BANG! Crack!
Another old dust-filled bottle off the fence. Another supersonic crack that the old man would inevitably hear. Did I care? If you asked me now, or when I’d been a bright-eyed colt, maybe. But in that moment? I couldn’t wait for something, anything, to happen.
And look where it got me.
“You know you shouldn’t.”
Her words stung more than any beating could, though it wasn’t as if my pa was in any state to give me one anymore. The last pony I wanted to see, the one I’d come out here to get away from, and yet she followed just to twist the knife in deeper.
BANG! Crack!
I’d loved her since we were foals. Since my ma and pa dug her out of the wreckage of that caravan - sacked back when this part of the wastes was still infested with raiders. Back when the NCR and the patrols that kept them out of the area didn’t exist. Back when the whole wasteland was under the thumb of whatever petty warlord gathered enough of a gang to keep it that way. Things had changed. Everything but her.
“Why are you mad?”
I swung around to face her, that beautiful earth pony mare I loved, with a rifle suspended at attention before me in what I assume must’ve been an, at the time, threatening pose. I wasn’t exactly known for being the smartest or most self-controlled of my siblings, so the fact that she didn’t even blink only made me love her even more, and turned momentary anger and frustration into a sinking despair.
“Why? Because we’ve talked about it since we were foals!” I replied, bitter and upset. My heart felt like a lead weight, my brain like a pile of mashed oats, and I was very aware that if I kept shoveling this grave, I’d hit water soon. That she was always so patient with me was maddening. “We’ve talked about running off for years, and then I go and save up to buy us both what we’ll need, talk it over with mom, find a caravan that’ll take us both on, and you just up and turn me down.”
I knew I was hurting her, I knew that she wasn’t going to change her mind, but I had to vent my frustration. She knew it too. That she didn’t seem as upset as I did, that she didn’t resent me, only made me hate what was coming even more.
“We can’t leave, Smoky. You know that.”
I did, and I hated it, because I knew she was right. I knew that leaving now that I was the oldest would be putting my littler siblings in the hooves of my sickly old mother. As safe as the place had gotten now that the NCR had a real presence, it was still way too risky.
I also knew that if I didn’t leave now, I’d never get out. I’d be stuck here for the rest of my life. Whether paying off family loans, or getting struck by some unforeseen event, I knew fate would find a way to keep me trapped, but I wanted to believe for just a moment that the world wasn’t that cruel.
I must’ve looked quite the sight; some young colt, brokenhearted over what in retrospect should’ve been the least of my worries, because Marigold wrapped her hooves around me and squeezed. My overpriced rifle fell to the dusty ground as I returned the hug.
“We’ll get through this together, alright?” she whispered quietly. Knowing her as well as I did, I could sense the deeper meaning in her words, and the weight in my chest lightened just a bit. Maybe being stuck on the farm wouldn’t be so bad after all.
*** *** ***
CRACK!
CRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACK!
*** *** ***
Crack!
As I dumped another bundle of dead branches into the crackling flames, the old ranger who’d dragged Marigold and I out of the ashes of our former life all those months ago turned his attention back towards me. I couldn’t blame him. I still looked like shit. My front left leg was busted up pretty bad, and my matte grey coat shorn off of it for the weeks of surgery I’d had to undergo. It had only just begun to grow back, and only in ugly patches.
“You know that we generally don’t take cripples.”
“But they let in toothless old stallions who look like they’re about keel over any minute?” I bit back. From his lack of immediate response, I accepted the petty victory, while acknowledging that he was likely just thinking aloud, as was his tendency to do.
“If your bone was going to heal right, you wouldn’t have so much trouble walking.”
Powder Charge. I hated the old fart. I hated that disapproving, paternal tone he had. The way he could both look down on you, while still seeming all fatherly and concerned. Gritting my teeth as I limped over to the side of the fire opposite him, I took a seat, the crackle of campfires and quiet conversation from the rest of the NCR soldiers scattered around the campsite already becoming my new norm.
“They haven’t gotten rid of me yet.”
“Because they haven’t found anywhere to dump you.”
He had been like this since the moment we met. Always speaking what he was thinking, always pointing out the worst possibilities; and always right. When everypony else had assured me I’d be just fine and my leg right as rain, he was the only one to express any doubt.
“So what do you suggest I do, then? Start packing? Check around for someplace that’ll take me and Marigold?” Very aware if he was saying all this, that there was a very real possibility it would happen, I continued, “Because you know I can’t do that.”
