Fall of the Cities_Branching Out

by Vance Huxley

  “Oh yes because the brewers will use what’s left after crushing for juice or seedless jam, which will give plenty of flavour. We’ll get more fruit this year anyway because we’ll get there before the birds.” Patty beamed. “I told you all those net curtains would come in handy.”

  “You told us everything would be handy so you have to be right once.” Seth ducked but too slowly then pointed to his head. “This hurts.” Berry hesitated.

  Nigel rolled his eyes. “Oh go on, kiss him better. I give up, though let me turn my back first. Just don’t let me hear that connecting door squeak in the night.” Seth now lived in one of the semi-detached houses containing the brewery, with Nigel and Berry in the other, and the houses really did have a door between them.

  “Dad!” Berry started towards him as Nigel turned away, then grinned and turned to Seth. “He just said it’s ok.” The rest studiously ignored the short but intense celebration.

  “Now that’s been approved, will you have time to brew and wine-make?” Harold shrugged as Seth and Berry glared. “Just asking.”

  “We could have a night shift.” Seth grinned at Berry.

  “Yes, you and me.” Nigel had turned back. “Then I can relax.”

  “Though first Harold is going to explain to folk that tea is now a luxury that has to be bought out of personal coupons, but this stuff is free instead.” June smiled sweetly. “That will settle it because we all know the rules, do what Soldier Boy says.” The meeting broke up in laughter.

  Vaguely alcoholic liquids gradually replaced tea in most houses because tea really did taste appalling, and had become very expensive. The switch to a medieval type of drink sparked interest in the period and several people helped Veronica search the books in the library. Half a dozen suggestions were made, such as aspirin from willow bark, maggots for infected wounds if the antibiotics ran out, and wooden overshoes, clogs, to save wear and tear on footwear. Within a fortnight Harold saw a man pulling a crude single blade plough while another pushed. He asked, and in ground already used once for crops the contraption turned the soil faster than spades. The garden gnomes were soon encouraging others to take turns as a plough-horse.

  * * *

  Harold thought of a solution to one medieval-type problem, knife fighters. At the next machete practice he waved a thin length of wood with scrap of cloth bound around the end to make a handle. “This is to deal with knives when a gangster uses one with a machete.”

  “A walking stick like yours? That thing weighs a ton.” Mattie had actually tried waving Harold’s stick about, though she still didn’t realise the weight came from it being steel.

  “No, just a thin stick to knock the knife aside. Both Tim and I were injured by a man with a knife and machete because we only had a machete.” Harold shrugged. “I’m not a knife fighter so I can’t train you, but the scroats have used knives for years.”

  “The machetes will cut a stick to bits, Harold.” Doll took the stick from him and swished it. “We may as well use a garden cane.”

  “Not if we use an iron bar, the same as at the mart?” Patty smirked. “It they try to chop that it’ll give us a clean strike at the scroat, game over.”

  “Better yet, if you hit the knife hand or machete arm, or anywhere much, it will hurt, really hurt.” Bernie grinned. “That scroat when Curtis was shot got me with a knife because I only had one weapon.” He lost the smile suddenly. “I’m not sure I can manage two weapons. I’ll get confused.”

  “Practice will sort that out.” Harold smiled happily because yes, an iron bar would work and that’s what he’d been going to suggest. Someone else coming up with it encouraged everyone to think for themselves. Better yet, Harold had actually trained with something similar so he could make them all much more dangerous. “Though we’ve got to keep them hidden so the other gangs don’t do the same.”

  “We can put a bit of rag round one end as a handle and make a sleeve to shove the bar down behind the machete sheath. Then it’ll be a nasty surprise.” Patty frowned. “When you had your wobble after Holly, you prowled around at night with a machete and an iron bar. You can already fight like that, can’t you Harold?”

  “Yup. I actually had training.” Big smiles broke out on the trainees. They had an expert.

  “Come on then. I’ll leave my knife in the sheath to blunt it then you can show me how this works.” Doll laughed. “With that stick, not an iron bar.” Everyone started taking knives and sheaths off their belts.

