Sol Survivors 3

Chapter One

Chapter One

Chapter One

Joel’s spirits rose as he strolled through the trading post and took in the widening variety of goods showing up. One merchant this afternoon displayed hand-made toys for young children, including a helicopter-type thing that took off into the air by rapidly pulling a spiraled stick from under its launch pad. Joel briefly considered getting one for himself. Another vendor had a selection of healthcare supplies such as reading glasses, crutches, and a wheelchair that a potential customer was in the process of inspecting.

It was the table full of jewelry which succeeded in capturing Joel’s full attention. The two men standing at either side holding rifles, one of them an AR-build, only made the short gray-headed man sitting behind the table more interesting. Joel gave the items on display a quick onceover before asking the question on his mind.

“Got anything else?”

The man straightened. “Are you … Joel McConnell?”

“Yes, by no fault of my own.”

“It is my honor to meet you, sir. What are you looking for?”

Joel glanced side to side before answering.

“Perhaps a diamond ring—for a woman?”

“You mean an engagement ring?”

Joel nodded.

“For yourself?”

Joel hesitated. “Yes.”

“I offer my congratulations, sir. I perceive that you prefer to keep the matter discreet, which I fully understand and is common in my business. Do you happen to know her ring size?”

“No. And thank you. Please call me Joel.”

“Name’s Tuck,” he said bending down to reach under the table. “I’m staying with the Wades in the next neighborhood over, or maybe two neighborhoods depending on how you measure them here. I was the most reputable jeweler in Charlotte pre-Helios.”

Tuck gave his two associates a concerned glance before brushing a section of bracelets aside with one hand and bringing a small metal box to the tabletop with the other. They reacted by gripping their rifles tighter and taking a more formidable stance.

He opened the box. It had six compartments. Three of them contained small velvet pouches, the other three gold rings of various thicknesses.

“The largest stone I have with me is about 1.3 carats,” he said. “But it’s a real beauty.”

Joel chuckled. “Let’s see it.”

Tuck opened one of the velvet pouches and dropped a classic-cut diamond from it into his free palm, where he rolled it about as he gazed upon it in an act of worship.

“Nice,” Joel said. “How much?”

Tuck frowned. “Well, including the band of your choice…” He went into thought. “Your marketplace has a reputation of safety and liquidity, which is why I came. So I assume you won’t be offended if I ask for a full cash payment?”

“Not at all,” Joel answered.

“Mounted and sized, I’ll take nine federal vouchers, twelve Vector, or sixteen Octo.”

Now Joel frowned. “Sixteen Octo?”

Tuck put the diamond back in the bag. “Those are getting a bad reputation for counterfeits. I really should ask more. To be perfectly honest, I don’t even want to sell for a transaction that is pure Octo. Not for items in the lockbox.”

“We have an authenticator here.” Joel motioned towards a nearby table, where several people were standing in line. “A darn good one.”

“So I heard.” Tuck glanced at the table and changed to an apologetic tone. “The Octo tickets are starting to have a bad taste about them, if you understand my meaning. Not every trading post is like yours. Now maybe if I personally knew this authenticator I’d feel differently, but … I certainly mean no offense, sir.”

“Joel. None taken. That’s one nice thing about him being here. I can exchange the currency without taking much of a hit. I’ll also want him to examine the stone, both this evening and again before I take delivery. I certainly mean no offense, either, even if you are the most reputable jeweler from Charlotte.”

“By all means, Joel. Not a problem at all, as long as it’s just you and him. I take it we have a pending deal, then, assuming it all checks out to your liking? This stone is a legit VVS2 in clarity.”

“I think so. Whatever that means. It’s obvious you genuinely admire it.”

“Does your lady wear any rings currently?

“Yes, one—on the right ring finger.”

“Good.” Tuck nodded. “You need to get me an accurate inner measurement somehow—in millimeters across, or trace it on a piece of cardboard, or better yet sneak it to me and I’ll measure it. This transaction will make it worthwhile for me to stick around a couple days to complete.”

Joel’s attention was drawn by the sounds of an argument at the authentication table. This was happening too often lately. He reached inside his coat to his new shoulder holster and loosened the strap on his Glock-19 before excusing himself from Tuck.

“Any trouble?” Joel said stepping to the table.

Arnold sat calmly behind it in his usual pose, his bushy eyebrows wiggling in sync with his mustache as he replied.

“The usual.”

“This bullshit is usual?” The man standing before him spouted. He was about Joel’s age and wore a Florida Marlins windbreaker. Joel had never seen him before.

“Check it for yourself,” Arnold said producing an Octo voucher from a pouch he kept on the table. “This is a real one. See how the tentacles under the O are wavier, and the spacing of the certificate numbers is tighter. I am sorry, sir.”

The man snatched the voucher from Arnold and furiously looked back and forth between it and his counterfeit.

“There’s not much difference,” he replied. “I don’t buy it. Mine is legit, too. It has to be. What kind of con job are you guys running?”

