The Twin Cities

By Nicholas Whitcomb

You never know where a good cake can take you.

Young alligator Riley is just trying to get his foot-claw in the door of the baking world. But even with the help of his Beast friends—his hyena roommate, a raccoon clockmaker neighbor, a creative equine, his porcupine mentor, a new cheetah and a half-drunk horse—it's all he can do just to get by. In an aged city without electricity or paved roads, deluged by constant rain, they must struggle to scavenge what they can to survive.

This would be hard enough without the Pure on the other side of the bridges—humanity—treating them like mere animals.

It's with great hope that Riley bakes his first ever cake to sell. The last thing he expected was that it would catch the attention of a Pure. Once the eyes of Captain Kauffner are set on Riley, everything spirals out of control.

Now Riley and his companions are dodging the dead things that roam the streets, marching through the overhunted wilds surrounding the city, crossing paths with killers, dealing with unscrupulous rival bakers, and putting a stop to rampaging machines, all the while ricocheting down a terrible crash course into secrets Beasts were never meant to find—and while something menacing watches them from the sewers.

Each gathered ingredient, every step toward the perfect cake, brings Riley closer to who he is and the Beasts who surround him. As he's pulled along by the confections and life beyond his doorstep, Riley finds there is courage in cake icing and sugar.

Nick Whitcomb's vivid and imaginative debut The Twin Cities is a story of community, catastrophe, and cake sure to resonate with readers of fantasy and horror alike.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Oct 15, 2019
• ISBN: 9781733110112

Book preview

Copyright © 2019 by Nicholas Tac Whitcomb

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Printed in the United States of America.

First Printing, 2019

ISBN (Print): 978-1-73311-010-5

ISBN (eBook): 978-1-73311-011-2

Bookbaby Publishing

www.bookbaby.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

This book is dedicated to all the Beasts out there.

Special thanks to everyone who has given me such an experience. Your stories were given as gifts.

Jeff Roberson, my friend, for allowing me to speak with you about characters, reading my hard-to-digest first drafts, and pointing out my mistakes.

Stephanie and Richard Whitcomb, my parents, for supporting your son on this wild adventure and, of course, for reading my infant drafts while editing.

Meredith Tennant, for your amazing developmental edits and copy editing. I know it is hard to take on a new writer, but you were willing, and your teachings will forever improve my craft. (Please check out Meredith’s website. I highly recommend her: www.meredithtennanteditorial.com.)

Thomas Farnsworth, my friend, for reading my difficult first draft and painstakingly hand editing the thing.

Xander Brown, for your amazing cover illustration and layout that I am humbled to have as my book cover. You have been a pleasure to collaborate with. (He can be found at Twitter: @spectrum_shift and www.artofspectrumshift.com)

Harrison Demchick, a developmental editor, for your editing of my cover copy and all of the advice you’ve given me for this publishing this book. Your supportive words helped encourage me onward.

Ryan Quinn, for your detailed proofreading of this writer’s first work. You were a pleasure to work with and helped polish my style. I recommend Ryan. (Please check out his website at: http://www.ryanquinnbooks.com.)

Marie Callahan, Matt Ramirez, and Steve Kregger for not only doing preliminary readings on my first draft but also giving me support to hone this project further.

Kim Nguyen and Bretton Archer for the exceptional help in finalizing the front cover for printing.

I want to thank Reedsy as well. It is an awesome website that pushed me to reach out and contact professionals to help me improve my craft and realize my dream. (Please visit them at www.reedsy.com).

Table of Contents

Soft Light and Warm Bread

Beyond Expectations

Ambiguity

The Trouble with Cake

A List of Note

A List Forgotten

Like Clockwork

A Banquet and Two Bridges

Chapter 1

Soft Light and Warm Bread

Heavy rain hammered on the Twin Cities without reprieve. Streaks of moisture slid down thin old windowpanes. Riley opened his eyes. He lifted from his hay mattress bed, dressed, and opened the door to his room. His scaled feet caused the floorboards to creak but did not muffle the sounds of snoring from the room across the hall. His roomie, Rook, must have had a late night. Rook was usually up before dawn and on his way.

