“Yeah… yeah, I should be able to help — but what about you? Are you okay man?”
“Mostly,” Wentworth rubbed the back of his right calf, “the chain whipped around and hit my leg when it broke, but these chaps took most of brunt. My leg was numb for a while there, but now it’s just bruised. I didn’t wipe out or anything and I can still walk — so yeah, I’m okay.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“Yeah, so am I. The trek here was bad enough without a broken leg.”
“How far out were you?”
“About twenty klicks. That’ll be a problem.”
“Hmm,” Raxx thought for a minute, “It’s doable. Come by my workshop tomorrow morning and we’ll talk. Don’t worry, I won’t overcharge you. But I’m off the clock right now, so I don’t want to talk business,” he smiled, “I haven’t even said welcome to Blackstock. The name’s Raxx, by the way, like I said earlier.”
“Pleased to meet you, Raxx. People call me Wentworth.” They got up to shake hands and Raxx relocated to a couch near the window — his larger frame made him lurch in the seats. “I’ve gotta say,” said Wentworth, “this place seems alright. Everyone I’ve met has been decently friendly so far.”
“Yeah, it ain’t a bad place. I’m new here myself. Moved in about six months back.”
“Right — the bartender said something about a new Tech in town.”
“Yeah, that’s me, but I prefer ‘Mechanic’ — you can decide later if I deserve it or not.” He sipped his beer, and looked out over the town. “I like Blackstock — I think it’s because it’s so isolated. Out West — well, there’s a lot of bullshit. People are denser out there, so you’ve got plenty of derelicts, and then there’s the politics… between the different cities, that is… but Blackstock, it’s pretty isolated. It’s not on any of the trade routes, and there’s no working railroad, so you avoid all that shit. But at the same time it gets the occasional trader coming through — it’s got enough contact to keep it sorted out, with none of the garbage. The locals are a bit suspicious at first, but they give you a chance if you’re alright.”
“What about you then? You don’t seem too suspicious.”
Raxx shrugged. “Like I said, I’m an outsider here too, so I guess I just want to talk with someone else who’s from the outside. If you head downstairs though, I’ll bet that Eddie — he’s the bartender — he’ll start up a conversation with you. He likes hearing any news from other places almost as much as he likes to hear himself talk.”
Wentworth drained the last drops from his glass. It was warm and bitter. A wave of exhaustion washed over him as the alcohol slid through his veins. “Well, Raxx, I’m glad I met you — especially since you’re a Mechanic — but I’ve got to crash. After that trek I’m about ready to pass out. Say, are there any hotels in town?”
“Hey man, don’t worry — Landfall here used to be an Inn back before the war. Nowadays it’s mostly just the Ale House, but Eddie and his mom still keep rooms for the traders that come through. They’ll make you breakfast and dinner, too.”
“That’s good to hear; I’ve been carrying that duffle over there for long enough. I hate to take off on you, but I’m burned — I’m gonna head downstairs, and get things sorted out, then rack. What time should I come by tomorrow? And where is it?”
“I set up in an old service station nobody was using. It’s just down Main Street a ways. It’s got one of those red and blue signs out front on a post. Just come by whenever you’re up, I’ve got other stuff I can work on if you need to sleep in. If I’m not there just ask around — I shouldn’t be too far.”
“Alright. Thanks a lot, I appreciate it. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He shook Raxx’s hand, then left, taking the glass and pitcher with him.
Raxx drank the rest of his beer slowly, listening to the music below and watching the stars come out through the window. It was a quiet night and nobody came up to play pool. He wondered a bit about the stranger, thinking about the man’s motorcycle and what he could do to fix it, but mostly he thought about Connie. He hoped she would be feeling better by next week. The locals were big on their annual ‘Corn Festival,’ scheduled for the Saturday after next. She was looking forward to the dance.
Chapter 2
The night’s rest was refreshing. He couldn’t ignore the welt on his leg, but he was feeling energized as he hobbled down to Raxx’s workshop.
Breakfast had been included like the Mechanic had said; there’d been a full meal of eggs, hash browns, stewed tomatoes, coffee, and Eddie’s conversation. The bartender had talked straight through the meal, offering anecdotes about the weather, local rumours, the Landfall family’s brewing methods, and a story about a two-headed calf born earlier that year. Wentworth had eaten in silence, offering the occasional nod or grunt to keep him going, but otherwise staying quiet. The coffee was strong and black, and its heat made him sweat as it brought him into the world.
A fresh breeze was blowing as he walked down Main Street. Within the city limits was the occasional tree. South of the town he saw smoke rising from what he presumed to be a coal flue. The winds came from the east and took the smoke with them.
The cement was cracked and the buildings were makeshift, but the locals kept things clean. He even saw an old lady in a knitted shawl sweeping the street in front of her home, and he passed an empty lot where all the local vehicles had been collected, cleared from the roads. The sun had reached the slow part of its ascent, and the stalls were being set up in the marketplace, empty booths filling with produce and crafts. As he walked by he noticed that people showed him the same sort of polite indifference that the bar patrons had shown the night before. They’d nod at him as he passed, but they refrained from staring and gossiping until he was further down the road. He almost felt invisible — almost.
Raxx’s workshop was easy enough to find. The sign he’d mentioned rose ten meters in the air and was easily the tallest structure in town. Though sun bleached, covered with grime, and missing a corner, its red-and-blue logo was still readable, more vivid than the town’s population sign.
The building itself was just a couple of small service bays connected to a mid-sized bunker. It was set back from the road, with four rusted fuel-pumps in place along the two concrete islands out front. The walls were greyish-white, with discolourations where advertisements posters had peeled off, and empty racks out front. The large windows were boarded up with wood and sheet metal, and an eve’s system ran down to a rain barrel next to the door. Raxx sat there waiting for him, smoking a cigar and drinking coffee out of a chipped mug. He waved when he saw Wentworth.
“Morning,” said Wentworth once he was in talking distance.
“Yes it is,” replied Raxx, “How’d they treat you over at the Landfall’s?”
“It was good.”
“Glad to hear it. Nice piece of hardware, by the way.”
Wentworth tugged on the sling of his rifle and shrugged, “Yeah, well, speak softly and carry a big stick, right?”
“Hey, I’m not saying anything different. I don’t go out to the country without my shotgun. Glad to see you came prepared,” he stubbed out his cigar, “You said your transmission chain snapped. You know its grade?”
“It’s diameter you mean? Yeah,” Wentworth pulled a notebook out of his pocket and read off the number he’d written down the day before.
“I think I have that. If not I should be able to relink the old one; I’ll tell you what — how does this sound? I’ll look it all over for fifty Litres, then I’ll give you an estimate — but if I can’t fix it at all, then everything’s free. You need new valves… four-hundred, ‘cause I’ll have to make them myself. Sound fair?”