It all happened so fast. Standing behind General Stuart while the recording of Keem instructing Geo to kill the Gra'am scouts played, Joe was distracted and mildly amused by the eruption of anger from the Carls. He didn't see Keem's move. His attention wrenched from the shouting Carls by the shock murder of Carl Jon, instinctively lunging for his cane he was hampered by the General's lifeless body collapsing into him, spraying blood into his face and spinning his only weapon to the floor. Still struggling with the General's body and scrambling to reach his cane, he was flung to the ground and pinned by three of Keem's soldiers.
With clarity from his adrenalin rush, Joe realising there was now no chance of escape, stopped struggling and relaxed his muscles to minimise any injury his capture may cause. His captors were obviously well trained and well briefed, they had Joe tied, gagged and his head bagged with efficient speed. His next impressions were of being rushed, half dragged, half carried through the building and roughly hoist onto one of their small cavalry horses. His feet were expertly tied into the stirrups then together beneath the horse's belly, his hands were loosely secured to something on the pommel. As the horse was led from stables, and into the rain at a trot, Joe had to grip the horse's mane tightly to remain upright. Trying, only partially successfully, to synchronise himself to the gait of the horse, he began to wish he had taken the opportunity, during some of his down time, to reacquaint himself with riding.
Although unable to see, it felt like they were riding uphill and that meant they were heading either East, South or some way in between. He figured if they soon encountered trees he would know. Finally settling into a sort of uncomfortable but acceptable Zen with the horse Joe began to review events. Disappointed with himself for not foreseeing the attack, but with the stoicism of the veteran, he wasn't about to fall into a depression over it. As far as he could tell, the operation was well executed, therefore planned and he was impressed that he hadn't heard a word spoken during the whole attack. Joe understood that he was being kept alive for a purpose and resolved to find out what that was before he made his escape. Escape! Joe had supreme confidence in his ability to escape but still, he hoped his captors only saw a man who needed a cane to walk and had no real idea of his capabilities.
The rain wasn't letting up and the bag over his head, now saturated was flapping back onto his face and beginning to affect his breathing, triggering bad memories. Having to bow and shake his head to free his breathing, the experience reminded him uncomfortably of interrogation training a lifetime ago. Unable to see, he was still able to feel and he especially felt the low branch that scraped across his face catching the hood, almost unseating him from the horse. The snagged hood dragged Joe back over the saddle but with a last desperate shake, he managed to free his head, leaving the hood tangled in the low branch.
Free to see at last, he discovered that his was the last horse in the group and that they were wending their way along a narrow, partially overgrown track, through a thick pine forest. The sounds of their passing were muffled by the rain and the thick layer of wet pine needles and with the dripping lichens hanging from every tree, the forest projected a primordial, even threatening appearance. Joe was sure now that they were riding Southwest into the wilderness between the sanctuaries and Fort Jones. His captors either didn't notice or didn't care that he was no longer blindfolded so Joe didn't enlighten them and being able to duck under branches was an improvement, but it also brought his other travails into the fore. His long legs and bare feet were tied into short stirrups on an undersized horse, the longer they rode the more his mind focused on the pain and the less he could concentrate on understanding the why of it all.
They rode for what seemed like hours and Joe was becoming delirious from the pain in his feet and injured leg. Even though their pace had slowed to a walk, every movement of the horse elicited an involuntary moan as he drifted in and out of conscienceless. The forrest eventually opened into a clearing and the troop halted in front of a small homestead. Joe was so out of it that he didn't notice until his feet were cut free and he slewed sideways and dropped into the mud. He was still clawing his way back into full consciousness as someone dragged him onto a low decked porch out of the rain and dumped him unceremoniously on the floor.
For the next few minutes he was only vaguely aware of the activity around the horses, before they were led away by a someone Joe thought might have been a young boy. Struggling into a sitting position, he leant back against the wall and tried stretching his legs to get circulation back into his feet when Keem and two of his soldiers reappeared.
Keem squatted in front of Joe. "See American," he began, "You are not so powerful after all, perhaps now, the council will see your people for what they are, not Gods but a threat to the future we have planned."
Joe remained silent.
"These kind people have offered us their hospitality for the night so a meal will be brought out to you shortly. The farmer's family will not talk to you and do not try to talk to them or their son will die," Keem said with quiet menace. "Is that understood." Phrasing it more as a statement than a question. Joe just nodded as one of the soldiers loosened his wrist bindings but retied his feet then settled into the porch rocking chair, sword in hand, to watch him.
A short while later a man wearing leather trousers and the linen smock of a farmer appeared and handed a wooden plate of stew and a torn off lump of bread to the guard. He placed the same in front of Joe. The man did not look at Joe and hastily retreated indoors without saying a word. The rain let up in time for sundown but as the light faded the mosquitos arrived. Not long after his plate and spoon were removed by the guard, the farmer, his wife and son were escorted to the barn by two of the soldiers. Joe could not make out their words but the body language was clear as the parents were pushed into the barn and the door slammed shut. The soldiers returned to the house, pushing the crying teenage boy before them and Joe heard someone tell him to stay in his room if he wanted to see the morning.
Finally having the opportunity to assess his situation, Joe had originally believed that Keem's group numbered about six soldiers and was surprised to see they had been joined by a troop of fifteen, now commanded by Geo's brother Seph. This was beginning to look like a sizeable conspiracy and certainly not a spur of the moment action. Inside the house, the soldiers were helping themselves to the farmer's beer, one of them tossing a bottle to Joe's guard as they swapped positions, Joe didn't get one. Uncomfortable as it was leaning against the house wall, the experience was made more unpleasant by the new guard dropping into the farmer's rocking chair, resting his muddy boots on a three legged stool and taunting Joe with the beer.
Joe, now seriously exploring the knots binding his hands and feet, figured he could free his feet without being noticed and overpower the rocking chair guard before he had time to react, the unknown was how quick would the soldiers inside the house react. While he was weighing up his options for running or staying to find out what was going on, two soldiers appeared, pushed him down and retied his hands behind his back. Sitting him up, they dragged him back against the wall where Keem once again threatened him against trying to escape.
Joe asked Keem for a blanket and although the guards laughed out loud, Keem did actually direct one of them to fetch a blanket for him. Not seeing any point in giving the soldiers further cause for mirth, Joe dragged it under his butt as a cushion rather than try to struggle it over himself. He thought, he would try to protect himself from the mosquitos with it later, but for now it was softer than the rough hewn porch boards.
Joe was awake well before the boot to his ribs made it official. In fact he had spent most of the night awake, between the pain from his bindings and the insects, he was surprised he had slept at all. One of the guards untied his hands so he could eat the breakfast dumped in front of him. It was in the same plate as the night before, obviously washing up wasn't a priority, but in the cool predawn, Joe quickly demolished the cold stew and stale bread. After eating, he tore some wide strips from the blanket to bind around his feet and ankles in lieu of his missing boots, he hoped the farmer would understand. The current guard watched him, vaguely interested, but thankfully didn't interfere.