Riley descended the stairs and stopped near his storefront windows. He opened the curtain, peered out at the unnamed and half-flooded cobblestone streets. The Twin Cities were persistently soaked. Riley stepped behind the counter and began his daily tasks. He grabbed two buckets that caught water from the old roof and emptied them out of his back door into the meager rear yard. He washed his claws with what was left of his soap bar. He leaned over the old, dinged wood-fired oven and placed fuel inside it with kindling and tinder.

With an affectionate stroke of a match, the tinder lit. A few puffs of air and the fire was alight. In the dim glow, Riley could better see the interior of his old bakery with its murky glass windows, mismatched wood furnishings, and slanted floors. He’d found the building abandoned a few short years ago. He smiled as he turned to the old oven as another day started with soft light and warm bread. Not too bad for an alligator.

Riley’s reptile frame hunched over his work while he hummed with joy and his tail slightly swished. His scales were a dark green, similar to corroding copper. He wore simple brown clothing under his worn apron and carried a baker’s belly. When he grinned, his long happy teeth poked from his wide mouth.

After an hour of doughy work, Riley walked to the front door of his shop and flipped over the paper sign. Upon turning back toward the counter, the alligator spotted Rook slowly stepping down the stairs with packs in paw. He was still mostly asleep.

Good morning! Riley stated with his peppy voice and in his common manner.

Rook grumbled something and sat in a chair by the fire mantle. The hyena immediately began to poke at last night’s coals, starting another fire in the parlor hearth. He moved with care as he placed the wood in the pit. Dry wood in the Twin Cities was rare.

The smell of fresh bread and more comforting light began to fill the bakery. Rook sat back in the chair and angled his muzzle into a small book he pulled out of his travel bags. As he read, the hyena began to arrange his mane in a more pleasing and controlled manner with a small brush. He relaxed as he woke further. The growing embers illuminated his thin frame and dotted gray fur.

Off to another errand? Riley pushed a bread pan into the hungry oven.

Rook looked up from his interest, nodded, and returned to the book. His mane followed the trail of his neck as it moved. Riley laid a plate on the table near the hyena, a serving of yesterday’s bread and leftover chestnuts.

Thank you, Rook said in his tired tone.

Riley returned to his oven and resumed flattening dough. An off-sounding bell chimed at the front door: a customer. Rook glanced at the newcomer, pulled up his hood, tucked the book away, and stood up while grabbing his travel bags. He pushed out the front door past an aged goat. His cloak and muzzle faded into the wet streets.

Never does say much, the goat yawned out slowly.

Always good to see you, Frinly, Riley said.

I will have the usual. Frinly pointed at Riley’s work.

Frinly stood tall even for a Beast. A short ashen beard adorned his long and old face. He smiled near constantly. His black and white fur was neatly tucked under brown garb. Riley covered the fresh chestnut loaf in waxed paper and passed it over the counter. The goat slid a few coins in return, the thin metal discs clanking as they rubbed the counter.

You, sir, have a splendid day. Frinly happily departed.

Riley knew the daily rush was about to start. He switched out filled pans from the oven. Soon after Frinly’s departure, the bell above the door cheerily chimed again. Riley lifted his snout and saw two Pure walk in. He knew them, as they were the only two Pure bold enough to shop at a Beast’s storefront.

What would you like before your rounds, sirs? Riley spoke with confidence, unlike the first several times they had entered.

Just a couple of sweet rolls and some water, one replied.

These Pure were guards or maybe soldiers, dressed in leather armor with sheathed swords tethered to their waists. Their leather chest guards were thick and rigid. They sat in their usual location, the table near the front window and door. Riley quickly scooped up two of this morning’s sugar rolls and poured two glasses of water. He shuffled over with his wood tray to their table.

Here you are, Teddy, and here you are, Frank, Riley said.

Teddy was short but reedy. He walked with confidence and his brown eyes were sharp. Frank was much taller and sported a round potbelly that bulged his chest guard; his dull blue eyes were constantly darting, and he didn’t groom his uniform nearly as much as the other guard.

Riley sighed with relief. Their presence meant that he had a break from Beast customers to wash bowls and wipe the counters. As he worked, he studied the Pure guards at the table. They were so similar, but so different.

