By this time next year, I might be a daddy.
A surreal realization which fills me with equal parts excitement and anxiety as I consider my future anew. Been doing a lot of that lately, because similar to my efforts to make up for the loss of my hand, I currently lack direction in general. Been chasing the dream of the Firstborn for so long I done don’t know how to be Howie, and now it’s shaping up into something that is mundane yet wondrous all the same. Howie Zhu, the family man, a daddy with a boy or girl to call my own, someone to cradle close, make funny faces at, and compete for Cowie’s affections with. Or maybe I get my kid his or her own partner to grow up with, though maybe not right away considering cattle don’t live long as people do. Or maybe they do, seeing how Cowie is a new breed of Magical Bull, being born of a first generation Innate like he was. Could be he’ll live to a hundred, on account of something the Innate changes done to his D.N.A or how his mastery of Minify makes him younger on top of smaller.
Here's hoping he’ll outlive me, because I don’t think I could bear to say goodbye to him.
That’s where the anxiety comes in. Life is fragile. Learned as much the day I was born and took my mama’s life. Narrow hips is what I’m told, and while Josie’s got herself some curves, she’s still a slim and slender sorta gal, so there probably gonna be no small amount of risk. Same with Noora, though from the look on her face while we was talking about pregnancy, I get the feeling she ain’t about having any kids. Which I get, given what she went through growing up, but wasn’t something I ever considered until the topic came up. What if Josie ain’t pregnant and decides she don’t want kids neither? Me, I’m ready here and now, because my part in all of it is fun and easy. Theirs though? Not gonna lie. Childbirth sounds like the stuff of nightmares, and it don’t always work out for the best.
Don’t got any statistics or nothing, but just going by personal experience? Gotta be at least 1 in 3 births that end in a death, of either the mother or the baby and sometimes both. Even if you dodge that Bolt, you ain’t in the clear yet, because the Frontier got plenty more bullets in the chamber. Babies be fragile little creatures, and those first couple years are the hardest. That’s why the first class of boots is so small, starting with less than a hundred kids coming in from more than a thousand klicks away before getting whittled down to 30 something at present. Wasn’t many settlers prepped to look after a pregnant woman and newborn child within the first year of the Advent, and much like my mama, many lacked access to someone skilled in healthcare and suffered for it.
Now Josie, she’ll have the best medico this side of the Divide, with Uncle Art there to help her through it every step of the way, but modern medicine ain’t all that modern out here. Ain’t got the gear to look at the baby in the womb, or do surgery if there any complications, or any number of things I probably ain’t thinking of. I know if it were me, I’d think more than twice about getting pregnant, much less going through with the birth, because that there is a straight up flip of the coin with little to no way to affect the outcome. You live or you die, and same goes for your kid, and even though I’ve only just been made aware of the possibility of my child’s existence, I’m ready and willing to fight and die for them if that’s what it takes.
Except there ain’t nothing I can do but watch and wait, a feeling I don’t much like. I’ve lost so much in life already. Not sure how much more of it I can take, so if this is gonna happen, then I need it to go right.
Ain’t no prepping for the worst here, because how do you prepare for the death of your loved ones? You can’t, not really, so instead, I keep myself from spiralling out by focusing on things I can do. Which of course necessitates a reordering of the list, as I move things around to prioritize what to do next. Get my hours done of course, that’s the first call of order, because if Josie is pregnant, she gonna need me around in a few weeks, while she can still manage without me for now. Then, I gotta to read up on baby stuff and pick Aunty Ray and Uncle Art’s brains about it, though I can’t really go about doing that without letting them know what’s what. Which none of us want just yet, because even though I was about six months old by the time my daddy was my age, folks around here still think I’m much too young to be a father.
On the other hand, Josie is most certainly too young to be a mother. Still a few months shy of sixteen, August… I should probably know this. 5th? No, that’s Noora. Josie’s is later in the month, closer to September, since her birthday is usually the last one before school starts up again. I’ll ask Tina later, she’s better at these sorts of things. Either way, this means Josie will be even younger than my mama when she comes full term. That don’t inspire much confidence, and I got no one to blame but myself. Well, me and the American education system, because ‘abstinence only’ ain’t a proper method of birth control. Relying on the self control of young teens is like throwing your life savings away on a slot machine. Sure, every now and then, someone gets lucky and hits the jackpot, but most end up poorer for it, or I suppose in this case, pregnant.
Should’ve asked if Josie knew Contraception the first time we were together, but my mind was too twisted in knots to think straight. That’s the sort of effect she has on me, and when you add Noora into the mix, it’s a miracle I had enough brain cells left over to keep myself from choking on my own tongue.
