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Then there was Dashwood, of course. When I found out that he was The Herbert “Daring” Dashwood, I. . . I guess I probably embarrassed myself, a little bit. It’s just that the show about his exploits had been my most favorite show on Galaxy News Radio, with the hammy, cheesy acting and the tales of adventures that were mostly light and humorous, not dark and full of fear and pain like mine had typically been. I had listened to all of them, several times, and had never missed a chance to hear them again. Now I had the chance to hear them all again, first person. He was happy to talk, and seemed to like spending time with me. I wasn’t sure if it was the new instruction I’d been receiving from Lydia and Anthony, or if it was because I had more of a different sort of seasoning, outside the walls. Dashwood knew about the War, even if no one else did, but I don’t know if he ever connected it with me, or with Ulysses. We didn’t talk about that part, and I didn’t offer anything up. Besides, the War was unpleasant conversation, and he had so many better stories to tell. The radio show made him sound a bit like a fool, particularly when women were involved, but the real Dashwood the Daring seemed like somebody that I wouldn’t have minded to have at my back, back when he was in his prime. Maybe a little after his prime, even. For myself, it was nice to have someone there that I could, from time to time, talk about rifles and ammunition, rather than dresses and drinks and who Susan was sleeping with that week.

After we had been there a few months or so, I was preparing to go down when Ulysses said, from behind me: “Your friend, Dashwood, he has a key. You need to get it for me.”

I turned, it seemed like the first time we’d talked in days. “A key, what sort of key?”

“It’s for the generator area in the basement. I’ve heard that it leads to some metro tunnels underneath the tower. Get it for me.”

“How do you know this? And why do you think he’ll just give it to me anyway?”

“Because I listen, and I watch, I’ve seen him. And he’ll give it to you because he likes you, I’ve seen him look at you. Just use some of those. . . charms you’ve been learning with the two peddlers.”

His tone stung. “Well what do you need the thing for anyway?”

“I thought you used to know the importance of keeping a back door out of a place,” he said, with a touch of scorn in his voice. “If it leads to tunnels it might lead out. It would be a good thing to know if trouble ever finds us here. You do remember trouble, don't you? That’s why I need the key, so get it for me.” He had turned and walked away, so that last was over his shoulder, and he was through the door outside and gone.

I was mad about his manner, but I could see the point in what he was saying. So that evening when we were having a drink I asked Dashwood about his key. He joked with me about it, hinted that I should try taking it from him when he wasn’t looking. But I pouted a little, just right, and he relented. He was a nice old man, really. I brought the key to Ulysses and this time he thanked me, and it seemed that we thawed a little. We spent that evening alone, together, even if we didn’t really talk. But after, he wandered more in the evenings, and there were times that I had no idea where he’d went.

From The Forgotten Past, Chapter 7: The Tenpenny Massacre

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