A man standing behind him, who was one of the vendors this evening, shrugged and said, “Sorry,” before walking back to his booth.

The Marlins fan began grumbling a string of curse words. Joel noticed a cigar in his shirt pocket.

“Don’t feel too bad about it,” Joel said to him. “Counterfeit Octo vouchers are popping up everywhere. You like cigars? Here.” Joel handed him a cigar from inside his jacket pocket. “This is a good pre-Helios Dominican.”

The man appeared to spot Joel’s holster under his jacket before grudgingly accepting the cigar, retuning Arnold’s voucher, and storming off.

Joel shook his head at Arnold. “Keeping the peace in these incidents is beginning to eat into my revenue.”

Arnold chuckled. “Consider it an operational expense. What’s for dinner?”

“I almost forgot I invited you. Catfish.”

“Oh, did Ricky catch a big one this week?”

“Yep. The kid is a wonder. The army psychiatrist still can’t figure him out. I need you to authenticate a diamond for me at another table, preferably before the noctos show up.”

Arnold raised those black bushy eyebrows and tilted his head slightly. “Really?”

Right then another man who’d been in line came up. “Are you available now?” he asked. “Don’t mean to interrupt, but I need these train tickets authenticated before dusk.”

“Train tickets?” Joel said turning to him. Joel had never seen this man before, either. He had a head bursting with curly brown hair and a matching full beard, but somehow still presented himself as elegant.

“Yes sir,” the man replied. He extended the tickets in his hand to Arnold. “Got them from the man in the conductor’s hat. Not sure if he’s in costume as part of the official crew, or playing the part to scalp tickets. Says he’s gonna start coming here every day. I’d be more comfortable if you could verify them.”

“This is the second time I’ve seen these,” Arnold said accepting the tickets. He pulled out his digital camera and began scrolling through images until he found the one he wanted, and then did a 2-minute study, concluding it by taking a picture of the man’s tickets. “They look legit to me.”

“Can you give them your stamp? In case I have a mind to trade them.”

Arnold somewhat hesitantly complied and rubber-stamped the back of them with his notary seal, adding his initials.

“Thanks,” the man said. “Here you go. It’s venison.” He handed Arnold a baggie full of jerky strips.

When he left, Arnold gave the bag to Joel. “Never had a desire to eat a deer. Reminds me of roadkill. Maybe this will help recoup your expenses.”

“What is this train?” Joel asked.

“They’re calling it the Chattanooga Choo Choo. Runs from Birmingham all the way to DC. Goes right through Knoxville. Thought I even heard the whistle in the distance the other day. Only doing diurnal runs so far. Soon to be expanded to New Orleans. Two of the Dollywood Park steam engines pull it. I hear it can get above 60 miles per hour. Not bad for pure coal, I suppose. It travels on Norfolk and Amtrak rails.”

“McConnell!” a voice shouted from behind. “Mail call.”

Joel turned to see the small stature of Jerry Jung walking from his horse tied at the roadside hitching post. His hands were full.

“You’re late today,” Joel said as Jerry approached.

“I know. Ricky’s not here?”

“No. I’ll take the Dunn house stuff for them.”

“All right, here you go. Yours is on top. No time to chat. See you in a couple days, most likely.”

“Thanks, Jerry.”

The top letter caught Joel’s attention. “This is interesting.”

“What?” Arnold asked.

“Something from the Small Businessman’s Association in DC.” He flipped it over, and then nearly did a flip himself when he saw the next item.

“And a letter from Sammy!”

* * *

“I don’t know how anyone can make fish taste that good,” Arnold said taking much too big a gulp of steaming hot coffee. Joel could tell by his reaction that he burned his mouth.

Joel glanced out the window. “It’s the spice rub, the quality of the fish Ricky catches, fresh eggs and goat milk, and, according to my pretty cook, covering the frying pan except for a c***k. Be careful with that coffee, Arnold. You can take it to go if you are overly-concerned about getting caught on a half-block stretch of road at dusk. I’ll walk up the driveway with you, as I still need to give the Dunns their mail.”

“Speaking of that,” Debra said sitting back down, “why don’t you read the letter?”

“I was hoping to hear some of it myself,” Arnold chimed. “I almost feel like I know him from the stories you’ve told. I’m between books, so there isn’t much available in the way of entertainment at the house.”

“I’m still trying to find you some appropriate roommates,” Joel said, “since the last ones flaked.”

“No hurry,” Arnold answered. “And I do appreciate the ‘appropriate’ part. I wasn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect of living with nocturnals, though I was willing to give it a try, being a heavy sleeper.”

Joel shrugged. “At least they’d rarely be in your way. I should have known it wouldn’t work out. I thought it would be a nice experiment to actually pull off.”

Arnold lifted his mug. “Another tour de force in your crusade to unite the world.”

