by Vance Huxley
“It’s a long walk Caddi, so I’ll need some in the deal.” Harold had listened to Liz often enough to know she needed all the charcoal he could get.
“You won’t need much. That blacksmith isn’t going to be making a lot of gear unless he gets one of the girls to help him.” The Hot Rods supplied the laughter chorus,while several of the girls flexed their biceps to help Abraham to decide.
“I’ll bear it in mind.” The dealing began over how much of what, and Harold soon realised Caddi meant to push him hard. Maybe the number of womenguards had annoyed the Hot Rod, because he twice offered to take a couple of them as part of the price. Harold asked for another talk to his blacksmith.
Liz didn’t waste any time, once Caddi couldn’t hear what was said. “Give the arse what he wants. I promise you’ll be stitching him. You must get all the gear, don’t try to pick and choose.” Liz sounded intent, and focussed.
“Some’s never been usedso why am I buying it? Is it even blacksmith kit?” Harold could seethe dust and muck coating most of the gear in the second pickup. Some looked like electrical gear, so maybe Caddi intended selling off half a shed full of crap. Harold bent closer, allegedly to discuss the gear quietly with Abraham,while Liz murmured from behind.
“All of it, and I promise you’ll get the better of the deal. My word on it Harold.” Before Harold could ask Liz for more of an explanation a short yell and some swearing interrupted him.
One of the Hot Rods nursedone hand with the other, and scowled. “I barely touched it, boss.”
“Touched what?” Caddi looked suspicious. Both sets of guards had hands on hilts, poised and ready, but only Tilly actually held a weapon.
“Not the weapon he asked to inspect.” Tilly looked over at Harold. “He asked if he could look at the Rambo, boss, so I took it out to show him. Since you were selling some I thought it would help. When the scroat moved in to look he put his hand on my ass.”
The Hot Rod looked and sounded indignant. “Only on that bloody armour plated skirt!”
“And you’re not bleeding. Seems fair.” Harold could see most of his guards fighting a smileat Tilly’s answer.
“So what did she do, Cal, if you’re not bleeding?” Now Caddi sounded curious.
“I don’t know boss, but it feels like the bitch broke my hand.” Caddi walked over and grabbed the hand in question. “Aargh. Fuck. That hurts!”
“It’s not broken.” Now Caddi seemed more interested in Tilly. “What did you do?”
“Put your hand on me and I’ll show you?” She looked back steadily. “Harold told them the rules.”
Caddi turned away and glared at Cal. “Yes he did, and I warned you I’m dealing, serious business. If you want to get crippled, do it on your own time.” The gang boss moved back towards Harold. “Let’s get this sorted before one of the prats loses his fucking ears.”
“I’ll take the lot because sorting out the crap will take forever,but I’m not paying top price for the scrap.” Liz had always done well by Orchard Close so Harold took a flyer. Working on the basis that he should trust the expert, Harold gave away more than he should have for the gear. Definitely more than he wanted to, because Caddi pushed hard on the price. The warlord seemed determined to make a point, and at least part had to be Caddi being furious at Cal for trying it on and failing.
Despite the extra cost, Harold stuck out for more charcoal in the deal. After all, even Caddi knew that any ironwork ate charcoal. The warlord admitted that he hoped the new setup didn’t use as much or he’d be raiding the bloody trees himself. He promised the charcoal would be at Orchard Close by the time the residents unloaded the forge gear, and drove off with his guards. His annoyance had gone, and now Caddi seemed very happy with himself.
Too happy, Harold thought,wondering if some of the bad mood had just been Caddi faking todrive up the prices.Harold had cranked up the prices of some of the repaired guns, to try and even up, but even so he’d been stung. Too many Rambos and maces and some helmets were heading for the Mansion, he’d have to take some from the armouries to make up the price. Liz could replace them, eventually, but that would cost time, metal and a hell of a lot of the new charcoal. Harold couldn’t even discuss it with Liz, because the two Hot Rod pickups carrying the purchaseskept pace with the Orchard Close squad.