The Pure did not have any fur, hide, or scales; no tails, large ears, or muzzles. Their skin had many shades of color, like fur, but it was much smoother and thin. Their teeth were small. Their paws had no large nails or claws; they were flexible and they called them hands. Riley looked at their eyes, always so circular, not slits, and they did not reflect light.

Riley’s attention changed to the light-blue clothing they wore, their clothing and items they carried. Their boots and gloves were not ragged. Their baby-blue uniforms did not have patches. Their sword hilts were of polished steel, not chipped or dull, and Riley bet their blades were just as nice. For a moment, he felt the pangs of envy; he felt poor. Teddy looked over at Riley, and he immediately shifted his gaze back to his work.

The sound of metal clinked against the table followed by shuffled chairs. Riley watched the guards leave down the street. He scooted over, picked up the coins, cleaned, and shoved chairs into place.

The alligator looked down at the small coins in his claws and back out the window. They were not coins of remark, yet he was glad they paid him when they visited, as any less kind Pure would not. Riley quickly moved back to his work area, the rest of his Beast customers sure to visit now that the Pure had gone.

He had just placed his claw on the oven latch when the bell spoke. Shen slowly walked in wearing his white attire. He seemed to be able to keep his clothes clean even in the rain. The short grayish koala lumbered to the display and pointed at some scones. Riley leaned over the counter and exchanged money with him. Shen lumbered back out. He was his usual self this morning: silent.

Riley was able to return to his work until it felt near afternoon. A ding sounded and a pair of foot-paws tapped in. Riley’s gaze came up to meet the couple, Rose and Ruben. They were a curious pair. Ruben’s long legs began to make distance quickly toward Riley while Rose began her slow but steady waddle toward him.

Ruben was almost twice the height of Rose. His lanky frame bobbled quickly and with a casual speed in his brown frog body. Rose was short. Her shell was noticeably thick and her beak had a pronounced hook. They both wore simple clothing and they always made sure to match. Today, they were wearing green.

Two rolls? Riley asked.

Not today. Rose’s beak clacked between each word.

We will just have a loaf of bread, we decided earlier, Ruben added.

Riley gave a toothy smile; he was happy to see the pair of lovers. They were odd, true, but a young couple in love always seemed to brighten the world, even in rainy old Twin Cities. Riley picked up a loaf and presented it. He gave them kind words as they departed.

As Riley stuffed the bread display, he noticed a figure waving at him through the front windows. The telltale spines gave it away: Mortimer. He visited near every day. The old porcupine was hearty. His sturdy frame struggled against time and his bristles stood firm. His fur was black, the pale hair on his muzzle the only sign of his years. He wore a stained white collared shirt and tidy brown slacks. His lengthy claws scraped the wood as he walked. It sounded like a tree scratching the side of a house.

Mortimer strode into the bakery with three small sacks under one arm. They were hemp and swayed with weight. Riley rushed to assist him, and the sacks were tossed on the counter. Riley pulled out a claw-full of coins and placed them in Mortimer’s paw.

Just enough to cover the goods, Mortimer said, giving a few coins back. How is the baking progressing?

Well enough. I have some regular customers, Riley gloated.

Good, good. You will need to keep at it to make sure things are more dependable.

Well, I am pretty new at it.

When I get time, I will show you how to bake something new. That will increase customers near instantly.

Riley smiled. That sounds fun.

In those sacks are some eggs, berries, hazelnuts, butter, and sugar. You should be able to perfect your cake craft with those. Mortimer waved a paw toward the bags.

Thank you. Those are very hard to find.

Every baker needs an apprentice. For now, I must be going as I have much to bake myself.

Riley politely saw Mortimer outside. He was glad the old porcupine saw worth in him. Without baking, Riley didn’t know how he would make a living. Nor did he know why Mortimer had chosen him as an apprentice, as surely there must have been others better suited.

By now, the early glint of the day had worn off and the streets began to darken. Riley tucked four leftover rolls in his apron, which sheltered them, and placed the other unpurchased items in his old bread box.

