J. Mitchell - Midnight City

“My name’s Stephanie Freed,” the tiny girl said, calmly studying them each in turn. Her eyes were beginning to show the first traces of the Tone’s black tendrils. “I’m the Trade Master. How do you come?”

“With peace and profit,” Holt answered in the customary way.

Zoey peeked out from behind Mira’s torso, watching the kids. They didn’t seem to notice her. Their attention was squarely fixed on Holt.

The boys were all armed. One had a metal pipe, two others had slingshots (nothing to laugh at—Holt had seen kids take out birds from a hundred yards with slings), and the fourth, a kid with a shaved head, held what looked like a fistful of dimes.

Holt frowned. Coins from the Strange Lands, no doubt. Or at least the bald kid wanted him to think they were. He had no intention of finding out. Artifact coins were dangerous, and he didn’t need Mira to tell him so: he’d seen them used as weapons lots of times. These kids meant business. Holt smiled—he liked them already.

“Saw you from the hill. Just here to trade, that’s all,” Holt said.

“You’re welcome to trade, no problem,” Stephanie answered evenly. “But you’ll have to leave the boom-sticks outside. No outside weapons are allowed on the post. Unless you mean to trade them? I know a lot of crews are looking for working guns, mine included. Getting harder to find.”

Holt shook his head. “I don’t trade my guns. They’re too dangerous if you haven’t been taught to use them, and I don’t have time to teach anyone.”

“Then leave them there, no one will bother them,” the girl said.

With hesitation, Holt removed his rifle, shotgun, and pistol. He never liked being without his weapons; he felt naked almost, defenseless. But all the river trading posts had the same rule, even if the more dangerous depots like Faust had no problems with guns. Holt had traded many times at the river posts, left his guns, and always gotten them back.

When Stephanie saw the weapons were on the ground, she nodded. “Welcome to our decks. Trade nicely.” She smiled and motioned them forward, then turned and headed back toward the giant collection of boats with the others. Holt and company followed after them.

As they did, they rounded a grove of trees, and something else was revealed behind them, tied off near the trade depot. A ship bigger than any of the watercraft on the river, only this one sat on dry land.

“Wow!” Zoey exclaimed as she got a clear look. “Look at it, it’s huge!”

“It sure is, honey,” Mira said with a surprised smile. “It’s a Landship.”

Landships were massive land craft, like boats on dry land, assembled from a variety of parts and structures and carried by huge wheels across the ground. Giant sails propelled them, and they could house two dozen kids (sometimes more). Toward the west, where the plains gave way to the deserts and flatlands of the Barren, Landships were common sights.

Holt had seen a few in his time, and he never failed to be impressed by the colossal vehicles. They were a testament to the ingenuity and imagination of Earth’s survivors, misplaced though they might be.

“Must have stopped to trade at the depot,” he mused as they walked.

“It’s pretty far east, though,” Mira replied, looking at it oddly.

She was right. Their crews generally comprised merchants and traders, and they rarely went farther east than Midnight City. It was rare seeing one this far away, and Holt wondered what it was doing out here.

Holt studied it closer. It had eight giant wheels, four on each side, two pairs of which he guessed came from either a giant construction vehicle or farm machine from the World Before. The middle wheels were custom constructions of wood and steel, meticulously fashioned and shaped. They were about ten feet tall by themselves, and held the decks of the Landship probably twenty-five to thirty feet off the ground.

Its decks had been assembled from a variety of repurposed wood and sheet metal, as well as train and boat parts. Two of its masts were formed out of polished and smoothed airplane wings, big ones, maybe even from an airliner.

The whole thing was a hodgepodge of parts, all with different origins and looks, but somehow, it all blended together into a giant, beautiful, cohesive craft that was as much a work of art as a vehicle.

“The depot’s big, too!” Zoey said as she saw it.

Zoey’s exclamation pulled both Mira’s and Holt’s attention back to the trading post on the river.

Holt nodded. “Yep. Stretches from one edge of the river to the next. It’s not just a trading post, it’s a crossing point for anyone who needs it. Long as you can pay the toll.”

The closer they got to it, the more detail they could make out as the sun continued to sink above them. Kids of all ages and looks were traversing it, moving from boat to boat in a crowd.

It was made of more than a dozen different boats and vessels of varying sizes. River barges, fishing boats, a rusting tugboat, but most of the craft seemed to be made of pieces and sections from a whole host of other ships. The first one they stepped onto from the riverbank, for example, was made from what was once a huge, floating pier and the roof of a house, lined with floats under it. Where these kids got the roof of a house, Holt didn’t know, but he guessed it was the result of some flood after the invasion. The boat crew had made a variety of ramshackle huts all around the repurposed pier, and Holt saw a bed through the attic window of the old roof, probably the Honcho’s quarters.

Each vessel had set up trading areas, with all kinds of goods: clean water, nonperishable food, candy, first aid supplies, radios, knives, mechanical watches, maps, cable and rope, tools, clothing (both vintage and newly made), bags and packs, the occasional gun, and, of course, Strange Lands artifacts. Not so many as you would find in Midnight City, but still a good amount.

And the boats were swarming with kids, survivors of all ages (though none older than twenty) at various stages of the Tone’s effects. They pushed through the crowd with effort, and at one point, Holt had to take Zoey onto his shoulders and hold Mira’s hand, pulling her along, for fear they would get tossed overboard. Honestly, he wasn’t worried about Mira, but he wasn’t above taking the opportunity to feel her fingers one last time.

The center boat of a trading post was usually the most sturdy, since it anchored the entire structure. In this case, it was a large, heavy tugboat that a group of enterprising kids had gotten back up and running. The name DELIRIUM was painted on its side in crude letters.

The Delirium had several trading stalls along its decks, with all kinds of goods. Holt and Mira separated as they walked through them. Mira gravitated toward the Strange Lands artifacts, Holt noticed, the stalls which contained the bright δ symbols, no doubt hoping to replenish all the items she had used in the past few days. Holt was more concerned with basics. The reward he got in Midnight City would have funded his entire trip east, and given him enough of a jump start to live comfortably. Now he’d have to be frugal. If he was going to make it to the Low Marshes, he’d need water and food, not to mention swamp survival gear. He’d likely end up walking the whole way now, and he wanted to be ready.

Zoey had followed him instead of Mira for some reason, Holt noticed. He didn’t like it. He was uncomfortable with the little girl’s presence now, given that he had no intention of accompanying her to Midnight City. He was hoping Mira would volunteer to take her on, and he could slip away one night before she (and Mira) noticed. It would be the easiest solution. He’d grown fond of the little girl. Almost as much as he had of Mira. But he had to head east, had to get away from the Menagerie. His options had run out.