“Then find a way to make yourself useful, because we’ve got no lack of ponies that can shoot. We don’t need one that can’t keep up on a patrol.”
Easy for him to say. His cutie mark was clear as day - a big old-fashioned stick of dynamite on the old bastard’s coat of fading tan. I’d heard whispers from the troopers that the old fogey could turn a building to rubble in minutes with nothing but a jar of loose gunpowder and a floor plan. Me? I could count well.
“Your marefriend can stay, because good doctors and nurses are hard to come by these days, but they’re not going to let you use her as a meal ticket.”
As much as I hated how he spoke, hated how he brought up what I was afraid of acknowledging, I had to admit that at least he hadn’t insulted me by insisting I take a desk job. Everypony else had told me again and again that I should just settle down. Take a caravan to Junction R-7 and count ammunition or something. Do a cripple’s work.
“Thirty-three,” I muttered.
The old buck raised a brow at me and asked, “Of what?”
“A thirty-three round magazine,” I stated bluntly. “I find the raider with a thirty-three round magazine, and then I’ll quit. Not before.”
The old ranger knew better than to try and directly argue with me about it. Suppose he was smarter than I gave him credit for, too, because he caught me off guard with some questions that cut to the point.
“Then what’s your plan to find them? What equipment are you going to take, and how are you going to get it?”
He still sounded like an ass talking down to me, yet it seemed as if he just wanted me to answer for my own sake. It must have worked, because I started to consider some frankly pretty important questions I’d given little to no thought, despite having bullheadedly decided I was going.
And like a megaspell, he suddenly asked, “And are you going to leave that mare behind, or are you going to drag her along with you?”
My guts twisted up like somepony had taken a fork to them. It hadn’t even crossed my mind that Marigold would have to come with me. Even if I was able to separate myself from her after everything that had happened, there wasn’t even the remotest chance she’d let me leave without her. We were all that the other had left.
“If you can figure out how to make it work, go on ahead, son, but don’t just rush headlong into things. Use the brain you were given and think for a few seconds. Come up with a plan. You’ll live longer.”
“Long enough to see myself get as wrinkled and ugly as you?” I joked, already beginning to feel better. The codger’s nitpicking was like the healing powder some ponies made: it hurt like hell at first, but damn did it ever work. Grinning back at me as he cracked open a bottle of booze with his teeth, the ranger replied,
“The age of miracles is over, son. Worry about what’s right in front of you. Then you can worry about getting old enough to see your great-grandfoals.”
*** *** ***
From my meager pay and the charity of some of the other troopers who empathized with me and “lost” some of their equipment, I managed to get all of the necessities we’d need, along with a month’s worth of food, enough ammunition to put up a fight, and a “new” rifle that looked like it’d been thrown under the tracks of an old-world tank. All that was left was to talk it over with Marigold.
I really should have learned my lesson the first time.
Ducking through the flaps of the camp’s hospital tent, I scanned the room eagerly for the maroon-maned mare; and let me tell you, the place was packed. Wall to wall beds full of groaning, injured ponies. Must’ve been at least two dozen of them.
“Ambush,” a passing nurse stated. She must have noticed my confusion.
“You’re looking for Marigold, right? Can you wait a bit longer? She’s been at it since midnight, and we’re about to have to force her to leave for the sake of herself and the patients.” Looking quite worried, the mare added, “I think more than just the lack of sleep is starting to get to her.”
Concerned, but willing to trust her among friends, especially with what was coming next, I sat by the entrance and waited. And waited. As time dragged on, a steady stream of ponies limped or were carried in and out of the tent. Some went out the back flap into a separate tent just for them, always carried, yet I never saw any leave. It was pretty clear to me at the time why that was. That Marigold and I almost ended up back there just made my eagerness to leave all the more pressing. I’d find who did this, and I’d kill them. No pretense of justice, or protecting others. I just wanted revenge: the only law that mattered out here.
“Smoky?”
The mare’s familiar voice obviously fatigued, Marigold brushed up against me, the scarred, painful patches of grievously burnt flesh sending chills down my spine. I didn’t even need to see them in order for my anger to well back up in my throat. Felt like I’d learned how to spit acid.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
I had to force myself not to look at her face, scarred as it was by the inferno that’d once been our home. I would always love her until my dying day, but seeing what’d happened to her, what they’d done to her, would have driven me too mad to do what I needed to do. If I wasn’t calm, this wouldn’t work.
“I’m finding who did this to us.”
“No, Smoky. You aren’t.”
