shout out to Dreamworks Dragons for having two physically disabled main characters and multiple disabled secondary characters and making none of it about their struggle to move past their disabilities. they’re just disabled and getting on with life and none of it is angsty. also it has multiple queer-coded characters with no homophobic bullshit (Gobber’s canonically gay, Snotlout’s implied to be bi, and i’m pretty sure Bucket and Mulch are married). only thing i can really say is it lacks poc characters but tbf it’s set in Sweden in the eleventh century.
The phalanx approaching from the east was a marvel of waving silver. The glaring sun glinted off of the wide silver and black tarp from miles away. The first calls of their arrival had sounded hours ago from the old radio tower. Everyone in town had headed towards rooftops and hills, carrying binoculars and a few even setting out small picnics to watch the approach.
The energy harvesters didn’t ride fast. Precision and care were more important than speed in their line of work. The bicyclists were heroes of the new world. The carriers of energy, the new power plants of a generation. Each turn of the pedals stored power in the batteries they carried. Each hour in the sun captured in the wide silver fabric, the thinnest and most efficient solar panels thus far.
When they had first set out on the roads seven years ago, after the great meltdown, they’d been forced to carry so much equipment the energy was barely worth the toll it took on them.
Now with their custom welded bike phalanxes, with their mountain-biker guards, and the two-lane-wide solar fabric stretched between them like an odd trampoline, it had become the livelihood of heroes. The New Pony Express, sans ponies. Though there was word that some of the towns down south had a couple of horse divisions as well, it was less efficient than the bicycles, since the wheels were producing energy too.
Ashley was sitting on the side of the Radio tower. Usually they weren’t allowed up there, but the lawmen always made an exception when there were energy harvesters approaching. It was basically New World fireworks.
Don was swinging his feet beside her, restless. The meltdown had hit him worse than her. His right hand had been burned badly. He’d been close to a power source when it all went to hell. He always just grinned when someone brought up up and wiggled his left hand, saying ‘good thing it wasn’t this one!’
Most people didn’t get it. Some thought it meant he was left handed which, sure, he was now. He used his left hand a LOT more. But he hadn’t been in the Before. Now, it was something a lot less about necessity and a lot more about Calling.
“Think they’ll be on board?” Don asked into the cricket-filled dusk as the phalanx of harvesters neared their town.
They could hear them now, the churning grind of hundreds of bicycles, of batteries dragged on broken roads gathering more power with their motion. The restless flapping of the sail-like solar panels. “I mean, they’ve probably seen so many, like… Desperate situations.”
“Town’s not so bad off,” Ashley said, holding the clipboard to her chest. “We’ll have to wait and see. I’m rooting for us Don. A lot of people are.”
“Yeah,” said Don, and drummed his left hand’s fingertips against the beam they were perched on.
The first mountain biker reached them not long after. Ashley saw him coming and clambored to her feet on the beam. Sometimes there were a lot of people waiting with their requests. This time there were only four of them. Ashley and Don, Georgette from up the road (she had a garden that had saved some lives all those years ago) and Madison the librarian. Ashley let Georgette go up to the road first. She even hung back for Madison. Her and Don… They’d wanted to ask for this a long time, but things had always seemed so dire. Now the radios were coming back online, and the hospital had enough healthy bodies to keep the generator charged. Now they were settling back into their lives with energy as a non-standard resource.
It had made things hard for her whole band, though maybe hardest for Don of all of them. He’d really been going places, back when there were places to go for a musician. Now, in this new world…
“Hey ladies,” Said the biker Liaison, pulling up to the side of the road and tugging down the bandanna that covered his face. “Pass over your requests!”
“Panel access for a greenhouse setup,” Summarized Georgette to the biker liaison as she stepped forward. The biker grinned at her, glancing over the request form.
“Energy access for an educational film for the kids,” Madison said, her smile reaching her eyes and her voice both as she passed over the board.
“Um,” Said Ashley, tugging her own facemask higher up anxiously.
“It’s okay,” said the biker. His face was filthy where his goggles and the mask hadn’t covered. There was a new beard growing in, and the wrinkles around his eyes were so friendly as he smiled that she was afraid to dampen his enthusiasm with her request. “I’ve seen it all. Don’t worry.”
He probably has, thought Ashley. She glanced back to Don on the radio tower then passed in her request.
“One night garageband performance,” She whispered, her face heating up at the nature of her request in comparison to the other women. “If there’s enough. I mean… It… There are some signatures so…”
“No judgement,” The biker said, his grin only seeming to widen. “I’m glad. A town that can think about music again is doing pretty well. I’ll deliver them, okay? Make sure to wave to the crew as they pass, they’ve had a hard week’s ride.”