*
Liz literally twitched, pacing up and down as the two pickup trucks unloaded. She hovered impatientlywhile Abraham supervised counting out the helmets and weapons,and handing them over to the Hot Rods. It took a while to move everything from the Hot Rod pickups,and then their payment through the gates in wheelbarrows, and by the time they’d finished, the charcoal had arrived.Abraham opened a bag, nearLiz so shecould nodto tell him it smelled right. Sheseemed distracted, a lot more interested in the heap of junk. Once the gates were shut and the Hot Rods drove away, Liz whirled to face Harold. “Come on, let’s get it all into my lair.” Liz kept her voice down, fighting the grin that kept trying to spread over her face.
Harold glanced around everyone present, and they looked baffled as well. “Whoa, Liz. You want all the crap in there as well?”
Liz almost hopped up and down,bursting with something she didn’t want to say in public. “Get it all into my lair and get me Finn, so he can help me sort through it. You may as well make yourself useful as well.”The men and women with wheelbarrows looked baffled, but they carted the lot into her lair and unloaded.
Liz closed the door behind them as the last one left, leaving only Harold, Finn and herself inside.Harold waited while Liz whispered and Finn poked and pulled and tested, until finallythe electrician said he might need Trev and it would still take a couple of days.The corrosion under the bird and rat shit didn’t look too bad, nothing he couldn’t fixonce Elise cleaned it all up.
By that time Harold waswondering what the hell he’d bought, so as soon as Finn left he pounced. “I paid a bloody fortune for that crap. Now tell me why.”
The little twirl before Liz spoke was an answer all by itself. “What do you want? Maces, knives, helmets, shields, a full set of fitted armour?
“From that lot? What does it turn into? A magic cauldron? It’s well disguised.” Harold stared at the mess, but inspiration didn’t strike.
“As good as a magic cauldron, but the proper name is an induction furnace.” The blacksmith’s expression said that Harold should be performing cartwheels, but it meant nothing. Liz pointed at the shape uncovered when she’d pulled the wires about for Finn.
“I’m no wiser. It doesn’t look like a cauldron.”
Her smile almost split Liz’s face. “You know I have trouble getting the heat I need to melt metal?”
“Yes, it’s why I bargained for extra charcoal.” Harold glanced at the heap of expensive bags in one corner.
“That’ll be handy for working the blades, tempering and generally fettling,but I won’t need charcoal to melt metal now.” The sheer glee in her voice confirmed Liz’s absolute conviction.
Harold looked at the heap of bits and wires. He hoped he understood. “So this will?”
“That really is the blacksmith’s equivalent of a magic cauldron. Like I said, an induction furnace,and it’s complete withcrucibles, moulds and sand boxes. That heap of crapwill melt pretty much any metal the scavengers bring, using electricity instead of charcoal.” Liz couldn’t keep her eyes off the heap of gear, shuffling and twitching while she spoke.
Harold started to smile and killed it quickly. “Did you tell Finn what it is, or anybody else?”
“Sort of, so he knew what it should do.” Liz looked alarmed when she saw Harold’s face. “What’s the problem?”
“How aboutCaddi deciding to attack us to get it back?” Harold saw it sink in and Liz sobered. “How come nobody else recognised it?”
“Look at that heap of crap. Even I didn’t get it at first and I’ve told you enough times, I’m a blacksmith slut. My dream chat up line was ‘would you like to test my induction furnace,’ or ‘do you want to
inspect my fettling gear’ from a big muscly bloke. Caddi’s blacksmith is either an idiot, a total amateur or is being dangerously uncooperative.” Liz waved her hand over the tangle of metal and wires. “With the anvil and tools, this is a miniature iron works. I’ll bet some scroat lifted it complete because they recognised the anvil.”
“Caddi’s blacksmith is an amateur because Caddi said welds broke, and his man couldn’t harden maces like you do.” Harold’s smile didn’t match Liz’s, but it was getting there.
“I can do better now, cast the mace heads to fit shovel shafts, broom shafts, whatever we’ve got. No welding or cutting so we won’t need rods and gas. How do you fancysteel helmets?” Liz laughed and made a show of inspecting Harold.
“Slow up,we’ll have to sit down and make a list. Cripes, Caddi will never believe Abraham is the blacksmith,not if a stream of heavy metal comes out of here.” Harold stared at the heap of crud, having trouble believing it himself.
“At worst he’ll think it was one of the bigger blokes in the guards, one like Logan or Henry. He won’t know it’s me.” Harold realised where some of the euphoria came from. Liz had got away with it, so nobody would be trying to kidnap her.
