Baby's Lead

Baby drew nearer the frozen pond. She poked it with a finger, bending low to do so. Laura watched on with an amused expression, Postie and the guards ignored the two of them as they hooded and hitched the Dead. They’d made it to their next stop, a small town that had not seen much traffic even pre-apocalypse. They were welcomed warmly enough by the locals, Barbra supposed, as they flooded out to usher them inside their walls.

A young man with a pinched expression on his face began hounding Barbra the instant she entered through the reinforced steel gate.

“What did you think?” He sighed at the blank expression on her face. “The pond! I froze it! While I was testing one of these fellas,” He held up a small ball-like device.

“Tinker! Leave the new people alone, there’s a good lad.” The leader of the community, a huge bear of a man known only as Jim, lightly berated his town-mate, then turned to Barbra. “Sorry about that. He’s a good kid, usually, but he really likes showing off his gadgets.” Tinker screwed up his face in such a sheepish manner that Barbra felt immediately sorry for him and determined to discover as much about his new device as she could. Besides which, she always enjoyed chatting with inventors and other creative minds.

In the courtyard behind the main gate, formerly a hardware shop carpark, they regrouped. Postie handed several packages out to both Laura and Barbra, ordering the pair to search the recipients out and deliver their goods. The first of these, a large box that rattled whenever Barbra moved, had a large label that simply read TINKER.

She spotted him moving through the thin crowd easily enough, followed him back to his workshop. When she entered, he was hunched over a microscope with a pair of tweezers in hand fiddling with… something. As she drew closer, she could discern that it was, in fact, a small spherical device about as wide as the heel of Barbra’s thumb. It was open, but it was what he had shown her at the gate.

She placed the box on top of a nearby counter, the only place where there was room available; Tinker’s lab looked like that of any other mad scientist, cluttered with equipment and devices that baffled Barbra’s brain. The noise startled the young man and he finally glanced up at Barbra.

“Oh it’s you!” He grinned. “Here to find out more about the pond?” He then launched into a spiel about the process behind the construction of his spheres, none of which Barbra was able to comprehend. She nodded at his words with a blank smile, enjoying his enthusiasm if nothing else about the interaction. Eventually the man would realise… “… and you aren’t following any of this, are you? I’m sorry, I tend to get a bit carried away…”

“You’d like my aunt Moira, she’s a bit like that. Single minded but brilliant.” Barbra patted the box. “Delivery for you, anyway. Also, if it’s not too much trouble, could you take a look at this?” Evidently even stopping to listen to anything more than the word ‘delivery’ was too much trouble for Tinker, as he tore the lid from the cardboard container to expose what lay within.

Barbra allowed him to fossick for a few moments, giving him time to store what needed to be stored and ready what was going to be used directly before snapping her fingers in his face to command his attention once again before showing him the sketch of the man she’d taken to calling ‘Alfred’. She needn’t have bothered, in the end, as Tinker was wholeheartedly consumed in his work and had no time or inclination to discuss anything else. He was polite about the whole procedure and gently forced three of his spheres into her hand when she finally gave up questioning him.

“They work really well on the Dead, freeze them solid. Totally solid. Permanently. Living folk; well, they thaw out eventually. Usually in a bad mood when they do, in my experience.” Tinker told her confidentially as he held her hand closed over his own, making absolutely certain that she was holding onto them. “Just throw one at your target. And try not to break them accidentally.”

Laura grinned at her as she approached the cart to gather the next delivery. Postie sat on top, smoking a pipe and smiling at the fading sunlight. The guards were absent, likely getting a drink at the local pub. She and Laura would find out together, and soon. The next delivery, in fact the rest of this settlement’s deliveries, were all going there.

