Chapter 18: Piece of Work

Over the next week, Ash worked in the tight confines of a cobbler’s shop. While Ash and Kiara had been incarcerated, Sander had been busy visiting various shops and stores in Invernstead, seeking potential income or advance. He believed it was better to incur debt than sell off their acquired items. His plan still led to selling one of the motorcycles, albeit the worst of the three, but he managed to make solid connections in town. Furthermore, he convinced Brigid to allow the three of them to stay at a room at the Blackguard Inn in exchange for the occasional help.

Sander discovered a cobbler named Simon while wandering the streets in the pursuit of future employment. Simon -- a short, hairy, and muscular man -- had been sitting at his booth, cutting strips of leather to make shoelaces for the boots he had finished crafting. In their short conversation, Sander promised the man an assistant.

Thus, Ash spent the week in a cramped ceiling-lit room cutting worn-out rubber tires. He used the cobbler’s knife to cut out the sidewall from the tire and remove the inner liner. Once done, he made a slit and turned the circle of rubber into a flat band. Day after day, he cut tires of various sizes, thicknesses, and salvageability. He piled the cut bands into stacks of worn treads that soon grew taller than himself. Then, he had to lug all the material across town to the recycler. The recycler was a tall bald man with a heavy respirator over his mouth. He weighed the rubber scraps Ash brought and poured a handful of bullets into Ash's hand in exchange. As a precaution, the recycler noted the bullets given to Ash, which the cobbler would compare once a week. Occasionally, Ash would pick up blank flat sheets of rubber for the cobbler.

For six days, Ash did this for ten hours each day. By the time he tumbled back to the Blackguard Inn, he was exhausted. He threw himself onto his cot and slept until midnight. Sander would then wake him for his cleaning shift at the inn's front. Ash spent two hours gathering and washing plates and dishes, wiping tables, and sweeping the floor after a night of eating and drinking. Francis would be at the bar for the first half-hour crunching numbers before going to bed. Ash would be alone except for the night security that Francis and Brigid hired between midnight and eight in the morning.

As Ash cleaned, he sometimes struck conversation with the guard, Garrick, but learned little about him. Garrick was a tall man with a perfectly shaven head, with the exception of very furry eyebrows that met in the middle. He mentioned that he had worked as a mercenary and wanted a month to recuperate before his next mission. Ash empathized. Over the week, the bruise on Ash’s cheek turned dark purple and then faded to a sickly green. The blunt damage from Smiles had hurt for a few more days, making carrying rubber to the recycler additionally unpleasant.

Once Ash finished his shift, he returned to his cot. By then, Kiara and Sander were already sleeping. Ash slept until Kiara woke him after her breakfast. She had a far easier job in Ash's mind. Sander had arranged for her to help Dunstan, the garageman, with receiving, loaning, and dismissing vehicles, and maintaining and repairing machines. Kiara had to place new tires on a van and put the old ones aside for Ash to transport to the cobbler’s shop, cut, and then bus the scraps to the recycler. Ash felt he should have been the one in the garage. He knew more than she did and had higher stats in Repair.

Naturally, Sander kept the easier jobs for himself. He worked with the brewers who supplied the Blackguard Inn and other watering holes. He helped process the grains into beers or spirits, and most importantly, tasted them. Although he had to move heavy bags of grain and roll barrels filled with water or alcohol, the perks of the job beat anything Kiara or Ash had to accomplish. While Sander still needed more time for his arm to heal from the gunshot he received at the gas station, the work did not impair its recovery. He hoped to have enough bullets or bullion by the end of the week to buy a stimpack and speed the process of his healing.

After the sixth day, they all had a chance to rest. Kiara had a half-shift at the garage in the morning, but Ash could sleep in. When Kiara got back, Ash had just woken up. He stretched with a yawn and greeted Kiara.

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“Ready for lunch?” she asked.

“Lunch? I haven’t even had breakfast,” Ash said, stepping into his combat boots.

Ash slipped on a new grey linen shirt -- he reserved his old shirt for the messiness of his work at the cobblers -- and followed Kiara to the front of the inn. Francis had placed three glasses of water and three plates of flatbread and coyote meat for his part-time workers.

