Generations After

006

After many attempts, Anthony developed two new statuses. One was the pain of the emptiness in his stomach. The other being the radiation of Riley's anger at his attempt to convince her to catch one of the scaly creatures and use it as a food resource. Depleting was the number of remaining canned goods in his pack, and living off the land was going to become necessary. However, this despair Anthony felt overwrote with elation as a wooden stake sign on the side of the road came into view.

"Look! That sign says 'Nemith'!"

"I can read Ant, did you not hear me ask what a Nemith was a moment ago?"

He forgot that not everyone studied the textbooks about the outside world as approximately 90% of city populations avoided traveling outside the barrier. Riley seemed to be no exception.

"A Nemith is someone who buys and sells equipment from travelers. Stuff like armor, trinkets, other miscellaneous items, and what we are most interested in, weapons."

Riley looked on with astonishment in her eyes, accompanied by a bit of confusion. But despite the look of rusty gears turning in her head, Anthony continued with his explanation.

"Some Nemith's can even craft equipment from their customer's drafts if they have the know-how. They actually got their names from people 'needing smiths' sometime ago. Slang took it from there."

Sadly, that was where his knowledge ended on the subject. The textbooks state nothing of prices or what types of people they typically are. Obviously, that's because it differs from Nemith to Nemith, just as it would from person to person in everyday social life. No matter how he pondered the oncoming situation, Anthony drew blanks on ideas on how to handle it.

He had never bartered for anything in his life. It will also be the first time he would have to interact with someone who thrives off the land. The books mentioned that the Nemith's receive some goods from traveling barters, but Anthony was sure interacting with them would only make them more of a hardass. But if they were going to catch "fast" food, they were going to need a fast firing ranged weapon to even have a chance. Even though Joe lent him 1000 Altris, the common currency of the cities, as well as a used dagger as a parting gift, no one particularly knew how far either of these things would get him beyond the gate.

Anthony caught a glimpse of a small structure protruding from the ground on the side of the path they had stuck to up to this point. After coming up to the tiny wooden shack and looking inside, he noticed it was only an empty boxed room with a metal hatch in the ground only a few centimeters smaller than the shack itself. The sign nailed to the wall said, "always open" and had an arrow pointed down at the hatch.

"Well, if you're gonna enter that scary-looking hatch, I'll follow in after I use the ladies' room," Riley said, moving squeamishly behind him.

"I'll just wait for... Hold on, where do you see a ladies' room?" He took a step back outside and turned to Riley, noticing her cheeks turning a slight shade of red.

"B-behind..." she stuttered for a moment, pointing to a tree just down the side of a divot.

"Oh... I see the dilemma now. I'll just turn around then."

"Noooo! That won't dooo..." she replied with a persistent whine.

"Why not?"

"It's so quiet out here..."

She's afraid I'll hear her.

"Fine, I'll head in. Just be careful out here alone." He was aware of the many fates that awaited people alone on the plains, but didn't notice any immediate threat nearby. Plus, she was being annoying about the whole thing.

With a "can do," she smiled and turned away, skipping to the previously mentioned tree.

The metal hatch creaked as Anthony lifted the handle and swung it open. There was a set of descending wooden stairs. The staircase had multiple lights, revealing it by candlesticks and what seemed to be electrically powered lanterns. He sauntered down the stairs, dipping his head cautiously so as not to hit the ceiling of the small tunnel.

Once he had reached the last step, there was enough room to lift his head back up, but only about a half foot or so remained between his hairs and the wood beam lining the roof. A man's scruffy face peeked at the boy from a small glass window that was built into a wall across the room. Only the man's head was visible, the rest of him hidden behind the metal plating that surrounded the window reaching the edges of the small bunker.

The man seemed to struggle as he announced, "My name is Theodore, and welcome to my shop," with a stern voice.

The man seemed to be very welcoming, but Anthony had to keep his cool.

If the man were to figure out that he had never been outside the walls of a city before, his prices will more than likely skyrocket. Anthony could feel the sweat bead down his forehead from standing next to the candles.

The Nemith just seemed like any other guy, but I can't just let my guard down.

However, as this thought crossed his mind, the man lifted a gun to the glass screen and pointed the barrel in Anthony's direction.

Anthony felt his heart drop to his stomach as he froze in place. He had no choice but to keep still as he glared down the barrel of the man's handgun. But, just as quick as he produced it, Theodore pulled his gun back and adjusted the firearm under his head.

Anthony was speechless as he watched the man scratch his stubbled chin with the muzzle.

"You can't look so scared at the end of a trigger kid. Your 'cover' will be blown right out the window. I mean, you practically turned greener with each step you took down those stairs."

Anthony remained speechless to this comment.

Greener? Like a newbie? Was he testing me? Of course he was, and I failed miserably.

With this revelation, Anthony felt disgusted with himself as he took a few steps closer to the glass. As he did so, he analyzed the room, noticing a hard to see crevice around what seemed to be a door-like shape within the metal wall. He assumed that's how Theodore managed making it in and out of the room if need be.

But what would be so wrong with someone noticing that? It wasn't like someone could kick a metal door in. It wasn't as if I had a personal desire to try it myself, though.

After surveying his surroundings, Anthony approached the glass window, the bottom of which only met the bottom of his nose.

"Look, son," a squeaking echoed from behind the metal as Theodore adjusted himself in what Anthony assumed was an adjustable chair. "There's no need to be nervous. Just by looking at your clothes, I can tell you haven't been on the road long. Good on you for keeping your guard, but this is probably the safest place you could be. No one down here except myself and all I want is your money." He paused for a moment as he set his gun down, clanking it against a metal counter.

