Movement Read online



  Movement

  A Short Story Collection

  By

  Gabe Sluis

  Movement

  Copyright © 2015 by G. Sluis

  First Edition

  Cover Photo: Gabe Sluis

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead or undead, is entirely coincidental.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Seasonals

  Who Is Lora Clark

  Onyx

  The Library

  Fake Your Own

  The Door

  Two Rabbits

  If Your Right Hand...

  The Game

  Seasonals

  Geo and the gang sat scattered among the red granite steps leading up to the old church. The Victorian monster was an island of the past in a sea of modernity. It was four in the morning and the streets were empty, but that meant little to the seasonals. They lived on their own timetable when the days were warm.

  "It's been a long summer," Geo remarked, lounging back on the hard steps.

  "No longer than any other," Pook shot back.

  "Well, it is the middle of October and seems really warm to me. I walked past the university yesterday and their thermometer read eighty-two! That's pretty warm with less than a month left, Pook."

  Pook stood and flapped his arms. The smattering of street people on the steps turned to watched the old man berate Geo.

  "How old are you, boy? Fourty or somethin'? I've been living season to season since sixty-two! I seen pups like you come and go! I know how long summer lasts! It ain't longer than none other I seen! Winter will hit right after Halloween and that is that! We are lucky to get as much of these warm days as we can! So you just shut right up about it being a long summer. Next thing you know you'll be talkin' how long it felt when you was a-sleep all winter!"

  "Sittawn, Pook," Hattie croaked from her spot leaning against a railing. "Let the kid say what he wants."

  "Sixty-two summers I been out here," Pook mumbled to himself, plopping back down in his spot. "Never missed earning enough to be sheltered through the winter. Yah think these fools would give me a little respect..."

  "Don't pay him no mind, Gee," Groza spoke up. He sat next to Geo, fishing through his sack of recyclables. "Look at the old man. He is as white as you are, but he is so encrusted in street dust you'd never know! Whenever I see him on the first of spring, he absolutely sparkles! I bet the freeze is the only bath he takes all year!"

  "Oh, you goon!" Pook yelled back. "Why waste my time paying fora bath. I earn just enough to eat and pay for the winter! All those luxuries you kids waste on... You'da think that you were living yer old lives like the richers- goin' up in space an living in their tall buildings all winter... I don't make no big deals! I've tried flippin', and it ain't as consistent as scroungen'.

  "And look at you Geo, spendin' all yer money on a nice coat and them shoes. How much you got saved up for the winter?" Pook jabbed. "I bet you just blow all the money you make and have to hustle right at the end. One of these days it is gunna catch up with ya and yer gunna be dead!"

  Pook shouted his last word as he got to his feet. He continued to mumble to himself as he climbed up on his bicycle, loaded down with mounds and mounds of junk. The dirty homeless man road away from his group of familiars; people in the same situation, who some might call friends.

  "He makes a good point," Groza said to Geo. "The old man has survived pretty long out here. You are always out there lookin' for the big scores. There is consistent money in mining the streets like I do. People is always throwin' out stuff. Maybe you should collect like me and Pook do."

  "No offense, Groza, but look at that old fart. He sleeps in the ivy under the freeway during the day and haunts the same dumpsters and trashcans on a schedule. That's just not for me. I like to live on the fly! I cruise around. I talk to people. When there are opportunities out there to flip something or make a quick buck, I take it. Freedom, man! Plus, I don't see how you sleep on the concrete the way you do. I'll sleep in the gardens sometimes, but if I can pull a mattress here or there, that's what I'm gunna do!"

  "But do you have anything saved for the winter?" Hattie asked the smooth-taking youngster.

  "I got some of it. But I gotta eat too, you know. I'm taking off today in fact. I'm going on a long loop to talk to some people. I got the drop on this old lady that found her dead husband's car hidden in their parking garage. Apparently it's a classic and if I could flip it for a good price, I'm set for the winter and then some! Maybe open me a bank account!"