“Can you tear yourself away for a bit, because I’mserious about the list?” Harold needed more heads working on this because Liz wasn’t firing on all cylinders. “Have you got a big hammer man organised?” He grinned. “Logan?”
Liz’s smile widened if that was possible. “Not Logan, thoughhe was a candidatewhen I carried out the first auditions yesterday. That’s when Henry asked why I didn’t put on my ear muffs, those rabbit fur ones.He’s my secret admirer! After that offer today to protect my fair body, I think I should at least get him in here for a proper test.” Harold had to laugh at the huge dollop of smug in that.
“No wonder he seemed so keen.” Harold shook his head, trying to sound serious. “Make sure you put the bar on the door down, so no innocent walks in and has the sight seared into their brain forever.”
Harold got to Finn before he’d talked to Trev or anyone else, and the electrician swore he could do the job alone but it might take him a bit longer. A quick meeting of the squad leaders came up with a list of what they needed Liz to make first, with steel helmets up at the top of the list. By that time even Liz had stopped laughing, while Doll complainedagain about the number of secrets she had to remember.She’d started worrying about talking in her sleep. Sooner or later something would slip, and she’d been pushing the training of her squad in case that set off one of the local nutcases. Several other sober faces agreeing with her set Harold worrying, and pushing himself to get more muskets built and ammunition loaded.
*
Everyone’s good humour took a knock when the soldiers on the by-pass were rotated out. For some reason the Army brass had doubled the time any unit spent in the same place, which meant that Orchard Close had made a few real friends among their guards. When the new soldiers arrived, the sergeant called Harold up to explain that he wouldn’t be taking any crap or doing anyone any favours. Harold had heard the same from every new sergeant, but this time it seemed to be said more by rote than with real conviction. The sergeant didn’t look at the picture of Curtis, but said he’d seen it and hadn’t seen the man.
Harold made sure all the residents understood, they had to be extra careful. Quite a few, especially Doll’s squad, had started wearing pistols openly. Now Harold drummed into everyone they mustn’t point the barrel anywhere close to the bypass, even by accident. Hiding rifles and muskets, and firing practice, became even more important while all the squad leaders nagged the guards about keepingshotguns covered. The squads all put in extra practice raisingthe covers over the firing steps, until it was a smooth, quick operation. Hopefully,someone firing a rifle under there wouldn’t attract an Army bullet while responding to an attack from out in the fields.
Only the most tolerant men went on the first Mart trip after the soldiers arrived. The shoppers reported that the sergeant and soldiers used the wand and searched, but were polite about it. After ten days, Harold sent Abraham, who wasn’t at all big or threatening, up with a bowl of chips. He gradually reduced the gap between chips to every three days and increased the number of shoppers, but wouldn’t risk any women.
Meanwhile Harold upped the rifle and pistol practice a little, because he’d scored extra propellant to reload the rounds. As Ski warned them, now thatthe Barbies knew about ita flurry of gun work came in. Just as well, the repairs from the GOFS had dropped off because they didn’t get in many fights.Chandra ‘accidentally’ let slip they’d had a few repairs done in the past by someone the Trainspotters knew.The Trainspotters didn’t accept many weapons, and must add on a big commission going by the prices.That might be why the blondes obviously knew to clean their guns, and probably cleared simple jams. They’d never be as good a customer as the nearer gangs.
Some gun repairs came from beyond the Barbies. Harold charged those a bit more than the locals, and Chandra admitted to adding even more, so others probably considered him expensive as well. The Geeks and GOFSjumped on the bandwagon and passed through repairs once the secret came out, admitting they’d kept quiet so their weapons worked better than anyone else’s. Only Caddi never sent any outside work. Harold suspected the warlord didn’t want to strengthen any of his neighbours. It didn’t work, the Baggies and Ferdinands sent work through the GOFS, exchanging the weapons and payments near the Mart.
Two rifles for repair were passed through the Pink Panthers and then the Barbies, and they came with a goat! A nanny, who would give milk! Someone must be desperate, or have a herd, because she was the incentive to get the weapons repaired. Harold thought it might be another test because neither weapon could be repaired, but he made one good weapon out of the two and kept the goat. She produced the first real milk they’d seen in years, and helped to keep the weeds down.