He stepped outside of the old weather-worn shop, twisted his key in the rusted lock, and began a short march next door. The alligator watched a column of smoke lift from the Pure side of the city. He didn’t see it every day, but it was a regular sight. Riley huddled over the small cache of bread as he reached the front door of his neighbor, Bobbin.

Riley rapped on the front door; the hinges shook. Bobbin needed to put some work into his home. The door shot open and a set of furred ears appeared in front of Riley’s snout. They belonged to a slightly disgruntled raccoon. Bobbin’s shortness had a plumpness to match. Between his clothing, extra-sharp stripes protruded forward.

This better be— Bobbin began. Oh, it’s you, Riley.

Care for an evening roll or two? Riley smirked.

I would like that very much. Bobbin stepped back into his home while smearing grease from his paws onto his tan smock.

Riley lowered his head under the leaning and soggy doorframe. He surveyed Bobbin’s small room. Cans of leaking grease, broken lamps, chipped gears, and shattered glass cases. A tub of tools squatted on a workbench. A home and workshop well loved.

Most—nearly all—the metal items were crafted of a beaten brass. Bobbin had been very busy, as usual. A large thing stood in the rear corner, covered with a sheet as if hiding. It had something of a Pure-like shape. Riley studied it for a moment. He looked over when he heard Bobbin clearing a table. The raccoon tossed his smock on a nearby bench and seated himself. The table was by the front window with a pleasant view of the darkened street.

Good thing you remind me to eat once in a while, Bobbin said with a thick voiced chuckle.

Ha, you will eat enough for two of us.

How was the bread business today? Bobbin took a roll.

The usual faces.

At least you get customers.

Most Beasts can’t read a clock, Bobbin. Why would they need such an item?

Ah, saying so reminds me. Bobbin stood up and padded to his workbench. He whipped open a drawer and grabbed a small circular clock within. For all the baked treats, for being kind to a new neighbor, and for your general appreciation of the clock.

Bobbin placed it on the table in front of Riley. It was small and roundish, the hammer marks on the brass were vibrant. Its hands moved consistently as it made a pleasant clicking sound at regular intervals. The little thing was rough poetry.

Wow, thank you! Riley said, beaming, and he examined the small mechanical wonder in his claws.

You are very welcome, sir. Bobbin’s ears pricked with pride.

How do you use it?

Silent smiles crept on their faces. Bobbin scoffed and followed with a laugh. Riley listened for several minutes as Bobbin explained the twelve numbers and three hands. He showed Riley how to wind the clock with the clock key. Riley and Bobbin then finished their meal.

As Riley reached his door, he spotted a horse across the street. She was closing some curtains on the interior of a previously abandoned storefront. Riley remembered it had been empty for a short time.

There was a new candle holder near the entrance and the door itself hung on its hinge again. He quickly stepped up to the new but chipped wooden door and knocked on it. The horse looked through the small mounted window and cracked the portal slightly.

She stood tall in the doorway. Her hide was bushy and a molten copper with white patches. The scent of jasmine tea hung around her blue blouse and tan slacks. Her large eyes shone brown with intelligence and her presence was strong. She did not appear shy. This Beast had spirit.

Hello, ma’am, Riley said.

She cocked a glance at Riley, sizing him up. Riley offered his claw as a gesture toward her. She looked a Riley’s scaled palm briefly and grasped it with a firm hoof-shake.

Are all the Beasts this friendly around here? Her tail swished in tune with her heavy words.

Most are. My name is Riley. I am a baker and I live across the street. Riley carried a friendly tone.

Averna.

Are you moving in? A new neighbor?

Yes, I just set up my home here.

What do you do? What brings you to this humble street? Riley was alight by the new face.

Averna looked at him suspiciously. Riley felt perhaps he asked too many questions. She studied him while his clothing slowly began to darken from the rain. The silence felt strangely long.

Come in, Averna finally said.

Riley stepped inside and Averna secured the door. She immediately positioned herself between Riley and the rest of her new home. Riley tried to peek a glance during their exchange, but her size did not permit a view.

Thank you. Riley smiled at her.

I came from the south side of the city. I needed a change of view. Averna placed her hooves on her hips.

"I see. I moved into the bakery a few years back. I found