Once my hours are done, the next port of call is a house. While we could move into Josie’s place, the house has only got the two bedrooms. It’s a smaller place, a townhome they call it, sharing walls with the buildings on either side. Buildings like that make for a great impromptu wall should Abby get inside the town proper, and saves on labour and material costs at the same time, but folks will talk if I shack up with Josie and Noora both and turn the only spare room into a nursery. Not that I mind all that much, and I doubt Noora would either, but Josie’s a sweet girl and a sensitive soul who wouldn’t weather the criticism well. Best if I built a home here on the land my daddy left me, right next to Aunty Ray’s house and far from any nosey neighbours. Course, we could always claim a homestead outside the walls, maybe an hour or two away from town. There’d be less prying eyes about and fewer tongues to wag about what the three of us are up to in our big, spacious house. Could even get them both to make a claim each, and have 1000 acres out there while keeping my claim here in town, which I could eventually sell for a pretty penny soon as demand goes up.
I float the idea of moving out of New Hope, just as a possibility if they both open to it. Course I don’t come out and say it’s because of our unique and arguably immoral relationship. I just mention it as an option to save on taxes and as a source of revenue. Neither girl seems all that thrilled about living outside the walls, Noora because she loves it here in town and Josie because she ain’t ever been nowhere else. Which is a real shame, since that would put paid to rest the question of what I’m gonna do for a living, since working a homestead is a full-time job. Not a fun or interesting one, but I’ll do whatever it takes to provide for my family and keep them safe. Still, it’s always a possibility for the future, so I add ‘scout out possible homestead locations’ onto the list while making plans to build a house here in New Hope. If I act quick, I can get a good deal on stone quarried from Mount Rimepeak, seeing how they got so many goods stacking up in Mueller’s Quay what with the waterways shut down. With the money saved, I can go even bigger, build us a full-on mansion using the cash earned from the Proggie hunt which has been burning a hole in my bank account for several weeks now. Hate seeing the prices of things go up while my total balance stays the same, because that means the money Marcus died to help me get is losing value sitting around.
Tried sending money to Simone, but she wasn’t having none of it. She’s doing well now, so I hear, spear-heading the community efforts same as before, only now she got an official job as town alderman. Which is like a step down from mayor, only they don’t have one, so that’s pretty much her role, one shared with two others who been in Meadowbrook from the start. Should talk to Aunty Ray about getting herself the same role so she can get paid for her efforts, and maybe later on down the line Josie could learn from her and eventually take over, as she a sociable and caring sort of gal.
So health, hard labour, and home. What else? I’m not entirely sure, and neither are Noora and Josie, as they busy considering the minor stuff like a crib and baby clothes. Which is important sure, but I’m thinking big picture and long-term goals. Seeing how little input they have to offer regarding the rest of our lives is a stark reminder of how neither one is prepared for this, because Josie grew up sheltered and Noora grew up in a hurry. Both lack the foundational knowledge that I would deem vital for life out here on the Frontier, but they was taught by old worlders who either barely understand or have wholly forgotten what it’s really like out here.
Before all this started, I remember thinking Josie was tad too young for me, and not just because of her age. She a warm, sweet, and kind-hearted girl, a doe in a world full of wulves I’ll need to cherish and protect. Noora gets it, but she’s still adjusting to her new life, too busy living in the moment to consider what the future might hold. Means I’ll have to really step it up and shoulder all the burdens I can so they can focus on adjusting to what’s ahead, because change will come fast and hit you hard when you least expect it.
So to better prepare them, I start writing out the list to show what needs to be done while assuring them both that I got it covered. Josie’s eyes get wide as saucers as the morning draws on, but Noora’s tolerance can only last so long. “Okay that’s enough,” she says, sitting back with a sigh after a few hours of discussion, but I’ve only just gotten to asking their thoughts on their career paths and how that might play into our housing plans. “A sewing room, a workshop, an office or a study, whatever you want to call it, it’ll still be a room in the house. Just build that, and we will make the most of it after the fact.”
“I mean yeah,” I say, resisting the urge to double down, then giving in all the same. “Thing is, we got an opportunity to get in on the ground floor so to speak. Design our home to fit our lives, rather than make do of what’s there. That’s huge. Like, I know I want a gun room, so I can plan around that. If Josie wants a sewing room to do her embroidery, or a bigger kitchen to maybe jar sauces to sell, or if you want a workshop to tinker around in, then we can get that down on paper and incorporate it into the home so it looks good and proper.” Leaning back to touch shoulders as Noora sinks into the couch, I realize why this means so much to me, and I explain it just like that. “This house here? It’s just words on a piece of paper for now, but it’s gonna be the mark we leave here on the Frontier. A little slice of what’s ours and ours alone.”
“And yet you’ve planned for five bedrooms to start,” Noora replies, flashing a teasing smile to show she ain’t mad, just a little overwhelmed by all this.
“Of course,” I reply, using a Mage Hand to tick off the points as I list them. “A master bedroom big enough for us three, then a second bedroom for you, to keep up appearances. One for the baby, a second in case we want another, as well as a guest room for Chrissy because I know she’s gonna want to sleepover every now and again.”
“Mhmm.” Rolling her eyes, Noora lists off a few more things. “So let me get this straight. You want our house to have five bedrooms, a study for your books, a workshop to tinker in, and a gun room on top of the usual living room, dining room, and kitchen. You also want a big porch out front, and room for guests and a barbeque out back. You plan to expand the ranch and barn to fit more horses and wallies, and plant more patches of coneflowers out back so you can support more bee hives. Then there’s the bigger shed for your mead making, a home playground for the kids, and a giant underground bunker with steel walls lined in lead.”