The Barbies were intrigued becauseboth the rifles were scrap in their eyes. They hadn’t expected Harold to get the job done,and intended onbuying the goat from the original gang. Instead the Barbies now wanted fresh milk. Eventually, they accepted that one small goat didn’t give much milk and switched to trying to contact the original owners, hoping to buy one.
The goat’s milk went to the young children. Those born just before or since the Crash took calcium tablets and multivitamins, but probably still had a string of deficiencies. The supplements Harold had looted on his midnight sorties just after the Crash were running low, and nobody trusted the versions sold in the Marts.
With more through trade, more gangsters, especially GOFS and Barbies, visited Orchard Close. Some came from further away, a few adventurous strangers as well asoccasional Trainspotters, Ferdinands, Baggies and even Pink Panthers. Only a few of each came, all drawn by the rumours of a genuine pub. Some of the regular gang visitors, especially the pub customers, were now being greeted by name. After one corpse, several canings, and three being barred for life, the pub rules were accepted by everyone.
True to her word, the scrap around Liz’s workshop reappeared as maces, helmets, plates for armour or spear heads. New greaves appeared, shaped to fit around a leg or arm, and curved plates to fit over the top of boots. The helmets gainedsides and a nose bar to stop sideways chops and clubs. Scrounging teams brought in any bits of metal they came across now, and there were tons out there in the ruins.
Now she wasn’t stuck with using hammer heads, Liz created a smaller version of a mace, mounted on half a broom shaft so even the smaller fighters could use them one-handed. The next version had a round spiked head,aMorningstar, according to the medieval enthusiast who suggested it. Harold didn’t fancy a love tap from either. After a visit from Ant, Liz cast a mace with a slim iron shaft, saving on shovel shafts and wire.
Over an evening meal with Tessa and Sharyn, Harold brought up the explosion of creativity and the sheer enthusiasm generated over every project. Tessa knew what brought it on, or thought she did. She had arrived in Orchard C
lose before the new rush of refugees from the Murphies. At that time the gate guards had swaggered a bit, but were careful not to upset any of the other gangs. They’d accepted that Orchard Close couldn’t match the larger gangs surrounding them.
The new arrivals didn’t know any such thing. They’d run to Orchard Close following rumours of a place where every woman carried a gun and the gangsters daren’t touch them. Even without guns, free access to machetes and training on crossbows had confirmed their belief. Orchard Close was a safe home, and a high percentage were only too willing to help defend it.These men and women had spent years under a gangster’s thumb, whereany new idea or bit of extra output was stolen or banned. Now they could suggest or make anything they liked and the ADT, Asshole Deterrent Tax, actually worked. No rent, no protection money, no swaggering gangsters stealing anything they fancied, it hit them like strong drink or drugs. The newcomers were drunk on freedom. Tessa confessed she sometimes wanted to slap a visiting gangster, one with a bit of attitude, for no reason. Everyone nearby would set on the scroat if he objected.
Harold checked, and Orchard Close now had over two hundred and thirty residents.With the recent influx, about a third were now women under thirty, and only a few were married or gartered. That brought some changes, such as the canteen setting upthree shifts for meals. Most residents weren’t in family groups, and many didn’t fancy taking their meals home to eat alone. The weekly shopping trip now needed over a score of men. It would have needed twice that if the Army hadn’t relaxed the rules. With only Orchard Close using the bypass for shopping, they were allowed to use handcarts to bring theirpurchases home.
*
The increased numbers still didn’t make Orchard Close as numerous, or as strong, as their neighbours, but kept their people safer than most.Living in one enclave meant that everyone lived with theirprotectors, and many non-fighters had important supporting roles if the worst happened. In other gangs, most ‘civvies’ lived in estates away from the headquarters fighters, more vulnerable to raids or roving nutters.Their high percentage of fighters also helped Orchard Close, butonlybecause the defendersdoubled up in trades or the fields. By collating all the little snippets overheard when the Hot Rods came for a beer, Harold’s inner circle finally came up with a firm estimate of Caddi’s strength. The result wasn’t encouraging. Caddi’s fighters outnumbered Orchard Close over two to one, none of whom had to work so they could train full-time.