The sun was sending rays through the clouds overhead, brightening the farm clearing when he was tied onto his horse again. This time the soldiers left his hands free and Joe was given the reigns, they also allowed him to retain what was left of the blanket. As they continued along a track further into the forest, Joe noticed that two of the soldiers had remained at the house, standing on the porch but looking toward the barn. The two rejoined the group about fifteen minutes later and Joe, observing the pillar of smoke rising above the trees behind them, tried to not think about the family's fate.
Having his hands free and the blanket bindings protecting his feet from the hard stirrups, Joe found the ride through the damp forest to be quite pleasant, even engaging his captors in small talk. Around mid-morning the nature of the forest changed, the undergrowth thinned and the sun and a light breeze found their way through the canopy easing the humidity. Shortly after, the group emerged from the trees onto a road heading North and South. Joe guessed it led into the Unworthy lands. The road was well defined and obviously carried a lot of traffic, he thought it unusual that there would be any traffic between such obvious enemies, let alone enough to warrant a well defined road.
The road was still very muddy from the previous day's rain and they passed a couple of convoys of wagons slogging through the heavy going. Each convoy was protected by a small number of obviously well armed escorts. One of the wagons they passed was bogged in the road and while the wagon owner and employees were struggling with the horses to pull it out, the escorts were not assisting at all. Joe deduced that the escorts would be hired professionals, paid to protect, not paid to get dirty. Whenever they did pass a convoy, a number of Keem's soldiers crowed around Joe forcing him to hunch down with the blanket hooding his head to disguise his size.
Continuing South along the road for three days, they bivouacked each night in the forest well away from the road with no night time fire and eating cold jerky with soaked cracked grain for their evening meal. Each night the soldiers hobbled Joe by tying his feet loosely but left his hands free until it was time to sleep, he was then bound, with his hands behind him, to a tree for the night. By the third night he had almost figured out how to get some sleep, at least for part of the night, unless there were ants.
During the day and each night Joe chatted cheerfully with the soldiers, developing a relationship and trying to build a bond based on their shared experiences as soldiers. At first Keem tried to restrict his men from talking but even he was fascinated by some of Joe's stories of soldiering before the Cleansing. By the third day, Joe had gleaned enough to understood the connection between the Clans and the Unworthy, and how the flow of metals from the South was funded by the reciprocal flow of food and manufactured goods South. The flow of goods was facilitated by a neutral, but fiercely competitive, Trader class who had established a major town on the border between the Clan and Unworthy territories and Keem's men were heading to this Trader Town.
On the morning of the fifth day of Joe's captivity, they topped a low hill and below them on the shore of a lake was Trader Town. Keem led the troop towards the hills to the west of the town remaining out of sight of the road where he stood the troop down. While the soldiers secured their horses, Keem briefed Seph, who then remounting, rode back toward the town. The sun was right overhead when two riders spurred up the hill toward their position. As they approached, Joe identified Seph and an unknown individual clad in a quality bleached linen suit. Keem walked out to meet the stranger who did not dismount. Their talk appeared animated with an occasional waving of hands and finger pointing, but after a few minutes it appeared that a consensus was reached and Keem handed over a small bag which the stranger quickly stowed in a pocket.
Keem nodded to Seph who ordered the troop to saddle up, Joe was allowed to mount without being tied down, they obviously believed he was no longer a flight risk. The stranger led them around the hills to the West to re-approach the town from the South. With Joe concealed again, the troop made their way between what appeared to be a series of fortified compounds with tall walls constructed of pointed logs, reminding Joe of old western movies. They stopped before one such stockade sporting a neat sign over the gate reading 'Metal Jack'. The sentry above the gate obviously recognised the stranger and shouted down to open the gate. The interior of the fort held no surprises, a large red brick building with an attached shed was located toward the rear of the compound, open stables sat along the Southern wall with a loading ramp against the Northern wall.
Three wagons without horses were lined up in front of the shed and one was backed into the loading ramp. The stockade wall had an elevated firing platform all the way around with access by ladder against the Southern wall and a solid looking staircase up to the guard station at the Northern side of the gate. The troop were directed to stable and care for the horses while Joe once again had his hands bound. With Joe secured, Keem motioned for him to accompany him and the Trader into the main building. Seph followed carrying a leather roll, handing it to Keem once they were inside.
Keem started by forcing Joe to stand in the centre of the room, he referred to the trader as Alan and informed him that Joe was proof the Americans had returned and he was presenting him to Magnus. He also informed Alan that the usual communications, if not already sent, could be binned as he was going to see Magnus in person. Alan asked Keem what would be accomplished by taking the giant to Magnus, Magnus already had some of the tall people working for him.
"Magnus hasn't seen a tall person like this one, he really is an American, and there is a whole town full of them, they have American weapons and metal vehicles that move without horses, I'm sure Magnus would like to know about that," Keem advised him.
"The convoy that just passed through reported that Magnus was in Red Bluff with his army pacifying the Southern rebellion. He was then returning to Redding, it should be over by the time you get to Redding, wait for him there," Alan advised.
"Fine, feed us and we will be gone in the morning," Keem said. Keem opened the roll and, to Joe's surprise, extracted Joe's boots, his phone and his cane. He presented them to Alan.
"Take these as payment, you can see that the boots were not made by any of the Clan's cobblers and this glass thing is some sort of American communication device, I couldn't get it to work and it broke when I dropped it. This walking stick has a sword made out of some remarkable American Steel hidden in it. Keep them, sell them I don't care," Keem explained.
Alan accepted the gifts and placed them reverently on his desk, proof that Americans are returned, really a priceless gift.
Keem was accommodated in the Building as a guest of the trader while the troops slept with the horses in the Stables. Seph posted sentries not trusting the trader or his men while Joe had a relatively comfortable night, still tied to a post, but on a bed of straw smelling of horse urine, at least there were no mosquitos. Before drifting into sleep, Joe concluded that he now had enough intelligence on Keem's plan and his next action was to escape and warn the Sanctuary and the Clans to prepare for an attack.
Leaving the trader's compound before dawn, the troop, riding three abreast made no effort to hide Joe from passing eyes, which suited Joe just fine. He was permitted to ride untethered, but as his horse was quite small even by Clan standards, he guessed rightly that if he made a break for it, he couldn't outride fifteen of the Clan's best horsemen. Even so, Joe was at all times boxed in by Keem's soldiers, presenting him with no opportunity to try. For any chance of success, Joe would need to escape at night and get as far away on foot, before his escape was noticed. Not for the first time he wished he had his boots, the thought of escaping barefoot through the forest in the dark didn't appeal.
They passed a couple of convoys heading North dragging heavy wagons, and all with the standard armed escorts. The road to the South of Trader Town was dryer than that up North, either having dried faster or not having received the same rain, making the going faster. Passing one of the trader convoys, Joe noticed one of the convoy escorts paying him close attention, staring after him as they went. The convoy guard was light-haired and taller than the rest of the escort party. Joe asked the soldier next to him about it.
The soldier told him that some people from way down South were pale skinned and naturally tall. He revealed that they were in demand as convoy guards because the traders believed that being bigger they were better fighters. The soldier spat and expressed his disdain at that. "They're all show, put them against a real warrior and they run every time," he said.