  Everyone on the steps laughed at the absurd final remark. Groza found it particularly funny.

  "Yeah, maybe even have enough to buy you a suit and fake diploma. Get you a real job so you don't have to go to sleep every winter!"

  "And miss out on this life? Miss listing to Pook drone on about how he is ninety years old? Naw, this seasonal life is for me. No boss, no schedule. I take care of me!"

  Geo got up from his place and zipped up his jacket. He tucked the scarf under his collar and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Later, lads! I'm off to find the big score!"

  A.C. Hess made his way back up the beach on the north side of the sound. His backpack was half full of scavenged goods, his pockets stuffed with small bills from the days haul. A.C. had done well flying his sign down at the exits leading to the suburbs. Richers in the Gateway had soft hearts for the seasonals this time of year.

  There was a figure sitting in the sand, with his back against a log. He could tell it was a man by his build and the way his arm moved when throwing rocks into the sound. A.C. recognized the young man when he got within speaking distance, another seasonal that fancied himself a broker.

  "Heyya, Hess," Geo said, getting to his feet. "You do alright today?"

  "Until I'm living in the Governors mansion, I ain't doing that well. What brings you out here, kid?"

  "I'm tracking down a lady with a car. I got a couple of quarts of beer. Thought you might like one. Maybe pick your brain for a bit," Geo said.

  "Well thaddount sound so bad. Come on up to my camp," A.C. said, leading the way.

  The pair cut off the beach and through a park situated along the water's edge. The owner of the camp took a narrow trail through some bushes and climbed a rise to a shelf of railroad tracks. A hundred feet down the line he took another mud packed trail up the hill, into the woods. Within sight of the tracks, but well hidden from sight, A.C. and Geo reached the camp.

  The center point of the drifter camp was a thin tent covered in camouflage netting. A small fire ring sat in front of the tents' main entrance, next to a stolen park picnic table. The camp was a clash between the encroaching wilderness and the muddy, trash strewn set-up of a man that cared little for his footprint.

  Geo went to the table and removed his pack, digging out the promised bottles of beer. "It ain't a bad spot you got here."

  A.C. grunted a thanks and plopped down in one of his chairs. He took off his dirty baseball cap and scratched the top of his thinning, greasy hair.

  "You still go into hibernation every winter? What do you do with your camp?" Geo asked cracking open his bottle.

  "Oh yeah, acourse. Acourse I don't try to stay out here. That would be real stupid," A.C. answered. "That don't mean I ain't never been stupid. When I first found this place I thought I might be able to hunker down fer the duration. I dug a whole to sleep in, stocked up on food an water. Thought I was so smart when I was really so dumb. Foolish."

  "Couldn't make it, huh?"

  "Take a look at this," A.C. said, kicking the worn boot off his left foot
. All the toes were missing but the smallest on the end. "I was lucky that was all I lost. It gets colder than you can believe. Shatters the old trees. I had one fall about five feet from me when I was huddled in that hole. The dirt was as hard as concrete. I lasted a week and went stumbling into the cryo offices as soon as they cut the dead toes from my foot! An those greedy pigs had the nerve to try an charge me more, just cuz winter had already come and they knew I had no place else to go. Had to take out a loan and work an entire year indentured to get back in he clear! That was it for me! No more schemes. Now I just pack up my stuff, bury it underground and come a runnin' out here as soon as it's spring to claim my spot."

  "Yeah, well, it seems like you do pretty good out here. All peaceful and secluded... You are close enough to walk wherever and have plenty of richers to help with end of season needs." Geo leaned closer and took a big drink of beer. "You've been doing so well I bet you got plenty already to pay for your cryo. You see, I got a great lead on this classic car. It's a custom Newport or something. This old lady had it sitting in storage for years and I saw her driving around. She offered to sell it to me for three grand! I looked it up and I could find a collector who would double that price, no problem! And that's all I need to make up the rest of my own funds so I don't lose any of my own toes!"