I glance at the list to make sure she hasn’t left anything out, then think better of it before speaking up. “More or less, yeah,” I say, with an implied ‘so what?’ at the end of it.
“You hear yourself, handsome?” Lips curled in amusement, Noora throws her hands up in the air and shakes her head. “You want all that, and you still asking what rooms we want to add. I know you got a lot of land, but don’t you think you’re being over optimistic?”
“This is just the initial draft,” I say, even though I think I could fit all that in. “Where we put down everything and anything we can think of. Doesn’t necessarily mean it’ll all happen, but it’ll give us an idea as to where to start and let us we pare down our wants to fit our needs.”
Noora rolls her eyes again, because she’s a play it by ear sort of gal and thinks I’m being extra. “Most people would start smaller,” she says, cozying up beside me in a fit of pique because she spent almost the entire morning sitting here in the Ramirez living room instead of out and about. “Like baby names.”
“Let’s not count our chickens before they’ve hatched,” I counter, only to sit up straighter as I realize how the term came about. “We can take our time picking a name since we got at least nine months before we gotta make a decision. Since I still gotta finish all my hours, it’ll take the rest of June to settle those and buy or order all the materials we’ll need. Leaves only 4-5 months to build at most, weather permitting. If we really unlucky, it’ll start snowing early October, which really cuts into the timetable.”
“Always so serious,” Noora replies, head resting on my shoulder and arms wrapped around mine with no indication that she’s gonna let go anytime soon. “You need to lighten up. She’s only two weeks late. It happens more often than you’d think.”
“Don’t be so hard on him, hermana.” Mirroring Noora’s actions on my left, Josie clamps on and beams oh so brightly with her snaggletooth smile. “We can’t have him any other way. He is who he is, and he’s doing what he can to make us feel safe, loved, and cared for.” Unable to resist, I lean in for a kiss, which lasts longer than I intended. Then of course I gotta give Noora one to match, as she’s looking sulky enough as is, unsure as to her place in all this or whether or not she even wants to be here. That’s the thing with Noora. She’s enjoying our company, and her bond with Josie is strong as steel now that they’ve gone through the wringer together. They’re family, whereas me, I’m just the handsome company Noora’s content to keep. It’s not that she don’t enjoy our time together. Far from it. She just never considered this a permanent situation, because she ain’t used to thinking about anything beyond making it through today.
And now that I’ve brought up issues of marriage and lifelong commitment, she’s starting to feel trapped. I get it. It ain’t me. It’s the fact that Noora’s only just obtained all this newfangled freedom and opportunity, so she ain’t sure if she’s ready to commit to any one thing just yet. She ain’t even decided on her favourite flavour of ice cream, so how’s she supposed to know if she wants to spend the rest of her life with me?
So I tell myself not to take it personal, which is easy when Noora’s so enthusiastic about the kiss. So enthusiastic that my brain goes blank for a bit as things get a little hot and heavy on the couch, but not so blank that I forget Josie has yet to learn the Contraception Cantrip and we really shouldn’t risk it. It’s 99% effective sure, but that’s assuming both parties know and use it, while individually, it’s like 80% at best. Least that’s what Aunty Ray told me, and I’m guessing she learned from experience, seeing how she would’ve grown up with the same sort of education Josie got. If that wasn’t the case, then it might be that we wouldn’t have Tina and Chrissy, and wouldn’t that be a shame?
I know. It’s odd to think about the woman who raised you like a son and your two sorta-sisters while making out with two gorgeous and enthusiastic women who adore you, but I gotta do something to keep things from getting out of hand. Ain’t really working though, because now I’ve convinced myself that maybe a pregnancy wouldn’t be so bad. l can’t imagine a life without Tina and Chrissy, and I’m already envisioning how wonderful life will be with a kid. Thankfully, a knock sounds at the window and throws all three of us for a loop. My heart freezes in a second, then I quickly move Noora off my lap so I can pretend like nothing’s going on as Elodie presses her forehead right up against the window and waves in cheery greeting.
“Bonjour Howie!” Elodie’s muffled shout sounds loud and clear from behind the glass as she beams ever so brightly. “We finished our ride, and did not find you at home, so Chrissy and Tina brought me many places to look for you. Then we come here and voila! We find you.”
So that’s how it’s supposed to sound. I been saying it all wrong for years, but that’s the benefit of playing the fool sometimes, make people think you ain’t serious. Like how quay is spelt that way but pronounced ‘key’, which don’t make no sense at all. “Be right there,” I say, while Josie and Noora share a look and laugh at my expense. I can’t exactly stand just yet, so I’m flexing my legs for all I’m worth and waiting for the pressure in my pants to dial down so I ain’t standing at full mast for Elodie to see. Thankfully my pants are still zipped and buttoned, which is never a given when Noora’s around. Nimble fingers that one, among many other adjectives I’d rather not think about just now, especially since I can hear Tina’s boot tap-tap-tapping on the porch out front, no doubt wondering what’s taking so long.
