Chapter 4

Miri stared for a moment at the wood paneling of the small room they were in. Only seconds before, they were stepping through a doorway on Crossroads. "Okay, that was weird," she exclaimed. Thinking of the strange twisting sensation in her stomach, she turned to her brother. "Did it feel that way the first time?"

He nodded and then shrugged. "I was pretty much out of it at the time, but that felt like I remembered it." Looking down at the instruction sheet Tasha gave him, he motioned toward the door.

She glanced over at the door and then back up at him. The bad feeling in her stomach wasn't really going away.

Seeing her expression, Tory smiled the way he always did at her. "We'll be fine, Miri. You'll see," he told her as he tucked away Tasha's note. Taking her small hand in his, he opened the door and led her out into a fancy hallway that went out to the bank's lobby.

Gazing around, she could see that the hallway itself was filled with doors like the one she and Tory had just come through.

Reaching the lobby, the two of them found themselves with a fair number of other people who had business at the bank that day. Quietly, the pair took their place in line and waited until they could talk to one of the clerks at the counter. When their time finally came, Tory pulled out Tasha's note and stepped up to the counter, with his sister in tow. Looking down, he read from the sheet of paper.

"Our guardian, Clarence Whittaker, opened an account for us along with a storage box. We are here to claim them and transfer them to our names."

Startled by the strange request, the young clerk looked them over closely, his eyes widening noticeably when they fell on Miri. Tearing them away from her, he met Tory's gaze and then nodded his head. "I'll have to get the bank manager. If you'll wait just a moment?"

At that, he headed for a doorway in the back and soon emerged with a short, stout man with a rather sour appearance. The taller clerk leaned over a bit and whispered to the man as they both approached the counter. Once there, the man's whole demeanor changed when his eyes met Miri's.

She actually found it all a bit peculiar. Oh, he was pleasant enough—cheerful even. It's just that she found him frequently sneaking looks at her the whole time. It wasn't like those terrible men who wanted to do awful things to her, though. For some reason, she knew this was different. It was like he wanted her to be happy with him.

He asked what their business was and Tory simply repeated what he had told the clerk.

"Very good, very good," the man murmured as he perused something on his side of the counter. "Let's just establish your identities, okay? What are your names?"

"I'm Hector and this is my sister, Miranda."

"Very good, those are the names listed with Mister Whittaker," he commented cheerfully. "Now, if you would each insert one of your fingers into the hole."

With that accomplished, he then asked for the pass phrase.

Tory spoke up. "Endeavor to persevere."

"Very good, Master Hector and Miss Miranda," the manager said with an enormous smile. "Your guardian was very generous. Your account balance with us is a very nice sum of 200 conchs. Would you like to withdraw any at this time?"

Miri watched Tory think for a moment and then nod his head. She was glad he knew what he was doing with the money here, because she didn't get the whole "pinch, quad, shell, conch" thing.

"I'd like 19 conchs, 25 shells, and 100 quads in a small pouch, please."

The bank manager's expression changed from one of cheeriness to concern. "You sure you want to keep that much on your person? That's a small fortune."

Hector just nodded his head. It was what he had worked out with Tasha and Elizabeth.

The man smiled sympathetically. "Just be sure to keep it well hidden," he told them as he laid the pouch on the counter. "And definitely do not pull it all out when you go to pay for something," he advised them. "Only take out a little more than you'll need well ahead of time and use that, alright?"

Hector nodded again.

"If you would just meet me over by that door there," he said pleasantly, pointing to one in the wall just past the end of the counter, "I will show you to a room where you can examine your new box."

In short order, they were taken to a room that looked very similar to the one they arrived in, except this one had a small table in it and another one of those finger holes in the wall above it.

"When you're ready to get your box, put your finger in there," he told them, gesturing toward the hole.

Miri couldn't help but giggle watching her brother do as the bank manager instructed. If it was her, she'd have had to climb up on the table to get to it.

The stout man, noticing her amusement, smiled down at her. "They definitely didn't design these banks for your people, now did they?"

Not knowing what he meant, she just smiled and silently shook her head in agreement. Moments later, the area around the hole turned green and a large box appeared on the table.

