Pickers 3: The Valley

by Garth Owen

  "No. Please don't do that." Julien picked a triangular section file from one of the baskets, and studied the cross cut pattern in its surface. "Anyway, I thought you might like to see this, so you know we have the capacity, if you need anything making up as you convert your wagons."

  "We should have brought Maxine. She's the mechanical genius. I guess she got that from you. But she wanted to go off and explore. With young Meunier."

  "He's a good man, Meunier. Good family too. Trustworthy."

  "He had best be a good man. He'll be castrato if he tries anything Maxine doesn't want." Remy gave a little grunting laugh. "Though, if I know her, what she wants might be the same as what he wants. If he's too good a man, he'll just annoy her."

  "I'll make sure I warn him, then." Julien rolled the handle of the file in his hand, then put it back in its basket. "Those turbines in your wagons, what do they run on?"

  "Almost any flammable liquid. They just need adjusting at start up until they burn clean."

  "Let's go to the fuel distillery and get a batch so you can set them up."

  * * *

  Maxine's shoulders and thighs ached. Hauling the mass of the bike onto the right line was a workout, and she hadn't ridden so far in one go since they had gone over the goat track. Even keeping to her promise of not racing, the path they had come back along had been more technical. She slowed and stopped before reaching the small square ahead.

  George's fuel burning bike was lighter than Maxine's electric one, but, with only one driven wheel, it was harder work to control. It was noisy, too. The rasp of its motor echoed between the buildings on the street as he twisted the throttle to race toward her. He leant forward and pulled a stoppie- waving the rear wheel in the air- just like she had earlier.

  "Let's not take that track on the way out." Maxine said, when Georges had killed his chattering motor and walked the bike over to her.

  "Definitely not." Georges swatted a chunk of mud off his trousers. He looked around. The few people on the square were turning away one by one, pretending they hadn't been watching, curious what the noise and movement were about. "So, er, we have a couple of bars in town. If we tell them early enough, they'll do a meal for us. Would you like to....?"

  Georges was uncomfortable again. Maxine fought back the urge to make him suffer. Besides which, she liked the sound of what he was suggesting. "Yes. I'd like to. When?"

  "This evening?"

  Why not? "Okay." Her heart had sped up again, and now she could feel the pulse somewhere lower as well. Her thighs squeezed the saddle for a moment, trying to chase that idea away, for now.

  "Okay. Let's get our bikes back, then I'll go and book us a table."

  Maxine stood on the pegs, balancing her bike before setting off. Georges stamped on the kick start of his ride, giving silent thanks when it turned over right away. Maxine whizzed away, and he spun the back tyre for a moment as he over revved the bike to follow her.

  They slowed to a civilised speed when Georges had caught up with Maxine, his bike barely puttering as they crossed the bridge. He didn't have to go via the warehouse, but he wanted to, so he matched speeds and ran alongside her.

  The warehouse was a tall single storey building with a metal frame. On one side of it, there was a flat space. The shape of the building that had previously occupied the lot was sketched out on it in brick and cinder block. Parked beside the small side door to the warehouse, at the far end of the building, was a pickup. They hadn't even looked at the door whilst they had been working on the wagons, but now it was propped open.

  Georges recognised the pickup as one of the communal vehicles used for carting produce in from the fields, and goods to and from the tunnel. It didn't belong by the warehouse, he was sure. He twisted the throttle and raced across the empty lot toward it. Maxine reacted a moment later, and, with her faster bike, had drawn level with him just as he started braking to skid to a halt beside the pickup. They propped their bikes against the vehicle as they hopped off.

  Maxine had taken one gun with her, her trusty 9mm. Reading Georges' suspicion, she reached for it. He laid a hand on her arm, holding her back from drawing the weapon. Quietly, he opened the driver's door of the pickup and reached inside to remove the keys from the ignition.