  A.C. took a swig and looked firm at the younger man. "I don't loan money."

  "Oh come on Hess! It's a sure thing and you'd be helping out a man in a desperate spot! What do you say."

  "I don't loan money," A.C. repeated.

  "I'd have it back to you in two, three days, tops!"

  "I don't loan."

  "I thought you were kinder than that... Guess I was wrong," Geo tried with guilt.

  A.C. sat silent.

  "Well, fine. Can't blame a guy for trying. Ain't that right, Hess?" Geo said. "I mean you were the only guy I knew of around here that had extra funds."

  "You will just have to try someone else. I don't make no loans."

  "Geesh Hess! Come off it! I get it already!" Geo nearly shouted.

  The pair sat in silence after the heated exchange. A.C. kept working on his beverage while Geo's was nearly forgotten.

  "Say, you seen crazy Spargo around up this way lately? Is it true that he is the richest man in the city, he just lives seasonal because he is nuts?"

  "Otis Spargo? Yeah, well thats what I've heard. Apparently he ran some bookkeeping business and sold it for lots of cash. It was involved in some crime stuff and he had a bunch hidden away on top of that. But that was like a hundred years ago or somethin'. No idea how that ol' loon is doing now," A.C. said.

  "He is a Bridges guy..." Geo said to himself as he got up to leave.

  "Hey, you gunna finish that?" A.C. Hess said, pointing to Geo's mostly full, warm beer.

  "Naw, man," Geo said, tossing the bottle across the camp. "I'll catch you next spring, Hess."

  Otis Spargo wore a helmet, all the time. He pushed a three wheeled bike rather than riding it. Geo had never met the mush-mouthed old man, only heard stories and seen him from afar. He road a bus down to a waterfront section of town known as the Bridges. He stalked up Renault Street, where he had been told Spargo spent his time.

  The street was old and sharply crowned. Wear houses and work garages took up most the real estate, but wedged in between were the occasional bar, coffee shop, and bookstore. Geo tried his luck in a non-chain Java trap.

  The girl behind the counter belonged in the outskirts of town, the industrial strip beyond the shining city and the suburbs. She had dirty blond hair that begged for a brush and screamed its cut was homemade. She wore a loose black tee over the thick arms of a softball pitcher.

  Geo smiled and enquired about Spargo.

  "He came by the back a few minutes ago. I leave him some of the day-olds and a recyclable. Are you his friend?"

  "Oh yeah, haven't seen him for a while though," Geo said with his best charming grin. "You are awful kind to take care of him that way. You have a soft spot for guys down on their luck?"

  "Yeah, you know, I can't even imagine having to cryo myself for the winter just to survive. And he is such a sweet guy. It's too bad he got in that accident so he can't work anymore."

  "Well, you are pretty sweet yourself," squinting his eyes intensely at the coffee shop girl.

  "You can go through the back," she said, realizing the inquiring man's motives. "He is probably just down the block at the donation bin."

  Geo gave a grin and subtle wink as he exited the back of the store. There were still points that could be scored with a graceful defeat. The girl stood in the doorway motionless as Geo slid down the shaded alley, glancing back only once.

  "Stuck-up broad..." he muttered to himself once he was out of earshot.

  After a minute of walking alone in the alley, Geo found Otis Spargo.

  The girl had been right, he had been down at the back of a donation store, going through unprocessed items, digging through boxes. Otis Spargo looked like a child that had suddenly, and unexpectedly, grown old. He wore a crayon green T-shirt that was one size too large over purple sweatpants. Atop his head was the helmet he was known for. The man's hair was all grey and the stubble on his face matched.

  "Hey, Otis?" Geo said as he approached.

  "Hi!" he said back, the word clear but slightly extended and slurred.

  "Find anything good out here?" Geo said, attempting to start a conversation.

  "Not reaaaly," Otis answered. "Do I know youou?"

