Return Trip

Henry pushed the bundle of cash in the middle of the table back across it.

In response to Tom's question, Henry said bluntly, "Think about what documents I still need. Get me anything you can handle. I should probably have a driver's license."

It was the same issue as before: Henry wasn't familiar with this world. Even before crossing over, he hadn't known much about this country across the ocean. When he was unsure what to do, he still had to ask a local.

This time, Tom accepted the bundle of cash on the table without the slightest guilt. It was ten thousand Dao, after all. Who wouldn't want it?

After holding the bills to his nose for a sniff and running his hand over them a few times, Tom smiled in satisfaction. "Fine. I'll have the documents ready with the vehicle transfer papers next time you come into town. If you're in a hurry, give me at least three days."

"No rush. I won't be back for a week. But is that enough money?"

"More than enough, boss." Tom thought for a moment, then said seriously, "But now I have a question, boss. Henry what?"

"What?" Henry didn't understand.

"Your last name. Your documents can't just say Henry, can they? Even without checking, that sounds suspicious."

That was true...

So the issue of a surname was right in front of him again. What should he use? Kent? Wayne? El? Copton? Ennuo Owen, the name some Russian had given him? Or should he keep it simple and just use Owen?

After giving it serious thought, Henry gave his answer. "Henry Brown."

It was Old John's surname. He had been the first person to show Henry kindness after he crossed into this world.

He was borrowing the name, not trying to become the man's godson. Old John probably wouldn't mind, right? It wasn't some impossibly noble surname with a title to inherit.

"Is that okay?" Henry asked.

"Of course, boss. Even if you wanted to call yourself Charlie Brown and get a dog, I wouldn't mind." Tom teased.

"Then that's settled. See you in a week." Henry picked up his backpack and prepared to leave.

Tom had originally planned to just wave from his seat as he watched him go. But then he seemed to remember something, got up, found an empty box, and followed him outside.

"What's wrong?" Henry asked again.

"I'll clean out the trash in the car, along with a few personal belongings. Leaving them there would only be an eyesore for you. Better to let me take them away, right?"

"Fine." Henry knew the universal truth that freebies were trash. He only needed a car, not all the strange junk that had been stuffed into it.

Tom's cleanup really did remove quite a bit of "trash," including condoms of uncertain use, Coke cans from beneath the seat cushions, bottle caps, coins, and more.

What caught the eye most was a short revolver in the glove compartment. It gleamed with oil, clearly maintained regularly.

As he took away the revolver, Tom said, "Alaska doesn't require a permit to carry a gun. You just register proof of purchase when you buy one, so the police can track it if necessary. So if you don't get a gun permit later, it isn't because I didn't help you. There just aren't any to get in Alaska."

Henry certainly had no need for a thing like a gun, so Tom could take it away. He didn't think much of Tom's extra explanation either. "It's fine. I won't need one."

"A friendly suggestion: if you plan to drive around Alaska, get yourself at least a shotgun. Otherwise, if you run into a bear, all you can do is wrestle it."

Henry paused as he was about to open the door and get in. He turned back and asked, "Are there a lot of bears?"

"When you're unlucky, you'll run into one. And nobody can say when they'll be unlucky, right?"

Considering that he had no reason to fear an Earth bear, his extra question had only been for the sake of bear paws and bear gallbladders. Henry waved a hand. "Got it." Then he got into the car.

Just as Henry was about to drive away, Tom stopped the car again. He had him roll down the window, handed him an atlas, and said, "This map is old, but Alaska hasn't really changed much in the past few decades. You'll definitely need it."

"Thanks."

Henry placed the map on the passenger seat where he could reach it easily, then set off.

He had learned to drive a manual before crossing over, though he'd never had the money to buy a car. Decades had passed, and he was rusty where he should have been rusty, but with Super Senses and Super Brain assisting him, driving wasn't much of a problem.

This old car, whose parts had worn in together beautifully, pulled away smoothly.

As for the sense of spatial awareness needed for driving, that was even less of a concern. On American roads, especially in Alaska, it would be hard to even find another car to crash into. How could he possibly get stuck or hit anything?

Before returning to Old John's bar, he drove to a store in town to buy a few things.

It was a general store run by an elderly couple. They sold everything from clothes to lawnmowers, Coke to paraquat. There weren't many choices within any single category, but they carried a little of everything.

The couple were both regulars at Old John's bar. Or rather, who in town wasn't a regular at that one and only bar?

Only the old woman was minding the shop today. The moment she saw Henry enter, she greeted him warmly. "Oh, young man, you're back. Was this trip a fruitful one?"

"The captain was thrilled with what he made, so our pay was pretty good too," Henry said frankly.

That wasn't wrong, nor was it overly modest. Everyone knew he was just a Little Green and could never have taken the biggest share. But coming back safely was already better than what happened to plenty of others.

From behind the counter, the old woman said, "Pick out whatever you need. I'll give you twenty percent off as a gift. Old John has been talking about you nonstop these past few days. Go back early after shopping and let him see you."

"Got it." Henry casually grabbed several sets of clothes and underwear, then picked up some snacks. He also raided the frozen section for food. He felt guilty about always eating Old John's food.

He had wanted to bring back a gift, but Old John didn't care much for things with purely commemorative value. As for anything the bar lacked or anything broken that needed replacing, there was nothing at all.

Don't assume an old man living alone would necessarily be sloppy and incapable of taking care of himself. Being handy meant there wouldn't be anything broken that he kept using anyway, nor would there be useless clutter he didn't need.

Henry, who had also lived alone, understood people like that well. If an outsider gave them a gift that didn't suit them, they would only feel that the person had caused them trouble and taken up space.

As for what kind of gift would be just right, even asking the person himself might not produce an answer. So Henry simply stopped thinking about such unnecessary things.

Men wouldn't get all choked up over some trivial thing with a sense of ceremony.

What made people feel a connection might be a pair of long legs spotted by the roadside, a perfectly straight stick picked up on a whim, or a meme made by some idiot.

Considering Old John's background, maybe bringing him a Japanese soldier or a Nazi would be more welcome?

Henry thought as much.