11 | Home

As Ally moves closer toward the settlement vicious memories of Elaine Trent threaten to take hold, but she manages to hold them down. She starts to shake, but that is as far as she lets it go. She nears and saw that it looked to be much bigger than the ragtag group that gathered together. The settlement looked like it could fit into an old western movie—it certainly was still a far cry from the civilization she once knew, but it was similarly distant from the cobbled together slabs of whatever was closest around. She could tell that people with actual skills in carpentry and archaeology had worked on the buildings that stretched as high as three stories. It helped that the environment around this settlement was more conducive to building a society.

The people that wandered the streets had a different look in their eyes, too. They weren't in fact wandering, but strode with purpose. At least for this moment she caught a glimpse saw there was something on their minds other than the fact that their old lives had ended.

Ally wants to be like them.

She finds herself steeling her courage and willing it forward as she crosses into the settlement—into Home—as if she had to break an outer layer of protection—a force that at any other time before would have held her back from the security of society.

I just have to get the hard part over with. I just need to approach them and ask for help. You cannot afford to lose such a chance over your pride now.

She swallows hard and walks to the first person she saw — a middle aged man with dark brown hair cut short. He had a scar that ran from the lower side of his cheek down to his chin. In the right lighting it almost could pass, but with how the sun was overcast now it was plain on his face. Ally wouldn't be able to stop thinking about how she looked if she had a scar like that, and then she freezes as she doesn't really know if she does or not. She can't remember the last time she's seen her own reflection, and thoughts about how she looked started to flood her mind.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

"I...I need help," she said, mentally traveling back to the forefront of her mind and pulling the conversation back to the apex of her focus. "I've...I've escaped a prison...no, that's not the right word...I mean, I was a prisoner, but not because I did anything wrong, at least, not—"

"Hey, no need to explain," the man said, "you look like you could do with something to eat and a place to rest. Do you think you're good to walk?"

"Walk? Yeah, of course, why wouldn't I?"

"That gash on your head looks pretty bad, do you feel light headed?"

This answer stuns Ally. Her hands instantly raised to her head and she in one second could see the man's expression change to one of regret. Her left hand was clear, but she felt a sickening feeling in her stomach as her right hand felt a sticky substance just above her eyebrow. She pulled her hand down and saw the crimson on her fingers.

"Oh, you didn't know...shit. I didn't mean to scare you. You feeling okay?"

"I..." she stared at her fingers a second, and then looked up to him, "does it look bad?"

"Not...the worst I've seen. Not the best."

"I guess that's...okay, I guess. I have no clue where it's from, though. I think I'm good enough to walk, though. I came here just fine enough."

"Fair enough. You got a name? I can lead you to the mess hall."

"Ally. Ally Fae."

"Nice," he smiled, and nodded. "My name's Eric Pryce. Nice to meet you, Ally." He must have seen her staring at how his scar bent when he smiled and chuckled. "You're far from the only person who escaped from captivity. No need to worry, you're among like circumstances here."

~...~

Eric leads Ally to a large building in the center of town. She thought that it was a joke that the town's name was Home, but Eric was quick to correct that the name was 100% serious. They pass the large pole that shoots up into the sky with a makeshift flag. On the fact was the roof of a house with a small smoke stack rising out of the chimney.

"You should have seen the folks try to assemble that thing together. Got some of the smiths around to meld the iron like it was a team-building activity—cooling it and smashing it with hammers. Those took a while to make," he laughed. "Lot of what we have here took a while to make. Thankfully, so long as people know how to make stuff you can bet they'll find a way to make it happen."

"How long have you been here?" Ally asked.

"Bout..four years now. I got here when it looked like the boonies. I mean, it still does in some regard, but it's changed so much."

"I can bet. It looks way more advanced than the gathering I first joined up with."

There's a moment of silence and Ally thanks him for the respect around the sensitive situation.

"We're always taking in new faces. Think we have close to five hundred here now. If you're looking for a place to find yourself in, Home is a pretty good place to find it."

She looked up to him and tried for a smile, but she couldn't help but think it looked forced.

"Hey, I actually think I know someone here that'd be good to introduce...let's see...where is..." He turned from her and scans up and down some of the roads. "Agh, he'll turn up somewhere." He turned to her, "One of the oldest people here — both in terms of time spent here and age. His name's Rick, but he likes to go by Rickshaw. Dude's a one man machine," he started to laugh.

Ally looked at him with a confused look, and when he saw it, he stopped and looked down to his feet. "He likes to work with machines. He's the one that initially got the generators running here, it's how we managed to get lights and plumbing. Anything higher tech we're SOL for, but our basic foundation's thanks to Rickshaw."

"That's good and all, but I'm having a hard time understanding why I need to meet him specifically?" Ally asked.

"He's got a kind soul, probably the best for acclimating new folk."

The sounds of the mess hall surround Ally as the two of them step inside. The buzz of chatter was a sound that she started to cry at—social gatherings of this level were something she hasn't experienced in over five years. Even in the prison campground when there were groups of people gathered together it was dead quiet. And the faces were hardly friendly when beatings waited around every corner at jailer discretion.

These faces looked...warm, inviting even. It was a short hallway that led out to an open room with an open ceiling up to the top of the second floor—the railings encircled the perimeter that kept those on top from falling down to the bottom.

On the base floor was a large table full of food buffet-style. Food seemed to mountain so high she could not see over the other side of the central table. Tiers upon tiers of different meats, pastas and vegetables seemed to glow against the heating lamps set sporadic lengths apart.