Just before Tory opened the box, however, the manager made to leave. "Just so you're aware, the rental fee for this box is two shells a year. You're paid up for this year, and the fee will automatically be subtracted from your account in the future. Also, I tell this to everyone, do not put anything living inside the storage box. The results when you go to open it again are quite awful."

The two of them—being as familiar with 'awful' as they were—decided not to ask.

"Now, when you are finished examining the contents of the box," he continued, "just close the lid and it will immediately be put into storage. Do you have any questions?"

Seeing them both shake their heads no, he smiled at them and reached for the door. "If you need anything at all, please come see me."

And with that, the two of them were alone with their storage box.

"Okay, that was weird," Miri remarked, staring at the closed door.

Her brother, reaching down to open the box on the table, simply nodded his head in agreement.

As foul as the stench of Wolf Creek was, it was a familiar one. Stepping out of the bank, it stirred up memories and feelings Tory would just as soon left buried, along with his mother and older sister. Thankfully, they would not be staying in the village for long. Tory glanced down at his sister and warmly squeezed her hand. She squeezed back.

Their "damsel"—one Daphne Schreiber, age 16—lived several weeks journey west with her guardian and they would need to get going soon. The reason for the distance was to give the brother and sister time to acclimate to Chaos—at least that is what Tasha and Elizabeth told them. Thankfully, between their planning and what Whit had left in the storage box, Tory felt very confident about their chances.

For one, their clothing was comfortable, durable, and ordinary in appearance. As Tory well knew, the less attention they attracted, the better. Second, thanks to Whit, if they attracted attention, they were not defenseless. The staves, long knives and daggers they carried would at least give them a fighting chance, should it come to that. And lastly, the backpacks and camping gear Whit left for them would be invaluable. All that was left to do was secure foodstuffs and a few other odds and ends for the trip.

The first stop Tory wanted to make was a dry goods or general store which, as it turned out, there was one located directly across from the bank. Stepping inside the establishment was like stepping back in time for the siblings. Things that would be considered antiques or museum pieces on Earth were numerous as well as for sale, along with various other items that were similar to what they could find back home at Falabella's or Homecenter. It was just that the store was much smaller, not to mention extremely rustic.

While Miri wandered around, exploring everything for sale, Tory was looking for something very specific—namely, a net. He and Elizabeth had researched the fishing practices around the village of Wolf Creek and thought he should be able to find one. What he specifically wanted was a two-person seine or dragnet, but figured a small cast net could fit his need as well. Unfortunately, he wasn't finding either.

"Can I help you folks with anything?"

Tory glanced up to see the shopkeeper—a tall, older man with thinning hair—standing nearby, with a pleasant expression on his face.

"Would you happen to have any nets for sale?"

"That depends. What kind do you need?"

Tory started trying to describe what he was looking for and the man smiled.

"A dragnet is what you're after, and fortunate for you, I just happen to have one," he said. Walking over to a cabinet Tory had missed, the man opened a door, pulled out a neatly folded net and set it on a nearby counter. "Marie, the fishmonger's wife, makes these and brought it over for sale two days ago."

"How long is it?"

"About four men," the man replied, unfolding it a bit to show Tory the quality workmanship.

Tory tried to work out the length in his head, figuring it was probably somewhere between six and seven meters. It was longer than he wanted, but he could make it work. "How much?"

"Fifteen shells."

Tory visibly winced, that was way too high. "I wasn't planning to spend that much. Would you take eight?"

The shopkeeper shook his head. "The lowest I could go is twelve."

"Well, it's still a bit high." Tory, pretending to hesitate, glanced around and caught sight of his sister. "I could do eleven, if you tossed in a ten-man spool of narrow hemp rope and that straw hat for my sister," he countered, pointing at her.

The tall man appeared to weigh the offer carefully, his eyes firmly on Miri. After a few moments, he looked back to Tory and nodded. "That sounds fine."

Miri let out a squeal of delight. Bouncing back over to her brother's side, she looked so very cute in her new hat.

"So what's the net for, if you don't mind my asking?" The man asked as he fetched the spool of rope.

"I broke Uncle Henry's net," Miri told him.

Tory inwardly laughed as he stowed the new purchases in his pack. No one could resist his sister's sad yet innocent expression. Those big brown eyes of hers just sucked people in. "Well, of course you did," he scolded her. "They're not made for catching butterflies!"