Manage to cool my heels and get to the door before Tina’s curiosity overcomes her good manners, even though Elodie stays at the window for the whole time until I get up to leave, moving slow so the girls got time to put all the papers away and hide what we was talking about. The green-haired girlie is a different sort of difficult from Chrissy, and the more I learn, the more I think the two of them would work well together. Chrissy needs someone to get her out of her head, and Elodie needs someone to slow her down so she thinks things through a bit more, instead of just going with the flow and doing as she pleases. Works fine for the beasties out there, but Elodie ain’t a beast, which is the whole reason Carter started his whole community in the first place.
So in that vein, I go straight for the proverbial throat before she has a chance to bring up what she done seen. “Elodie,” I begin, after greeting Tina and Chrissy both and fobbing them off to Noora and Josie. “Remember what I said this morning? It’s rude to peek through people’s windows.”
“Oh.” Blinking in the very picture of innocent surprise, Elodie pouts and dips her head because she know she done wrong. “But how am I to know if there is anyone home?” she asks, all contrite and subdued.
“You knock on the door,” I say, feeling like I done just stomped a bunny by accident. Luckily, it don’t take much to bring Elodie’s spirits back up, just a pat on the head and a pinch of the cheeks. “So don’t do it again, okay?”
“Okay Howie.” Skipping alongside as we head over to the living room to join everyone else, she mumbles, “I still do not understand, but I will remember, yes? Even though there are windows to look into, do not do so because it is rude.”
Can’t help but laugh as I explain how windows are there so the people inside can look outside, not vice versa, and that it’s alright to glance through them as you walk by, but going right up to the window is a no-no. The root of the issue is the fact that Elodie doesn’t understand the concept of privacy, which raises all too many questions about life at the compound which I would really rather not get into. Carter did say he came here to socialize the whole group, not just for Elodie’s sake, so I guess they got a real communal vibe going on over there. Not my place to pry though, and here’s hoping others offer me the same courtesy when Josie and Noora both move in.
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
Assuming they do, because neither one has really confirmed it outright. Or even indirectly by making any requests, like a sunroom or flower beds or something. Turning a house into a home ain’t in my wheelhouse, which is why the only décor I have is a pair of outdated Aetherarms crafted by my mama way back when. I didn’t even put those up. My daddy did, and aside from moving my bed to the opposite side of the room after losing my hand, I ain’t made any changes since. Suppose that means I’m even worse than he is at homemaking, which is saying a lot.
With Tina and Chrissy sharing the loveseat, and me sharing the couch with Noora and Josie, that don’t leave much room for Elodie. Rather than take a seat on the floor or pull up a chair, she squeezes onto the couch with a complete lack of social awareness or distancing as she presses up against Noora’s shoulder. “Bonjour again,” she chimes, and Noora greets her in kind, all smiles and hugs for the overly affectionate stranger. “Your hair is so purple and pretty.”
Ain’t none of that supposed skittishness from Elodie today, but Noora handles it well with a big smile for the other girl. While they doing introductions and swapping compliments, Josie shifts in her seat to my left and flashes a contrite smile. An apology for getting upset this morning, though I’d’ve long since forgotten. Angel that she is, she switches seats with me to introduce herself to Elodie, who is instantly enamoured. “Your ribbons are so cute,” Elodie declares, wrapping her arms around the smaller half-Latina and hugging her oh so tight. “They are like bunny ears, yes?”
Josie coos to hear it, and all three of them get to making nice, which puts paid to rest my worries of the green-haired girlie’s overly familiar antics landing me in hot water. Shouldn’t have sweat it. Noora’s got a soft spot for the sweet and innocent, while Josie’s got a real way with Elodie, so warm and gentle without delving over into treating her like she’s simple. That’s where Noora falls short, which you can’t really blame her for, because by normal standards, Elodie is simple. Doesn’t mean she’s stupid, or even lacking in smarts. Instead, she goes about things in a straightforward manner. Lacking in guile and always one to speak her mind, which makes her appear like she’s slow or not all there because that’s just not how people are. Don’t faze Josie none though, as she’s all big smiles and warm sentiments before inviting Elodie up to put ribbons in her hair.
Yeah, Josie will make for a great mother, no two ways about it. Not to say Noora won’t, only that she’ll have to work a little harder at it, while it all comes natural to Josie.
What really warms my heart is seeing how Elodie doesn’t just make decisions willy nilly, but instead bounces up from the couch and over the coffee table to take a knee in front of Chrissy. “Hello Chrissy,” she says, after waiting for the other girl to come out of her head. “Josie says she wants to take me upstairs and put ribbons in my hair. Do you want to come too?”
I knew right off that they’d make a great pair, because Elodie understands all of Chrissy’s subtle, non-verbal cues. Proof’s right in front of me as Elodie turns to me and says, “Howie, you must come too. Chrissy was not happy you were not there to brush her hair this morning, so now you must make it up to her, yes?”
