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Homeward Bound - Part V
Donggye, Somewhere in Zhengshen
October 26, 1910 - NL 15

“Alright,” Elias said, his hands upon his lapels. Next to him was a pallet stacked with six large crates, each a tad moldier than the next. The logo of the O’Malley Brother’s trading company, an angry bee in flight, was branded upon the side of each. Spencer shivered to think at what had once been in each crate. “The lads aren’t aware that you’re comin’ alon’ for the ride. Now, you two stay put while I fetch them. They’ve got a couple of trucks we’re goin’ to take back seein’ as the Empire has yet to build a rail line back east.” Elias turned on his heel. He made it a few paces before turning around again.

“Oh, and you will want to change your names. The O’Malleys don’t like high profile passengers.”

Spencer clenched his jaw. This was a right nasty mess he’d landed himself in. Well, he reconsidered as his mind drifted to his father on that fateful day. It was a mess his father had thrown him into.

“So,” Gavin said, massaging his shoulder, “who do we wanna to be?”

“I’ll be Liam Tully,” Spencer said without hesitation. “You’re Kevin O’Toole.”

“Do I have to be an O’Toole?”

“You’re a tool already so I don’t see what the problem is.”

Gavin started toward Spencer, the latter of whom had donned a faint smile. Gavin’s own grin returned just as the trucks pulled into the lot. Both men froze.

Elias was the first to emerge. There were three trucks total. Two with covered trunks and a third without. Behind Elias came a wicked lot of brutes. Most bore scars, others clubs in place of scars. Elias had a pistol at his side now, his typical cheer gone. “Alright lads,” he said, motioning the brutes toward the crates. “Load ‘em up.”

“What ‘bout those two?” One of the brutes asked. Spencer winced at the sound of his voice, something akin to gargled gravel. “Who are they?”

Elias lifted an expectant eyebrow. “I am Liam Tully,” Spencer said. “And this is Kevin O’Toole.”

Elias nodded once, the shadow of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “These here be friends o’ mine. They arn’t trouble. Now go on and get loadin’.” The brutes started to move, and one by one the crates were loaded into the back of the trucks. Elias approached Spencer and Gavin, his smile slowly reemerging. “You twos will ride with me.” He pointed toward the truck with the uncovered back. “It’ll be awkward and a bit nippy, but it beats walkin’.”

“Wait,” Spencer said as Elias started toward the truck. “What’s in the crates?”

Elias shook his head. Withdrawing a cigarette he waited before it was lit before motioning toward the trucks again. Climbing in the back he said; “It’s now or never.”

Spencer and Gavin reluctantly climbed into the back of the truck. Elias remained standing, pistol at his side and cigarette in his mouth as he slapped the top. At once the three trucks began forward, unhindered in their path out of the city. Spencer breathed deep of the Celestial air as it passed slowly over his face. This was only his second time in such a vehicle, and he was beginning to understand its appeal among the Temrisian elite. His father still preferred the horse and buggy, and as such their estate boasted no less than twenty fine steads.

After a mile or two Spencer began to picture himself in the driver’s seat of perhaps a much better car. Kayden, when he’d grown a bit larger, would be seated in the passenger seat next to him. They’d sing, laugh, perhaps count the horses as they passed. The thought brought a smile to the wayward MacDarcy.

“You’re doin’ it again,” Gavin said, his voice piercing through the picture Spencer had conjured.

Spencer snapped back to the present moment just as the truck went over a particularly nasty bump in the road. “Doing what?” Gavin laughed, withdrawing his own cigarette from his mouth. Though when he’d received it was anyone’s guess. Without saying a word he moved his arms toward his chest, forming a cradling shape as if he were holding a baby. “Oh.” Spencer looked down at his arms. His were locked in the same position. Empty as they had been for far too long.

“I know you miss him,” Gavin said.

Elias raised an eyebrow. Huffing a particularly thick cloud he said; “Expectin’ a child are we?”

“Not expecting. I’m going home to my son,” Spencer said. “And when I get back I’m not letting him go.”

“You’ll have to let the boy grow up eventually,” Elias said. “Otherwise he may resent you. My pa always gave me a healthy bit of breathin’ room. O’ course I found me a wife who doesn’t let me breathe at all. T’was a miracle that she let me go on me own to see me brother in Shephard.” He leaned back against the cab, folding his hands behind his head as he did so. “Suzanna is a great woman. I’d never trade her for anythin’ less than godhood, and even then I’d have to think ‘bout it. What’s a life without a woman?” Gavin huffed his cigarette until it was nothing but a lifeless stump. Spencer looked away, his arms finally dropping to his lap. “You two ain’t…?”

“No,” Spencer said quickly, snapping his attention to Elias. Gavin shifted, his attention dropping to the lifeless cigarette. “My wife died the day my son was born.”

“Ah,” Elias said. “I’m sorry to hear that. I’d heard that one o’ your clan had passed but I wasn’t sure if it was the young missus or the old lady.”

Silence fell between the trio once more. Spencer sat alone in his grief while Elias entertained Gavin with another cigarette. Night had fallen, but with the bumpy road and dim lights from the trucks behind them Spencer wagered he’d get little sleep. He bundled himself in his thin jacket, his collar upturned. His mind wandered as his gaze drifted sleepily between his compatriots and the dark world outside the bed of the truck. How far was he now? Would they cross the border into Temris by morning? How long would it be before they reach Chasewater?

Gavin sat snoring across from Spencer. At least one of them could sleep. Elias sat between them, his watchful eyes examining every little detail they could observe in the darkness. Slowly Elias leaned forward. For an uncomfortable moment he said nothing at all.

“These crates are for your father,” he said quietly. Spencer’s face twisted in confusion. “Do you remember what I said about your father providin’ me with enough work in Yahawara? The crates are part of it.”

“Why tell me that? When I asked you earlier what was in them you refused to tell me.” Spencer leaned a bit closer. “What’s in the crates?” Balling his fist between his legs he leaned further in. “Tell me.”

“You are your father’s heir. I assume that you would want to know what he’s up to should the wrong people come knockin’ for payment.” Elias shifted slightly. “But if I tell you, you will never look at him the same.”

Spencer loosened his fist. His eyes drifted to the bed of the truck, then to Gavin’s sleeping face. He’d stirred slightly when they went over another bump but remained out cold. Looking back to Elias he hardened his gaze. “I want to know.”

Elias sighed. “I warned you. As you know, the O’Malley brothers deal in, shall we say, exclusive trade. Thin’s people wouldn’t want to appear on registers are placed in our care. These crates were full of the Banshee’s Mist. It fetches a higher price further from the border. People addicted to it will give us anythin’ we ask. Heirlooms, relics, solid gold bars, you name it. The crates are a treasure trove that your father will receive after we’ve deducted our 15%.”

Spencer’s stomach twisted violently. He’d known his father to be many things, but this… “And… and you’re just okay with ruining people’s lives?”

Elias shrugged. “It ain’t my life they’re ruinin’. I’m an honest man. They know what they’re buyin’ and what they’re buyin’ it with.”

Spencer clenched his fist again. His body shook as fury replaced the sickening feeling that had welled in the pit of his stomach. He let his rage pass. No. It wouldn’t do to unleash it on his only way home. “I’m going to make no promises about reporting you when we reach Temré.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Elias’ hand drifted to his gun. “No one would believe a word you say.”