Vol. III Chapter 39 “Nasty piece of kit.”
Chapter 39 "Nasty piece of kit."
John got an early start, getting to the Pass soon after dawn. With most of the trees cut down and stacked, he began to get a better sense of the space. Far bigger than he'd envisaged, so much so he thought about changing his design. That however, would be an issue for another day. Today John would be breaking rocks.
He ran his hand along the grey rock face of the walled in the Pass. The same grey rock he'd spent a decade breaking for no reason whatsoever.
Inside the crates he'd taken from the Vault, and his former life, he found brand new tools. He tried not to let it anger him. Instead he took a metal stake, wedged it into a crack, and swung the new sledgehammer at it. Again and again he struck, in a well practised motion. The ring echoing into the quiet, until a chunk of rock fell to the ground. Right away John felt different, like he'd taken a step towards something.
By noon, John had carved out an alcove big enough for him to stand in. He felt compelled to keep going, but decided instead to take a break, simply because he could.
Rosie poked her head out of the bedroom, her woodwork nearly finished. She shut the door behind her and kissed him, recoiling immediately. "What is it?" He asked as she started to wash her hands.
"The dust on your face. Like before." She whispered. John understood. Sometimes the littlest things would take his mind back to the Vault unexpectedly.
"I didn't think." He started to apologise but she stopped him.
"No, it's ok." She ran a dish towel under the tap and handed it to him. "Beverly says that it's important to remember, so you can see how far you've come." They both took a break and ate lunch together, like most days.
Afterwards John went outside to the crates from the Vault, looking for a chisel. He saw two longer crates of the same design he hadn't noticed earlier. Inside the first one he found a pneumatic hammer drill. He'd only ever seen them as attachments for constructor frames, but this had handles.
The next crate had something that looked like a rifle. An extra wide bore, hexagonal barrel, trigger and grips. The stock however, had been constructed from two pressurised canisters. One smaller than the other, linked to a gauge that sat like a cantered gunsight.
He lifted the unwieldy rifle out, seeing pack after pack of metal stakes underneath. He understood this had been designed to do what he did by hand, driving stakes into rock. He thought about the man hours and sheer effort that this could have saved. Then he thought about the damage it could do to soft flesh.
"What the fuck is that?" Rosie's eyes followed the strange rifle. Before he could explain, she answered her own question. "The liquid propellant from the bigger canister gets turned into steam in the smaller one. Then the steam fires into the barrel to launch…" John held a pack of dull steel stakes. "Nasty piece of kit." She said with a smile. "I don't suppose there's another one?"
Between the steam rifle and the hammer drill, John managed to set a day's worth of stakes in an afternoon. "John?" Robco called out to him over the hissing and cracking.
"Yeah?" He turned from his work as Robco walked over using his cane.
"Lou and the boy are still in town for a day. I thought we'd go tonight, maybe head out from town in the morning, get a full day to see what we can find out there." Robco hadn't been out into the wastes in weeks, it grated on him.
"You know what, I saw some old office buildings to the west that looked pretty intact." John felt the urge to do something different after the day rock breaking.
"Perfect. I'll get geared up." Robco turned to leave. John took a swing with his sledgehammer.
The hammer blow hit the methodically placed stake and sent out a perfect ring. Followed instantly by a sharp crack as a door sized slab of rock sheared free. It hit the ground with a heavy thud. John stepped onto it and swung at the next line of stakes. And the next, and the next. Until four large, thick slabs lay on the ground.
"That was damn fine work son." Robco had been watching and looked impressed.
"Thanks." It felt strange to him to be complimented on something he hated. John planted his feet and swung the hammer back.
"What in the hell you doin'?!" Robco almost moved in front of him.
"Breaking it up to make it easier to move." John couldn't think of anything else to do with it.
"A fine cut piece of stone like this?" Robco put his shock aside. "Counter tops, tables, paving stones. And that's just to start." Robco smiled, putting a hand on John's shoulder. "Everything has value, just a matter of finding the right place for it." Robco left to gear up, leaving John thinking differently. And not for the first time.
John took point as they set out. Robco and Anne following, Rosie bringing up the rear. Once they reached town, Robco took the lead in his chair. The long walk still too much for his injured leg. They made their way through the twisting alleys and narrow streets around the base of the Tower, entering a restored apartment building.
Mike's teenage son opened the door to the apartment, clearly expecting someone else. Polished wooden floor, walls painted off white. They greeted everyone and sat at the table. Mike, his wife, their teenage son. Plus Louisa and Wallace, who had been staying there for a week.