“Sure thing,” I say, grinning to see how well they getting along as Elodie guides Chrissy upstairs ahead of Josie and Noora. Me, I hang back a sec to check on Tina, who’s been looking sour since she come in here. Not because of what’s going on here, or at least not entirely. No, she’s not doing so hot because she keeps stealing glances at the kitchen and remembering what went down that horrific day. Breaks my heart to see her like this, all scared and mousey instead of bright and cheery, so I give her a hug and whisper, “You doin’ okay? You can head out if you want, find your friends and go hang out. I got Chrissy and Elodie from here.”
“No, I’m fine.” Her assurance don’t hold much water, what with her face buried in my shoulder and arms wrapped around my torso tight. Clings for a little while longer before breaking it off with a sigh and wiping her eyes on the way back. “Really,” she says, batting her big blues to clear out the last of her tears. “I’m good. I wanna stay. Elodie’s a real peach, and so much fun to show around.” Glancing up the stairs, she adds, “Real friendly with Noora and Josie too. Wasn’t half as receptive to anyone else we’ve met, not even the Padre. Spent most of the morning hiding behind me every time I introduced her.”
“Really?” Shrugging it off like nothing, I speak my thoughts as they come to me, though I lower my voice to a whisper first. “I heard how she hides whenever you patrol past the compound, but I thought she was just playing games. She don’t strike me as shy.”
“Hard to be shy with a man you spent the night with,” Tina retorts, giving me a glare to warn me off. “Don’t you do nothin’ to disappoint Josie now. She a sweet and darling girl who don’t got a mean bone in her body, so you best treat her right. Quit being so friendly with Noora and Elodie, because even if Josie don’t say nothin’, there ain’t a woman alive who likes seeing another woman clingin’ to her man. You gotta put your foot down and draw a line in the sand, no two ways about it.”
“Yes ma’am,” I say, grinning in spite of Tina’s lambasting, mostly due to the irony of how she still got one arm wrapped around my waist. “Already been doing as much with Elodie, as she’s gone from leaping at me in broad daylight to stopping arm’s length away for a head past. As for Noora… well things are a bit different.”
“How so?” Tina asks, her blue eyes shooting daggers as we start heading up the stairs.
“Well you know,” I say, buying time to think of a reasonable excuse. “They sisters. Ain’t been family for long, but they family all the same, so Josie don’t mind it.”
“Mhm.” Eyes straying back to the kitchen, Tina huffs and says, “I see. I guess maybe Noora feels safe around you, and Josie gets that. Might even be using you to warn off all the other boys.” Shooting a grin, Tina rallies back as she links her arm in mine and says, “That’s what I usually do anyways.”
Which is news to me, but I don’t mind much. Having bought myself some time to figure out what I’m going to do about my two lady loves, I spend the rest of the weekend keeping them company. Elodie too, whose reactions turn every mundane experience into an unforgettable memory as she takes in town life with wide eyed awe and amazement. She got plenty to say about how things are different, and don’t much understand the implied rules. Still abides by them soon as they’re pointed out though, and she has a grand old time visiting all the stores and trying all the foods, and the pub is a big hit with all it’s mock-up old world memorabilia. As for her parents, they spend their days with Aunty Ray, who unsurprisingly has charmed miss Amelie and made fast friends in two short days. Caught them gabbing away like old pals and having a ball playing card games and such, while Carter is surprisingly hands off about looking after Elodie. Strange that, for them to spend the weekend in town to play chaperone, then provide no oversight whatsoever, but either way, it’s no skin off my nose.
When it comes time to part ways on Monday morning, everyone is sad to see Elodie go, and the girlie herself is in a subdued mood as we mosey on back to the compound. It’s just me and her, while her parents have both Wildshaped into horses because they prefer travelling that way. Not Elodie, because she turns into a pretty pony with gangly legs and an ungainly gait. She enjoys running around as a pony of course, but not walking, because she’s gotta pay too much attention to where she puts her feet. As for Cowie, he’s still all grumps because of the Mindspire’s Dissonant Whistle even after I gave him a Mental Fortress to kickstart the day, and he spends the whole trip bundled up in his sling and acting oh so pitiful so I’ll spoil him with treats.
I do, mostly because I ain’t had much time with him lately, what with him hanging out with Elodie during the week and me busy doing the same over the weekend. Already talked to Aunty Ray, and I’ll be leaving Old Tux with Elodie for good now, rather than just while I’m working up at the quay. She agreed that Old Tux would fare better with a more actively live style, but not so active like the one he’d have if I brought him out on my travels. Not that there’ll be many of those moving forward, aside from the odd pleasure trip along the Highway and a trip out to the mesa once a year.
Can’t bring Noora and Josie out to the badlands without training, and that won’t be for years if Josie happens to be pregnant. Eventually though, I want to bring them both up to meet my parents and show them everything our kids would stand to inherit. That’s neither here nor there though, so I enjoy a quiet morning ride right up to the outskirts of the quay, whereupon I dismount from Old Tux and give him a good pat on the nose. “You be good, old friend,” I whisper, planting a kiss on his nose and feeling my heart drop as it comes time to part ways. “I’ll see you Friday.”