  "You know lazy Babu, right? He is a good friend of mine and said I should come introduce myself to you."

  Geo found himself talking slowly to the man. He heard the guy had a head injury, but he didn't really know if he was cognitively disabled. Looking at the scavenger, he started having doubts that this guy was one of the richest guys in the city.

  "Ugh. Yeaaah, I know Babu. He is pretty lazy, but he has always been good at paying back his loans."

  "Well, that's why I'm here! I heard sometimes you shell out loans. You see, I got this sweet deal on the hook, but I'm short about two grand. What do you say, could I get a loan for this quick car flip? I'll have the initial back to you in three days at the most!" Geo pleaded.

  "I don't know you at aalll," Otis answered.

  "Well, that's not a no!" Geo tried with charm. "I'm Geo Westphal. It's really close to winter and this is my last option! I can do twenty five percent interest on the loan! Quickest five hundred you'll ever make!"

  "Collateral," Otis Spargo said. He closed his mouth with bottom lip out.

  "I'll give you my Mud-Brick Act number," Geo said. "With that you got me. I'm sure someone with knowledge and ties like you once had... You know what you could do with that. You'd be the only other one but me that knows it. But, if something does come up years from now, I know where it's been. Good enough?"

  "Puhh," Spargo moaned. "Alright, good enough. Turn around and write that number down for me while I get you your money."

  Geo complied.

  "Your not as simple as you let on. I thought you were a goof at first. But you really are as rich as the rumor goes," Geo said, scribbling down his twenty digit number.

  "It's that rumor that makes me cautious. But I know how to flip an easy loan when it comes my waaay," Spargo answered. He had drawn up his shirt and opened a box locked to a band around his waist. He drew out two cards and closed the case. "Alright, let me see the number."

  Geo handed over the scrap of paper. Otis pulled out a small pad from his bike and punched in the numbers. With a nod, he handed over the cards containing two thousand dollars worth of credits.

  "You have until the 29th. Put the twenty-five hundred in an envelope and give it to Lilah in the coffee shop you came through. If I don't have them by the afternoon, you will be sorry to wake up come sprinnng."

  "Got it," Geo said and hurried way.

  The roads all had disgusting names, like Dream Garden Plaza and Log Bottom Place. Geo found the walk through the suburbs lon
ger than any other walk of the same distance. Everything was spread out, and lavish lawns filled the spaces. Workers wearing bright blue reflective vests spread black fabric over the sections of grass, staking at intervals, to preserve it from the coming cold. Walking tubes had also been erected, allowing a warmed environment for the residents to enjoy walks through the housing districts, sheltered from the skin burning cold.

  "Wouldn't it be nice to live like this," Geo huffed looking at the picturesque buildings. It was like living in a perfect dream village, he thought. No wonder they named a street Dream Garden!

  Finally reaching the address written for him on a gum wrapper, Geo rang the buzzer on the condo's front door. He tossed the paper aside as he waited, wishing to have the item it once contained. After a lifetime of waiting, a small, old woman answered the door.

  "Flora!" Geo exclaimed, throwing his arms open. "It's so good to see you're doing well!"

  "Oh, you came! I'm so glad you came! I was getting worried! You still want the car?"

  "Yes ma'am! Like I said, I just had to go to my bank in Vine and get the money!"

  "Still planning to drive south to those islands? It's getting pretty late in the year..."

  "Oh, I'm sure I'll make it though the wilderness just ahead of the freeze. Time to get myself away from this city. You sure you can't take twenty-five for it?" Geo begged, wincing for effect. "I'm just really tight on money!"

  "Oh, I'm sorry dear, no. I need the funds myself to pay my rent. They just increased the monthly amount and my retirement is not going to cover it. By this time next year I may not be able to afford to even live here anymore. I don't know where I'd go for the winter..."

  "You don't have any family?"

