the_lawless (the_lawless) wrote in the_colony, @ 2011-02-02 21:30:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | ^ week 33, leo parker, ~ series: traders |
Week 33 - Friday
Characters: Leo Parker and Orin
Location: Farmstead property
Summary: Orin and Leo get reacquainted and discuss the past and present.
Rating: PG
The excessive winds that blew through the countryside Tuesday morning should have been a sign: nature’s way of letting everyone know that change was just around the corner. At least the downed limbs and wobbly fences gave Leo something to do over the next few days; excuses he used to get away from the farmhouse’s recent visitors. While he may have grown fond of his new found ‘family,’ he had never been much of a socialite. More people only meant more discomfort and less trust.
Branches were dragged near the garage to be chopped and while Leo wielded the ax, Walker dodged in and out of the tree line like a wild yearling, happy for the opportunity to play uninhibited outside. It was by no means warm, but it wasn’t so cold that the two felt their skin numbing as soon as they stepped out. The only thing Leo didn’t like about chopping wood was the amount of focus it took. The sounds were deafening. Distracting. Occasionally, he would stop the rhythmic swing of his ax and look out for the boy or glance over his shoulder for any or no particular threats at all. But being back near the house again meant Leo could also hear the activity of the traders as they busied about outside, working on projects or tilling the ground for the upcoming planting.
Orin heard the chopping and headed in that direction curiously. It made sense that they had a chopping block, and he was interested to know where it was so he could use it himself in the near future.
He recognized the man with the axe instantly and gave a nod in greeting, offering a faint but polite smile. Orin remembered him staying with them at Homestead for two nights, recovering and tracking his former-now-current friends.
“Orin,” Leo answered, his tone one of greeting. He hoped he’d remembered the other man’s name, though he was fairly certain he did. It was a bit unusual, which made it harder to forget. Anchoring the blade of the axe into the chopping block with a solid swing, he rested his forearm atop the handle and wiped at his brow with his sleeve. Leo glanced briefly over and Orin and scanned the trees for Walker.
“Everybody... settling in okay?” he asked awkwardly, trying to make polite conversation.
“Yeah,” Orin replied with a nod, his smile lengthening a bit. “You guys got a nice place here. Lots of room to stretch out. I can see it stretching into a settlement someday.”
“Can’t ever find anything to complain about here,” Leo confessed. Orin’s smile managed to put him a little more at ease. He stepped around from behind the block just in time for Walker to come flying out of the woods, a blur of orange camouflage and dark, wild hair heading toward the barn. Leo smirked and stood next to Orin with his hands in his pockets. “And neither can he.”
Orin chuckled in good humor at the sight of the energetic boy. He reached into one of the deep pockets of his cargo pants, searching around for a bit before he pulled out a little leather pouch. His hands worked expertly as he pulled out the little laminated fold of papers, then a pinch of brown tangles.
“You’re lookin’ better,” he commented.
“Got Alice lookin’ after me now,” Leo smirked. He couldn’t help but eye the tobacco, having run out of cigarettes a long while ago. Finding them on raids was like finding gold. “She makes me eat.”
“Somehow I can’t see you puttin’ up much of a fight,” came the amused reply. Once the cigarette was rolled, he offered it to Leo, his eyes crinkling in the corners. Leo looked at the cigarette and then his gaze shifted upward to meet Orin’s, one eyebrow slightly quirked with uncertainty.
He drew his hand from his coat pocket, but hesitated, his hand hanging awkwardly between them. “Really?”
Orin scoffed, holding it out more pointedly. “First toke is always to the offered, man. You should know the rules.”
Leo eyed the other man a second longer. He always did his smoking in private, just so he wouldn’t have to share, and here was Orin not even thinking twice. It kind of made Leo feel like a jerk. He narrowed his eyes a little and took the freshly rolled cigarette in his fingertips to bring it to his lips. Fishing a pack of matches from his jean pocket, he sparked a flame and drew in the heat until he could see the tiny red embers growing at the tip of the paper.
He held it in and let the rich, hot smoke fill his lungs; the tendrils of nicotine curling along his veins. With a slow, regretful exhale he smiled some and passed the cigarette back to Orin.
“Thanks.”
Orin stuck up his hand, his smile becoming a grin. “Take what you need, man. Not like I’m lacking at the moment.”
“Where’d you get all that anyway?” he asked, one eye squinting a little against the smoke that rose up as he took another drag. “Were you guys growin’ it or something?” Then Leo grinned too.
“It was part of a trade,” Orin answered, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and pushing his hands into his pockets. “One of the only ones we managed in Mexico. There was a little couple living on the outskirts’a town who were growing it. Not a lot, ‘course, but a single little plot on their land. The man had a bit of a habit, I guess.”
Smirking to himself, Leo leaned back on his heels and wondered if Alice --or even Tom-- would allow a crop of tobacco to grow on the plantation. That was doubtful, especially since the resource would have been for recreation and not something to be eaten. Trade, though, was an interesting option. He drew in another puff of smoke and studied Orin via a sideways glance.
Orin watched as Walker continued to play, amusement written on his face before pulling one hand from his pocket and running it up through the back of his hair in reverse.
“D’you know if Bridget’s been with anybody in your camp?”
This time, Leo turned to face Orin when he studied him. He took another long, quiet drag and exhaled up toward the sky, his eyes wandering upward as he thought on that for a moment. Finally, he shook his head, letting his gaze fall to meet Orin’s again.
“I don’t think so,” he answered and shrugged his shoulders softly. “I mean... I was gone for awhile, but I still don’t think so.” Leo stared out across the yard before the inevitable follow up. “Why?”
