and it’s open season on unsuspecting males.” Holly hooked her arm through Harold’s. “Come on, let’s see who this is. GOFS isn’t exactly precise.”

  Walking to the gate from his gunroom, where Holly had found him, Harold could see that a good few of the women were dressed in summer clothes. The bright colours, and the smiles that came with them, did lift his spirits and everyone seemed cheerful. Out in among the crops some of the men weeding or watering were wearing shorts and a couple had their shirts off. “No chance.”

  Holly pouted and stopped eyeing Harold’s jeans. “Just across here. Snip, snip?”

  “Behave, we’re nearly there. That’s not a GOFS.” Harold’s attention fixed firmly on the gate now. “Not unless she’s a missus GOFS?”

  “That’s a Barbie Girl from her wig. Caddi said you should shoot her through the head from a long way away.” Holly sniggered. “You’d see her all right.”

  “Yeah, a blonde wig looks a bit incongruous though there was a black singer once who was blonde.” Harold frowned. “That’s Ogou with her, I thought the Barbie Girls didn’t play nice with neighbours?”

  “I wonder what she said to Alfie because I haven’t seen him blush like that since, er, since the shooting party.” Holly inspected the Barbie as they came closer. “You shouldn’t worry about my hem length, lover-boy.” The woman had turned and her almost knee-length dress had been laced together up the sides by criss-crossed ribbons, with a wide gap.

  “That’s different. Not a look Umeko or Suzie will be copying.”

  “Maybe Suzie if there’s another competition. Is it supposed to be oriental?” Holly giggled. “That looks more like two silky curtains, one in front and one at the back, lashed together down the side.”

  “The woman looks Asian so maybe she’s supposed to be from a film dressed like that, or a musical? Though for a musical that dress needs a dragon on the front and some Hollywood oriental music.” Harold straightened his face and raised his voice. “Hi Ogou. Is this your new girlfriend?”

  “I’m no man’s anything.” The woman looked Holly over, especially her legs. “I thought your lot treated women different?”

  “Hey, back off. It took us ages to sort out the scroats so I could wear a short skirt again.” Holly glanced down. “Bloody marvellous, the first time I show my knees and it’s a woman who gives me a hard time.”

  “Harold, we’ve got a problem with the rules.” Alfie still blushed furiously. “Chandra has some questions.”

  “Then we’d better go into the embassy building and talk. Did you, did anyone?” Harold floundered because visitors should be searched and the woman had a huge smile. She turned round the other way and lifted her arm to show lacing and skin up the other side. Harold shook his head. “Forget it.”

  Though Chandra lost her smile as they crossed the gap from the guardhouse. Both Ogou and her flinched away as Fury hit the mesh, snarling and barking. “Hey, Fury, what did I tell you?” Casper came up behind the dog and took hold of his collar, then stared. “Ah, that’s going to be difficult. He shouldn’t bark at skin colour but should at visitors.” He shrugged. “I’ll refine it later.”

  “Where the hell did that come from?” Ogou stared after Casper and Fury. “And what the hell did he mean?”

  “When the beer arrives. It’ll take a beer.” It did, and then came the introductions.

  Harold frowned. “You really are a Barbie Girl? I thought you and GOFS had some sort of strife?”

  Ogou shrugged and looked embarrassed, and Chandra smiled. “We sorted something out. Sort of armed neutrality. As part of the deal we wanted an escort for someone to look at your place, and check out the beer, and I won the draw.” She shrugged. “I’m a bit puzzled by the rules.”

  “In what way?” Holly frowned, and looked at the dress. “What rule were you thinking of?”

  “I can handle not swearing, with enough concentration. The thing is, what’s the penalty if I grab a guy’s ass, friendly-like?” Everyone but Ogou stared at Chandra, speechless. She sniggered and carried on. “Though I’d rather grab your wench.”

  “She’s not my wench. She’s my…” Harold floundered for a moment. “Significant other? Lover?”

  “All official, I had to ask permission from his sister.” Holly’s serious look cracked into a laugh. “Well maybe I was a bit late with that part but we do live with his sister and nephew and niece.” Two spots of colour appeared on Holly’s cheeks. “Did you mean the bit about which ass, because Casper out there would rather grab a lumberjack if you find one.”