  Three men and a woman were going through the salvage that had been removed from the wagons. What had been relatively orderly was scattered across the floor as they had discarded what they didn't want. A fourth man was trying to open wagon one. They all froze as Georges and Maxine entered.

  Maxine's hand rested on the grip of her pistol, her thumb unclipping the retaining clasp. She stared at the man by the wagon, until he took steps back toward the other four intruders. Two of them had holstered guns, and their hands were edging toward them.

  Before any weapons were drawn, Georges strode into the gap between Maxine and the five uninvited guests. It may have seemed odd to her that none of them were youngsters, but he knew just who they were dealing with. He rested his thumbs on his belt, balancing his right hand a short distance from his own holstered pistol. "Monsieur Catellin. I didn't expect to see you here. I thought your wife didn't approve of this expedition."

  "She.... We do not approve of letting them.... Back into the Valley. This.... Is ours. It belongs to us now it is here, and we are taking what we need from it." François Catellin gestured excessively as he talked, pointing at Maxine and the pile of salvage in particular to highlight his points. His cronies nodded affirmations at his points.

  Maxine had moved sideways, in the direction of the wagons. She was making sure that Georges wasn't between her and the two men with guns, and heading for a pallet of machinery she could use as cover.

  "That's not how it works. But you know that. If you leave now, we can sort this out quietly with the constable later."

  "He's got no authority here. You tell him François." the woman said. She was Catellin's sister, Ludivine, the stronger willed of the siblings. Between her and his wife, François Catellin was easily led, a big, strong man, who didn't do much thinking for himself.

  "Do you really want to go against us, Meunier? Are you like her father, weak for a bit of the dark meat? Has the little black bitch spread her legs for you yet." Catellin took a step toward Georges, closing the gap between them. His height advantage over the younger man was supposed to be intimidating, but it didn't work.

  A short, sharp punch under his jaw stunned Catellin, but it was the sweeping kick to the inside of his right knee that put him on the floor. Georges skipped back, out of reach, and his hand went to his pistol.

  "Hands off the guns boys." Maxine didn't shout, but delivered the command loudly, with authority that had the two men at the back letting their guns slip back into their holsters. "Good. Now, hands where I can see them, and no sudden moves. You wouldn't want to do anything to annoy the little black bitch, would you."

  Georges had his gun drawn now. He held it low, pointing at the floor in front of Catellin but ready for any sudden moves. "You're going to leave now. Don't take the pickup, it stays here. I'll have the constable come talk to you all tomorrow."

  "You assaulted him!" Ludivine's voice was raised almost to a screech. "We saw that, you..." Maxine made the slightest of moves, not shifting her gun, but letting Ludivine see her expression. The older woman shut up and hurried over to help her brother up.

  Georges and Maxine moved so that the intruders passed between them as they left the building. When they were at the far end of the street, Georges holstered his gun and studied the lock on the door. It had been forced. He looked around and found the crowbar that had been used, dropped near the piles of salvage. "I can make a quick bolt that will lock it from the inside." Maxine said. As if noticing that she was still holding her gun, she made a show of putting it back in its holster. "You didn't have to hit him just because he said bad things about me. That could have been dangerous."

  "Between him and his sister, they would have ended up talking us to death without really sayi
ng anything. It was better to get it over with quickly."

  "It was, of course. I'm remembering why I had such a crush on you when we were kids." Before she thought herself out of it, Maxine turned Georges to face her, stepped up close and pulled him into a kiss. His hands reached around her waist to pull her closer still. After a long moment, they parted. "Right. Let's get a bolt on that door, so we can lock ourselves in." Maxine said, turning on her foot and striding off to the wagons.

  "I should be at the warehouse, guarding the wagons."

  "Maxine and young Meunier were eager enough to do that, you should let them. We need to think about who is on our side and who is not." Julien had a bottle of spirit on the table between them, the less poisonous product of the distillery. He expected they would soon consume far too much of it.

  "You didn't expect this sort of thing?" Remy poured himself a glass.