  Everyone except Casper. “I can use a baseball bat and a machete. Then the asshole can choose between brained or beheaded. Who wants to spar?” Oddly enough, nobody after that statement, or not until Casper had a thin wooden stick instead of a baseball bat. The shambles as everyone tried to use both hands at once didn’t exactly make anyone more dangerous, not yet, but it left them with big smiles as well as bruises.

  * * *

  Ten days later Queen gnome Emmy wore a big smile as she intercepted Harold, which made him wary. “Waddle with me Harold.” Behind her three gnomes looked like children with their hands caught in the cookie jar, guilty but not terribly sorry.

  “How far, and do we need a wheelbarrow for you? More to the point, how near is the midwife?”

  “Stop it and start walking. Rob will be waiting and it’ll take me a while to get to the far end, to the terrace houses outside the wall.” Emmy set off.

  “You can’t climb over that wall. If I let you the girl club will practice arcane rites on me, or is that the Coven?” Harold had plenty of time to talk because Emmy definitely waddled now. “I’m not trying to deliver a baby in a field.”

  “Stop it I said. I’m not due for six weeks.” Emmy rested her hands on her big bump. “I did wonder but Lenny and Patricia agree there’s only one heartbeat.”

  “Could be synchronised? The three of them might come marching out in lockstep wearing gnome hats and wellies.” Harold could see Rob ahead of him, being chivvied along by another gnome. “Just what have you been up to?”

  “Remember composting toilets?”

  “That was the stink? Rob thought the sewers were choked up. We were a bit miffed because it meant the houses couldn’t have proper toilets.” Harold beckoned Lenny over. “Are you doing anything essential?”

  “I’m going to look at a couple of outpatient cuts and sprains. They can wait a few minutes. What do you want?”

  “We might need medical advice about sanitation, plus if Emmy gets excited you know what you’re doing.” Emmy’s hand clipped him gently at the back of the head. “How hygienic are composting toilets?”

  “That depends I suppose. If the temperature is high enough it should kill most things.” Lenny thought. “The actual toilet itself could be a real problem, not least because it’ll attract flies and they’ll spread disease.” He smiled. “This wasn’t covered in paramedic training, but that applies to most of the last couple of years.”

  “We’ve sealed them up.” Gnome Sweet Gnome put a hand over her mouth. “Sorry. Emmy told us to shut up.”

  “Surely its Gnemmy?” Harold had his head clipped again.

  “Stop that, I’ve got enough trouble with these idiots.” She glared at the speaker. “Especially Bethany.” As they came nearer the end of the road Harold did try to smell something. There were plenty of things to smell but not the raw sewage one from the damaged houses over the wall ahead.

  That puzzled Harold. “The smell has gone.”

  Emmy smirked. “The first version was a bit niffy, but we’ve improved since May. The mark six Orchard Close patented composting toilet does not pong.” Emmy waved a hand at the gnomes. “Due to two months of dedicated research which included the gnomes going over the wall when they needed the loo.”

  “Even in the rain.” Bethany made a zipping motion across her mouth.

  Rob waited impatiently, also sniffing the air so Christopher, Gnome on the Range, had mentioned the toilet. Harold aimed his glower at the mother-to-be. “You stay here Emmy. I’m sure Sw
eet Gnome won’t mind explaining.” Bethany opened her mouth but shut it again, smiling happily.

  “All right, but remember you asked for her. Bethany, please don’t start talking until you get there or you’ll have to explain it all again.” Emmy waved at the wall. “Scat.”

  “But he said I’m sweet. Can’t we talk about that?”

  “He read your hat. The first Gnome is covered up.”

  Bethany smirked. “I know.”

  “Scat.”

  Bethany climbed over the wall with the ease of long practice and when Harold followed he found a plank on two piles of bricks as a step. “The idea of the wall is to stop scroats climbing over and this sort of defeats the object.”

  “We leave the plank inside the wall at night, and take it to the loo with us. Anyway, there’s guards in those houses. Oops.” Bethany put a finger on her lips with a completely unrepentant smile before leading the way across the garden to a kitchen built on the back of one of the houses.