Nevertheless, Joe felt uneasy at being the subject of such intense scrutiny.
The ride South was boring, not just for Joe but also for the soldiers. Since leaving Trader Town the pace was quite leisurely. Keem and his son rode at the head of the column in constant conversation, Joe was too far back in the troop to overhear, but it seemed animated and involved a lot of expansive arm waving. The one diversion during the ride that everyone enjoyed, was when they spotted any type of animal that could supplement their basic trail rations. On one occasion, one of the riders spotted a small deer at the edge of the forest and two of them spurred after it, only to re-join the troop an hour later minus the deer. The two had to endure not only the ribbing of their peers, but a rebuke from Seph followed by an order stopping further unauthorised hunting expeditions. That night followed the established procedures, a bivouac concealed in the forest a mile or so from the highway, a cold meal before dark followed by Joe being secured to a tree for the night. The troop were back on the road as the false dawn lit the sky.
Rations and egos were rescued the next morning by the sighting of a rabbit warren. Seph organised an archery contest to try to secure a bunny or two for the pot. The troops six best bowmen carefully approached the warren on foot leaving the horses hobbled well back. Halting just over fifty yards from the target, the six participating warriors waited, keeping a low profile until the rabbits once again resumed their daily business. The six hunters carefully drew and as one loosed their arrows, then swiftly re-drew and loosed a second flight. The triumphant hunters returned to the troop with ten rabbits. The midday meal was decidedly better than it had been for the last week, even Joe congratulated the archers on their skill. Determining he had seen and heard enough and probably wouldn't learn any more by staying longer, Joe decided he would make his escape the next night during the third guard's shift.
Jerking into consciousness with a hand across his mouth, Joe froze. A strange voice whispered into his ear. "Stay quiet if you want to live, nod if you understand me." Joe nodded and the hand loosened, but stayed over his mouth for a few seconds, then was taken away. "Can you walk?" the hidden voice asked.
Nodding again, Joe next felt his bonds being cut and at the urging of his rescuer silently followed him away from the camp, almost tripping over the lifeless guard as he went. Joe felt a moment of regret recognising the blood soaked body as belonging to one of the more moderate soldiers, but shrugging that unwanted emotion off, hastened after the stranger. It was torture fleeing through the forest at night, his injured leg struggling to support him, his feet, even well wrapped in strips of cloth, were cut and bruised by the fallen branches and protruding rocks, but the stranger made no allowances and Joe had to dig deep to keep up.
After what seemed an eternity of pure agony maintaining pace with his rescuer, Joe staggered down a shallow bank to a small creek finding two horses tied to a tree. As the stranger readied one of the horses he indicated to Joe to quickly do the same, allowing no time to sooth his bleeding feet in the cool water. Now, Joe recognised the blonde wagon guard from two days ago. He started to ask, but was shut down by the universal hand signal for silence. Once mounted, his rescuer steered his horse into the water and headed upstream with Joe following. They rode in silence for the rest of the night, their route taking them over a number of ridges, always riding in the flowing water where feasible and leaving as few tracks as possible.
The sky began to lighten behind them as they crested yet another ridge and Joe finally realised that they had been riding West. He tried to visualise on his mental map where they would be in relation to the Sanctuary or Fort Jones, but he could only guess somewhere in the Trinity forest. It was hard going and Joe was glad of the water bag hanging from the saddle but he was getting hungry. The stranger obviously knew where he was going and Joe followed him along the ridge, finally halting in a clearing at the crest of a hill. They tied their horses just below the crest, to what looked to Joe to be, the remanent of an old fence. Rummaging in his saddle bag to extract a cloth bundle the stranger indicated to Joe to do the same, when Joe unwrapped his, he was surprised to find not only the ubiquitous jerky, but also a couple of carrots, a small green apple and some cabbage leaves. The stranger taking his meal and a small leather bag, headed back up to the crest. Joe limped after him.
The stranger turned to Joe and introduced himself. "I'm Barry," he said in a strange clipped accent, "You are?"
"My name's Joe," Joe replied, "Who are you really and why did you rescue me and where are we going?" he asked.
"We'll get to that, more to the point, who and what are you really?" asked Barry eyeing Joe's size and beard, "And why were you a prisoner of the Carl of Clan Bento, and why would the Carl, his son and a troop of scouts be entering the Unworthy lands?" Barry continued.
"I need to get back to Fort Jones as soon as possible," Joe said, "The answer to all your questions is there."
Barry looked thoughtful, then finishing his meal he opened the leather case extracted an old, battered but serviceable looking pair of binoculars. He raised his head over the crest of the hill and scanned the forest they had just left. After a few minutes he turned to Joe and reported that the pursuers were probably a long way behind and by the look of the smoke in the distance, having breakfast. He gathered his stuff and strode back to the horses. Joe took the opportunity to study Barry, he was not as tall as Joe but certainly taller and sturdier than most of the people Joe had encountered so far. He walked like a soldier and exuded the confidence of a leader, Joe hoped he hadn't leapt into the proverbial fire, he would need to be on his guard.
The morning was clear with high wispy cirrus clouds and as they re-entered the forest, Joe, glancing over his shoulder back up into the clearing did a double take as one of the clouds high in the sky looked more like a short straight vapour trail than the normal feathery cirrus. He pulled his horse up and began to turn back to check, however as Barry was fast disappearing into the trees he made the decision to spur his horse after him, wondering what it was that he had actually seen. Joe tried to discuss the cloud with Barry, who looked at him as if he was mad.
"There has been no way of making signs in the sky since the days before the Destruction, you will need to ask the Mother for an explanation," Barry replied.
They rode West all day, Joe was concerned they were getting further away from Sierra Two, but Barry insisted that his way was the only way Joe would survive long enough to get back. Joe, left with few options, chose to accompany Barry rather than force the issue. Barry was big unknown and Joe was determined to unravel this mystery. They talked while they rode and Joe explained he was from a community to the Southwest of Fort Jones. He told Barry that they were originally a wandering clan from the North, but had been settled for the past three years in the unoccupied lands to the South of the Clan's holy site.
Barry asked if they had discovered an old American fort in their new territory. This threw Joe, he asked Barry what he meant. Barry explained that there was an old American fort built on the side of a hill, just like the Clan Mother's Holy Sanctuary, it has long been believed to be cursed and no-one will go near it. Joe then admitted that they had settled around the American fort. He also told Barry that Carl Statish was not happy that Joe's people had moved into the area around the fort, and that might be why he had been captured during the peace conference.
"Well you will need all the luck you can get if you want a war with the Clans," Barry stated frankly.
Joe asked Barry where he was from and was told that his people were from the South and some of them were all taller than the Unworthy and the Clans whom they call Shorts. It was because they were bigger, that they were in demand as escorts for trader convoys, so it was not uncommon to have one or more Talls riding with the wagons. Barry said it paid well and he got to see more of the country, if he didn't escort the traders, he would have to go back to his family's fishing business, and he disliked boats. Barry also informed Joe that the lands he grew up in had not yet been annexed by Magnus' Southern Empire, but people are worried that he will soon turn his ambitions to the West.