Old Tux don’t know he just been given away, but neither does Elodie, who appears beside me with an expectant look on her face as she leans in for a head pat. And possibly a kiss too, seeing how she’s angled her cheek towards me, but I pay it no mind and muss her hair just a bit. “Same goes for you,” I say, rallying back with a bit of good cheer. “You be good now.”
“I am always good,” Elodie proudly declares, and one of the people-turned-horses snorts behind her. She don’t pay it no mind though, just purses her lips and darts in for a hug. “Thank you for convincing Papa to bring me into town,” she says, squeezing the air out of my lungs as she does. “It is a strange place with so very many rules, but I had much fun with Chrissy and Tina and Josie and Noora.” Beaming oh so brightly, she whispers, “If Mama and Papa say it is okay, can I come visit this weekend again? They already invite me to go to the dance in July, but that is too far away.”
The 4th of July celebrations are always big, and this year might well be the biggest yet. That’s my guess at least, because it looks like the Rangers will be ready to go in another week or two. With no Mindspire to bother us, the people will come flocking back in droves with a mind to make merry. Add in how we missed the Memorial Day festivities on account of the Madness, and there won’t be a June celebration because people ain’t in no mood with the threat still hanging over us, and this year’s Independence Day is gonna be huge. Doubly so since the first class of boots is set to graduate a few days before, while the first batch of recruits will sign on shortly after. That was the compromise they made after Pleasant Dunes, to render Basic down to just that, the fundamentals you need to survive out on the Frontier, while dedicating another 6 months of training after Basic as recruits to teach them what they need to know to become proper Rangers.
Which is a great change in my opinion, and doubly so since I ain’t the one who been bait and switched. Let’s the Rangers sell Basic as a general survival course, one meant to teach the next generation all the practical skills they’ll need to make a life out here. Schools most certainly ain’t enough to prepare them for the Frontier, but not everyone is so keen on signing on with the Rangers. Same goes for the parents who don’t want their kids joining the army, but a free 6-month course on survival skills is a whole different beast. Then the real training comes after, on the job training no less, with one or two recruits to a Strike Team to keep things safe.
All works out great as far as I can tell, though it means Tina’s got another 6 months of work ahead before she earns her badge. Least it’s a paid position, which I know Sarah Jay will love, as she keen on paying me back ASAP even though I ain’t ever brung the matter up even once.
As for Elodie’s request, I am more than happy to invite her back to town for the weekend. Even if she wasn’t a delight to be around, it also means I get to spend more time with Old Tux before parting ways for good, which is a topic I still haven’t brought up with Carter just yet. Puts a little spring in my step as I make my way into the quay on foot, where Mervyn is there to greet me once more, what with his house being the first one I pass by on my way in.
Lynn and Lauren are there too, so I take a moment to greet them both and go through all the social niceties. Hey there, how you doing, what you been up to, that sort of nonsense. I try to keep it light and breezy, but Lynn ain’t having none of it, as the large little lad got eyes like saucers as he asks, “I heard you fought off a giant pack of Enchanter merhounds all by your lonesome and rescued over a hundred women and children on Friday. That’s so cool!”
“Wasn’t a hundred women and children, and them merhounds weren’t Enchanters,” I reply, my cheeks colouring in the glaring light of young Lynn’s gaze. “Wasn’t all that big a pack either, and while I did fight them off single-handedly, I most certainly was not by my lonesome.”
My pun goes unnoticed by the whole family as little Lynn says, “But those other folks were just a bunch of drunken hillbillies. They couldn’t have helped much.”
I shake my head. “Never underestimate any man or woman who makes their life out here on a Frontier. They might not look like much at first glance, but the first few years after the Advent was a baptism by fire, and anyone who made it this far is a real survivor.” It is difficult to resist the urge to glance at Mervyn and Lauren, because they might well be the exceptions to the rule, though I suppose they could’ve been hardened soldiers 17 years back, same as Mr. Mueller. “What’s more, it don’t take much to use a gun,” I add. “Skill and training make a big difference, but volume of fire is a force unto itself.” Plus they had some real interesting weapons. Sickle Industries, a Soviet company, but one that knows their stuff. A long-range Blast rifle and a fast-firing semi-automatic that’s easily modified into a full-auto, you can tell they was working around the laws instead of just adhering to them, which is my kinda gun company. Would love to try my hand with one or both weapons, but hand is the operative word there. Can’t work a rifle one handed, especially with only the left. Most errant bits and bobs on a rifle are meant to be worked with your right hand, while your left holds firm to the foregrip. The bolt-action, charging handle, magazine detachment, and more, I’d have to reach over or around most guns to work any one of those things with my left hand, which don’t make for good shooting.
We chit the chat a little while longer, but Lynn ain’t ready to let me leave. Little man’s convinced I’m a one man wrecking crew who tore through hundreds of Abby with my bare hand, when in reality, I shot 40 to 60 rounds and a handful of shells the whole fight. Was them ‘drunken hillbillies’ who carried most the water in that fight, and I make a note to be warier of Mervyn and Lauren from here on out. Kids parrot back the things they hear their parents and other adults say, meaning that even though they seem happy and harmless on the surface, they could be hiding quite a bit of vitriol underneath their smiling, cheerful demeanours.