  “I’d point out a toilet here isn’t hygienic, but some of the older houses already have a bathroom extension off the kitchen.” Harold followed her inside and Bethany pointed.

  “This kitchen isn’t used. In any case, we put the loo in that old pantry. Have a look. Ah, hang on.” Bethany banged on the door and listened. “All clear.” She opened the door and waved Harold in.

  The wooden box against the back wall had a cover over the toilet seat, which hinged up. Harold lifted it and sniffed. He detected a faint whiff maybe, but barely and there were definitely no flies. Harold lowered the seat and looked at the two buckets on the floor. One held leaves and grass while the other held earth, with a plastic beach spade in the earth. “How does this work?”

  “A lot better with a bidet thing to clean with, I reckon. This took great dedication, giving up my bidet straight after finding it.” Bethany wriggled partway past. “This is not a loo for two.” She pointed. “Sit and whatever, then leaves and grass, then earth to seal any pong. A lot of leaves and grass without a bidet and let me tell you that’s gross. I’ve run home commando to my bidet more than once. Er. Right. Toilet. Did you get that?” The blush died stillborn, replaced by a cheeky smile. “Do you need a diagram?”

  “I need some convincing that we can shoehorn one of these into every house. How is that lot shovelled out without choking some poor volunteer? Now that will be dedication.” Harold started to turn and stopped. “We don’t know each other well enough for me to turn without you backing up a bit?”

  “But you already called me sweet?” Bethany wriggled back out. “There you are, my chastity is safe. Now come round the back so I can show you how we get it out. The compost?” Bethany grinned and started for the kitchen door.

  Harold rolled his eyes. “Did you get that?” Lenny and Rob nodded.

  “Yes, though we’ll probably look one at a time.” Lenny looked after Bethany. “Do you want a bodyguard?”

  “No, she’s just wound up about this.”

  “Just don’t call her sweet again.” Rob went into the toilet without waiting for a reply.

  Harold went around the back to find Bethany pointing proudly to a pair of wooden handles jutting out of the wall. “Pull on those, unless someone is actually testing?”

  “No, just looking.” Harold pulled and the square of wood came out followed by the rest of a wooden box attached to the handles. He bent to look in the hole and saw the inside of another box with a hole in the top.

  “That came out easily.”

  “It’s on skids to slide downhill. Then we drag it up the ramp to the compost heap and tip it in. Chuck more muck or other compost on if it pongs and the job’s done.” Bethany pointed at the box. “The liner is a plastic storage box with the top missing but we can use other plastic or even old ceramic sinks, anything waterproof we can wash out and put back will do.” She put her hands on her hips. “Well?”

  “I’d say sweet but you’ll take it personally. Actually I can’t see a fault, not straight off, apart from the sheer physical labour to empty them all. You’ll need a pair of wheels or something to help get them up onto the compost heap. How will it work upstairs?” Harold tried to think how. “You can’t use a shaft or it’ll get gunked up.”

  “A downstairs loo isn’t the end of the world is it, especially if we can grow our own food? Emmy reckons we can only get away with a couple of years using the soil in the fields before it’ll be exhausted. Then it will need fertilising properly.” Bethany grinned. “With a better fertiliser than stinky water.”

  “Will the compost itself pong?”

  “Not really, not once its ready. The heat cooks all that out of it.” Bethany frowned. “Turning the compost over is bloody hard work but Emmy has a bad girl solution. We’ll start shovelling and look pathetic. With luck some big strong idiot will help.”

  “She’s actually training you lot? May all and any gods help the poor innocent males of this parish.” Harold shook his head. “Worse still it’ll work. If you set the thing up on the main street you might even sucker some of the visitors into helping.” Bethany’s grin grew to match Harold’s, because the macho ethos of the young gangsters really would encourage them to show off for the women. Possibly even as far as shovelling what they might not realise was toilet waste.

  “Well then you’d better put that back, or do you expect poor little old me to do it?” Harold shoved the box home again, laughing at the Bethany version of a poor fragile female.

  “I can’t see a problem in the house Harold.” Lenny shrugged. “As long as the crap stays covered up in the compost heap it’ll work, hygiene-wise. Especially if Rob puts in a bidet.” Smiling at Bethany he continued, “In fact it’s a brilliant system under the circumstances.”