Joe finally asked the question that he had been burning to ask. "Why did you rescue me? Are you military? How did you know where we were?" Joe asked.
"Well, I was bored, I recognised Keem and Seph Statish, I wondered why they had a Tall as a prisoner and I figured that no good would happen to you in Redding so I followed and rescued you," Barry said. "Plus it might be a good story for the campfire next mission."
"Military?" Joe asked again.
"Sort of, we have to attend a training course before being accepted as wagon guards," Barry answered evasively.
Joe didn't push it, but things were certainly not adding up with Barry. As they made camp that night, both of them were very tired, however Joe volunteered for the first watch. They rubbed their horses down, hobbled them then shared some jerky, after that Barry laid out his swag and made to retire. Before Barry had a chance to lie down, Joe asked if he could borrow his knife to cut a staff, as his wound was playing up making it painful to walk unaided. Barry flipped him his knife and Joe caught it by the handle, surprised, it was a classic K-bar military pattern knife.
"Where did you get this knife?" Joe asked.
"My brothers and I found this bunker on an expedition to old San Francisco and it had a lot of American weapons like this, I got to keep a couple, like this one," Barry said. Barry then reached under his vest and withdrew a semi-automatic hand gun. Joe was very surprised, but quickly slipped into ignorant mode.
"What is it?" he asked.
"An American gun," Barry explained, "it is very old but it works, I don't use it much because there aren't many bullets for it."
"Can I hold it, is it dangerous?" Joe asked.
Barry slipped the magazine and deftly worked the slide to extract the chambered round, before handing the weapon to Joe. Joe, with practiced clumsiness looked the weapon over, it was a blued 1911 pattern nine millimetre automatic with a wooden grip and threaded barrel. Joe could see it was a quality built weapon, well preserved but it had a strange logo inscribed on the slide, a target enclosed by a triangle that was itself enclosed within a cogged wheel. He gingerly handed the gun back to Barry hoping he didn't reveal his familiarity with what was one of his favourite weapons.
"Did weapons like that cause the Cleansing?" Joe asked innocently.
Barry dismissed the question as ridiculous so Joe took the knife and cut himself a sturdy walking stick before settling down to watch. To keep himself awake, he alternated between whittling his new walking stick into shape and patrolling the perimeter. The night sky was clear and Joe located the North Star and the Big Dipper through the canopy. By using the stars to keep track of the time, and with it being August, when the Dipper reached the bottom of the celestial clock Joe figured it was about midnight and time the sleeping Barry was awake. Joe carefully approached Barry's sleeping form from his feet end, knowing from experience that tapping a sleeping soldier's feet was the safest way to wake them. As he reached out to nudge Barry's foot, he heard the unmistakable click of a hammer being locked back.
"Ok, I get it, you're awake then, I'm shagged and it's your turn," Joe said.
Barry cursed but threw back his covers and stood up. Joe retrieved the torn blanket from his saddle bag and stretched out using the saddle as his pillow. It was still dark when woken by a light kick to the aching sole of one of his feet. He sat up and saw that his torn blanket had been supplemented by Barry's swag. Joe thanked him but Barry shrugged it off as just being practical. Barry scraped an area clear of pine needles and set about building a small fire while Joe fetched the horses, saddled them and secured their equipment. Once again Barry surprised Joe by boiling water in a thick dark leather vessel. Once the water was bubbling he dropped in what looked like, and by the aroma proved to be, tea leaves. Joe accepted a tin cup gratefully, but gingerly as it was hot. Barry followed up the cup of tea by flicking Joe a raw carrot.
"Here's breakfast," he said
The situation seemed ridiculous to Joe, he was sitting on a pile of pine needles, around a small campfire in the pre-dawn, enjoying a raw carrot and a nice cup of tea with a complete stranger, who had for reasons of his own just rescued him. Joe shook his head and laughed. "I just can't get my head around this, Barry. Give me something here. Who are you? Joe asked, "I mean your field skills did not come from a wagon guard school, you have American weapons and you are not short like just about everyone else I have seen, and you need a shave."
"I could ask the same of you," Barry replied, "You are taller even than me and don't talk to me about needing a shave, look at your reflection in the next creek. Your finely woven clothing with the mottled pattern and your own field craft shouts military, you handle a knife like an old friend and even purport to knowing nothing about the pistol, but couldn't hide the way you inspected it. So Joe of the wandering people, just who are you?"
"Ok, I'll go first," Joe agreed.
They buried and disguised the fire, then mounted and rode while Joe expanded on his original story. He explained to Barry that three years ago his people had discovered the American fort and in the fort had discovered the cavern holding containers of American stores and clothing. His people had then decided it was a good place to settle and had established a town and farms. Joe himself was an Officer in his people's Army and was on a peace mission to the Council of Clans when his Commander was killed and he was captured in an act of treachery by the President of the Council and his men. He hadn't attempted to escape because he was trying to find out why it had happened.
Barry then explained in turn, that his people were a fishing people who originated somewhere to the South but had migrated over the years up the coast to a port called Eureka. The people who lived there welcomed them and the Talls and Shorts live in harmony now, the Talls mostly fishing and the Shorts mostly farming. The West coast is still free but they live in fear of the Southern Empire, so a lot of the Talls take the military training and hire on as guards to the Traders. While working for trader convoys, they can travel freely within the empire to gather intelligence. That was what Barry was doing when he observed Joe being held captive. He had originally thought Joe must have been one of the Tall spies who had been caught, so he rescued him.
"Nothing really complicated in my story, now we need to get word to your people that you are safe. To do that we need to get to the Willow Creek Post Office," Barry said.
Joe didn't believe his ears. "Post Office?" he asked incredulously.
Barry explained the pigeon based messaging system the Traders employed, much to Joe's confusion, clearly this new world was more complex than any of his people had imagined. Barry advised Joe that the town of Willow Creek was another day's ride away, but the ride will soon be easier as the road was just ahead. Sure enough, another hour's ride and they emerged from the tree line onto another smaller but well defined road leading to the west.
As they rode Barry regaled Joe with tales of the trader convoys, how he accompanied wagons from as far afield as the ruins of San Francisco and once even to old Los Angeles. There they traded dried fish and Clan goods with the scavengers and miners, for raw metals and glass and anything American. It was in San Francisco that he had found the vault holding the weapons and an armour vest. At this admission, Barry lifted his shirt to reveal a battered but serviceable looking bullet proof vest. Horses were a big trade item from the North as the Clan horses were stronger with more stamina and were highly valued, but the Clan only traded geldings so they couldn't be bred, hence one of the reasons for Unworthy raids into Clan territory.
Barry revealed to Joe, that compared to the Southern Shorts, the Clan people had longer more healthy lives than their Southern relatives. As a matter of principle, the Clans do not intermarry with Southerners, calling them Unworthy, but more than one female trader has returned from Trader Town carrying a child from a Clan trader or soldier. The Clans live in ignorance of the number of communities to their South all descended from survivors of the Destruction or from Clan exiles. It is these small communities that Magnus is annexing into the Southern Empire. The people of the Clans do not travel past Trader Town so it was of great interest that Keem Statish and a troop of Clan soldiers would openly do so.
