“Nothing.”
Wentworth nodded, “You might think I’m being paranoid, but I’d feel pretty stupid if I died in some sort of fuck-off way.”
“No worries. I would too. You take this shit pretty seriously, don’t you? I mean,” he hefted his shotgun, “I know how to use this thing, but that crawling around — I noticed how you were using the land to hide us. I never thought of that before. Makes sense though.”
Wentworth shrugged, “Thanks.”
“So where’s this bike of yours? I was kind of looking for it while we were up there, but I couldn’t spot it.”
“It’s right there.” Raxx looked where Wentworth had indicated but didn’t see anything but the wooded valley south of the highway. All of a sudden his eyes went buggy. He blinked, and realized he’d been staring directly at a camouflage net some twenty meters off the road. “Holy shit. Nice. Your bike is under the cloth there?”
“Yeah, that’s her.”
“Alright, let’s give her a look.”
They walked over to the bike. Wentworth kept hold of his rifle, as Raxx slung his shotgun across his back and picked up a toolbox from the bed of his truck. They reached the bike and removed the cam net. The bike was a cruiser, built for long distance riding and heavy loads. Leather saddle bags were mounted on the back, and the body was a metallic grey, non-reflective. It was rust free and appeared in good working order, aside from the broken transmission chain. Raxx knelt by the side of the bike and pulled out a device to measure it.
“Good news, you had the right grade. I’m just going to check a few other things.” His excitement was palpable. He went over the bike, opening panels and examining the components, identifying the different mechanisms while measuring to check whether he’d have the right tools. He wanted to pull apart the engine right there, to figure it out, but managed to reign in his enthusiasm. “I don’t think this’ll be a problem… should have everything I need… alright! Let’s get her on the truck.”
Wentworth put away the cam net, and walked the bike over while Raxx pulled a wooden plank out of the truck bed to use as a ramp. Together they hauled the bike up the ramp, and secured it with chains.
“Augh!”
“You got her?”
“‘Kay, steady now!”
“Stop-stop-stop — Okay!”
“Try moving that board…”
“Is she tight?”
“I got this end.”
“Holy shit, you’re one heavy slut…”
“The back’ll go up?”
“Yeah, jump down, she’s good…”
As they got into the cab Wentworth panted, “Maybe the mule would’ve been easier…”
The only thing marring Raxx’s manic grin was his own shortness of breath. “It’s starting to feel a lot like
Vince rode the wagon into town, heading towards the market. As he rode he waved to locals. This was his second trip here since the thaw, and being one of the only strangers who visited, he was well known.
Behind him Billy and Verizon were unloading and clearing their weapons. The rifles wouldn’t be necessary in a quiet town like Blackstock.
“Hey, Billy,” said Verizon, “how about that sheep over there? Is she more your type?”
“Fuck you, Verizon. From now on it’s William Buckley to you.”
“What’s that — ‘Prince Billington’ you say?”
“Fuck you, and the train you rode in on!”
“The train with your mother on her trampoline!
“Alright, quiet down lads,” said Vince, “you’re gonna give folks the wrong idea…” or maybe the right one…
He guided the oxen towards the tan-brick building next to the marketplace, nodding and waving to the vendors, and keeping an eye on the children who were darting about his wagons, excited at the presence of the stranger. “Stay here and keep an eye on the goods. I’m going to speak to the Councilman and get a booth sorted out. After that, we’re going to get the stuff secured, and then we’ll go over to Landfall for those pints — and
Vince dismounted, and strolled over to the doors of the building. There was still a plaque out front which read ‘OPP Det. 42 Blackstock,’ and the words ‘Police Station’ were still emblazoned above the double doors, but the last peace officer had died long ago; with only a hundred-or-so locals there was no need for a lawman.
The front desk and the small office portion just inside the door remained essentially unchanged from the prewar days; a pair of clerks worked at the desks, and the Councilman had taken over the Chief’s office. The rest of the building was dedicated to storage, housing the machinery and supplies that were commonly owned and seldomly used.
“Well, if it isn’t Vince McCullough!” The receptionist’s face lit up as he entered; the blue whorls on her cheeks enhancing her crimson hair, “And such good timing, too! There’s a stranger in town — hey, I’ll bet Councilman Vree will want to see you about him! Give me a sec to ask her.”
Without giving Vince a chance to reply, she got up and dashed around the corner to alert the Councilman.
She came back and grabbed Vince by the hand, pulling him towards the office, “Yes, she wants to see you right away! Ooh, I hope you get your booth set up soon. Have you brought in any more of that Yorker jewellery you had last time? I showed my cousin Connie the necklace I bought from you, and she loves it and wants one of her own! Okay, just go right in, I’ll see you later Vince!”
Vince closed the door behind him. He looked at the Councilman and let out a sigh.
“She could talk the leg off a mule,” he said.
“Ai, youth!” Vree smiled gently. She was one of the oldest citizens of Blackstock, and had been the Councilman for as long as Vince had been trading there. She wore her mantle with a grandmotherly air. The two of them had always gotten on, and she, more than anyone else, realized how valuable Vince’s trade was to Blackstock. “There’s times I think Marie does more of the running of this place than I. She’s always dumping the next job on my lap ‘fore I even figured out what it’s going to be, and she’s usually got it’s fixing, too. Ah, well. I suppose she told you why you’re in here, instead of seeing to your stall?”
“She said something about a stranger in town.”
Vree laughed, “She just ran in here telling me about how Vince had just shown up, and that she’d bring him in to see if he knew anything about the stranger. Not that I’m complaining, it’s what I would have done later this afternoon — but you see what I mean about her doing the job for me?” She chuckled, eyes glowing, as Vince slouched back in a chair.
“Yes, we’ve got a stranger in town. He ain’t done nothing yet, and you’ll see him soon enough, he’s-a staying with the Landfalls, like you always do, but he’s creeped out some of the boys that met him, and, well… Vince, here’s the thing; he came out of the East. No one’s ever done that before. So he’s got some heads buzzing.”
Vince frowned when he heard this. Blackstock was the last settlement, as far as he knew.
“So I’m glad that you decided to show up so quick-like after he did. I’m thinking that, if this fellow’s trouble, then maybe you’ve heard a thing or two about him; you merchants get around a fair bit more than us. So, Vince, you ever hear of a man called Wentworth?”
Vince had been growing bemused as Vree went on. These smaller towns always got upset whenever a stranger showed up, and it was funny how they’d assume that a merchant would know anything about some derelict passing through. He couldn’t blame them, though; they didn’t have the perspective to understand the size of the civ out West…
But his train of thought had derailed when Vree mentioned the name.
“Wait — did you say Wentworth?”
“Wentworth, ai.”
