lot better. He deserved it.
He’d given me a new lease on life, as long as I could dodge the bounty hunters until they lost interest or searched for more profitable—and safer—waters.
Even through the thick walls, the storm’s fury reached me, and I wondered who I would mourn in the morning. Would the best parts of my current life wait for me buried under rubble, or would everyone dodge death yet again?
It amazed me I still clung to my sanity when so much destruction surrounded me day in and day out.
I tired of running.
Going through the boxes gave me purpose, and I divided my cellar into sections, moving all the potable water to one corner, food to another corner, and blankets, other bedding, and clothes to another. Beneath the bedding and clothes, I discovered heavy crates nailed together. The cellar’s toolbox contained a hammer, which I used to crack open the first of the largest crates, which I couldn’t move no matter how hard I tried.
The lid fought me, and I growled curses at it until I peeled it off, wincing at the crack of wood. The nails bent, rendering them useless without a lot of hammering to straighten them. I’d spend the time, as no one made nails anymore in Tulsa, and only the rich could afford to import them.
I’d never appreciated the difficulties Tulsa’s residents faced until I’d wanted to do the little things, like build a box, acquire a sword, or even buy some treat like coffee or chocolate. Each passing month raised the value of nails, a good sword ventured into the realm of being priceless, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had chocolate.
I set the lid with its bent nails aside, eyeing the canvas cloth within. I touched the material, satisfied over its thickness.
Good canvas, much like nails, was hard to find.
“Damn, Carl. You could have left the Alley with the fortune in this cellar.”
The food and blankets alone would have gotten him out of the city had he sold them for even a pittance. If I took care, I could head to a new quadrant to escape the attention of bounty hunters. I eliminated surrendering as an option.
What was the point of living if I couldn’t live on my terms?
I lifted the canvas and folded it, restraining my curiosity until the valuable commodity was safely put away with the rest of the cloth-based goods stashed in the cellar. Canvas-wrapped bundles filled the box, and I recognized the shapes of weapon hilts and long blades, ranging from short swords to bastard swords. If the upper layer of six blades proved to be weapons as I believed, I’d inherited a true treasure.
I waged a battle with myself, afraid to check the first.
What would change if I’d discovered a cache of weaponry? Selling even one in Tulsa would draw unwanted attention to me but provide enough cash to go to any quadrant I wanted. I might even be able to skip across the border into Mexico, where magic treated its residents far kinder.
Or so the rumors claimed.
I considered my options and the consequences for what would happen if I did discover a cache of weapons in the crate. At worst, my witch magic would activate, and I would learn far more than I wanted. With the number of times I’d shifted recently, using any magic at all could turn lethal, which decided me.
For a short while, I would allow my fears and worries to rule me. After I slept, I would deal with the cellar’s contents, and I would be grateful for the future Carl had left for me. I could decide how to handle my unfortunate circumstances later.
Monday, May 4, 2043.
Tulsa, Oklahoma.
The Alley.
* * *
Sleep did me a world of good. The growl of a storm woke me, and according to my watch, Mother Nature had struck Tulsa again at a little after one in the morning. Despite the depth of my new cellar, the ground rumbled as the storm took out its wrath on the city above. Once again, I wondered how my life would change if I retreated to the safety of a different quadrant. Death ended everything, but I valued my freedom. I’d endured so much to keep hold of it, living as a vagrant most people viewed as worthless.
Death ended everything.
How had my life become such a mess of difficult choices? I could do nothing while dead, but did I truly live if I lived under the heel of some overly