The country around the road opened up into wide grassland with the forested hills receding into the distance, here and there off to the sides were small mud brick homesteads surrounded by high walls and by rail fence paddocks holding cattle and horses. Joe could not see any evidence of cultivation other than the ubiquitous kitchen gardens. As they passed one hamlet, Barry bid Joe wait while he went to talk to the rancher. After half an hour, Barry returned carrying a large linen bag. At Joe's questioning look he explained that he just needed to stock up on rations and was pleased with his haul.
They spent the night well off the road as usual and Joe had to agree, Barry had done well with the rations. As well as a large amount of Jerky and cracked grain, he had actually scored some cured ham, bread and more fresh vegetables as well as a couple of bottles of beer. Joe couldn't understand how even small homesteaders in the middle of nowhere could make beer, whereas the entire brains trust back at Sierra Two produced either a foul tasting soap water or something that exploded into froth with no substance. Joe asked Barry how he had paid for the food and Barry explained that even though bartering was the usual way of transacting business, small lumps of various metals hammered into coins were beginning to be accepted. As metal was always in demand and generally not plentiful, he always carried a supply of assorted metal coins. There was no universally accepted size or value to the coins so the exact value of each coin was negotiated during the transaction.
Shortly after midday the next day, they crested a low rise to find a small town spread out across the road. Unlike the previous settlements, this one had no protective walls, the streets were wide with the main road passing straight through the centre of town. There were a number of larger double story wooden buildings along the main street and also low mud brick buildings with wide verandas. In his past life, Joe had seen many small rural villages just like it in developing countries around the world. They rode slowly into town while Barry who was obviously no stranger, waved and called out to a couple of people he knew. As with all small towns, an unexpected arrival is a novelty and anyone not urgently occupied finds an excuse to pop out to see. Joe noticed though, that there were very few children in contrast to the Clan villages and hamlets he had passed through.
They tied their horses to a rail in front of a rambling brick building with an Inn sign over the door. As they stepped onto the boardwalk, a couple of young boys emerged and Barry asked them to look after the horses. Ducking through the low door, Barry acknowledged the desk clerk and requested two rooms with clean linen, a hot bath and later on, meals. There followed an amount of haggling before Barry shook an assorted handful of metal pieces onto the counter. To Joe's surprise, the clerk didn't seem at all surprised to see someone as large and hairy as Joe.
Barry turned to Joe. "We will be here for a couple of nights, it is safe, so you might as well get cleaned up, the bath house is in the courtyard out back near the stables. I am going to get some new clothes, but I doubt the town's Trading Post would have clothes to fit you but I will check." he advised.
Asking the clerk if they had anything resembling a razor and receiving a blank look in return, Joe requested a sharp knife instead. After a few minutes, the clerk returned with what appeared to be a skinning knife, it was very sharp, and a number of linen toilet squares. Joe hoped he didn't cut himself, doubting the sterility of recycled toilet wipes. Thanking the clerk, Joe made his way into the back court yard to find the ablutions. While waiting for the young attendant to fill the bath, Joe decided to deal with his unruly beard. Without the luxury of a mirror, he decided against trying for a shave, opting to use the knife to trim his beard instead, leaving him with a somewhat ratty three-day growth look, still it had to be an improvement. The bath was a little cramped but served it's purpose and doubled up to wash his fatigues. He was still rinsing his clothes in what was now very dirty bath water when Barry returned.
"Try these," Barry said, as he threw a pair of boots at Joe's feet, "They are the biggest I could find, and they didn't have any clothes your size."
Joe took up one of the boots, they were remarkably modern in design and workmanship but with obviously hand sewn uppers and nailed soles. The leather was also very soft, they looked to be his size and so proved to be.
"A fine example of Clan workmanship," Barry explained, "We get large sizes specially made for us Talls."
"You do know that I have no currency to repay you for all of this?" Joe asked.
"Don't worry, we'll work something out later, besides I'm enjoying the novelty of not being the tallest person for a change," Barry replied.
Joe not feeling confident enough to leave his clothes on the courtyard clothes line to dry, wrung them as best he could and with a towel around his waist, wet clothes over his shoulder located his room. The room had a bare wooden floor and was furnished with a single undersized bed, a low wooden chair, a small desk under an ancient, barely functional mirror, and a wardrobe without any hangers. The only window looked into the dirt backyard of the neighbouring business, it could only be shuttered, there was no glass and the door to the room could only be locked by a drop down beam. Joe draped his wet clothes around on the sparse furniture and collapsed onto the bed, diagonally so his feet didn't hang over. He didn't even remove his new boots.
A loud knocking woke Joe, Barry was calling his name, telling him it was dinner time. The room was dark, but when Joe opened the shutters there was still some light outside. He quickly dressed in his clean but still damp clothes, retied his new boots and found his way to the dining room. He located Barry at the bar talking to a group of men, two of the group other Talls and the remaining three, Shorts, as Barry referred to them. As Joe joined then, he studied the Talls, they could have all been brothers. It was obvious the men were also studying him, he heard someone say as he joined them, "He is tall isn't he?" Barry made the introductions. The two Talls, introduced as Garry and Dave, were brokers supplying security to traders wagons. The three Shorts, a woman and two men, introduced as Athina, Rex and Blake were actual traders. Joe was introduced as a traveller from beyond the Clan lands.
At the call from the cook, the group took their places around the long dining table for a very welcome roast beef and vegetable dinner. Barry explained the presence of the other members. Athina and her colleagues were returning to Eureka with a convoy of wagons, they were then returning to Trader Town with a cargo of scavenged railway iron and dried fish. Garry and Dave were friends of his and had agreed to allow himself and Joe to accompany them for the return journey to Trader Town. There was a catch, Joe may be needed to help protect the convoy as there was a dangerous stretch between Willow Creek and Eureka where convoys were sometimes attacked. Joe was disappointed because he had been hoping to head directly back to Trader Town, however, Barry informed him that travelling with a convoy was the only safe way and Athina's convoy would the next one to attempt the trip.
Barry also reassured Joe that he had forwarded a message from the local Trader's Post Office to the Post Office at Fort Jones to inform someone, either from Joe's settlement or the Clan Council, that Joe was safe and would be making his way back soon. "The message has already been sent by pigeon and it will, at the most, only take a couple of days to get there, much faster and safer than by horseback," Barry said.
"Ok, well you had better tell me all about this lawless stretch, and I will need a weapon," Joe replied.
Athina was waiting for a couple more wagons to join them so the convoy would not be departing for a couple of days. Barry expressed a hope that before they left, they would get confirmation from Fort Jones of his message being delivered. The delay, although unwelcome to Joe, gave him time to become comfortable with the weapons he had been allocated. The convoy's protection team consisted of Barry's two Tall friends and a half dozen Shorts and they all somewhat coincidently had nothing better to do than watch, whenever Joe practiced his swordsmanship in the inn courtyard.
"You have some nice practice moves, Joe," Dave commented, "Do you want a sparing partner? I think Garry has some drill swords somewhere."