  "We run a democracy here. What the majority says, goes. Usually. Catellin's the loudest opponent to what I've done the last few years. She plays dirty politics, but there has never been any threat of violence or law breaking."

  "So you think this is a one time thing? A bit of disruption to scare us away or put a stop to the pick?"

  "Let's put that down as one possibility and think about others. Catellin will grandstand her husband's injuries tomorrow. If we come up with a few scenarios, we can have plans for how to respond."

  "Is this how you play politics? Playing out the possibilities like in those games you used to love?"

  "This is how I play politics."

  "Well, let's get started, then."

  * * *

  Maxine looked around the wagon door at the sound of knocking. Georges got an intriguing glimpse of bare shoulder as she pressed against the edge of the door. "Are they back?" she wanted to know.

  "They'd not be so dumb." Georges drew his pistol as he walked toward the building's main doors.

  "They might have brought friends. I'll get my big guns."

  "Georges. We brought you food." said a woman from the other side of the doors. "You are in there, aren't you?"

  "Of course I am Maman." Georges quickly holstered his pistol, and covered his face in embarrassment. "I'll let you in through the access door. The small one, on your right."

  "It's your mother? I'm not dressed." Maxine disappeared into the wagon again.

  Georges opened the access door set in the large main doors, to find his parents standing outside. His mother had a mischievous expression as she tried to look around him into the warehouse. His father's expression was apologetic. "We thought you would want to eat, if you're both staying overnight." His mother held up two tin boxes, his father had a bottle of wine.

  "Come in, then. I know you want to be nosey." Georges stepped back to let his parents in.

  They had set up one of the folding tables and a pair of chairs beside wagon one, and rolled out a self inflating mattress on the floor by wagon two. Georges steered his parents toward the table. His mother set down the boxes, and his father handed over the wine.

  "Where is little Maxine?" Georges' mother asked, the innocent smile she tried to put on anything but.

  "She's er...."

  "Erm, bonjour Madame Meunier, Monsieur Meunier." Maxine stood by the corner of wagon one, looking ready to dart behind it and hide. The change in her appearance since she had gone into the vehicle was incredible. She had taken scissors and clippers to her hair, evening out the length and losing some of the larger spikes. But this was a minor change compared to the fact that she was wearing a dress.

  It had been in a box that she had dug out earlier in the day, one of the previously lost treasures they had uncovered. Pale blue, with dark blue flowers printed on it, it had kept its colour all the years it had been missing. Maxine couldn't say whether she was taller than when she got it, but it was short, stopping significantly above her knees. She held her hands against the hem, keeping it in place lest she flash her underwear.

  "Come here and give me a hug." Georges' mother said, doing most of the work of closing the gap to wrap Maxine in her embrace. "We have missed you here all these years. I mean, your uncle's a good man, bless him, but the town never felt right without his brother and his nieces."

  Maxine caught a glance of Georges. He had gone from staring at her to casting an embarrassed, pleading look at his father. In response, he got a resigned shrug. The elder Meunier's impassive expression gave way to a little smile. He made a light cough. It was barely perceptible, but Georges' mother got the message.

  "Well, we should leave you to your guard duty, shouldn't we. Maxine, cherie, you must come and visit us when you're not doing this."

  "Oh, I shall. Thank you so much."

  Georges trailed his parents across the floor to the door, and locked and bolted it when they had left. He turned to find Maxine had sat at the table and was going through one of the boxes of food. "Your mother is a little scary." she confided. "But lovely. Look at all this food."

  There was bread and cheese, slices of smoked ham, a tub of his mother's prized venison pate, and a lot of new potato salad. As a picnic, it was quite a feast. "She's just excited that I'm spending the night with a woman." Georges said, immediately wishing he hadn't said something so stupid.

  "She thinks something's going to happen?"

  "I.... Oh, I hope not. That would just be...."

  Maxine chose not to confuse Georges further by saying that she planned for something to happen. Why else would she put on a dress for the first time in years? She started taking food from the boxes and tried to make her next question as nonchalant as possible. "So, she doesn't like her son being single?"