Joel decided not to respond to that. Red stood from the table as if to leave, but Debra pulled him back down by his flannel over-shirt, smiling. Joel reached behind to the counter, grabbed Sammy’s letter, and opened it. It was written on paper that looked old and slightly stained.

“Hey boss,” Joel began reading. “I’m happy to have no interesting adventures to report as of late. The potatoes and sugar beets are plush, and the hay has been harvested, so is sitting in huge rolls in the fields.”

Hey bossI’m happy to have no interesting adventures to report as of late. The potatoes and sugar beets are plush, and the hay has been harvested, so is sitting in huge rolls in the fieldsJoel paused to take a sip of coffee. “We rigged the irrigation boom wheels so they work from water pressure alone, like in ‘the good old days’ according to my uncle. Because the hot season is just starting we’ll have to keep them running daily, but the creeks and ditches are full. Expect a load of potatoes coming your way after harvest. Wish I could get away for a visit beforehand, but…”

We rigged the irrigation boom wheels so they work from water pressure alone, like in ‘the good old days’ according to my uncle. Because the hot season is just starting we’ll have to keep them running daily, but the creeks and ditches are full. Expect a load of potatoes coming your way after harvest. Wish I could get away for a visit beforehand, but…”Joel took another sip and noticed everyone frowning at him.

“…you know how it is. Mick, on the other hand, is going off on another adventure. He got word that the lights are turning on in DC—in fact they will probably already be on before you read this. So the Supreme Court is returning to their building, and the justices want their experienced clerks back. He is taking the car, of course, which leaves me high and dry—except for a ‘73 Javelin in my uncle’s barn that almost runs. You should see this thing: red, white, and rusty. He was going to restore it someday, but will probably never get to it now. Would be something to get running good and drive the interstate with. After harvest I should have all the vouchers I need to come back down, so, assuming I scrounge up a reliable vehicle, hoping to see you then for a visit. Will write again soon. Peace, out. Sammy.”

…you know how it is. Mick, on the other hand, is going off on another adventure. He got word that the lights are turning on in DC—in fact they will probably already be on before you read this. So the Supreme Court is returning to their building, and the justices want their experienced clerks back. He is taking the car, of course, which leaves me high and dry—except for a ‘73 Javelin in my uncle’s barn that almost runs. You should see this thing: red, white, and rusty. He was going to restore it someday, but will probably never get to it now. Would be something to get running good and drive the interstate with. After harvest I should have all the vouchers I need to come back down, so, assuming I scrounge up a reliable vehicle, hoping to see you then for a visit. Will write again soon. Peace, out. SammyJoel refolded the letter. The four of them joked about it a bit before he and Arnold stood up to leave. Jules rose from his spot on the floor to accompany them, panting in anticipation of going for a walk. Red followed them all outside. Joel noticed a glob of something on the porch rail that wasn’t there earlier. He picked it up.

“That’s a sample from the ground you wanted me to dig up,” Red said as Joel held it. “Pure clay. I wanted you to see it. I’ll still dig if you want me to Mr. McConnell, but—”

“No,” Joel said. “Forget it.” He squeezed the clay and noticed how pliable it was.

Then he saw Debra through the kitchen window beginning to do the dishes. An idea struck him.

“Give me a minute, Arnold,” Joel said. He went back inside before Arnold could object.

“Deb, do you know where my small flashlight is?” he asked. “I’m going to let Arnold borrow it as a pacifier.”

She glanced out the window. “He’s walked home this late before.”

“I know, but he’s nervous for some reason. Probably because that pouch of his is getting fatter.”

“You mean the small flashlight in your nightstand drawer?”

“That’s where it is supposed to be, yes.”

“Well I didn’t move it.”

“Damn. I looked for it earlier and couldn’t find it.”

“That doesn’t mean it isn’t there.”

“It was my favorite flashlight, too.”

Debra muttered something to herself about “men,” rinsed her hands, dried them on a dish towel which she subsequently threw down in disgust, and stomped into the bedroom.

When her form vanished from the doorway Joel acted quickly. He went to the window ledge where she always placed her ring when she did the dishes. Dammit, not there. It took another agonizing five seconds to locate it in a different spot on the ledge.

Looking to the doorway, he heard the sound of items moving around in a drawer and knew he still had time, even with the next sound of Debra sighing. He pressed the ring into the clay, examined it to confirm it made a good impression, and stuck the clay in his jacket pocket.

Then he noticed a speck of the clay stuck to the ring. In panic mode, he tried to brush it off, wasn’t sure if he succeeded or not, and placed the ring back on the ledge, not quite where he picked it up from.

“Right where it was supposed to be,” Debra’s voice announced. Joel turned to her. She stood in the doorway with one hand on a hip and the other dangling the flashlight by the strap.

Joel went to her, kissed a rigid cheek, and took the flashlight. “Thanks, babe.”

He ignored the glaring look of suspicion on her face as he re-exited to the porch to find Red, Jules, and Arnold all already gone.