Bored, Joe was beginning to resent his lack of control over the current situation, so the chance for a bit of bifo was a welcome distraction. He agreed immediately. Garry disappeared and returned shortly after with two sturdy wooden swords, throwing one to each of the combatants. Joe hefted the weapon, it was solid and would hurt, he ran through a few drills then faced Dave and adopted the stance. They began slowly following a familiar sparing routine slowly building up speed and power until the whack of weapons connecting could be heard across town, bringing in more spectators. Joe was beginning to sweat under the exertion when Dave held a parry back, letting Joe's sword connect air, then as Joe was momentarily off balance aimed a blow to the back of Joe's leg. Joe who had been expecting something like this was still caught off guard and in spite of a skilful twist and counter parry, took a painful whack on his arse.
"Oh, freestyle is it," he exclaimed as he rubbed the hit, "Well, 'Lay on Macduff, and damned be him who first cries 'hold enough'," quoted Joe as he adopted the stance.
"What? Oh doesn't matter," replied Dave with a grin, "Five minutes then."
Dave launched at Joe with a flurry of skilfully aimed and timed blows. Joe, who had mostly trained with a shield, was sorely missing it now as he parried furiously while being pushed back by the onslaught. He was now extremely grateful to Mary for forcing the sword drills on him for all those years, and as he got into the flow, he began to sense the pattern to Dave's attack. Joe was soon able to anticipate the blows and parrying him became easier, he stopped retreating and held position. He could feel Dave beginning to lose his initial confidence then he could see a doubt and even concern in Dave's eyes.
Mary had always said it is not all about the sword and Joe figured it was time to try something right out of her play book. He hesitated, exposing an opening that Dave pounced on, Joe swayed back as Dave's sword whistled past his stomach, missing by a hair, Joe then turned behind the blow, stepping close and as he turned, elbowed Dave in the back of the head with his shield arm. As Dave was thrown off balance, Joe swept his feet from under him, knocking Dave's sword free as he fell, he then sat on his back pinning him in the dirt.
"See Dave, I told you that Joe had hidden talents," Barry said with a laugh.
Barry extended a hand to Joe and helped him to his feet then extended the same to Dave. Dave dusted himself off and congratulated Joe, but complained that it really wasn't fair as Joe was a head taller. Joe laughed and pointed out that actually, he was the one with the bruised arse.
Dave asked, "Where did you learnt to fight like that?"
Joe replied honestly, "My wife taught me, it's kinda her thing!"
The spectators appreciated that answer and were still laughing as they dispersed. Garry expressed his hope that Joe's skill would not be needed but that he was glad to have him with them anyway. Barry then pulled Joe aside.
"We need to talk, I have had a message from Fort Jones, and no, it isn't about my message," he continued, "The message reports that the Americans have returned, that there was a battle with an Unworthy war band and large metal vehicles not needing horses have been visiting Fort Jones. I need an explanation."
Joe had been expecting something like this since he found out about the pigeon post, he suggested a drink in a quiet corner of the dining room. He recounted an abridged version of the story starting with the discovery of the Pulsar through the creation of the two sanctuaries and ending with the travellers arrival at Sierra Two. He told him of their first contact with the Clans and of the battle at Sierra One leading up to how Keem had betrayed the sanctity of the peace talks.
"That is a lot to take in," Barry said, "But it explains a lot too. Let's just keep this to ourselves until I can make sense of exactly what it is you have just told me."
Joe was surprised at the calmness with which Barry had accepted what he had just been told, Joe had expected more confusion and disbelief. There was a bigger mystery going on here than Joe had first thought. It also now looked as if the sword fight had not just been a case of ragging the new boy and more like a test. He was now glad of the delay in returning to Fort Jones, there were questions here and he needed answers. Had other people also jumped into the future, is that where Barry, Garry and Dave are from? Joe resolved to find answers and they might just be at Eureka.
The rest of the afternoon was spent answering Barry's questions about life before The Destruction, as Barry called it. Barry seemed very interested in the technology of the time and especially military technology. From the tone of his questions, Joe was certain that he had a fine understanding of social issues. However there seemed to be large gaps in his scientific understanding and Barry gave no indication he understood the concept of electricity or electronic devices, calling it American magic. Joe was left with no clearer picture of Barry. On one hand he accepted without reservation that the Destruction came from space caused by radiation blasted from a collapsed star, then on the other hand he could not get his head around things like aircraft and wireless communications. That evening, their meal was again eaten with the traders with the conversation mostly centred on Joe's fighting techniques.
The next day Joe woke early and after ablutions, spent an hour working on his sword drills. He was joined by Dave just before breakfast and spent the time demonstrating the non-sword based movements that Mary had him practice until they were second nature. Dave proved to be a quick study and by the time the cook called, had picked up the basics for a couple of the movements. Joe also noted that Dave carried the same model hand gun as Barry and surmised that Garry probably did as well.
The traders were not at breakfast and Barry informed them that they expected the other wagons today and depending on the time they arrived they could head off straight away. Apart from the horses, Barry and Joe had little to prepare so they spent the day walking the town and discussing the road to Eureka.
Barry explained that local legend has it that a trainload of people were stranded inside a big new train tunnel on their way to Eureka when the Destruction happened. They were saved by the mountain and half of them made their way through to Eureka on foot and established a community there while many chose to remain and live in the tunnel that had saved them. The descendants of those who stayed still live in the tunnel and kill and eat anything or anyone who strays into the area around their home. The problem is that the road between Willow Creek and Eureka is built along the old rail line and travellers have to make a wide detour around the tunnel people's area. Because the tunnel people only emerge at night some convoys choose to risk a daylight transit of their lands, but most take the long way around. Barry himself had never seen the tunnel people, but had seen destroyed wagons as evidence of their existence.
The expected wagons didn't arrive until the mid-afternoon so Athina decided to delay their departure until the next day. With Athina's six wagons and the four new wagons, complete with six extra guards, the convoy would be venturing off with a protection party of twelve Shorts, three Talls and Joe. It seemed enough.
Before retiring that night, Garry asked Joe if he could use a bow as well as he could a sword. When Joe told him he was probably a little rusty but was familiar with the weapon, Garry handed him a longbow, a bundle of arrows and a couple of spare strings.
"These came in with the wagons today, best Clan quality," he said, then admitted, "I can't shoot one for shit."
Joe tested the bow over his knee, strung it and tested the draw, it felt solid so he thanked Garry and closed his door.
The noise of the waggoneers getting ready woke Joe well before dawn. He dressed, retrieved his weapons and saddle and headed to the stables. Not long after, he was joined by the Talls and the rest of the escort party. As they prepared to depart, one of the inn staff handed the escorts bundles of prepared meals in cloth parcels. Joe stashed his in the saddle bags with his other jerky and cracked grain rations. At a hoy from Athina in the first wagon, the convoy began to roll out of town, Garry and Dave held point while Joe and Barry took position at the rear, with the other guards spread out on the flanks. The wagons moved at a leisurely pace and it took a couple of hours for the lanterns of the town to recede from sight. Each wagon was drawn by four horses and the waggoneers treated them well, often walking alongside and handing each horse treats or pulling handfuls of grass from beside the road for them. To Joe it was a window into, what was to him, a long lost lifestyle brought back to life. The day was warm, the pace relaxing and the company agreeable, Joe hoped the message of his freedom had been delivered, so home was safe, apart from that worry, life seemed pretty good at the moment.
