“Oh!” she leaned forward and pulled him into an embrace. He gripped her and held her tight. The muscles of her back weren’t as thick as they ought to be, and her arms trembled. “Thank-you-thank-you-thank-you!” She pecked him on the forehead, “Oh, I’m just gonna give you the flux too!”
“Nah, don’t worry; I’m good.”
She leaned back anyway, head tilted up as she clasped the necklace.
“Raxx… it’s been so boring being sick all this time — I haven’t had any of your stories to keep me going! What’ve you been up to? I want to hear everything you’ve done!”
Raxx launched into an explanation about the stranger, and what he’d been doing with the man’s motorcycle. He gesticulated as he spoke, glowing inwardly as Connie looked up at him, but with a serious expression on his face. Her head was tilted to the left, nodding at his words.
This was why he’d been ranting at the stranger — because he was missing this. During the winter months Connie wove; she was an artist who cared about her craft, and that allowed her to understand his in a way none of his customers did. The whole reason for the work was appreciation — wasn’t it? The warmth in Connie’s deep blue eyes filled him with hope. It reminded him of why he’d moved to Blackstock in the first place.
He caught himself disappearing into technical details and stopped himself short.
“Heh — you catch any of that, what I was just saying?”
Connie shook her head. “One of these days I’m going to make an Afghan about what you do, Raxx — a whole wall!”
They kept talking. Raxx told her about what was going on with the farmers and the merchant, and she confided in him that her cousin had a crush on one of the guards. Their conversation was interrupted when her mother arrived to bring them both a glass of water, and Raxx took advantage of the break to ask her the question he’d come here to ask.
“So, Connie, I was wondering… do you think you’ll be feeling better in time for the Corn Festival?”
“Hah, of course I will! I can’t miss that, now can I?”
Raxx grinned in response, “Well, see, I was kind of wondering—” he looked at her with a rakish grin “Seeing as you gotta have somebody to take you there…”
“Oh, don’t worry about that — Jeff’s going to be taking me!”
Raxx’s features froze, but she went on as if nothing had happened.
“See, he’s my second cousin—” she counted off on her hand, “So the tradition is that he’s gonna take me — always been, ever since the War. But you’re gonna come too, Raxx, ai?”
“Uh, yeah. Of course.”
“Oh, good!” she leaned forward to give him another hug. “I’ll make sure to save a dance for you, ‘kay?”
“Yeah… yeah, sounds good.” He leaned back, trying to make his smile spread properly. “Hmm… Listen Connie, I’d better get heading. Your mam will have a fit if I keep you too long.”
Her smile subsided, and fatigue took her in its grip. Smiling gently, she nodded, and snuggled into her covers, “‘Kay, Raxx…”
“You feel better, okay?”
“Mm-hmm…”
He gripped her knee and gave it a squeeze, a pained expression on his face.
“G’night, Connie.”
Chapter 6
Shape, Shadow, Silhouette; Texture, Spacing, Sound; Movement and Shine: the Ten Reasons Why Things Are Seen.
He could never remember the last two.
But it didn’t matter. While his mind traced through the list, his body moved by instinct. It pulled him through the woods, finding the shadows and avoiding the twigs.
It was a padded list, anyways.
The midsummer smells of dust and dry rot pervaded, while shafts of light shone through the trees, confusing the senses. The precautions he’d taken over the past couple days, scouting the eastern arc for a possible tail, had calmed his mind but left his body full of nervous energy. He stepped out of the woods near the ‘Town of Blackstock’ sign, but he didn’t climb up onto the Highway.
His gait transformed into a nondescript stroll, while his thoughts drifted back to the long trek he’d been on when he first passed this way. He stayed to the low ground. Beneath the surface his muscles were twitching.
A sun dipped behind some clouds, and he crossed the street, over towards Landfall’s. The hair on the back of his neck stood up as he drifted into view of the market, but nobody looked over and saw him. He slid into the bar’s welcoming darkness.
The Mechanic was there; his hunched form was sitting in the far corner. With a discreet motion, Wentworth slid his duffle bag down his arm, and propped it against the stairwell heading up to the pool room. His rifle — damn! He should have put it away, or at least slung it before coming into town. None of the other patrons seemed to have noticed though — that loudmouth caravan guard was at the bar, drawing everyone’s attention — so with a casual movement he tucked it under his duffle bag, then walked away, sliding into the empty chair at Raxx’s table.
“How’s it going?”
The Mechanic’s eyes clicked up from the pint they’d been staring into. For a moment Wentworth felt bad for sneaking up on him, but the man showed no discomfort. The Mechanic’s face was blank.
It was only a heartbeat before he replied, but for that instant his visage was stripped away. Gone were the mannerisms, the cheerfulness Raxx showed the outside world. His face was a stone clock, ticking away. A cold, benign intelligence.
“Hey.”
Wentworth tilted his head in acknowledgement, then glanced over at Eddie behind the bar. The man paused in his conversation with Billy, and held up an empty pint glass. Wentworth nodded, and the two of them waited for the beer to arrive before continuing.
“So you find what you were looking for out there?”
Wentworth shrugged. “Yeah. Just getting to know the lay of the land.” He took a sip of his beer. It was warm and bitter. He crossed one leg over the other, and leaned back against the wall, staring out at the room. He felt comfortable. Stable.
“You know,” he glanced over sharply, “locals are what they are. You can’t change that.”
Raxx’s shoulders slumped and some emotion returned to his face. “Yeah, I know that.” He stared down into his drink. “Sometimes I forget stuff I already know.” He took a swig then fell back in his chair. “Fuck.”
Eddie took a slow sip from his pint glass. With the rim half-covering his eyes he watched the mullet-haired guard flirting with Marie at the front of the room. She was ignoring her drink and toying with her hair. Off to the left her brother was glaring at nothing. Elmo had been spending most of his time in the bar since the mule kick, using the alcohol to medicate the pain. But tonight it seemed to be making it worse.
“Ai, Billy,” the mohawked-foreigner was sitting at the bar, nodding his head in time to the music. “Your buddy there,” he nodded in Verizon’s direction, “He’s pissing on somebody’s lawn.”
“Eh?” Billy glanced back, “What, he’s just talking to her. Why you beefing, Eddie? He ain’t doing nothing.”
He eased back on the bar, “It ain’t me that’s angry, Billy; I’m just explaining how things work here. You know I appreciate your business — I always like it when you foreigners come out here and buy my beer. But just now we got a situation, and it ain’t nothing to do with me. Back behind you on your right — past your buddy Raxx — is a big ox. His name’s Elmo. Marie back there is his cousin. And he ain’t feeling too happy. You catch what I’m saying?”
“Aw, come on, they’re just talking — if you appreciate our business, why’re you getting all upset over a conversation?”