“Sorry,” Muttered Ashley as the biker tore away, calves bulging as he tore back towards the slowly approaching phalanx. “I know you both have actual important things.”
“My educational film is an old Disney cartoon.” said Madison with an air of admission, clapping Ashley on the back. “I just didn’t want to say so in front of my personal hero Georgette.”
“Honestly,” Georgette snickered, turning to grin at them. Her milk-pale left eye and the surrounding scars were her mark from the great change, and she bore them with good humor. “You girls are so bashful. You know I only want the panels so I can set up an automatic sprinkler system again. It’s perfectly nice having some fresh produce growing, but I’d love to laze about some days.”
“Besides.” Said Madison. “It’s not just you.”
“He’s nervous.” Said Ashley, bouncing on her toes with her hands in her pockets. “It’s been a long time since we could… You know. Plug in.”
“You lot were good before the power burned.” Madison said. “They really were Georgette. They did one of the benefit shows for the library, remember?”
“Well, it was very energetic.” Georgette said tactfully. “I remember that much. I think it would do some of the others good. It’s been hard with only hand-crank gramophones.”
“I thought that’s what you were used to, G’ette,” Don said, finally having made his way down to join them. “You know, before all us young folks and our blu ray players.”
“Don’t tease, son, I know perfectly well Blu Ray was for film.” She scoffed. “And I never had to hand crank a gramophone Before. Not that I mind terribly much that records are popular again. Between the garden and the records it’s no wonder you lot tried to put me in charge. I basically turned into the town grandmother at the ripe old age of forty five. Treats for everyone.”
They laughed like she hadn’t saved their lives. They averted their eyes like they all hadn’t been part of trying to elect her their new mayor.
There were only about four hundred people left in their little town. They’d consolidated as much as they could. Done their best to make sure that the empty buildings wouldn’t become significant pest problems--Generally by tearing out what they could and opening them up to both pests and pest eaters alike. But the main drag of downtown was still fairly lively. Most of the folks left had moved in. No more landlords, no more rent. Just the places that hadn’t burned to the ground, and the people who were left.
It was enough that when the phalanx of harvesters arrived cheer rose up from those gathered. It was twelve bikers per panel, with four mountain biking guards for each. This group of harvesters had four panels. Supposedly, when they traveled down the bigger old highways, they road two and two. Ashley had heard that some of the bigger city areas had phalanxes of twenty panels at a time trawling the old highway roads. She’d heard it from the same place they heard most of the news--the riders themselves.
Usually every time they passed few some folks stopped to stay in town awhile and some folks in town joined up. It was a fair system. One that kept their whole corner of the world going. Ashley hadn’t been much good, but even she had taken a tour once, riding at the back right side of a phalanx. It was a community ordeal, and she believed in fairness. Still, though the riders had been encouraging she suspected they hadn’t been sorry that their huffing, puffing slowest pedal churner washed out after one rotation.
“Here we go,” whispered Don, leaning against her side as they watched the ride leader unfold a little step stool from his ride on gear and climb up it. What was left of the town gathered in, listening.
“Only got three requests this month,” The rider called. “Hope that means you’re all doing well and not that those three ladies have a chokehold on the community!”
Laughter followed, and the rider’s grin brightened. She was sweat drenched and panting, but the phalanx always stopped to make the needed announcements before moving forward.
“For the appeal of Georgette Middles, we have a half panel in our pack that tore in a storm two months ago! We can spare it if that will do for your power needs.”
“Perfect for a start!” Georgette called from Ashley’s side. Don pressed closer.
“For the appeal of Madison Allens, we generally avoid films, but since there isn’t much non-standard need we’ll be happy to provide supplementary power to one of your own bike generators for a film. Will that do?”
“Perfectly!” Called Madison, waving with a grin.
Don’s good hand squeezed Ashley’s fingers.
“For the appeal of Ashley Drausser, first, let me thank you for specifying number of instruments needed for powering, that’s helpful, and second we can spare power for a set of roughly half an hour so long as there are no lights necessary. And only if it’s open attendance. Sound good?”
Ashley's mouth went dry. Her breath caught somewhere between a laugh and a sob. She jammed her fist up into the air in a motion of triumph, and heard a ragged cheer go up through the crowd for her.
“Perfect,” Ashley choked, as Don shook her by the arm in eager, delighted motions. A laugh was tearing out of his throat as he jumped up and down in excitement. Their other bandmates were somewhere in the crowd, she knew.