Even barely able to keep her eyes open, the mare almost convinced me not to go. Almost.
“I have to, Marigold. I’ll find them, I’ll do what I have to, and then I’ll come back. I promise.”
“And if you don’t? And if you die out there, just for the sake of your petty revenge? If I never hear from you again, or they drag back pieces of you like they have some of the ponies here?”
Naked patches of skin rubbed against me as the cinnamon mare tried to keep me with her. She was my world. She was the only pony that mattered. Even actively avoiding them, those eyes of hers burned a hole in my skull.
But I still needed to do this.
“I have to, Marigold.”
It must have been something about the way I said it that finally got through to her, and for once in my life, I saw the facade of strength and maturity collapse. I could see clean through the hole I’d put in her heart, and it nearly broke me. She didn’t look like the unbreakable, unshakeable mare who’d accepted her disfigurement with stoic determination, she looked like a heartbroken filly who’d already lost her only friend in the world. In her mind, I was already as good as dead.
“Marry me,” I blurted out.
Rather than looking embarrassed, or happy, she just looked forlorn and defeated. I hated what I was doing to her, hated myself for being a dumbass who was going to fuck up the only good thing in my life, but I couldn’t back down. This was how the world worked. I didn’t have a choice.
At least, that’s the lie I fed myself.
“Only if you come back,” she eventually replied. The despair in her voice was thick enough to cut with a knife, and here I was without one. Suppose I’d left it in her heart.
“Deal.”
*** *** ***
The weight of my pack putting an uncomfortable amount of strain on my busted-up leg, Powder Charge grunted his approval. He’d managed to grab a few extras from the armory under the pretense of “ranger business” once he realized I was serious. His “engagement present”, in his words.
“All set.”
With the sheer mass weighing me down, I felt like I wouldn’t make it out of eyesight of the camp, let alone all the way to Friendship City.
“Are you sure your ponies are reliable?”
“Maybe not, but I am, aren’t I?”
I wanted to disagree, but the buck hadn’t let me down yet, even if he was a gigantic pain in the flank. And it wasn’t as if I had any other leads. Still, though, that was a long ways away, and by the time I got there, they might’ve already moved on. I was beginning to have my doubts again, but I wouldn’t let this old fossil know that.
“Then I guess this is goodbye, huh?” I asked.
“What? Not planning on coming back? Already going into this assuming you’re gonna leave that poor mare all alone in the world?”
I resolved not to let him get to me, and to start taking his admittedly good advice. It hadn’t failed me yet.
“Then I’ll see you in a few months, grandpa.”
“Take care, Smoky. And come back safe.”
Touched and somewhat unnerved by the genuine affection and concern in his voice, the first I’d heard from him in our months together, I began my hobbling march out into the wastes.
This was gonna be a long trip.
Level Up!
Small Guns 11 -> 20
Explosives 23 -> 25
Barter 13 -> 17
New Perk! Swift Learner - With each level of Swift Learner your character will gain an additional +10% to experience whenever Experience Points are earned.
Chapter 2 - "For a Few Bottle Caps More"
“I was thinking, and I gotta ask. You sure about this, boss?”
Of course she was sure. When had she ever not been sure?
“It’s just, ya know, don’t they tend to shoot folks like us on sight?”
Sighing in exasperation, the mare shot back, “Brambleheart, dear, since when do you ever think?”
“Since you stopped paying us a week ago,” the stallion answered bitterly. The impending mutiny in his voice was not lost on the pegasus. She would have to curb that little rebellious streak.
“It doesn’t matter,” said the cream-colored female. These idiots were disposable, and the prospect of having Friendship City’s guards gun them down and tie up her loose ends for her was becoming more and more attractive with every rotted word out of their mouths. “I will handle it, like I always do.
“And was that little spot of pillaging not good enough for you?” she asked. “We are on a tight schedule. You should be thankful that I allowed it at all.”
Baring yellowed teeth, the raider chuckled darkly. The degeneracy of him and his lot was disgusting, but desperate times made for strange bedfellows. “It was some good sport, yeah. Nothing like a good bonfire.”
Burning a hole through his thick skull, the mare fumed internally. “And yet you almost got us captured by the NCR for it.”
“Almost.”
Infuriating. Definitely infuriating. She would have to try not to burst into laughter over his corpse.
“Why are we heading there anyway?” the bramble-colored stallion asked after several moments of apprehension.
“That is my business. You know better than to inquire about my business.”