  "Well, I have a nephew who lives Downtown. But we are not close. He did say though that Bob's old Newport is worth a lot more than what I'm selling it to you for. But you are a nice boy," Flora said, patting his arm. "And I know you need it for your trip..."

  She led him away from her front door over to her garage. She entered a code, opening a narrow elevating door and a second code for a similar door beside it. The old woman then instructed Geo on how to remove the dividing beam which opened up the entire entrance to her storage area.

  "There it is, just as I said. My late husbands Newport. It's a custom, you know. He drew up the plans himself. Said he saw it in a dream..."

  "Well, she's beautiful," Geo said, running his hand over the smooth lines of the light green car. "I know there's quite the market for old custom cars of this sort. So, I appreciate you selling it to me above some richer with a fat wallet. I would never stand a chance with what some of them guys got. They could pay right over the top of me!"

  "I understand. I'm just glad this old thing is going to someone who will appreciate it."

  Geo grinned. "Well there is the three thousand," he said, handing over the two red cards and a stack of smaller denomination cards.

  With the exchange complete, Geo started the old, but smooth running car. He drifted it out of the garage. Last, Geo stopped to help the old widow put her doors back into place before he pulled away with a wave. No sense in leaving the widow with anything but a good feelings in her heart. He never knew who might be able to help him the next year.

  Two days later, around noon on the 28th, Geo cruised through the covered freeway on the east side of the city. Lamp lights flashed over head as the old car ran as fast as it could in the slow lane. The auto piloted cars with electric motors whizzed past on his left, but with the windows down, Geo felt just fine. Fast food wrappers flapped in the back seat next to the pillow where Geo had spent the last couple nights enjoying his new car.

  He had splurged and bought himself a new pack of sox after finding a dealer on the nets that offers to buy the car for seven grand. With the great news and promise of a secured winter on the east side of the city, Geo took the off ramp at a less than cautious pace. Rain had begun to fall, slicking the roads for the first time in the long summer. Surface oils were secreted, and combined with the speed and worn tires of the non-traction controlled car, the Newport began to drift.

  Geo jerked the wheel in an attempt to correct the spin, locking the breaks up in the process. The old car whipped around, centrifugal force pulling it off the ramp. Before the metal hulk came to a rest, it knocked over a metal street sign and bumped its tail end into a refrigerator sized junction box sitting along a sidewalk.

  Geo cursed and struck the wheel, looking out of the cracked front windscreen.

  The engine had shut off, and Geo sat in silence for a moment, halfway on the sidewalk. He he huffed as he worked to regain his composure.

  Geo ticked the key, but the engine only attempted to turn over. A second yielded similar results.

  Geo got out of the cab and looked at the damage. The front driver headlight was smashed, along with the panels surrounding it. Along the side resting against the junction box, a stripe where the street sign was bowled over cut into the silver metal beneath the paint. Geo let out a frustrated cry.

  He popped the hood and opened the air intake flap. He fished a can of carburetor cleaner from the trunk and gave the intake a few sprays. He slammed the hood into place, noting that it was graciously free of damage. Shaking his head, he jumped back into the drivers seat and tried the keys again.

  The car jumped to life. Geo pulled away with a big bump as each wheel stepped off the curb. Despite the recent wreck, Geo hammered down on the gas a little harder than practical as he left the scene.

  "What the hell did you do? This is not like the picture you sent me!" the thin man said.

  "Well, I had a little bit of trouble getting it over here. But it's all minor, I assure you!"

  "Ahh, well she is a beaut!" a husky man, bringing up the rear of the trio said. He had a red rag in his hands, wiping grease from one palm. "Looks like the design was based on a 22' Mittan. Prolly even has the same frame, just new body work. Too bad you dinged 'er."

  "Oh, that more than a ding! He nearly scrapped it!" the thin man said. "Do you even know how to drive?"

  "Do you know all the things that are rolled into holding a drivers license? Anyway, the dings are so minor! Nothing major has changed, nothing a little bondo and paint can't fix!"

