The Fence Mender

Chapter 12

There were a number of ways he could approach the situation, though Xander thought that honesty would only be used as a last resort. He hated to lie to the old man, but he had little hope that he would part with his work so willingly.
"Mr. Clark," Xander said as he tapped the open door.

"Who's that?" he shouted from around the corner.

"It's Xander. We spoke earlier in the week."

"Yes, of course," he said, his voice perking up. "Come in, come in."

Once inside, his eyes went right to the shelves as he tried to figure out where the map book rested. His last visit had focused so much on the photos that his memory of their location was fuzzy at best.

"Didn't think I'd be seeing you so soon," said Clark, adjusting his glasses.
"I was just out for a walk and thought I'd stop by."

"Take a seat."

Xander cleared out some space on the coffee table, still covered in stacks of papers.

"So what's going on out there? What am I missing?"

"Not a damn thing."

The blunt honesty was enough to make old Clark laugh, and laugh hard.

"That's a bleak world outlook you got, son."

"Sorry. Things have just been a little difficult lately."

"You in some kind of trouble?"

"No, just a little cagey I suppose."

"You want to talk to me about cagey? Wait until they send you here."

"I can only imagine," Xander said, perishing the thought.

"Would you like some tea?" he asked, pushing his weight forward with the cane, anticipating having to get up.

"Sure."

Horatio rose from the chair and headed towards the kitchen. Once out of his peripheral, Xander stood and began to walk towards the shelves.

"What's the weather like out there?" Horatio yelled from the kitchen.

"Cold," Xander replied, inching closer to the books, occasionally peering over his shoulder to make sure the old man couldn't see.

"What's that?" he said in a little louder. "Don't hear as well as I used to."

"I said it was cold," Xander said raising his voice.

"Nothing new there. You should have been here for the blizzard in '37. Now that was cold," Horatio replied. The sounds of plates and cups ratted in the background.

Xander went right for the shelf, pulling out volumes and ruffling through them. The first few contained page after page of charcoal sketches, forests of black trees, the skyline of the city, and a sketch of an older woman sitting in the city square.

"How do you take it?"

"Lots of sugar," Xander replied, placing the book back on the shelf and grabbing another.

He opened one of the leather-bound volumes, and there they were: the illustrated works of Horatio Clark. Page after page of well-detailed maps, starting with Fawcett, each page taking another tract of land. The level of detail was remarkable, not just the artistic flourishes, but the locations of everything from small towns, population levels, fresh water supplies, high activity zones denoted with skulls and red x's. There was even a history of violent events on the roads with numbers, leading to a key that revealed it to be 'scavenger Attacks.'