To the Land of the Rising Sun, Part 2

Westbound Rail

A few coals added their grey heat to the stifle of the cab.  The windows and the open end let in a fitful breeze that cooled the sweat covering his face, neck, and arms. 

He held a leaf of kelp over the coals, waiting for the edges to curl.  The tip burnt too quickly, so he broke it off and ate it, holding the rest of the leaf a little higher.  Voices drifted from the station.  He sighed and tossed the leaf into the coals, watching it smolder before he hefted his 4 bore double barrel and stood.

His bowler went back on his head before he stepped to the edge of the cab, and leaned against the thick metal of the coal bin.

The Constance gang lined the road, some in sight, most already hidden.  Didn’t take them long.  Old man Constance and a woman were walking through the station.  He took a deep breath and reminded himself that these were good people. 

“Mr. Constance?  Another shipment to the farms?  I have some foodstuffs I can pass along to the San Franciscans.”

Neither replied until they were a few feet away from the locomotive.  The old man squinted up at him, “Still an elephant gun, eh?”

He grinned, “Biggest I could find.”

“Takes too bloody long to reload, Jackson.  Damn foolish.”

“There’s only one of me on the train, Mr. Constance.  And I’m a smallish man.  Smallish men need bigger guns than the biggish men.”

Noah sniffed, “I can get the food to town.”

“Any cargo for the farms?”

“Sheet metal, a box of bullets for Midway, batteries.  Not much else, I’m afraid.”

Jackson leaned his rifle inside the cab and looked over a clipboard.  “Have it packed in Car 3.  Lots of produce there.  You can take as much as you can carry.”

“All Frisco?”

“Sunnydale’s full up.  Oakland’s already been, tried to take Frisco’s food, too.  Said they’d drop it off on their way.”

“That’s a joke.”

Jackson nodded, “And not a very funny one.  Which just leaves Mount Free, and they don’t much like kelp.”

Noah gave a whistle and waved, turning back to the station.  A few men started grabbing bundles off packhorses.  “One more thing, Jackson.”

“Yes, Mr. Constance?”

“My daughter will be going with you.”

He blinked, “Uh.  Where to?”  He looked at the woman, her eyes studying him behind her spectacles. 

“The Salt.”  She replied, “Or as far west as the rail goes.”

“Well, that would be the Salt.  But,” he called to Noah, who was already walking away, “I don’t take passengers!”

“You’ve done it before.”  She raised an eyebrow, “This is no different..”

Jackson met her eyes, then glanced at Noah’s receding form.  Old man Constance was a dangerous man to cross.  He sighed.  “You can stay in Car 3.”

She looked amused, “You want me to bunk with the cargo?”

“Come again?”

“I’ll be staying here in the front.  I’ll be more useful than that cannon you tote around.”

Jackson blinked at his rifle, “Ma’am, I am in charge here!”

She stepped lightly past him, striding into the cab.  “A mite cramped.  How far is it to the Salt?”

“About a month.”

She nodded then turned to him and held out her hand, “I’m Dean Constance.  I’ll be taking over security for the Westbound Rail.”  She looked at him over the rim of her glasses.  Waiting.

So he shook her hand.

*

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To the Land of the Rising Sun, Part 1

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~~~

Taking Leave

The asphalt had long since been ground to dust.  The rust of the steel mesh stained the gravel a pale red, and mile markers worn down to crooked spindles, cracked through with weeds and age.  It had taken years to clean off all the cars, many resting on rims or chassis.  It had been worth it.

Noah Constance wiped his face with handkerchief, looking over the team of ten oxen pulling the semi flatbed trailer.  A kevlar blanket was draped over each of them, thick enough to stop a single shot, but not much else.  He glanced at his daughter, her rifle slung across her back.  One shot’s warning would do.

The sun was about two-thirds through its cycle.  The cool of the day approached with a sluggish nonchalance.  They might make the White House before nightfall.  The House sent out the occasional patrol, but they didn’t have the bullets to do it frequently.  Noah had spoken to the San Franciscans, but they had their own troubles with munitions.  They sent what could be spared.

The ocean waste spread out to the west, with its small settlements and sprawling kelp farms.  He wondered what it would have looked like when there had still been water there.

“A word Noah?”

He nodded at his daughter, and she moved away.  “What is it Hollis?”

The big man wiped his hands on his sleeve, something he often did when talking to Noah.  It was difficult to tell if it improved the cleanliness of his hands or his shirt.  “Are you sure about letting her go?”

Noah’s eyes went back to his daughter.  “She’s grown, Hollis.”

Hollis shrugged, “My dogs are grown.  Don’t mean I let them bite me if the notion strikes.”

“I’ll let you explain it to her, then.”

Hollis paled, “I didn’t mean no disrespect, sir.”

“I understood what you meant.  But Dean’s still young.  Liable to the violent humours.  There’s no telling what she’d do if she heard you comparing her to a dog.”

“You won’t tell –ˮ

“Course not.  But finish what you were saying.”

“Well,” Hollis seemed less sure of himself, “She’s your daughter, is all.  She has weapons that would do us good to keep.  Weapons you’re not likely to take.”

Noah turned a frown at the man.  “She earned them, Hollis.  Makes them hers.  We’re not a bunch of outlaws that just takes what we want.”

“You’re also liable to give her more supplies than we can spare, Mr. Constance.”  Hollis kept his eyes on the ground, “This outfit’s a good one, and we all love Dean.  I don’t mean no disrespect -ˮ

“Spit it out, man.”

“The men just need some reassurance that she’s not getting no special preference.”

“Hollis, have you ever known me to have favorites?”

“No sir.”

“I’m not going to start now.  Dean bought extra supplies before we left Sunnydale.  From her own wages, Hollis.  She didn’t lend from the community pot, and didn’t ask me for help.”

“That’s right decent of her.”

“I told her we couldn’t spare a horse, and could only give her a day’s ration of water.”

Hollis blinked, “We might want to give her some more water than that, sir.  She might not reach the first settlement on that.”

“We’re taking her to the station as it’s on our way, but that’s no more than I’d do for any of you.  I’ve been runnin’ this trail for thirty years, Hollis.  You know me better than to think I’d endanger us all for just one.”  His face hardened, “I wouldn’t.  Not even for my daughter, Hollis.  Are you satisfied?”

“Yes sir.”

Noah nodded, “Get back to your work, then.”

Hollis walked back to the rear of the caravan, and Noah sighed.  He looked up at the sun, curving its way west across the ocean waste.  He wondered how close his daughter would get before she died.

*

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