Chapter VIII

Somewhere, West Virginia, USA.

Wonder what Jeb got so worked up about? Clive thought as he continued his work in the bowels of the old locomotive.

And him and Mr. Jefferson were talking about an earthquake last night, but he didn't feel anything.

Clive sighed.

Guess I should go over later and make sure everything's ok.

Maybe there was a small earthquake over in The Hills that he didn't feel.

Either way he resolved to get to the bottom of it in a few minutes when his shift was over.

"'Ello?"

CLANG

"OW!"

Damnit! That's the third time now! Clive thought irritably as a headache and lump formed.

He stopped his work and stuck his head out the engine cabin to see who was bothering him now.

What Clive saw was that a little kid had wandered into the railyard again.

"Don't we have people to stop shit like this from happening?" Clive muttered.

"Hey kid! Its dangerous here! Go on home before you get hurt!" Clive yelled at the short figure down the train tunnel that led into the depot.

"Child?! I'll bet me Da's good pipe that I've been drinkin' an smokin' since 'fer you was a hair in yer Pappy's knickers!" The child-like figure said as he got closer to Clive.

It wasn't a dumb kid looking at the trains. It looked like a little person. Clive thought as he got a good look at the 3ft short man.

He looked about middle age with wrinkles around his spectacled eyes. A neatly trimmed curly brown beard covered his jaw on his small round face, though Clive could see gray starting to come in. He wore a worn brown travel jacket over his plump frame, wide-brimmed hat and a pair of well worn boots and pants.

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Clive climbed out of the cabin.

"Oh blessed me! A Human!" The little man exclaimed.

Clive thought, as he wiped his hands, that was a weird way to put it.

"I'm sorry if I meant any offense Mr-?" Clive asked as he stuck his hand out to shake the small mans plump hand.

"Oh fret none of it lad, quite common among the Tall Folk." The half-man said shaking Clive's offered hand.

"Names Hamish Hambinger!"

"So what brings you out here to Somewhere Mr. Hambinger?" Clive asked after shaking the surprisingly strong and well calloused hand of Hamish.

"Somewhere?" Hamish asked confused.

The dumb saying of the town was beaten into Clive's head so often at parades and fairs that he could recite it by memory.

"If you have Nowhere to go, and Anywhere will do, you may as well come to Somewhere." Clive chanted with mock enthusiasm.

Hamish looked at poor Clive as if he had a stroke.

"Are ye alright lad? D'ya need to sit down?"

"Maybe, but I'll do that later. Point is you're in Somewhere, West Virginia."

Hamish wasn't entirely reassured Clive wasn't ill, though with how much he hit his head he should get checked just incase Clive thought.

"Somewhere. Hmm. Simple. I like it." Hamish stated.

Hamish put his hands in his coat pockets and began his tale.

"The Hambinger Clan has had a rough time of it, but we always got by we did. But this last season was the worst, and I fear it was the last for our home."

Hamish sighed and took off his glasses to clean at them idly.

"We had to sell off the land and damn near everythin' that wasn't nailed down. And even some that was." Hamish said as he got tired of polishing his glasses and placed them back upon his face.

"The land was good to us but fer many years now its given less 'n less before this last year gave nothin' at all. I fear even if the land itself was still good those greedy bankers-"

Hamish spits at the word like it fouled his mouth just to say it.

"Vultures 'n robber-barons the whole lot of 'em!"

Hamish pulls out a old tobacco pipe and lights it up to calm himself before offering to Clive.

He politely refuses and Hamish continues.

"So we packed up food, spirits, and everythin' we had left. Wasn't goin' to give them devils more to pick at, and we set off fer greener pastures. Was on our way o'er the mountain through a dwarven tunnel when we took a sharp bend and popped up here."

"So your looking for farmland?" Clive asked.

"That's right, we're hard workers so don't be thinkin' we's abunch 'o layabouts."

Clive thought for a moment before remembering he saw some land adds at City Hall.

"Well there's some good land south of town that might work for you."

A big smile broke on Hamish's face.

"Well bless ya lad, we'll get sorted and follow ya."

"I won't be-"

FWEEEEET!!!!

Clive was interrupted by the shift whistle going off.

"Seven Hells was that?!" Hamish asked as he had ducked lower to the ground and held his coat and hat for dear life.

"That was the shift whistle telling us our shift is over." Clive said.

"Guess I'll pack up and I can drive you to City Hall."

Hamish after collecting himself and his fallen pipe turned and shook hands with Clive.

"A might thanks lad." Hamish said.

He turned to the tunnel he had wandered from and gave a sharp whistle of his own.

FWEEEEET!

"We might've found somthin' so lets get'er movin'!" Hamish yelled down the tunnel.

Clive turned and saw that a small woman that was VERY pregnant, a smaller boy, and about fifty other little people came out of the tunnel that Hamish had came from.

They were like those people from the old Dust Bowl photos.

Worn out clothes that had seen better days, wagons of provisions and furniture pulled by fat hogs and pull/push carts by other small folk. Some had crates of chickens, a few hairy cows were pulled along as well, hounds we're also scattered about the Little Migration. A few of them even rode on what looked like Shetland Ponies.

Guess Jeb can wait a bit I guess thought Clive.

Besides.

How much trouble can he get into in an afternoon?