  “Downstairs toilets only.” Harold pointed at the removal handles and both of the other men nodded understanding. “Everyone will be motivated to avoid smells.” Harold grinned at Rob. “Now you can take out all those bidets you put in upstairs and fit them downstairs.”

  Rob shook his head in despair. “It’s a good job I collected some apprentices. How come most of the plumbing work these days comes from gardeners?” He smiled. “I thought the medieval gardener used a bush, not a bidet.”

  “Yeuk, no. I suppose I’d better shut up now if we’re going back to the boss?” Bethany took a step and stopped. “Oh, er, sorry, you’re the boss aren’t you?”

  “Rarely, you got it right.” Harold stepped up on the plank and came face to face with Emmy. “Apparently you’re the boss so I suppose we’d better give in gracefully.”

  “You know I’m irresistible.” Emmy kissed him on the nose and stepped aside, while Bethany followed Harold over, giggling.

  Though that wasn’t quite the end of the battle. As each person or family conceded defeat Rob and his team moved in but Harold thought Christmas might be long gone before the last house converted. Rob became sneakier, sending teams of women apprentices round to deal with grouchy males, though sending young men to the reluctant women didn’t always work as well. The girl club and Coven would gang up on the diehards eventually, using sweet reason and then Soldier Boy’s name as a club.

  Chapter 4:

  Splish Splash Bunnies

  While the composting toilets gradually spread through Orchard Close, the rest of life moved on. Especially with regard to the neighbours and their requests for various repairs, though soon nobody’s repairs would save the petrol engines. Harold didn’t think the canned petrol in the cellar would be useable much longer. All the other petrol, that not canned and stored just after Orchard Close had been established, had already been removed for use on pyres or in bombs. One pickup and the girl club armoured minibus still ran on petrol, just, but the rest had quit. “I’m not sure the pickup will make it back this time. I might need a tow.”

  “Don’t worry Harold. If you aren’t back by dark we’ll send a search party, one with a bad attitude.” Patty glared at the Hot Rods accompanying Charger.

  “I won’t be
back tonight, though if I’m not home by dinner tomorrow go on alert. I should be all right, because this is just Caddi playing games again.” Harold grimaced because Charger hadn’t arrived as a hostage until mid-afternoon so Caddi had done it deliberately. “He’ll treat me well enough and probably even spoil me a bit. Even so I’d have told him to stick it but we need that salvaged diesel van overhauled. Get Charger to look it over since he’ll be here overnight.”

  “All right Harold. At least Charger is one of the better behaved lieutenants so there’ll be no comments about providing overnight entertainment.” Patty smirked. “I did consider nailing Chevy to a door for my own entertainment.”

  “Be good.” Patty grinned, and shooed him towards the pickup.

  * * *

  The gate guards at The Mansion didn’t search Harold, because Cooper took him into a nearby house. The Hot Rod quickly frisked Harold before putting the handgun and machete in a locker and giving Harold the key. “Caddi put in these lockers to stop someone switching ammo on his visitors again.” Someone had replaced Harold’s ammo with corroded rounds while he visited Caddi. The next Hot Rod visitors to Orchard Close found their ammo replaced by duds made up with badly damaged brass. “You should get a mechanic to look at that motor. It sounds a bit rough.”

  “No point, because the petrol is about useless.” Harold shrugged. “At least we’ve saved some diesel up to now, though we’ve had to dump what came from old vehicles and a couple of central heating tanks. Some of that even had plant scum in it. The diesel we put in storage right at the start is still good.”

  “We lost all our fuel-injected cars first but Charger is a genius. He’s put diesel engines in all our poser motors, which means performance is down but who the hell will notice?” Cooper waved a hand towards Caddi’s house. “Are you here to sample our fish?”

  “That’s the only reason I came. Charger promised me fish and chips?” That intrigued Harold. Fresh fish had become a legend once the food in household freezers had been used up.

  “The real thing. I’ll see you later for my share.” Cooper headed off elsewhere.