Chapter 66: The Devil’s Lettuce
Have you ever tried to pick up a squirming, nearly insenstate cat? Let me tell you, it’s a lot harder than it looks, and it looks pretty hard to begin with. Somehow, Pumpkin was both too out of it to recognise me, while remaining coherent enough to do his level best to scratch up my arms, all the while refusing to go into my inventory either. In the end, I had to resort to taking off my gambeson and using it to corral the recalcitrant feline, wrapping him up in a thick padded jacket like an involuntary patient at the mental health ward. Only then did Pumpkin’s calmer instincts start to kick in, as the warmth of his newfound blanket began to work its magic, calming him down and gradually lulling him to sleep.
[Pumpkin the Cat stored.]
I shoved him into storage as soon as he stopped resisting, nearly half an hour later, because while I have always been a man of many talents, I was not not trained to deal with this nonsense. With Pumpkin out of the way, I was able to get a look at the bottom of the crate, and discover what had put him into such a state of distress.
[Valkyrie Dust: An alchemical powder most potente, a single inhalation bestows immense confidence, a surge of energy, and immense resistance to pain, alongside a persistent feeling of euphoria. Effects last anywhere between six to twenty four hours. Side effects include addiction, lowered inhibitions, hallucinations, and immense stress on the heart leading to injury and death.]
Rows of white powder, each individually sealed within a small glass vial reminiscent of test tubes back on Earth, all bar one vial, which had been shattered and emptied. I wasn’t sure what a single dose was capable of and had no desire to experiment, but if I had to guess, it was probably calibrated for the weight of a human adult, which explained Pumpkin’s rather unfortunate state.
“I don’t suppose you’ve got an antidote on hand?”
The driver shook his head mutely in reply, because of course they wouldn’t stock anything to deal with exposure to the volatile drugs they were smuggling. This was a serious lapse in terms of workplace safety, though probably par for the course where the black market was involved. After all, one of the explicit reasons for their existence was to skirt around regulations, so it would be hypocritical of me to expect anything else.
“He’ll have to sleep it off then,” I concluded, clambering back out of the carriage without another thought. “I’ll have a talk with Pumpkin once he’s sober, and try to keep this from happening again. Any idea how long before he wakes?”
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“He only took the one vial, by the looks of it,” the driver replied after a minute or two of counting, informing me of what I already knew. “A man would be fine after a night’s rest, but I’ve never sold any to a cat before, so your guess is as good as mine.”
I watched the driver rearrange the goods, moving a few apples each from nearby crates to make up the deficit before covering the lot back up. He then looked at me expectantly, a look that was easy to decipher given his previous comment.
“Take the cost of that single dose out of my earnings at the first stop,” I shrugged, already heading back towards the front of the convoy, leaving the driver behind to his own devices.
The apples weren’t even mentioned, since their cost was negligible and they were always intended as a decoy of sorts, meant to be sacrificed to protect the true cargo below. On the way back, a quick glance at where the campfire had been revealed not even a hint of our presence, a sensible precaution given the recent attacks. Evidently, he’d decided against a hot meal to start the day, so I clambered back into my assigned quarters, eager to keep on going. Grabbing a pear for my own morning meal, I began to dig in as I felt the carriage start to move. I was sitting alone now, as Harvey took over the duties of the fallen driver, but it was otherwise much like before.
Not the best way to start the morning, by any measure, but I’d seen worse before in London, and on the balance of things, Valkyrie Dust was probably less harmful in the long term than cigarettes.
—
In stark contrast to the previous day of excitement, our journey proceeded smoothly from there on out, returning to a steady schedule of six hours movement, a break in between, and then another six hours followed by making camp for the night. Without Harvey in the carriage with me, the conversation was rather lacking, particularly as Pumpkin still hadn’t woken up by the end of the first day, remaining out like a light every time I pulled him from storage to check up on him. At the very least, he was still breathing and warm, so I figured it was best to leave him to it.
In hindsight, I hadn’t quite appreciated what long distance travel meant in a mediaeval society; as the Will of before had no experience with such things, and I was more used to trains and aeroplanes. Had I known that boredom would become so pervasive, I would definitely have stolen some books from the library on the way out. Nothing too important, as I’d gotten what I needed from my week of reading, but most definitely some of the fiction that I’d neglected during that time in favour of learning about the new world.
It wasn’t until the third day running that Pumpkin finally woke up, looking as miserable as I’d ever seen him.
"How do you feel?" I asked, trying and failing not to laugh at his bedraggled state.
There was no point giving him a lecture, given the obvious regret in his eyes, all too reminiscent of my own youthful forays in alcohol.
"Like a horse kicked me in the head," Pumpkin shuddered, swallowing heavily at the end.
"No more drugs, alright?"
"No more drugs."