They loaded several boxes up onto a sack-cart supplied by the pub, more crates than boxes in most cases. A few minutes hard work later they were done and seated at the bar. Barbra had a far greater response to showing her sketch of ‘Alfred’ here, though mostly it was compliments on her ability as an artist. One fellow, hunched in a corner and keeping to himself, glanced briefly at the sketch and feigned ignorance until Barbra’s hand slammed the sketch down in front of him. She’d noticed a slight twitch of an eyebrow as he attempted to ignore the drawing. He recognised the face.

“Where did you see him?” Barbra had no idea how aggressive she was sounding, but the man was terrified. Laura was trying to hold her laughter inside by biting her lower lip. “Tell me what I want to know, and I’ll leave you alone.”

“N-North of here. In a town called Hope. I didn’t want to say anything because I got a weird vibe from the guy, like he wasn’t quite part of this world almost.” His voice trembled less as he went on. “But he’s got nothing on you!” Laura could contain herself no longer and the laughter streamed forth. One-ear giggled from her spot at the bar; she’d observed the entire exchange.

“You know, there was a technique called Good-Cop, Bad-Cop back before,” Laura told her friend. “You’d make a great Bad-Cop.” Barbra knew the concept. She’d seen police procedurals before. Ginger back at Coober’s Nest had an entire library of video cassettes of countless police shows. Barbra had watched each and every episode of each and every show.

“I do know how to get answers, don’t I?” Barbra mused.

One-ear joined them at a table, a waiter tailing her with a tray containing several pint glasses filled with beer that he proceeded to place in front of the three women. Laura sampled hers with a grimace; she didn’t like the stuff, but free beer is still free beer. Barbra tasted hers and decided immediately that while she enjoyed the effect it had inside her body that the taste was horrendous. Going back for a second sip she confirmed her suspicions; the coolness as it slid down her throat was wonderful, but the flavour reminded her of a latrine.

Several pints later she revised her opinion. The effect it was having on her body was amazing but the flavour of beer coming up once again as she stood bent over out the front of the pub was far worse than it had been going down. She noticed a droplet of red in the otherwise relatively clear patch of beer-chunder.

Laura stood by her, equally drunk but more used to the effects, stroking her friend’s shoulder while Toothless and Snarl lay in a drunken puddle a few metres away. One-ear had grabbed a local and disappeared with her new friend for a suspiciously lengthy amount of time. When Barbra was sure she was finished vomiting up everything she had ever drunk before, she took a step in the wrong direction and doubled over again to let out another stream of unpleasantness. Then she realised her mistake and turned back around to begin staggering back to the guesthouse.

Her hangover was one for the ages, though as it was her first, she had no frame of reference. She resolved to never drink again, suspecting it was the first of many utterances of that particular vow. Perhaps the problem was the beer, maybe she should try something else? Something that tasted nice going down perhaps…

Postie was securing the remaining deliveries as Barbra approached. He sniffed the air, then turned.

“Had a bit of a night, did we?” He smiled softly. “That’s alright, as long as you’re still good to travel today.” She assured him that she would be, if only just.

“Do we have anything for a town called Hope?” She didn’t remember seeing anything as they were unloading yesterday but she didn’t see everything.

“No, but we travel through there on our way to Coober’s Nest. We have something that somebody there has been waiting on for a long time.” Barbra had no clue as to what it might be, but it was good to know that they would be visiting her home settlement. She hadn’t been gone that long, but she already missed the people that she grew up with and loved. It would be nice to see some of them again; it was likely that not everybody would be there, though. “Hope is our next rest-stop, in any event. The pub there can get a bit rowdy, however, so prepare yourself.”

Barbra assured the old man that she was, indeed, ready for anything. The rest of their caravan was beginning to arrive, One-ear with a face-spanning grin, Snarl looking even grumpier than usual. Toothless looked Dead until he spoke, even that was only to complain about his head.

“Ready for anything, are we? I’ve heard that before. Come along, then, don’t dawdle!” Postie chivvied them all into position and Baby and Laura de-hooded the Dead so that they could begin the next leg of their journey; to Hope.