“We’d love to invite you in for lunch,” Mervyn says, reading into my glance and coming up with the wrong answer. “But I’m afraid Luisa’s got dibs on you today.”
“Come by later for cobbler and ice cream,” Lauren adds, beaming all too brightly while talking about dessert this early in the day. “Fresh baked and hand churned using natural ice brought down from the peaks.”
Which is one of those things that never made much sense to me, as ice is ice no matter where you get it from. Fact is, I’d much rather have ice cubes made from treated water placed in a tray and frozen in my Freeze box as opposed to ice chipped off a block that was naturally frozen up top a mountain and manhandled multiple kilometres away to its current destination. That’s just me though, while lot of old worlders put a lot of stock into that sort of stuff. ‘All Natural’ and ‘Preservative Free’ sounds great and all until you get the runs from some bad water or Cholera from a bad batch of ale, then you’ll be singing a whole different tune. Load my foods up with all the preservatives you can cram in there, all the salt, vinegar, sugar, honey, cinnamon, and herbs the food can handle, because not only does it make things safer to consume, it has the added benefit of being more delicious to boot.
I don’t say as much though, and as I part ways with Mervyn’s family after far too many hugs, it occurs to me the reason I find social interaction so draining is because I keep going on long rants up inside my head. I should probably stop, but would that I could, as I move on down the line of houses and stop to chat with everyone along the way. Makes me miss working for Carter something fierce, because even though there are about 30 people in the whole community, I know less than 10 names total. Which is just perfect, but here at Mueller’s Quay, I know everyone’s names.
By the time I make it to the Mueller household, I’ve greeted half the village, and I expect I’ll greet the other half on my way to the worksite. Luckily, Mr. Mueller ain’t in no rush to work and tells me we’ll start after lunch, while assuring me I’ll still get my full 10. Which I appreciate, but I still feel bad about shorting Uncle Teddy on the 480 I owe him. That’s my problem though, so I keep mum and bob my head in thanks before changing into my work clothes and heading over the bar, as he says Luisa ain’t a woman to be kept waiting.
A joke I presume, as the matronly woman greets me with a big smile, a mug of hot coffee and a freshly baked arepa stuffed with cheese, beans, beef, and some veggies I don’t recognize. “Oh you are an angel Luisa,” I say, salivating at the sight and smell of the delectable wrap. I’ve really come to appreciate things I can eat with one hand, because even though I can wield a fork, spoon, or even chopsticks with my left now, it’s still not to the point where I can do it without thinking. I mean how often do you gotta think about how you use your fork? Not very, it just happens, but me, I gotta pay attention lest I go to spear a potate and send it shooting clean across the room or something. It’s a small thing, that extra bit of focus, but it takes away from the eating experience.
“This is just snack,” she says, waving away the compliment as she seats me at the bar so we can talk while she cooks. “Your lunch is still cooking, so do not fret.”
“Oh Luisa, you overestimate my capabilities.” Eying the big, meat stuffed wrap that’s larger than my hand, I say, “This here is a full meal.”
“Bah.” Making that disgruntled noise all women make when they hear something unpleasant, Luisa looks me up and down with a glower. “No wonder you so skinny. Growing boy like you needs proper meals to become big and strong.” Swatting me oh so gently on the head, she says, “You are Magus and make many Spells, yes? That power, it no come from nothing. It come from within. Takes from you, so you must eat to make up for what is lost, and eat more so that you can grow in body, mind, and spirit.”
Makes sense, but I’m thrown for a loop by Luisa’s matter-of-fact declaration regarding my Spellslinging abilities. My first instinct is to deny it, but then I’d be lying, and I can’t lie to a sweet woman like her. “What makes you think I’m a Magus?” I ask, still feeling terrible even though it’s a simple misdirect.
“Everyone say it is so,” Luisa replies, shuffling off to check on the oven. “And if you are not? Then you will be soon, so long as you eat.” Turning around, her eyes go wide when she sees me still sitting there with the arepas intact. “Eat!”
So I do, enjoying every last bite of the arepas and drop of my coffee. Soon as I’m done, Luisa refills my cup and plants herself on the other side of the bar. “Tell me of your battle,” she says, once I’m done praising her to high Heaven and she’s done acting all bashful. “You save many lives on Friday night after you leave.”
“Oh it wasn’t nothing,” I say, trying to wave it off, but she wants details. So I tell her all about how I heard gunfire and rode towards it, then play up Clayton’s part in all of it. They brought the heat and did all the work, while I merely pointed them in the right direction. Even Carter’s part in all this gets palmed off onto Clayton’s people, as we all agreed to keep the ‘Spirit Caller’ out of the limelight. Really wish I could’ve gotten a chance to play with those summoned bears, but they didn’t last long enough and Carter said he couldn’t just summon them on a lark.