The gesture was friendly, but there was no way Anthony was going to allow himself to show even more of the cards in his hand. On the other hand, Anthony was already beat. The Nemith had figured him out. But he resolved to neither confirming nor denying what the man was saying. Instead, choosing to let him believe what he wanted.

Anthony used to play poker with his old neighbors when he was younger. As the old man would put it, "you have no poker face kiddo." It was getting painful trying to keep up this attempt at a facade. Temptation told him to come out and say what he could, but just because he didn't have a poker face, he still knew how to play the game. If he was going to speak, he was going to have to make it a game of give and take.

"Theodore, was it? I've just come from the city of Ferris, about 15 miles east of here, and I need some equipment to catch some food and maybe some directions to the closest inhabited towns."

"Ferris is a crowded city, but I've heard that it has its views. Never tested for my ticket to get in, though. Markets are too flooded with non-experienced folk."

Theodore spoke as he pulled a black mug to his lips and, after a quick sip, he set it back down and motioned Anthony to look downward with a point of his finger.

"You probably can't see it, but there is a compartment on this counter. I'll tell you what's in my arsenal. You say what you might be interested in, and I'll let you test it out." A chute opened up and grazed Anthony's waist, nearly knocking him in a forbidden place.

He paused for a moment before continuing, "you seem like a good kid, but I'll warn you just in case. There are explosives embedded within all of this equipment. If you try to walk up the stairs without paying, you won't be doing much walking anymore after that or talking or crawling..."

Anthony already purged his mind of stealing anything, but he let Theodore finish his examples of things he wouldn't be doing anymore.

"... I mean, even the bombs have bombs. So now that that's all settled. What'll it be? I have swords, guns, armor, technological wearables, relics and, of course, explosives."

Per Anthony's request, and after a few moments of Theodore shuffling around in the back, the drop box had opened up. A large bolt-action rifle sat on the foam material covering every inch of the interior of the box. He could hear a chuckle from the once again sitting blacksmith.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing kid, you just look like it's Christmas morning." He was right. Anthony could feel the grin growing on his face as he reached down for the rifle. He wasn't too much of a gun junkie, but holding this masterpiece of engineering was making his legs quiver. She was heavy, but Anthony appreciated every little thing from stock to barrel. He took a glance through the scope, but being in a small bunker, the crosshair didn't lead too much.

"How much for her?" He said, pulling her black body away from his cheek.

"14,950 Altris."

"Four... 14,000?! That's enough to make me cry." With a disheartened breath, he sat her back into the foam covered box. Joseph and Kari were well off, but Anthony never held, let alone had even seen that amount before.

"Sorry to crush your dreams, kid. I should have asked for your price range first." Theodore reached for something behind the wall. As the box closed on Anthony's end, he couldn't help but think.

Maybe one day.

Theodore continued, "So, how do your savings look?"

Anthony tilted his head down in disappointment. "1000" it seemed to him with that amount. He'd never hold that rifle again. But Joe probably didn't think Anthony would use much money outside the walls. Even more than shocked to know that Ant was trying to spend it all at once.

"Wow, barely able to afford a safe place to sleep tonight let alone a weapon," he paused for a moment, scratching his short black hair covered head. "Well, I have a few options in mind. However, you won't be able to afford any ammo with what I'm going to recommend for your situation unless you wanted to switch your interests to melee."

Anthony pulled his dagger from its sheath. He guessed Theodore didn't see it attached to his waist. Its small size helped to keep it hidden.

"I already have that part covered, but thanks anyway. I was just hoping to have the option of a ranged weapon for wild food." Just as he finished his sentence, Anthony caught himself.

Did I just lighten up to the mood? Did I just thank him?

Once again, Theodore got up and walked behind the metal wall, shuffling some things around in the back. Anthony could hear clinking followed by loud clangs as if Theodore were striking something with a hammer. As he came back into view, he continued tinkering with something, sounded to him like a cleaning brush on metal. The box popped back open on Anthony's side, but nothing was inside.

"Put 800, and your map in the box, and I'll give you what you want." Theodore paused for a moment as he looked at the watch on his wrist. "You'll have to camp out tonight, but you'll at least be able to afford a meal or two once you make it into the village I'll be marking on your map."

Anthony pulled out the bills and hovered them above the box, but stopped. "Wait... you're not just gonna take it and close—"

"Just put the damn money in the damn box! s**t! Never heard of generosity or gratitude?"

Anthony hushed and continued as Theodore said with a look of frustration in himself growing on his face. After the box retracted and opened once again, Anthony found his map and a small pistol laying against the foam. For it being a few pieces of screwed metal, it surprised him to feel how light it was. On closer inspection, he found the clip on the bottom of the handle and the magazine release on the side to free it from the shaft. With a click, the butt plate fell against his palm.

Empty...

As the man said, Anthony couldn't afford the ammo or even a holster. Anthony had no choice but to tuck it under the sheath of his knife in the waistline of his pants. He shivered as the barrel pressed against his backside. Even though it wasn't directly touching his skin, the metal was still quite cold. He snatched up the map that remained in the box and folded it back into his blue jean pocket.

"Thank you for everything, Theodore," Anthony said with sincerity.

"Don't mention it," he paused for a moment, "make sure you come back. I'm sure she'll be happy to see you again."

Anthony chuckled and nodded as he turned and ascended the stairs. However, with each step up, his feet dragged.

I really have to stop misjudging people...