  "No. No. No. That," pointing to the headlight, "will not be an easy match, along with the paint. This stuff is old. And the chrome edging? Good luck there."

  "Come on, man! You have all winter to tinker with this thing! And the interior is pristine! You said six grand! Now I know it is going to need some work but I gotta get five and three quarters out of it! I've got markers out I gotta pay off before winter hits!" Geo pleaded.

  "No way! Five at the most! Two fifty off is not going to cover that," the tin man said.

  "Oh, Frank," the husky man interrupted. "That chrome is so common it's sick. Give the kid a break. He don't got much time left."

  "Close it, Berry!" thin Frank cried. "Why you trying to undercut my negotiations here? Listen kid, I know stuff is rough fer you. Hell, I've been forced to cryo myself a couple winters while I worked to get back on my feet. But the most I can do is five and a quarter. Hard bargains are how I pulled myself up in life."

  "Listen, I'll be totally honest, and I'm never totally honest about my financial situation," Geo said. "I gotta get five and a half, or that's it for me. I have seven hundred fifty and owe three and a half thousand. Five and a quarter will leave me two hundred fifty short! I'll be dead. I'll never make it otherwise. I still have to get all the way back out to the other side of the city by tomorrow."

  "All I can do is five and a quarter," Frank repeated.

  "Fine. Fine! I'll just have to make something work in the next couple days."

  "Kid," fat Berry said, while his counterpart went inside for Geo's payment. "Take my bus pass. I'll report it missing after a few days and get another."

  "Thanks, fella," Geo said sincerely. "I really appreciate it."

  The bus pass was a heaven send. Geo road around the c
ity, every hour becoming more overcast and cold. Soon it would begin to rain, and soon the rain would turn to ice, and winter would have officially arrived.

  But so far there was only mist. Geo got off the bus in the southern end of the city, not far from the cryo offices.

  His shoulders slumped as he wandered down the streets, fingering the money in his pocket. He was still short the two hundred and fifty he needed to secure his place in a cryo tube for the winter. He had tried all the quick cash options he knew; bar owners who had delinquent patrons who gave a cut of the collection, pawn shops with items they did not know the worth, even a couple squirrel holes other transients hid their money in until the last day of the season. It was all without luck.

  Geo found himself on a bridge over a section of a river flowing through the area. He stopped part way across and looked at the run of water with only worry on his mind. Below him, down in the muck beside the river, a figure waded through the viscous. Geo watched the man grope through the mud. His opportunist instincts too over, he crossed the bridge and went down to talk to the man.

  "Hiya, there friend. How goes it."

  "Oah, ya know. Ever on the hunt, I am," he replied. He was shirtless and malnourished, a gut hanging from a dirty skeleton of a man.

  "Find anything good down there? I'm Geo, by the way."

  "Hella, Geo. They call me Arvid the mucker," he said. "You a seasonal fella?"

  "That I be," Geo confirmed. "A bit short on my keep, though. I had a deal go south and now I'm a couple hundred short."

  "What time is it," Arvid said, looking up at the sky, "Three in the afternoon? With final call in six hours, you haven't made enough yet? You's a risky Roo!"

  "Yep, it's been an interesting summer," Geo agreed. "You already have enough I assume. Got any hot tips that might keep me from becoming a popsicle?"

  "Dang son, get down here and start siftin'," Arvid exclaimed. "You flippers and scrounges and and all else may look down on my kind, wading through the muck, but I make my keep. One good find might hold me over for a couple years!"

  "No," Geo said disbelievingly. He pulled off his shoes and shirt. The cold air sent goosebumps all over his torso and arms, but his body was compensating just fine. He stripped off his pants and jumped down in the thigh deep mud with a splosh.

  "Oh, yes. Couple years ago I found some old book that was worth a fortune. Six hundred years old the book man said. This whole area in the south of the city used to be a big swamp, they say. The book man also said there was legends about the people back then using magic. Parently, that's what that book was abouts. Fine with me! I took my ten grand and got right back in. No telling what else you could find down here."

