Teng teng teng.
The bell above the door chimed three times – once when it was struck, then again when the door reached the loose nail in the floor, and finally once more when the frame of the old building shook with the visitor’s first steps. Janelle Vanderlee had heard that bell ring three times more than she could count, until it had become nothing but background noise that her brain had tuned out. It wasn’t so hard. A lot of this world was livable if you tuned out parts of it. Owning a general store on the edge of oblivion was just fine too, if you tuned out the decay, and the ruin, and endless stream of broken souls trying to outrun the inevitable. The bell, which always rang three times, had in fact become such a part of her life that she often forgot to look up from her ledger when it chimed the arrival of a guest, which is why she failed to notice the arrival of Jim Owens, the only wheelwright in town.
“Uh, Janelle?” Jim didn’t bother to clear his throat, or even give the simple civility of an, “Excuse me ma’am.” Jim was like that.
“High felicitations and God’s own grace be upon you, Jim Owens.” Janelle beamed a smile but felt no warmth behind it. Dealing with Jim was a chore. Always had been. “Round these parts we like to greet each other with a reminder of the gift of each new day.” She let her false smile slip ever so slightly. “In case you forgot.”
Jim Owens looked back at her with confusion. “The gift of each new day?” Jim wasn’t well versed in the finer things in life. He didn’t speak right, and displayed no measure of etiquette. In truth, he didn’t fit this town, hadn’t even when it had still had a population with counting. “Uh, high felicities to you, as well.”
Then the two of them stared at each other across a void of misunderstanding.
“Something I can help you with, Jim?”
“Uh, yeah. I need what supplies I can get. I’m leaving.”
“Leaving?” Janelle felt her glasses slip, and readjusted them without thinking. With her thumb, she dog-eared her ledger, careful to mark the page so she could return later to study the numbers. “And where on God’s green earth are you leaving to, Jim Owens? Henryville?”
Jim looked nervous to speak, but he did so in his usual oafish tone. “Uh, God’s earth isn’t green,” he said quietly. “Not anymore. And Henryville’s been gone for three months.”
“Well then I guess it makes no sense to leave, does it Brother Owens?”
“I guess not,” Jim agreed to no one in particular. He was looking down at his comical workboots when he produced a wad of cash and trinkets from a pocket in his coveralls. “What can I get with this?”
Janelle lowered her brow. She looked down at the ball of money with all the disgust and contempt that it deserved. Then she peered back up at Jim. “Leaving’s not an option, Jim.” She was now speaking just as roughly as the wheelwright himself, but a part of her knew it was the only language that the dullard was going to understand. “Where is it you think you’re gonna go?”
Jim only shrugged.
“You think there’s some bustling city five miles down the road, eager to take us in, with annihilation waiting in the wings?” She stared daggers at the man, but he only looked down at the absurdity of his own outfit, so she pressed the issue further. “You think if there was anything out there worth finding, one of these hopeless refugees who’d already abandoned their home, abandoned their place, and taken to the road like cowards, wouldn’t have come back to tell us about such a place?”
“I don’t know,” Jim admitted quietly. “It doesn’t really matter.” Then his voice got a little louder. “What matters is I can’t stay here. I knew it a long time ago, and I didn’t do anything about it. I knew it the first time I found a ghost in my shop, and started sleeping with the lights on. I knew it when I stopped noticing the sound of the wind. It never
stops here. It just grinds you down like it does the rocks, and the old dead trees.” Jim looked up and met her in the eye. “I knew it when the walking man took to pacing our streets, and we started getting kids without names, who live like animals.”
“You’re a wheelwright, Jim Owens,” Janelle reminded him.” They’re not your problem.”
“No, I guess they’re not.” He shrugged his shoulders, and Janelle felt her own brow twitch with anger. Some people, no matter how you explained it to them, would just … never… get it. Jim’s voice was quiet again when he spoke. “What can I get for this much?” he nodded down at the wad of cash.
“Probably … a … couple … weeks!” She enunciated each word with a clarity that had no room for kindness.
“I’ll take it,” said Jim dismissively. Then he turned to open the door.
Teng teng teng.
“I could fix that for you, y’know? Before I leave,” Jim looked back over his shoulder. “It’s just a loose nail.”
“It don’t need fixin’!” Janelle shot back through clenched teeth. “It’s just right the way it is.” Jim nodded, and disappeared out into the wind.