"So how was your first week boy?" Robco asked his grandson, eager to hear about his first week of school.
"Ok I guess, it's pretty easy." Wallace had resisted the idea. His mother threw him a glance. "But it's not just about learning, it's about making friends." Wallace repeated her words.
"And?" Louisa prompted him.
"There's a time and place to show off and this isn't it." Wallace turned to Rosie. "Did you ever get in trouble in school?"
"No." Rosie lied, before staring blankly for a moment.
"Things were different for us Wallace." John covered the tense moment. "Like we finished school at ten, where as you're just getting started." He tried to remember what he'd been told about the school here. For a few months over the winter children from ten to fifteen would attend. Learning skills alongside lessons. John thought it a good idea. Rosie hated it, but knew better than to contradict the boy's mother in front of him.
The door went and the teenage Mike rushed to open it. John craned his neck to see and saw a girl around the same age. They came back in holding hands. "Well, now the gang's all here, why don't we send out for Gino's, my treat." Robco announced to the room.
"You sure?" Mike asked quietly.
"Oh yeah, got a line on some quarried stone." He threw John a wink. "That'll rake in the caps." He snapped his fingers with an idea "Stone ovens, that's another use right there."
They sat and talked, catching up on the week's events, until a knock at the door. Robco handed Mike a pouch of caps and he brought in four square, flat boxes. Robco lifted the lid, revealing a circle of melted cheese topped with thin strips of meat. He pulled a slice free and took a huge bite. "The only thing I miss about this place. Pizza."
It soon became a flurry of activity. Hands reaching for slices, boxes being passed around. John devoured a slice in seconds, expecting Rosie to be doing the same. She wasn't. Rosie couldn't take her eyes off the two teenagers in love. Once she caught sight of them holding hands under the table she broke, darting into an empty bedroom.
"It's alright, she just needs a minute." John knew the last thing Rosie would want is people fussing after her. A few minutes later she returned, eyes puffy, but calmer.
"Is there any of the hot one left?" She asked as Mike opened her a bottle of beer. "Hey, I saw that book on the Phantom Murders in your bedroom. My...Boss gave me a copy, is it good?" Rosie asked Mike, hearing a groan from his wife.
"Do yourself a favour Rosie, throw it away. Or you'll end up spending night after night listening to people go on and on about it." She had a playful tone.
"Yes it is a good book. And yes, sometimes those of an inquisitive mind gather to discuss theories on one of the great unsolved crimes of the ages." Mike sounded a little defensive.
"You mean drink and play darts." She prodded him again.
"There may be libations served at our meetings, on occasion." Mike turned to Rosie. "You should read it. I'd be interested to hear your take."
"I will." Rosie brightened, she respected Mike a great deal. "What's darts?" Her question brought another groan and warm laughter.
John and Robco left early the next morning. His night sharing a pull out couch left him with a crick in his neck. They stopped at the Bathhouse before heading out of the adjacent west gate. A banner hung from the second floor balcony that read 'closed for renovation'.
A familiar face came from inside. Basket on her arm, shopping list in her hand. "Hey John!" Carol called over. Seeing the woman he'd freed living her new life gave him a jolt of hope.
"You're up early." He said with a smile after he'd introduced Robco.
"Got to get to the market early if you want the best ingredients." She waved her list excitedly, rising to her new role as a chef.
"Aren't you closed?" He asked, pointing to the sign.
"We still send the girls out with pastries in the afternoon, plus the rooms out back are full. People gotta eat! Come in, I'll make you breakfast, on the house of course." She started to go back inside.
"No, we're heading out." John had food packed, but mostly he didn't want to stop her.
"Come back later then, both of you. I insist." Carol tried to be firm but it wasn't in her nature.
"Well if you insist." John decided he would pay for dinner. And it'd be worth it to see Carol happy in her work. She glanced at something over his shoulder. John turned and saw another man with a basket and shopping list.
"I gotta go." Carol hurried off, making her way to the morning market.
"How exactly do you know a woman who looks like your wife to be?" Robco had a quizzical stare. It dropped as he saw John's face.
"I'll tell you, but you're not going to like it." John told him the story as they walked. That he'd seen a redhead being auctioned off like property. And then forced the slaver to sell her to him out of guilt and rage. Robco didn't like to hear about adverse risk, but he seemed pleased with the story.