“How do we fill the barrels?” she asked as Sondre backed the giant truck up to the building’s loading dock. It reminded her of the dock at the harbor when she was still living in this world. Ships would unload cargo ranging from sugar to bolts of fabric.
“Let me go first,” he said, shucking his jacket so his work shirt was obvious. “Unless you need to, I don’t want you messing with his head.”
Prospero sighed. The argument against her gift grew tedious no matter how many times they’d had it. “It doesn’t hurt them.”
“Says you.” Sondre hopped out of the truck and sauntered up to a man with a pen and clipboard who had stepped out of an office at the back of the dock.
Prospero couldn’t hear their discussion, but she could tell the man was angry and suspicious. He was gesticulating in wide sweeps. Sondre was still wearing his affable expression. Objectively, she could see why people found him charming, but that friendly demeanor was never turned toward her.
She opened the truck’s door, hopped down, and walked toward them.
“No record of a scheduled pickup.” The man jabbed a meaty finger at the list on his clipboard.
“We’re early. They were to call and—”
“No name on the list, no loading. It’s not a new rule, Sean.” The man clearly wasn’t open to negotiation. He used the name stitched on Sondre’s shirt. “So unless I have a call from logistics—”
“Is there an issue?” Prospero asked as she strolled up to join Sondre.
She could see by the clench of his jaw that he was not asking for her to help, but he obviously needed her to adjust the man’s mind. If not, they’d be left with either resorting to violence or returning with an empty truck.
So she reached into the man’s mind with her magic and snagged the memory of their last trip where he saw “Sean’s” name on the roster. She pulled it forward to the now, as if the sheet in front of him had the name at the very bottom.
“Isn’t that us?” she asked, stepping close to the dock supervisor. “Right there.”
Sondre looked away, but the dock supervisor squinted at his list. There was, of course, no extra name there, but he saw it there all the same. “Sorry, man. I swear it wasn’t there before. Long night last night.”
“No worries.” Sondre held out a hand to shake.
After the quick shake, the dock worker pushed a wheeled trolley at them. “Go ahead in and load her up.”
Obviously embarrassed, he turned and walked toward his office.
“You’re a monster,” Sondre grumbled as he snatched the trolley. “How many times can his mind handle that invasion before it’s mush?”
She grabbed a second trolley. “I don’t hurt them. I’ve said as much dozens of times.”
“Tell that to my brother. Dementia. That’s what you did.” Sondre stomped forward, hefting a bag of rice and another of dried beans.
“I did not cause your brother’s mind sickness,” she said to his departing back.
They continued on, gathering flour, sugar, salt, pasta noodles, oats, peas, more varieties of beans. While one of them rolled the cargo intothe truck, the other continued to load the supplies for their “grocery store.”
It was true to a degree—they were gathering provisions for Crenshaw’s grocery supply.
She added crates of tinned fruit and vegetables, powered milk, and some hard cheeses. They worked forward with a combination of a list they always had and odd items that weren’t always in stock. Today, they added paper goods, several bolts of fabric, wood, metal bolts and nails, some farming tools, pots, and a pan.
“Bed linens?” Prospero asked as he swept a pile of blankets and sheets onto his trolley.
Sondre ignored her.
Prospero reached the fresh produce area. It was such a treat for the residents, but they didn’t always have room in the truck. She topped her next load off with fruits, lettuce, onions, and potatoes. Maybe healthier food would help their eldest members resist the water sickness better.
“Any ideas on the best plan to fill the liquor barrels with water?” she finally asked.
“There’s hoses on some of the faucets.” Sondre pointed to a red nozzle poking out of the wall. A long green tube was attached to it. “I’ll bring the barrels in.”
He didn’t make a point that she wasn’t strong enough to lift them, and she was silently grateful for that.