  "She doesn't come out and say it, but she worries I might never get round to giving her grandchildren. I am their only child. The only hope she and Papa have...."

  "Oh. Whey would she worry about that?"

  "I've..... It's not that I've never been.... interested. I mean.... it's just, I've always been more comfortable around old buildings and machines. And, well, every girl in the Valley I've known since we were children. There's nothing.... Unknown, about any of them. That's why the Scouts is so good for me. Old buildings, and machines, and the chance to meet new people."

  "And fuck them." Maxine joked, hiding her cheeky grin when she saw how red Georges went. "You've.... Never?"

  "No. Well, me and Amandine.... Played, a little. A long time ago. Before she got together with Lucas. And, well, no, no-one else." As if scared of the answer, Georges added, "You?"

  "One guy, for a very short time. He was.... A horrible little shit, really. And two girls."

  "You like girls?"

  "And boys. I like boys more, I think, but girls seem to be more mature. It's always easier to get to the point quicker with them."

  "I'm not saying there's anything wrong with girls.... Liking girls. Sarah prefers women. She and Justine are together, even though Justine's married to Fabien. They share a house, the three of them, I suppose it's more efficient." Georges was babbling, and proving Maxine's point. He would understand, soon enough.

  "Let's eat. I'm starving." Maxine tore off a chunk of bread and released the lid from the jar of pate. "And we're going to need a lot of energy later."

  * * *

  "I think we wore him out." Veronique said, stroking Luke's hair until it was nearly neat, then checking the blanket was over his shoulders.

  From downstairs, and along the landing, there were the sounds of the last of the orphans and foundlings being put to bed. When they had found out about the confrontation at the wagons, Tony and Veronique had volunteered to stay in the chalet, in case the antagonism toward outsiders extended to the youngsters. They had also read the blatant body language between Maxine and Georges, and found an excuse to get out of their way. A little rearranging had garnered them this small room in the chalet, with just enough space for them and the little boy everyone now accepted as theirs.

  "We wore him out? It was a close run thing." Tony stretched, and held in a yawn. H
e was topless, and, in the half light of the setting sun, his muscle definition was highlighted as shadows. Veronique walked over to him, just to run her hands over his chest. "There best hadn't be any trouble tonight. If anyone wakes me, they're going to hear some language before I shoot them."

  "Take your clothes off. You'll be even more scary if you're naked while you shout at them." Veronique's hand had dropped to the front of Tony's trousers, and now gently cupped him. Her other hand was releasing the buttons of the long nightshirt she wore.

  "What if we wake the boy?" Tony's body wasn't showing the same uncertainty as his voice.

  Veronique had released all the buttons, and now her shirt hung open at the front, a thin sliver of light showing the naked skin underneath. "We'll just have to be quiet." Both her hands moved to opening the front of Tony's trousers.

  "I can manage that. I'm not so sure about you." Tony whispered. She kissed him for his cheek. He ran fingers up Veronique's thighs, opening the shirt.

  "I'll just have to learn. Just because we're adopting Luke, doesn't mean I don't want to try to give him a little sister."

  Veronique helped Tony out of his trousers, then pushed him back onto the bed. He stretched out as she shrugged out of the nightshirt and climbed on top of him. Holding his shaft almost daintily, she moved above him until she had him on target, then sank down his length. She bit her lip to keep from letting out a loud moan. With Tony supporting her weight, she started moving her hips up and down, but had to drop forward and kiss him hard to smother the sounds she wanted to make.

  * * *

  He may have lacked experience, but Georges had plenty of imagination.

  They had had talked long after their meal was finished, until the light had faded. There was just enough illumination from the nearly settled sun for them to see each other's expressions and the desaturated details of the big room around them. Maxine reached under her chair and produced a solar lamp she had stashed there earlier. With a twist of the top, it lit up, and they blinked at its brightness.