  “Let’s get back to rules, rather than grabbing.” Harold reran the highlights mentally. “You want to know the penalty if you abuse a man or woman without their permission?”

  Chandra frowned. “That used to be called abuse, didn’t it? How quickly we forget. I wanted to know because he was on about stripping and caning, and I don’t mind, but can it be private and can I have a cane as well?” Chandra grinned and waved towards Alfie who blushed bright scarlet again.

  “It’s a windup Harold. Chandra has no intention of abusing men or women here.” Patty moved her crossbow a little. “Though if she did, I’ll bet she wouldn’t laugh afterwards.” She nodded towards Holly. “That cane isn’t for Soldier Boy, and it leaves a stripe of blood.”

  Chandra eyed the crossbow and then Holly’s cane for a moment before answering. “Fair enough. It’s just that one or two of our lot might drift over now and then. Unofficially because we aren’t allowed to cross GOFS territory.” Ogou rolled his eyes. “What happens if they want a bit of voluntary fun with either a man or woman? After all, your lot are all fresh blood and ours will be willing.”

  “If its voluntary there’s a house for overnight stays that visitors use, but that’s rarely as couples.” Harold shrugged. “Involuntary means abuse so stripping and caning. A second offence costs five minutes dodging crossbow bolts so our lot can learn to hit moving targets.”

  “Does that apply to your own lot?” Chandra’s voice sharpened, and Ogou’s interest sharpened as well.

  “We had four who abused a woman. We killed them.” Holly gestured with her cane. “No first, second or third chance.”

  Chandra leant back and relaxed. “Some of our lot will love your place. Oh, is there a penalty for tattoos?”

  “Some of ours have tattoos. Why would they be a problem?” Harold glanced at the rest but they seemed puzzled as well.

  Chandra smiled. “If they read the tattoos out loud they’d break your rules, but if they don’t?”

  That took an exchange of enquiring glances until Patty spoke up. “As long as they’re covered up if there’s a child about. Which is unlikely, but if it happens?” Harold nodded because the children were kept clear of the area the gangsters visited.

  “Good enough. What do you do for music?”

  “We share whatever is left on our music players and we’ve scrounged CDs and DVDs here and there.” Harold scowled. “Occasionally we check the BBC again.”

  “Try going up the channels a bit. Barbie Radio, because
Rock will never die!” Chandra punched the air on the last bit and grinned, and Ogou burst out laughing.

  “The signal is strong enough so I reckon it’ll reach you, and they actually say that on the air. We keep sending requests for a smooch hour or some Country and Western but no chance.” Ogou sniggered. “If the BBC play a tune, Barbie Radio bans it.”

  Half an hour later, after a walk up and down the road, Chandra and Ogou left. Chandra bought six crates of beer and promised someone would bring the bottles back, and that before then she’d pass on the rules. For men or women, the last included a wink at Holly. Both Chandra and Ogou were interested in puppies, from Fury if possible but they’d settle for a Staffy cross.

  “Cripes, how much of that was windup?”

  “Quite a lot I reckon, but she was serious about Holly. Not about grabbing, but she looked at Holly with a lot more appreciation than at you or Alfie.” Patty sighed. “Or me.”

  “Really? Maybe we should invite her for an overnight so you can put on a shorter skirt?” Harold already knew that drawing Patty for the walk home was classed as a blank by the young men, because they didn’t get a kiss. Now he wondered if Patty preferred a woman walking her home.

  “That’s very kind Harold, but no.” Patty smiled, a sad smile. “I like men, or did, but right now I’m a bit ambivalent. Not enough to be tempted to the other camp but I’d like to think I would be in with a chance if the moment arrived.”

  “I’ll lend you the cane and skirt.”

  “Good thinking. Maybe a bit of black leather and boots?” Harold tuned out the banter as he tried to fit a different version of the Barbies into his mental picture of the surrounding gangs.

  Caddi always maintained the women in wigs were maniacs. Chandra had been deliberately dressed to provoke the usual gangster and her gang members sounded a rough bunch, but not maniacs. She had definitely been armed to the teeth including a pistol under a jacket she’d left in the guardhouse. Obscene tattoos might mean prison or just some sort on initiation in this strange new world, especially with the odd blonde wig thing. That hadn’t been an attempt to look blonde because Chandra’s long dark hair had been clearly visible.