That night, when Athina called 'circle the wagons', Joe felt like a kid playing Cowboys and Indians, he was still chuckling to himself when Garry allocated him the third watch with three of the Shorts. The night passed without incident as did the next day and night. The third night was spent at the closest point on the journey to the Tunnel People's territory and the stress levels were high. The convoy was kept in total blackout, no fires were lit, neither were lamps or candles and the escort were on a fifty percent alert. However the night also passed without incident. As they continued on their way, Barry pointed out the distant hills where it was said the Tunnel was located.
"The road goes across much closer to the hills, you can traverse it in a day on horseback, but wagons cannot get out of danger in one day, and have to make this detour. It costs the Traders a full day," he explained.
Joe asked why an Army hadn't been raised to clean the Tunnel People out. Barry informed him that it was complicated, the Eureka folk still feel related to them and there is some sort of residual guilt that their ancestors had left them in the tunnel. Also no-one knew how many of them there were and were afraid of them. "Maybe if the Southern Empire takes over, then they will deal with them," Barry shrugged.
The convoy cleared a long low hill just before sunset giving Joe his first glimpse of the sea for three years. The sun was hanging low to the horizon lighting a wide golden path back to land, ending at a surprisingly large village with a considerable number of boats riding at anchor in a harbour protected from the open ocean by a wide strip of land. The town itself seemed rather strange. In among the wide streets with their mix of brick and wooden buildings were a scattering of very old stone buildings, obviously surviving from the pre-destruction days. Barry pointed out one of the stone buildings as the town's civic offices, Joe was amused to see it still had 'Bank' embossed in stone above the front entrance. They escorted the convoy to a large compound near the waterfront and after each of the escorts received a number of metal coins as payment, they left the Traders to it.
Barry, Garry and Dave held a short conversation out of Joe's hearing, shook hands and each went their own way. Barry returned to Joe to ask if he minded staying the next couple of days at home with him and his wife. Joe could see no alternative and accepted graciously. Barry's home turned out to be a rather large double story brick house with a large fenced yard complete with a detached shed, stables and even a chicken run in the back. It looked disturbingly similar to his and Mary's San Francisco home except this one also had a remarkably modern looking eco toilet near the back door. Barry noted his surprise.
"I had it built to my own design, well as close as I could get to one I saw on a wall mural in old San Francisco," he explained. "I don't have the big red American 'car' to put in the shed though," he sighed.
As they stabled and brushed the horses, an attractive light-haired woman almost as tall as Barry emerged from the house's back door and ran to Barry, giving him a huge welcome home display of affection. She broke the embrace to look quizzically at Joe. "So are you the Joe that Barry found in his travels?" she asked in the same accent as Barry.
Before Joe could answer, Barry introduced Joe to his wife Sharon. He was introduced as a soldier from a people living beyond the Clan lands who Barry had rescued from a renegade Clan faction. Sharon in turn was introduced as working at the local Trader's Post Office.
"Managing, you mean," Sharon corrected Barry, "I don't touch the birds and I don't clean cages."
Both Joe and Barry laughed as she waved them inside. The interior was spacious, and made to feel even larger by the sparsity of furniture and possessions. It just didn't have the feel of a permanent residence, there was no clutter, no paintings on the wall to personalise the house, it felt more like a safe house than a home. Nevertheless it did have an internal bathroom with a working bath and a water pump. As Joe enjoyed a leisurely bath, Sharon took his clothes away to be washed, leaving him a set of Barry's clothes and a woollen robe. Not being able to squeeze into Barry's clothes, he had to wear the robe to dinner. Sharon laughed out loud, thinking that it was the greatest joke, and even ribbed Barry about not being the biggest man in town any more. After dinner, Sharon produced a china carafe of red wine and they sat on the front porch overlooking the dark sea and talked.
Sharon surprised Joe by asking how his people were adapting to life without all that American technology. She answered his questioning look by admitting that she had known about him and his people since receiving a pigeon from Barry. Joe shrugged, deciding to not be surprised by anything regarding these people. He explained the establishment of the Sanctuaries including how the people from the first Sanctuary became the Clans. He described the trip to the future, the process of setting up the new colony and how they planned for the gradual failure of their technology. He once again described the first contact with the Clans and subsequent betrayal by Keem Statish and his men.
Sharon seemed overly interested in the battle with the Unworthy war party at Sierra One. She pressed him for descriptions of the Unworthy tactics and on how effective the American guns were. Joe watched her closely as he talked about the defence of Sierra One, she seemed to be internally cataloguing his answers and asked some very pointed questions about the placement and ranges of the American weapons at the battle. Some of these questions made Joe uneasy. Sharon seemed to be more interested in the tactics and weapons used in the battle than a communications post manager would normally be. Joe had decided that he could not discuss Sierra Two's defences any further when Barry noted Joe's concern.
"Don't worry, Sharon is a student of ancient warfare and has read heaps of ancient manuscripts from the library, she is just excited to have a real live ancient soldier to discuss it with," he said. "Oh, and I forgot to tell you, your people have received notice of your safety, Sharon got the news today."
Joe asked it there would be any tailors in town who could make him some spare clothes. Sharon informed him that there were and if the linen had arrived in the wagons today, she would commission a set of clothes his size. The return convoy wasn't expected to leave for a couple of days so the clothes should be ready by then. Leather leggings might be a problem though. Joe thanked her and left it in her hands. He once again brought up the matter of payment, only to have it dismissed by both Barry and Sharon. Excusing himself, Joe retired to a comfortable night in a bed that he actually fitted into.
In the morning after a basic porridge breakfast, Barry explained he had family business to deal with so he volunteered Sharon to take Joe for a look around the town. Joe was prepared for a walk, but Sharon had other ideas and a short while later, they rode out onto the street. Sharon needed to check in with the Post Office first so Joe got his first look at this wondrous institution. The Post Office turned out to be a bit of a let down, a nondescript wooden building with a horse rail hosting a couple of horses out the front. The Post Office also featured a large high fence that hid the rear courtyard but could not hide the sounds of the birds and even while waiting out the front of the building with the horses, Joe could smell the bird shit. There was a wide tower jutting at least three stories high from the rear of the building with the covered top of the tower looking like a cross between a guard tower and pigeon loft. There were a number of birds flying circles around the tower and Joe figured that this would be a racing pigeon fancier's paradise, yuck.
Sharon emerged after a short while and Joe noticed her tucking a folded sheet of paper into her vest pocket as she came. "Everything is under control and they won't miss me for the day," she said as she mounted her horse, "Let's go have a look at the American ruins,"
As they rode, Sharon explained that a lot of the ruins had been recycled to build the houses in the town, in fact even her's and Barry's house had been constructed with American bricks scavenged from the ruins of the old town. Joe soon had to agree with her, there was not much left of the old town only a number of overgrown piles of concrete and brick rubble and the occasional grove of gnarly citrus trees that looked like they had been there forever. They could still identify where the wide streets had once been though, but now the old roads provided grazing land for a number of hobbled horses and the occasional cow. Joe had never visited Eureka in his past life so had no mental picture to compare the present with, it was just a little sad he thought.