"I'll introduce you and then I'm going to head back to my own thing. Alright?"

"Oh, yeah, that's fine. Thank you so much."

Eric nodded and they weed their way through the crowd.

They find Rickshaw easily enough near the front of the meat corner of the table. He had a plate lined with beef, pork, and lamb all towering on top of one another.

"Ricky, haven't you ever been told you need greens with your proteins?"

The man with gray hair thinner than tumbleweed looked up from his plate and Ally could see there was true affection in his eyes for his soon to be full stomach. She could respect a man who treasured food so simply. It usually meant his focus was far from doing wrong to others—if he was the right kind it was a hunger for making sure everyone was fed.

"When you get to be my age you can start to pick out my meals—I'll be long and gone with the wind by then," he answers.

"Tsk tsk tsk, do I have to let Angie know you've been skimping on your portion sizes?"

"Angie ain't the boss of me," he grumbled, stabbing what looked like half an eggplant with a sharpened tool.

"No, but you know how she is," he grinned. "I also got something else for ya," he stepped out from in front of Ally, "Newbie. Needs you to show them the ropes. Escaped from one of the compounds."

"Not a happy camper?" Rickshaw raised an eyebrow as his eyes filled with disgust as another vegetable dare land on his plate.

"I...I wouldn't consider it anything close to an actual camp. At least, not unless you're thinking from the Nazi point of view."

"Can't say any other camps exist these days, though I don't find myself thinking of the SS either. Sorry to hear what you went through. Things're better here, but we like to have everyone participate their fair share==equal contribution equal reward, you hearin'?"

"I am," Ally said.

"I'm sure you are. Come on, grab a plate and stack it full. First one's on me. We'll get you acclimated soon enough. Alright Eric, you can get back to your scallywagging, you look absolutely stuffed from your shift."

"It's all the greens," he winks. "Take care."

"Mhm." He nodded, then looked to Ally.

"Thank you."

"You can thank me later, when we figure out yer place in the cog. Maybe a drink here or there. You got any specific strengths?"

Ally picked up a metal sheet which she figured could pass for a plate. "Uh, I don't know how much it'd contribute in these days. I write, I also do light farming. The settlement I came from wasn't anywhere as robust as this place is."

Rickshaw tops off his plate and motions for her to start picking out meats. The selection is almost too much—it's far beyond anything she's eaten in the past five years. She picks up a few drumsticks and a leg of lamb, and then shuffles over and grabbed an ear of corn.

"I suggest you keep the writing private, paper's thin to go off of here, always bein' used for summon'. We're far from the days of having large factories to mass produce it, but if you've got something electronic we can preserve that just fine."

"I've got...well, I've got pretty much everything on my back."

"Mental writing it is then, though I can't say that's something the community'd find essential. Maybe in a few years we can rig something up. And I'll have to say we're kind of overstuffed for farmers at the moment. Got several independent farms built up 'round us, hence this large feast we get every so often. Once or twice a month it is—you really chose a good day to escape now, didn't you?"

"Any day would have been good," Ally said, filling up some some water into a small metal pitcher.

"Right you are. That bad, huh?"

"Women and girls were stolen away five years back. Everyone else was killed."

"Just the women? They had you on a sex farm?"

Ally tried to find her voice. "It...wasn't every day, but there were guards that...liked..."

"Right, say no more. I shouldn't have even brought it up," he raises a hand. "Sorry, I just have a hard time thinking so awful of people sometimes, but I have to realize I have had it easy in a lot of ways."

"I didn't mean to make you think so deep about it," Ally said, finding navigating the conversation an awkward motion.

"Not at all, I figure we could all do with some more thinking on things. Anyway, I'll shift topics, I see it's sensitive. What say you come to my workshop once we finish up here? I ain't got much work for the rest of the night, but it could spark something in you."

Ally looked down at the now admittedly gargantuan plate she'd been filling up to avoid thinking of the old prison. "I...yeah, that sounds fine. I figure I ought to start repaying you all as soon as I can."

He shakes his head, "In due course. I won't have you be busting chops minute one, probably'd disarm you before anything else. Can't be useful at all if you do that," he chuckled. "I only say because it's happened before. Fella got so excited to help out and cocky about his ability to catch on he actually ended up smashing him arm in something fierce. We had to end up pushing him out not too long after that."

"You push people out?"

"Only if they need it, and nothing else works," Rick said, taking his plate and walking off to the large seating area toward the rear, cocking his head for her to follow. "Guy got really petulant after that happened. Demanded we wait on him hand and foot day in and day out. Always touting that he was a lawyer back in the old world, said he'd sue me for everything I had and then whatever my firstborn had," he chuckled. "Got the funniest look in his eyes when I told him he'd have trouble finding another judge out here in the wild."

"Another judge?" Ally asked.

"I know I don't look it, but I used to be on the federal circuit over in California. That about sent him redder than a tomato." He hucks up a hearty laugh. "He just couldn't take being the second fiddle, so he started fighting everyone and everything he could get his hands on. Really petulant, that one. Fortunately, he was not used to having one arm, so he was taken down pretty easily and kicked in the rear on his way. If you're worried of ending up line him, well, I just don't think that's possible."

The thought should have made her smile, but a part of her thought back to the prison. She hadn't seen any guards missing an arm, but there was a possibility he joined up, no? He would have fit in perfectly there.

She sat down at a table full of unfamiliar faces, her anxiety was spiking real high, but seeing the smils and laughs fill each one, something inside her almost...felt okay.