Hands of Fate - Survivors of Flight AA214

Chapter 43

Bianca

Day 41

Population of Thornhill - 53

After the first reports of the “crime wave” in Thornhill, I found myself at the smithy, requesting something I never thought Thornhill would need—locks. I’d always pictured our little town as the kind of place where you could leave your door open without a second thought. But that was before I realized how naive I’d been.

At the smithy, Bart and Jesus were already deep in an argument over the best way to forge a sickle. Back on Earth, they’d worked side by side in a car shop, though they weren’t really brothers. We called them that anyway. They even had matching crew cuts and nearly identical facial hair. The only difference was Bart's height and sharper features, whereas Jesus had a stockier build, his arms covered in intricate sleeve tattoos that stood out against his sun-warmed skin.

“Locks, huh, B?” Jesus asked, arching a brow at my request. His hand ran over the stubble on the back of his head, a habit he seemed to fall into whenever something caught him off guard.

“Man, we’re all family here. Who the hell would dare steal from us?” Bart slammed his hammer down on a red-hot flat piece of metal; the sharp clang echoing through the smithy. “I find that thief, Ima break their fingers, medieval style.”

I held up a hand, trying to rein him in before rumors could start flying faster than they already were. “It’s just a precaution. Don’t worry.”

Jesus leaned against the workbench, arms crossed, eyeing me. “You know who it is, B? That Alex guy. Dude comes in here all the time, uses our equipment like he owns the place.”

“What?!” I stared at Jesus, incredulous. “Alex is a nice person. Besides, the smithy is free to use. I welcome anyone who wants to learn blacksmithing, and you two know that.”

“Yo, about that B… we’re gonna need more iron soon, queen. Stacks low right now. Real low,” Jesus said, shaking his head.

“Please do not call me that,” I replied, annoyed, rubbing my temple. “The trade caravan will be back in a week or so and they’ll have some. Other than that… we might have to stick to copper from the dungeons. If we can loot more bronze items from the lower levels or find tin, you can make stuff out of bronze.”

“Aight B, but that’s regression. It goes steel next, not copper man. We’re heading backwards.” Bart frowned in disappointment.

“I’ll see what I can round up. Keep up the good work, you two,” I tried to smile, but there was so much going on in my head at once right now.

My next task was to head over to the warehouse and check on the inventory. I’d already combed through the town’s copper coin reserves and everything was accounted for, but now I needed to make sure the warehouse stock was in order. We didn’t have much left after the trade caravan came through and cleaned us out.

“It’s all here, Queen B. Nothing out of the ordinary,” Larry rasped, his words broken up by a hacking cough.

I winced at the nickname. “Don’t call me that. And are you alright, Larry?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just a cough, that’s all. No big—” His sentence dissolved into another fit of coughing, and I took a step back, not keen on catching whatever he had.

“No big deal,” he wheezed, trying to wave it off. “Just a cough.”

“Go see Ethan.” I placed a copper coin down in front of him. He snatched it up with a practiced hand. “That’s not a request, by the way.”

I walked away to the sounds of Larry hacking up his lungs, trying not to grimace as I headed toward the usual dungeon crew—Cade, Alex, and Sasha. Anika was there too, one of the thief’s victims, her face tight with frustration.

Sasha looked like a drenched cat, seething with barely contained rage. Cade stood rooted in place, his jaw clenched so tight I thought it might crack. And Alex… well, Alex was as unbothered as ever.

"It’s Super," Sasha hissed. "He just tried to get Ruth to sell her room in the hostel for 70 coins."

Super. As in Super Nine, a name that still made me cringe every time I heard it. He was one of Herman’s helpers and, unfortunately, our prime suspect in this little investigation.

"Are you sure? Maybe he just worked hard for those coins?" I offered, even though I knew how weak it sounded as soon as it left my mouth.

"Worked hard?" Sasha scoffed, hands on her hips. "He slacks off most of the time. I talked to Herman, and he barely helps out. Always disappearing when there’s actual work to do."

"I questioned everyone in camp," Cade added, his brow furrowed. "Super doesn’t have any income except for the copper you gave him for helping Herman."

Cade had taken on the role of our lawman, though it wasn’t official yet. He’d been a cadet at the police academy before everything changed, and now he was filling in as our de facto sheriff. The council and I were working on making it formal, but for now, it was just a role we whispered about behind his back.

If only James or Sophie were here… they could run an audit and settle this whole thing in no time.

“He can’t be that stupid, stealing outright and then spending it immediately. That’s insane.” The words came out too soft, too unsteady, and only I was buying them.

Cade shook his head. “I know these kinds of criminals, Bianca. The minute they get their hands on the loot, they blow it on something stupid. I wanted to detain him the second he flashed those coins.”