  "But ain't you worried one day the mud will run out of treasures and you will be forced to do something else?" Geo asked feeling around with his feet, following the example of his new friend.

  "Hain't happened yet. People is always throwing stuff in here anyhow. I doubt I'll starve any day soon."

  "Well, I got six hours and no better ideas on howta get my last chunk of cash."

  "How much they charge for late admittance nows, anyway?" Arvid asked as they sifted along through the stinking mud.

  "Five hundred bucks on top of the normal three grand."

  Arvid whistled. "That's just impossible once the winter hits!"

  "Don't I know it," Geo agreed. "Nearly the only way to do it is to go into debt. And with interest over the winter months, that's impossible to get out from under. Might as well surrender my Mud-Brick to the City and loose all my freedoms. Being a ward of the city is better than being under that kind of loan."

  "Well, keep lookin. Don't be afraid to get muddy. Never hurt me none," Arvid said.

  The pair drifted through the mud in silence as the light continued to fade. Geo would occasionally reach an arm in to draw out an item, but found trash. Arvid on the other hand, threw all his findings in a bucket he kept close by, enthralled by every bit of something he could draw from the mud. This went on for hours.

  "Arvid! It's been fun, but it's nearly six o'clock," Geo called. "I've enjoyed the lesson, but I gotta rinse off and move on. There is someone I was thinking of talking too..."

  Arvid waved as Geo made for the bank.

  And then he slipped. It was not your normal slip, but a front-foot-sliding-forward slip, causing him to drop seated into the mud.

  "What was that!" Geo said, his eyes going wide. Hunched over, all but his back and head exposed from the muck, Geo searched for the thing that caused him to slide out. Arvid made his way over to his guest as Geo rooted around for the thing.

  Geo pulled it out with one arm and held the glob of mud high. Standing now, the pair wiped the mud away to find a light grey, snub-nosed revolver with a rosewood grip. Geo let out a woop.

  "Arv! Look at this thing! How much you think it's worth?"

  "Oh, fella. Thass a nice find alright. I bet you could get five hundred for it. Easy."

  "Ha HA!" Geo shouted, hugging the other filthy man. "I gotta get out and cleaned up! If I can only make it to a gun broker in time... Most everything will be closed by eight..."

  Geo tromped away with treasure in hand. He made it to the bank and down stream to a place he could rinse off in the clear water. Rubbing vigorously with freezing water, Geo was startled when Arvid joined him, both of their clothes held on the end of sticks so as not to get muddy.

  As Geo got out and pulled on his clothes, Arvid took his place.

  "Best hurry. You gotta find someone who will take that thing tonight. It was prolly thrown there for a reason, so be careful where you go. Thass a terrific find though."

  "Thanks again," Geo said, pulling on his shoes to go. "I won't ever talk bad about muckers again!"

  "Ehh! Well, I'm headed over to the offices myself. Hopefully I'll see you in line in a couple hours. If not, have yer-self a nice sleep."

  Geo burst into a gun shop, five minutes to closing. He had the revolver, mostly free of mud, crammed into his pocket. He walked through the jungle of survival gear to the back counter and thumped the gun down on a pad.

  "Hey, buddy. How much for this? I'm in a time crunch. I need four hundred quick."

  The large man behind the counter took his time sauntering over. He picked up the large gun and pressed the cylinder release, letting the swinging arm drop open. Seven spent brass bullet casings dropped out, some still containing the mud the pistol had been encased in.

  "Seen a bit of dirt, has it? Not the ideal way to store your weapons," the shop owner commented.

  "Yeah, well. You know how much it's worth? How much can you give me?"

  "You have here a fine gun. A Rhino SR. I sell 'em new for twelve and some change. The problem here..." he said, slapping the butt of the pistol in Geo's hand, "is the bio-safety. Go ahead, pull the trigger."