All in all, I keep my bragging to a minimum and sing praises of Clayton and his people. Truth is, Clayton the only one out of them all with any Spells worth a damn, though they all got the standard redneck suite of Bolt, Blast, and Elemental Orb handy at all times. Shooting, blowing things up, and setting them on fire might as well be an American pastime after all, so you gotta be ready even when you don’t got a gun to shoot.
Luisa don’t seem to buy it though, and reveals a wealth of knowledge with a few simple questions about the Spells I used to track them. I end up sharing the details about my abilities with the Locate Object Spell and my ability to piggyback off someone else’s connection to said Object, as well as the bit about turning Detect Abby from a widespread pulse to a tight beam. She nods along as I speak, but don’t ask many questions, which means she either knows more than she’s letting on about the Spells or ain’t interested in the details. Either way, I know how to read a crowd, so I keep my explanation short and sweet. “I really didn’t do nothing all that incredible,” I say with a shrug, figuring that for an end to things. “Was just in the right place at the right time to help out.”
“Most fortunate for them.” Nodding sagely with a sad little smile, Luisa reaches over the counter and strokes my cheek. Usually I’d flinch away, but with all the exposure therapy I been getting lately from Josie, Noora, and everyone here in Mueller’s Quay, I’m getting over my aversion to physical touch pretty quick. “You are what my ancestors would call ōcēlōtl,” she says, her eyes a thousand years away in the past. “A Jaguar Warrior, one of stealth, power, and ferocity. Elite warriors of a warrior nation, and you Howie would have been among them.”
“That might well be my favourite compliment I done ever gotten,” I say, beaming to hear her say it, though it don’t sound like any Spanish I ever heard before.
Luisa’s sad smile blossoms into a cheerier one for a bit as she pinches my cheek, but then her mood dips down once more. “It is a calling, to be ōcēlōtl, for it was their lot in life to fight for the Gods. That is you, a soldier of the Gods, and yet the Federation send you here to do the work of macehualtin. A commoner,” she clarifies, “A labourer without skill. Not even Tolteca, that of a craftsman. A waste of your talents.”
“Well, it is technically a punishment,” I say, giving her a shrug and a smile, but she ain’t having none of it.
“Your time should be better spent,” she continues, shaking her head with a frown. “Good that you were there for Clayton and his people. Would that there was someone like you there for me and mine when we needed a Warrior to save us.” I get that look in her eyes now, that sad, forlorn gaze that don’t see much of anything in the present because it’s tuned into the past. “My boy, he was not strong like you, but he was brave.” She heaves a long sigh and rallies back with a teary smile. “So when evil men came into our home to take what little we had and worse, he tried to fight them and died a Warrior in spirit, if not body and mind.”
“Went out protecting his mama,” I say, because that’s all I really got. “Ain’t no proper son who wouldn’t do the same.” Unlike me, who was the cause of my mama’s death. “What was his name?”
“Matías.” She shudders a bit to hear the name, but her smile brightens as she turns to look out the window and over the lake. “He was not a strong boy like you. Thin and sickly, with arms like noodles. My fault, for in those days, we had not the food to eat everyday. Still, he had courage and spirit like a man thrice his size and age. Was only six, but those men, they had no mercy for a little boy and killed him in one strike. After he passed, I gave his body to the Gods in the ways of old, and spent years hunting his killers down to deliver them as well. Now, some serve him in the after life, while others still yet breathe, but those who remain have grown too powerful and I can no hunt them myself.” She sighs, and I’m reminded of my own words that I just shared with Lynn, about how you can’t underestimate anyone you see out here.
“Got a name?” I ask, because even though I ain’t about to make no promises, it’s always good to know about the surviving scumbags.
“This is my fight, not yours,” Luisa retorts, shaking her head at her own lacking ability. “It has been many years, and I still worry for him so, my lean and skinny Matías, but he cannot rest easy until our vengeance is complete.” Wiping the tears from her eyes with her apron, she turns to me with a faux glower and adds, “So you must eat and grow strong, so that you can train and fight. Perhaps one day I will come to you for help, but not today. I speak to Mr. Mueller. He say you train your mind after hours, but you no train your body. This you must do. That is your work. I know you are an honest boy, so you will continue with the building of the warehouse, but so too must you train, for an ōcēlōtl’s work is never done.”
“I will,” I say, touched by her faith and concern, even though I know much of it stems from the trauma of losing her son. I don’t delve into the details neither, but I know that despite her mature, motherly appearance, this here is a woman hard as steel. Not to mention how whatever her religion might be, it sounds more my speed than Christianity, what with all the ‘turn the other cheek’ nonsense. Forget that. Someone hits you, you hit them right back, not because it’ll solve all your issues, but because if you don’t then you might as well put up a sign and become a professional punching bag.
It ain’t about vengeance exactly. It’s about returning the favour, an eye for the eye, a tooth for a tooth, and if the whole world ends up blind and toothless, then at the very least, the scales will still be balanced. That’s good enough for me, and won’t no one tell me different, because forgiveness is just a fancy word for giving up, and I ain’t one to