“I’m not arresting him without proof,” I said, crossing my arms.

Anika chimed in, "We can set a trap. Alex, you’ve got a room in the hostel, right? Offer it to him for 100 coins."

Cade smiled, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “Yeah, I like it. Who do we know around here with enough coins to lure him in?”

“Sophie has the most, but she’s away,” I mused. “Besides the town treasury, I’m not sure. Marek and Molvin spend their money like nobody’s business, and Anika and Herman have already been hit.”

"Ethan," Anika suggested. "He’s been patching up the village and must have at least 30 coins."

“Perfect,” Cade said, already formulating the plan. “Bianca, you talk to Ethan. Have him let it slip that he’s got a stash of copper. We’ll wait for Super to take the bait and catch him red-handed.”

Ethan was in Shelter 2, as usual. He hadn’t won the lottery for a private room, but it didn’t appear to bother him. Shelter 2 had become his makeshift clinic, where he treated most of his patients. Now, it was Larry who sat under his care, looking as miserable as ever while Ethan wrapped up his examination.

If Super Nine wanted to steal from Ethan, it would be a tough job. Ethan rarely left Shelter 2, always busy with someone or something.

“So, what’s the diagnosis, doc?” I asked as I approached.

Ethan sighed, rubbing his temples. “I think it’s COVID.”

“WHAT?!” Larry exclaimed, almost jumping out of his seat.

“Have you been vaccinated, Larry?” Ethan asked, his voice calm, and professional.

“Hell no,” Larry replied, puffing out his chest in pride.

Ethan sighed again, but this time it was deeper. “Alright. I’d suggest you take a break from work and self-quarantine.”

“No way, doc. I gotta work. I need to save up and buy one of those rooms for me and my wife,” Larry said, his tone almost desperate.

I stepped in. “Larry… take my room in the hostel for a while. I’ll sleep in Shelter 3 while you quarantine.”

Larry's face twisted in frustration. “Come on! I thought we left all that behind in the real world. Besides, I’m mostly by myself in the warehouse. Please. I finally feel like I’m important here.”

I glanced at Ethan, who just shrugged, clearly used to dealing with this kind of pushback. “I guess the fresh air will do him some good,” Ethan said. “Just stay away from the elderly, like Herman and Kathy.”

Larry grumbled but nodded, understanding the risks. He wasn’t young himself, probably in his late forties, but he accepted the situation and walked off. I’d have to warn Herman to keep his distance from Larry.

“Is that wise?” I asked, watching Larry disappear down the path.

Ethan sighed heavily, clearly exhausted. “I don’t want to get into it.”

“Fair enough,” I said, then got to the real reason I was there. “I need you to come with me and brag about how much money you have.”

Ethan looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “What? I don’t have that much money. I usually work for free, and people give me whatever they can spare.”

“Just do it, okay?” I grabbed him and pulled him to the mess hall.

As Ethan left Shelter 2, I caught sight of Cade sneaking in, rifling through Ethan’s bags. He pulled out the coin purse, slipped something inside, and returned it before slipping out again to hide among the trees, waiting for his target. I thought I saw Sasha, Astrid, and a wagging tail behind a tree nearby, probably in on the plan.

At the mess hall, Super was digging into a plate of roast boar, a mug of wine—likely purchased from Father Gallagher—clutched in his hand. He looked a bit tipsy, wiping his mouth on his heavily tattooed arm. I overheard Alex's voice, loud and theatrical, as he approached Super.

“Yo, S9! I heard you were looking for some real estate, my dude,” Alex spoke his lines woodenly which made me bury my face in my hands. “I’ll sell you my room for a hundred coins.”

God his acting was terrible.

“Ayo, for real?” Super slurred, barely holding it together. “I got, like, fiddy on me right now, cuz. Just chill, I’ll be hustlin’ for sure. Hit me up later, aight?”

“Sounds super, Super,” Alex said, giving a thumbs up. After his joke, Super burst into fits of laughter, hyena-like, the sound booming through the mess hall.

“Soo… Ethan,” I tried not to sound too obvious, but my voice carried a bit too far. “You must be rolling in coins with how many people you treat, huh?”

“Oh YES, I sure AM, Bianca. I think I almost have enough for my OWN HOUSE! I have at least FORTY COINS saved up,” Ethan replied in a flat, wooden tone. Normally, his voice was soft and soothing, like a librarian reading a story, but right now, it felt painfully forced. I resisted the urge to slap my forehead, instead pressing my lips together to stifle my frustration.

This was so ridiculous. There was no way anyone would fall for such an obvious trap. I felt a pang of sympathy for Super.