“Just curious,” came the answer. The other man dropped his hand back into his pocket again. He licked his lips like he wanted to add more, but remained quiet.
“Sure.” Leo smirked, then goaded. “Come on.”
“S’nothin’,” Orin replied, tipping his head back and to the side as he smiled self-consciously. “She said she hadn’t been with anybody aside from her husband and me, but it was... y’know. I just wanted to be sure I wasn’t gettin’ in on somebody’s jones or whatever.”
Leo’s smirk evolved into a subtle grin as he stared at the ground, though he was surprised at the small part of him that felt protective of Bridget. Was Orin a decent man? Or did he serve jail time and run with gangs before the end? That easy expression gradually faded away.
“Nah, man... I think you’re in the clear.” Leo toed the muddy earth with his boot and glanced up. “So... you guys planning on sticking around for awhile, I take it?” Why else would he be concerned with Bridget’s affairs?
Orin gave a nod, “Evie said a month. We can’t really stay any longer because we’re due up north for a fruit harvest, but we’ll probably come down after the picking’s over or Evie gets bored--” his lips quirked in a smile, “--whichever comes first.”
“North, huh?” Leo silently mulled this over for a moment, wondering what kind of fruit could grow in Oregon but by the time another question reached his lips a more pressing matter came to mind. “Y’all heard about that group up north, right? Where Abigail and Nate came from?” They may have moved on by now, but Leo felt strongly that he should mention it. Just in case.
Again, the other man nodded. “We’ll be taking the long way up there to avoid any chance of a run-in, but honestly... it won’t be the first renegade group we’ve seen or heard of since we started.”
“Tell me about it,” Leo answered. “Hopefully they’ve moved on by now. Or committed mass suicide or somethin’.”
Orin gave him a humorless smile. “Wouldn’t that be great? Seriously, the human race is almost made extinct, and sick bastards like this somehow still survive.” It was that line of thought that had him finally hold his hand out for the cigarette. Leo passed it over without a second’s hesitation, far away in thought.
“Yeah,” he finally managed, reaching up to rest his now empty hand on the back of his neck. He remembered the Sevens and how they had rallied together so quickly after the disease spread and Leo often wondered how they managed that. Later, he chalked it up to the fact that most of them were from Arkansas; as state that was --in his opinion-- the armpit of the United States. “I think the crazies are drawn to each other. Then they feed off each other’s crazy. They don’t even realize the point where shit stops making sense.”
He half-smirked at Orin. “At least there’s still good people, too. Drawn to each other.”
Orin held in the inhale for as long as he could, then slowly released it through his nose and nodded. “Word, man,” he replied at last. “Like gravity.” He held out the cigarette again, looking off at the house.
“So are you gonna be working primarily in the fields, or with the expansion on the house?”
Leo followed Orin’s gaze toward the house, taking the offered cigarette between his lips again. He shrugged to himself and exhaled slowly. “I don’t really know much about either, but I think I’d rather work on the house. I’m not really the ‘farmer’ type. Grew up in the city. What about you?”
“Same,” Orin said with a nod. “I might do better in the fields though, truth be told. You’ve got all the equipment here, so it shouldn’t be hard to do it and do it rapidly.”
With small shrug, Leo took another drag from the cigarette and handed it to Orin. “What’d you do before all this? Job wise, I mean.”
“Freelance photography,” the other man answered, taking another short drag. The cigarette was quickly dwindling. “Mostly for newspapers, but I did personal shots too if the demand was there. Honestly, if someone paid me, I’d shoot it.”
“Yeah?” Leo smiled; a small, sincere expression. That was one of the more interesting previous occupations he’d heard. “Was it the old school dark room stuff or just digital?”
Orin shifted on his feet, tipping his head to the side and cracking his neck. “Bit of both. I learned to do dark room stuff in school, but I worked mostly in digital. Old school shots had a different quality to them. And I’m definitely glad I learned how to do it the old school way, but I dunno what I’m gonna do to make my own film to work with once it can’t be found anymore.”
“They took pictures before there was film,” Leo answered in reassurance, but then he blinked doubtfully. “Didn’t they?”
“Well yeah,” Orin said slowly, his brow furrowing while he tried to recall what he’d learn in his art history class. “Photography was developed in the 1800’s, but I wouldn’t even have the right way to do it now. Y’gotta have access to the right kind of equipment and chemicals, and I was always shit at chemistry.”
“Huh.” Slightly deflated, Leo stared out toward the fields where the others were working. Some part of him felt badly that Orin would eventually run out of means to pursue his trade. They would likely always have wood and metal, food and water, and all the other raw elements needed for a functional civilization but people like Orin and Louisa May would have to step way back in time to do their jobs.
“That sucks, man. Thanks for pokin’ holes in all my optimism.” Leo glanced at Orin with a wry half-grin and rolled back on his heels again.
Orin gave a little shrug, taking one last drag on the cigarette before dropping it to the ground and grinding it out with his boot. He took a slow, deep breath and released it, then shrugged again. “I can still do digital for a while. Won’t be able to print stuff ‘til who knows when, but the data will be there. So long as it’s kept in a cool, dry place, SD cards and stuff’ll last a good long time.”
A sudden figure appeared heading toward them at a jog. It was the little red-haired girl that Searle had been spending so much time with recently.
“Orin, Evie wants to talk about a hunting trip.”
“‘Kay, be there inna sec,” Orin replied, then Nevaeh headed off the way she came. Orin gave a short laugh. “Duty calls, I guess. Catch you later, man.”