Sander wait from them at the bar, spending his time charming Brigid with kind words and compliments. None of this banter endeared him to her brother, who, since that first confrontation, kept a closer eye on him.

The three of them ate.

“This isn’t the sort of adventure I was expecting,” Ash said to Sander.

“Yeah, well, the problem with making realistic video games is that they suffer from the same banalities of life. I could do without shaving, bathing, and going to the washroom, but here we are.”

Kiara had become used to the men talking about their old lives and the differences in the new world. She refused to believe in their ‘simulation theory’, but accepted it with the same spirit as enduring a stubborn rash.

Ash sighed into his plate. “Is there nothing else we can do? Am I forced to cut and haul tires until I get a new body?”

“And how do you plan to escape this place, this world?” Sander asked, gesticulating with a chunk of flatbread.

“I don’t know!”

“Then, survive. That’s all humanity has done since it first walked the earth, digital or not.”

Ash drank his water. Unlike the water in the city-towers, which had a taste of purity, the water at the Blackguard Inn held lingering flavors of iron and dirt. The water was good enough to drink, but Francis would not waste distilled water on non-paying guests. Boiled water would have to suffice.

“I’ll help you guys find a way out of this world,” Kiara said.

Sander squinted, calculating the level of sarcasm in her voice. He found none. She seemed genuine.

“Really, I will. You need to do me a favor first.”

“And what’s that?” Sander asked.

Kiara’s lips curved with a devilish grin. “We take Cuffley.”

“We’re not wandering into gang territory to pick a fight.” Sander put down his flatbread. “That’s madness. You expect the three of us to waltz into a fortified compound and kill dozens of slavers without injury? We faced three guys and had the advantage of surprise, and…” Sander pointed to his arm wound.

“I could probably find a few people to help. Garrick will probably be willing to join for a paycheque.”

“Yeah, right. You’re going to outfit a whole group of mercenaries to storm their compound. With what money?”

“We can pool resources,” Kiara said, her tone tinged with rising anger.

“No, this is a dumb idea.” Sander turned back to his plate, aggressively ripping a piece of flatbread with his teeth.

“I’ll do it,” Ash said.

“No way!” Sander spoke with his mouth full. “You of all people should be the last to enter into this madness. You’re a puny level one punk without any real combat experience.”

“I killed that guy at the gas station,” Ash said firmly.

“After he shot me!”

“And what about Smiles? I beat him twice!”

“With a little help from me,” Kiara muttered. She also thought about how she saved him from the baker’s son.

“And permadeath doesn’t scare you?” Sander shot back.

“All death is permanent,” Kiara said, tossing the last chunk of her coyote meat into her mouth.

“We can do it,” Ash said. “If only to get Kiara’s help in finding a way out of here. I’m not going to sit in Invernstead for the rest of my life and work in a stuffy room helping make shoes.”

“Fine,” Sander conceded. “I’m not happy with any of this, but if you can manage a force to storm Cuffley, I’ll join. But only if I like our chances!”

Kiara’s smile grew wider. Her mind wandered to the practical resources needed for the attack.

“We need weapons, ammo, soldiers, and transportation. And provisions, enough food and water to spend a few days camped out if necessary. Armor would be a bonus. Explosives would also be helpful.”

“I’ll start by floating the idea to Garrick,” Ash said. “Tonight’s shift.”

Kiara gave a single satisfying clap of her hands. “You don’t know how excited I am.”

Francis moved to their end of the table. “And why is that, hun?”

“We’re going to pay a violent visit to The Cuffs.”

Francis gathered their cups and plates. “Shame. I’ll miss your company. Make sure you settle your accounts with us before you go.”

“We’ll be back,” Kiara said.

“I doubt it.” Francis walked away with their dishes and turned his attention to a new patron of his establishment.

“See the absurdity of this idea?” Sander asked.

“He’s never met a woman like me before. In two weeks, I’ll have everything we need,” Kiara said. She scanned the front room of the inn. “And everyone.”

“And then what?”

“War.”