After that little skit, I shook off my embarrassment and focused on my work, moving to create barrels near the main stockpile. I was making large clay jars and wooden barrels for Father Gallagher’s ever-growing alcohol stills alongside a guy named Gabriel Reyes. He was a musician back on Earth, but here, he was doing odd jobs while figuring out what he wanted to pursue.

Gabriel always spoke with a flamboyant flair, as if every word was part of some grand performance. His hands never stayed still for long, often brushing his unruly curls from his eyes in a graceful gesture. When I asked what class he wanted, he flashed a grin—half mischief, half pride.

“Musician,” he declared, the word hanging in the air like a promise. “I struck a deal with the trade mission for a guitar. Or any instrument, really. I want to fill this place with some music.” His excitement was infectious, a spark of joy in a world where such light was rare.

Music. Oh, I wanted to listen to some music.

Although there were more important things around camp that needed doing, we needed entertainment around here. People needed laughter and joy. Not just work.

Our work was interrupted by a sudden commotion. I heard Cade’s baritone voice ring out, shouting, “GET BACK HERE!” My hands froze as I paused to see what was happening.

Cade was chasing a frantic Super through the trail leading from the forest to the warehouse. During the chase, it looked like Super was blinking through the trees, causing Cade, someone who had a legendary skill, that made him faster and stronger in town, problems closing the gap.

The gap closed as Cade started guessing Super’s juke blinks through the forest, instead of turning left, Cade pounced right, guessing Super’s juke correctly, and was right behind the suspected thief. Soon, a crowd gathered as Cade leaped onto Super, pinning him to the ground.

With a mix of curiosity and concern, I watched as Cade held Super’s arm behind his back, twisting it just enough to keep him under control. He reached into Super’s Gucci-patterned jogging pants and pulled out a bag of coins. Aja, barking excitedly, joined Astrid and Sasha at the scene, sniffing the bag curiously.

When Cade opened the bag, he pulled out a ball of dried fish mixed with berries and potatoes—one of Aja’s favorite treats that Astrid often fed him. Cade held the bag of coins high and proclaimed, “Caught you red-handed, Super. This belongs to Ethan.”

Murmurs rippled through the crowd, turning quickly to anger. I could feel the tension rising; it was becoming a mob mentality. If I didn’t intervene, they might string him up.

“Ayo, this is a setup, man! A damn fucking setup! I didn’t steal anything.” Super pleaded, thrashing against Cade’s grip, desperation flickering in his eyes.

“You lying piece of shit!” Sasha’s voice cut through the air, sharp with fury. “You stole my coins!”

“I knew he was trouble the minute he got here,” Tiffany said, one of the older women and Larry’s wife nodding to the other villagers who had gathered to see this spectacle.

“He stole my sister’s coins, too! And Herman’s as well!” Sorelle chimed in, her voice trembling with anger, fueling the tension growing among the villagers.

“Not Herman!” someone gasped in the crowd.

“Kick him outta here!”

“Thief! Cut his damn hands off!”

“Bianca, crush him with your golem!”

“Stealing from an old man? That’s low…”

“Get Alex to chop off his hands!”

The noise escalated, and panic flickered in my chest. This wasn’t good.

“QUIET!” I shrieked, my voice cutting through the chaos, silencing the crowd in an instant. All that remained was the sound of Super’s ragged breathing beneath Cade’s grip. I fixed my gaze on him, cold and steady.

“Super. We suspect you of stealing coins from your fellow villagers. What do you have to say?”

“Not guilty, B. Yo, I plead the fif and all that. I want my fucking lawyer, ya hear?” he gasped, letting out a post-drink burp.

“This isn’t America, smartass,” Cade grunted, pressing Super’s chest back into the ground. “We literally saw you walk out of the shelter with Ethan’s money.”

“This ain’t fair, cuz,” Super began to sob, tears streaming down his face. “B, believe me. Why I need dough for, anyway? Ain’t shit to buy round here.”

“Bianca, don’t fall for this crap. We all saw him steal it,” Sasha urged, her voice urgent. “You gotta do something.”

What should I do? I can just punish him here and now but... was that right? I remember how the Captain acted towards Orion and even though he was one hundred percent right about Orion... it still didn't make it fair that someone can just unilaterally sentence someone without hearing their side of it. Justice is supposed to be fair.

I sighed, feeling the weight of the moment. “Fine. We’ll have a trial.

Astrid, Sasha, and Cade stared at me in disbelief as I hung my head, regretting the decision the minute it came out. The noise exploded all at once—shouts, arguments, the stomp of feet as people surged forward, hands raised in questions. The air buzzed with the electric hum of rising anticipation. People started taking bets, arguing over who would be on the jury and who would serve as judge. Thornhill was about to have its first trial, and the villagers were in a frenzy.