  Geo squeezed on the trigger but it was only mush under his fingertip.

  "See, not registered to you, won't work. That means I can't buy. Sorry pal."

  "Please!" Geo leaned over he counter. "You gotta do something for me! You could give me something for it!"

  "Sorry pal," the shop owner repeated. "If it's not yours, I can't do anything here at the shop. I'd loose my accreditation. Despite how good four hundred sounds for a piece like that. Just can't do it."

  The hearty man started walking away.

  "Then you gotta know someone that can," Geo hissed after him. "Please, you gotta know someone. Someone who can reset it! I've got an hour left until the line closes for cryo. If I can't hawk this thing by then, I will freeze to death out there. Please!"

  The shop owner paused. After a moment of consideration ad the desperate look on Geo's face, he walked back to the counter.

  "I said sorry, but no," the man said in a loud voice. And then quieter, "Go around back, I'll call a guy."

  Geo shrunk in relief and stuffed the gun back in his coat pocket. Random mud stain left on his face, he exited the shop and went around back.

  Geo waited
for what felt like hours. The constant checking of the time did not help. It was past eight in the evening, minutes until they closed down the line, when a figure arrived at the back of the building.

  "Hey! What took so long? I'm almost out of time man! I thought I explained it to that guy!"

  "Had to run your face from the security footage in the store," the shady connection of the gun broker answered. "Not in the business of buying unregistered guns from Inspectors. Let's see it."

  "Here. Now I need my cash!" Geo said, handing the revolver over.

  "There you go, three hundred," the man said, handing Geo the cards.

  "No, it was supposed to be four!" Geo protested.

  "One hundred finders fee for Blunns in there," the man explained.

  Geo shook his head in disgust and anger.

  "I don't have time for this. What a rip off..." Geo said. "You are lucky I have to go or you would be sorry you think you can make that kind of flip on me!"

  Geo sprinted away.

  Four blocks he ran, as the seconds ticked by. Rounding the corner to an adjacent block, Geo saw the line running along the building. There was a rope separating the bodies, devoid of any personal belongings, from the rest of the sidewalk. Cryo employees stood every couple yards, monitoring the line as it prepared to move into the building.

  Geo looped around the corner of the building, following the line to the end. A man with a clipboard stepped out to block him from reaching the very end.

  "Stop there! The line has just closed. I'm sorry, you will have to come back tomorrow for off-peak admittance."

  "No!" Geo protested, out of breath. "I've still got... two minutes!!"

  "Not according to my clock," the staff member said.

  "Come on! I made it! I have the money too! Let me in line."

  "Can't do it, mate. Come back tomorrow for off-peak admittance. The fee is an extra five-"

  "Hey! Jacco! Let'em in line! I wass holden his place."

  "Pook!" Geo shouted, trying to push past the line guard. "Yeah, ol' Pook was just watchin' my place. I have my money right here! Take my money!"

  Jacco began to protest, but Pook once again cut him off.

  "Jack! You know me! I've been damn near tha last one in thiss line every season! Let the dumb kid in. I was holden a spot fer 'em."

  Jacco sneered, but eventually took the money Geo thrust onto his clipboard. The young flipper jumped the road and got in line next to the old man.

  "Hiya, Pook," Geo said.

  "Hiya, everybody," he added, looking up and down the line at the familiar faces of his fellow seasonals.

  "Have yer self a merry summer? Barely made it this time, didn'tcha?" Pook said. "When you gunna learn that flippin' is risky. Scrounging ain't as glamorous, but it is dependable and always gets you in this line."

  "Oh, Pook. You got it all wrong," Geo said, fingering his last bit of cash, twenty five dollars, hidden in his pocket. "I came out just fine this season. Great in fact. Even got me a little to show for it!"

  Pook grunted and flapped a hand at Geo as the line started moving, freezing mist falling on the unwashed heads, another season complete.

 

  Who is Lora Clark?