She couldn’t believe it. She’d thought it was over.
But Dragged Ragged was finally going to be able to play again.
She met up with the Harvester planner after the mayor had given her part of the speech. Had made sure the riders knew where to go for food and water, both for their stay and for their trip. Had ensured that they knew where housing was, and where the bathing house was currently functioning. The old YMCA had seen better days, but they’d gotten the showers up and running and converted all the work out equipment into small scale energy harvesters off their own.
“Garage rock, huh?” said the planner, looking over Ashley’s paperwork again as they ironed out the details. “Gotten to play at all since the big dark started?”
“Only acoustic,” Ashley said. “We’re not bad, but—”
“Not what you love,” the planner nodded. “We’re only staying two nights. So tomorrow?”
“Sounds great,” Ashley said. “We don’t need much light, so please put the movie first? I know it’s for the kids, and our music is probably a little loud for them.”
“Oh I was thinking of making you play at nine am,” The planner snickered. “We’ll put you on at eight. Got a location?”
“Roof of the old movie theater? We kind of converted it into a community space a year or so back.”
“Done.” The planner said. “Better rally your troops and make sure you still remember how to tune, ma’am.”
“Ashley,” She said, her cheeks hurting under her mask from trying to smile so much. “And thank you.”
“Looking forward to it Ashley,” Said the planner, shooting her a wink. They were cute. Ashley escaped, grinning, into the slowly darkening streets. She pulled out her hand-crank flashlight, but she didn’t need it yet. She knew the streets.
She didn’t go to her new home, the second story apartment off of main street, its green paint finally fresh rather than flaking after they finally got around to some aesthetic work three years ago.
Instead she went to her old one. The one she’d lived in all through high school. The one that had been her home before the burnout. Where she had lived with her parents before they were gone. Before so many people were gone, and the power with them.
She’d had a lot of time to come to terms with it. A lot of days spent moving in and out of that old home since. She still felt wistful, approaching, but it wasn’t the raw ache of loss it had been. Especially when she saw the flashlights around the open garage and heard the murmur of voices.
“Dude,” Called Don, the first to see her. “She’s here!”
Saanvi must have set up her drums, because a drumroll started as Ashley approached. It ended with a symbol crash just before Don caught her in a tight, squeezing hug. His left hand was flat against her back, his ruined right pressed against her other shoulder blade still curled.
“Thank you,” He whispered.
Ashley returned the hug fiercely as the crickets and cicadas sang around them, joined by the frogs in the creek near her old home and the distant howls of coyotes.
“We’re gunna have to do some dusting on this gear,” Saanvi warned. “Not to mention pulling out our old outfits.”
“Ooh, I’m gunna have to figure out what to do with the other leg on my old leather pants,” Melvin sighed, gesturing down to his missing right leg. “Like, is it more metal to tie it up or to slice it off? Probably slicing, right?”
“That’s usually pretty metal,” Ashley agreed. “Slicing.”
She didn’t have to worry about changing her old garb. She remembered, vaguely, putting her look together back in the day. Draping on black and patterns in careful tatters. Draping dingy silver and bronze around her body.
She remembered the careful makeup routine. The dark lipstick. She remembered loving her lips. She spared a moment, touching a fingertip to the mask she wore over her ruined lower face. She pulled it down with a slow breath, allowing her bared teeth and the burned, curled remains of her lips to show. She was going to have to to sing. Couldn’t do that behind a mask. She straightened up and faced her band.
They smiled back. Don swung his guitar strap over his shoulder, his curled hand still just barely good enough for him to strum with his thumb. Melvin leaned back in his chair, his one leg splayed out before him and his fingers already picking out notes on his electric bass. Saanvi twirled her drumsticks, her empty eye sockets heavily shadowed in the scant light of their crack-charged flashlights.
“Alright,” Ashley said, grinning as much as her burned face would let her. “Let’s rock their worlds.”
The Iron Trial follows the story of 12-year-old Callum Hunt, who knows magic exists and is terrified of it. His whole life his father has warned him against it and the school that teaches it. Now that Callum is at the Magisterium he wants to stay and learn more, but what will he find out?
What do you do when you’ve feared magic all your life and now you’re at a school that teaches nothing but? For 12 year old Callium Hunt, this might be the only place he belongs; but it could also get him killed. School’s in session!
That’s right, AJ’s story is now out in the world. Currently only ebooks are available–I’m having some issues with Amazon at the moment regarding the cover for the paperback cover. They are coming, it just might be a little while before they become available. Because we will be moving at the end of July, I probably won’t order the proof/author copies until August, just because it’s one less thing…
