Looking Back Through Ash - Wade Ebeling Page 0,1

three years showing kindness had proven to be a surefire way of getting exactly nowhere. Despite this pained feeling a wry smile adorned his thin, angular face. Above all else, Daniel had still gotten the better of the novice merchant.

In stark contrast to Daniel, the short, bearded man standing on the other side of the stall sported a very grim look. His eyes were squinted and his lips were puckered, as if he had just sipped some rancid lemon juice. The scowl seemed out of place on the weird man and, most certainly, did not agree with the comical aesthetics of his strange ensemble. Lengthy vivid-pink cloth wrappings were twisted around his lower legs, turning the wraps into a kind of calf-high sandal, and draped over his back was what looked to be a child’s raincoat. The way the cord held it tied around his neck made the slicker resemble a transparent cape that was dotted with cheery, top-hat wearing ducklings. Cut-off tweed dress pants strained to hold back his bulbous, bare belly. This man was obviously not well-fed; the rest of his body looked quite thin and fragile. The swollen joints and stomach were classic signs of starvation.

Not wanting to give the dull-witted trader a moment to have a change of heart, Daniel hurriedly transferred items from the table into one of the two burlap bags that he had brought along. After he had finished, the stall was left looking quite sparse. He had swapped three useless textbooks for a cotton mop head, four mousetraps, a bight of hemp twine and six deformed tallow candles. It was a trade that only someone with an innate guile had a chance of pulling off.

In an act of pure malice Daniel had revealed to the vendor that he did not like dealing with the city of New Warren directly; even going on a rant about the Municipal Gas Stipends as proof of his convictions. To finish baiting the hook, he mentioned the books in his bag. Books that this vendor, if he bought them, would then have the prospect of selling to the only school in the area for a huge profit. This of course was nothing but a well-sold lie, told as if he should be obliged to Daniel in the end.

What the odd man did not know was most of the curriculum the city-funded school now taught with had been supplied to them years ago from a collection of books found in the front room of Daniel’s salvage-stuffed home. This was just the first of many profitable trades that he had brokered with the city over the past seven years. Ever so slowly the essentials that Daniel and his father before him had managed to collect together were being converted, helping to fill the void left behind by the more perishable of items.

Not for one second did Daniel feel sorry for this man. Those kinds of feelings, if they ever had existed in him, no longer came to the surface. In fact he was wondering if he should have kept pressing the nearly-toothless fool, certain that if he had even more could have been gained in the trade. It was mainly the thick, earwax-yellow candle made from some indeterminate type of corpse fat which Daniel still wanted. Unfortunately, that would have to wait. It was always best to get away quickly after a deal had been made, well before a dispute could get started.

Snappishly turning away from the latest victim of his haggling skills, Daniel continued threading down one of the long rows inside the sizeable bazaar. Dressed in his usual attire, khaki cargo pants, dark t-shirt, and hiking boots, held together by thread, glue, and good intentions, Daniel Moore stood out from the crowd at large. His clean clothes and blue-tinted sunglasses perched atop a faded ball cap gave off the aura of wealth, but it was the fact that he stood over six feet tall and was in obvious good health that really set him apart. Hard years of malnutrition stunted growth and hindered muscular development. Daniel showed no sign of these maladies which were all too common within the quarantine zone.

Having quickly traded away the books, Daniel shuffled his tall frame through the bustling market section of the Warehouse. Deftly ducking in and around other people he headed for the far southeastern corner of the massive building. The conflicting sounds and smells found within the bazaar surrounded him in the most confusing of ways, both comforting and