Before moving on, Sharon pointed to the North. "Follow the coast to the North for a couple of days and you will see the biggest trees you could even imagine, so tall you can't see the tops, and as big as a house around," Sharon informed him.
"Yes, the Giant Sequoias," Joe said, "My family went to see them near San Francisco when I was a kid, they are impressive hey."
"Oh ok," Sharon replied, slightly put out. She next steered their horses towards the waterfront. The boat harbour was separated from the ocean by a wide strip of land, creating a sheltered lake and she explained that the entrance to the ocean was further to the South. The beach, as it was, consisted mostly of muddy sand and stunted mangroves with the occasional Jetty, jutting out into the water from smelly wooden sheds. Closer to the centre of the town, a wide wharf ran parallel to the beach and connected to the street by numerous bridges wide enough for wagons. There was a steady stream of handcarts and horse drawn wagons, bringing the catch from the boats to the fishermen's sheds lining the street.
The main wharf was a busy place so Sharon and Joe hitched their horses and walked out to get a closer look at the boats. Sharon knew most of the men and women hauling carts and crewing the boats, she greeted them warmly, even exchanging ribald jokes with a number of them. Joe was interested in the boats and even though many of them met his expectations for rough build and rudimentary equipment, a couple of the larger boats seemed to be almost modern in design and workmanship. He asked Sharon about that, she told him that the best boats were constructed somewhere up North and only the most wealthy families could afford them. She said that Barry's family actually owned the three best boats in the fleet and the ones Joe commented on belonged to Barry's family. Other than that, she professed no knowledge of exactly where the boats were made or who made them, being only a manager and paymaster to a Post Office. "Best ask Barry," she advised.
They walked back to land, Sharon chatting with one of the women pulling a cart full of fish. Joe helped push the heavy cart while they talked. It appeared the woman had just allowed her only son to leave for the military school and she missed his help on the carts. Her unmarried daughter though, still helped her husband gut the catch and stack the drying racks. Life here was hard work for most of the population. In the street behind the fish sheds, there were a number of closed up buildings with smoke leaking from cracks around the doors and shuttered windows. Joe guessed correctly that these were smoke houses and produced a lot of the trader's shipments to the North. Joe asked about the absence of children in the town and also back at Willow Creek.
"Many children are stillborn, or die within the first year," Sharon informed him flat voiced. "Families don't even give their children names until they are over six months. There are not many children, but it is getting better."
Joe thought that Sharon sounded more clinical than sad and wondered if she and Barry didn't have any children for that reason. Sharon went on to explain that many women accompanied the trader convoys to Trader Town in order to become pregnant to Clan traders or soldiers. The clan children had a far better chance of surviving and women pregnant to one of the Clan were valued as a wife, with the children treasured. She confided that the son of the woman she had been speaking to had been conceived on such a trip and her husband was also the product of such a trip. Sharon told him that the Clan policy of exiling people as a way of punishing them was not really a punishment. Exiled clansmen and women were sought after as partners in the Southern land as they brought untainted blood into the community. Many of the exiles ended up living a better, freer life than the one taken from them. Some of the male exiles even ended up with multiple wives and fathered a lot of children.
"As I said, it is getting better," Sharon said. Sharon led Joe to an inn back from the waterfront, explaining that they could get a decent meal here. As they waited for the meal to arrive, Joe noted a number of Talls eating and drinking around the bar as a group, and not mingling with the shorter citizens.
"What are relations between Talls and Shorts like?" he asked, "Those guys don't seem to mingle, are there tensions?"
"Not really. Although the Talls are usually more wealthy, either from guarding convoys or from the fishing fleet. Tall guards get paid more and Talls also tend to make better fishermen. They go further out and bring in better catches, that's all," she replied, "I suppose the wealth gap could be an issue, but I haven't ever had a problem, some of my best friends are short."
Joe asked what Barry's business for the day was and received a vague off-hand reply about the family fishing business so he didn't pursue the issue. After lunch, they finished the tour by riding up a low hill to the South for a fine view of the town and the harbour entrance, then made their way back to the house.
Sharon was just pouring hot water into the teapot when Barry's office door opened and a couple of older men emerged with Barry. Barry shook hands with two of the men and they left without acknowledging either Sharon or Joe. Sharon called a greeting to the remaining man and fetched another tea cup. Barry introduced the man to Joe as his father, Harold. Joe extended his hand in greeting and was impressed by the man's grip, he actually reminded Joe of General Stuart in look and bearing.
They took their tea on the veranda, Barry and Joe sat on the steps while Harold and Sharon filled the chairs. Harold told Joe that he had heard all about him from Barry and was keen to hear stories of before The Destruction. Joe spent the next hour or so giving general descriptions of life in America, spending time answering rather directed questions about the technology the Americans used and how it all worked. Harold seemed very attentive to the fact that his wife's sister had discovered the way to open the door to the future and that she was now an apprentice doctor. Eventually Harold said he had to go and sort out an issue with the latest export and took his leave, in parting, he told Joe he hoped to have time for another chat before the convoy left. The rest of the day was spent lounging and swapping and comparing stories about their respective childhoods, it seemed to Joe that kids and parents were the same regardless of the times they lived in.
Before dinner, a message arrived from Athina that the convoy was ready and would be leaving at first light. Barry and Joe set about readying their equipment when they were joined by Sharon carrying a bundle of white linen clothes. She flick passed the bundle to Joe, explaining that the tailor had delivered his spare clothes.
"And I'm coming on this one," she told both of them in a tone not meant to be challenged.
Barry just shrugged, "You can get the hardware then, and bring Joe one as well."
Sharon disappeared around the corner and Joe could hear the shed door unlocking. Shortly after, she returned and handed Joe a heavy leather roll and an even heavier courier's satchel. Joe laid the roll on the ground and unrolled it. He was stunned to find in the roll a leather rifle scabbard holding a well preserved rifle together, with another small pack holding a couple of spare twenty round magazines, a cleaning rod and brushes. The rifle was a magazine-fed lever action weapon and it had the same logo as Barry's pistol stamped on the side of the receiver. He flipped open the courier bag to find a cloth ammunition liner holding about two-hundred-and-fifty small calibre military rounds. Joe extracted a round for inspection. It looked familiar and was, it had 5.56 mm stamped on the base.
"I am assuming you know how to use this," Barry said.
"Yes, where did this come from?" Joe asked.
"I told you about our find in San Francisco, well it was pretty significant," Barry answered, "We don't have much ammunition so only use it as a last resort and keep it out of sight. You have the bow and you can use a sword, usually just waving those is enough to avoid trouble."
Sharon returned from the shed again with a weapon roll for Barry and one for herself. After they had laid out their stores and equipment on the bench in the stables, they carried the weapons inside out of the sight of prying eyes, ate a basic meal and prepared for their early start. Joe ensured his three magazines were loaded before retiring. As he lay in bed, Joe struggled to make sense of all he had experienced, this whole situation was completely strange, who were these people?
The next thing he was aware of was the pre-dawn knock on his door.