Kicking a discarded bottle of Sunrise Sarsaparilla into the ravine, the earth pony stallion continued, “I’m just wondering, boss.”
“When we get there,” the unicorn began, “I will be sure that you and your crew get as much liquor and Dash as you like. In exchange, I expect no more repeats of that fiasco.”
Well, that certainly had the effect she had wanted. The subtle shift in posture. The way his eyes greedily glazed over. She knew she had him hooked. Addicts like him were all the same.
So maybe it would be for the best that she not replace him quite yet.
“Deal?”
*** *** ***
“Alright,” the masculine figure looming over me boomed, as the long barrel of the meanest-looking pistol I had ever seen — or half seen, as it were — buried itself in the back of my throat. “Blink once for yes, and twice for nah. Are ya alone?”
Blink. Blink.
The scent of gunpowder and a rough shove forcing a few shameful gags from me, the stallion shot back in his gentle drawl, “Don’t be a smartass. Yes, or no?”
I had to imagine that if I weren’t alone, my pals would have already killed this idiot, so either he was really stupid, or he knew something I didn’t.
Blink.
“Are ya one of Red Eye’s lot?”
Blink. Blink.
I had to admit, even I knew that name. Ma had told sanitized stories about him to keep me and the others under wraps, lest he come for us, but pa told us the ugly truth. Smile like a benevolent king, heart of a monster. Why this damned fool was asking after him threw me for a loop, and I suppose it showed, because an uncertainty pursed the stallion’s lips. Easing up on me a bit, he demanded, a bit softer than before,
“Lemme see yer teeth.”
Ma had always insisted on good brushing habits, but I never thought they would save my life one day. A few moments of having my chompers inspected, a few “hm”s and “hah”s, and I was delivered from the gates of hell by good dental hygiene.
The gun barrel was quickly removed, and for a moment I thought things were looking up, only to get my retinas seared by a sudden, blinding beam of light.
“Celestia’s solar-flaring fucking menopause! Get that shit outta my eyes!”
Loosing a chuckle at my swearing, the stallion apologized as he removed the source of the lights. “Sorry, sorry.”
“Fuckin’ zero to twenty-fucking-thousand candela in an instant! Fuck!”
Needless to say, I wasn’t happy. The chuckling fucker found it hilarious, though.
“Again, sorry ‘bout that. Forgot they might do that.”
“You also seem to’ve forgotten that he’s dead.” I bit back.
“That yer so genuinely ignorant about ‘im’s the only reason I didn’t give ya a second yappin’ hole.”
Rubbing my eyes miserably, I swore I could see the insides of my own eyes. But at least I could see again. Grumbling traitorously, I felt around for my canteen, chilled by the cool desert air, before shoving myself face right into the soft, soothing side of it. Better.
After sitting in awkward silence awhile, I asked, “Didn’t he get, ya know, blown away years ago?”
“Yeah. He did.”
“Then did he come back, or...?”
Finally recovered enough to take a good look at my assailant, my heart started immediately pounding in my chest.
“Fucking powered armor?!”
Sure, he was missing the helmet, and sure, it looked like it had seen better days, but the lucky bastard had an otherwise intact-looking suit. Of powered armor. Complete with battle saddle, in which that long-barreled pistol from earlier sat, and with a shoulder-mounted combat floodlight that he had so thoughtfully diverted downwards after blinding me with it.
“T-forty fi-”
“T-45 frame, with what looks like T-51 joints and servos,” I interrupted giddily. I felt like a filly handed a bag of those little candies we got from time to time from the caravans that’d pass by. A set of power armor was my dream come true. “Probably a later-war model. Find it in a ministry reserves armory?”
The poor stallion looked stunned for a moment, before my enthusiasm seemed to infect him as well. “Yeah. Fillydelphia. How’dja know?”
Giving the old noggin a tap, I replied proudly, “I’ve read a book or two on them.” Understatement of the century. My bedroom wall had been plastered with technical drawings, pre-war posters, and the odd torn-out manual page. I loved power armor, and if I had been born somewhere I could really practice with it, I would have probably ended up trying to build my own.
Grinning playfully, and giving me an affectionate cuff on the shoulder, the metal-suited stallion, who looked only a few years my senior, beamed. “And here I was not two minutes ago, ready to blow yer brains out.”
Wait. Why was that again?
Jerking a hoof towards my general direction of travel, the stranger continued, “Some dumbass raider thought it’d be a bright idea to try and ape the real Red-Eye’s name. You can imagine that hearing it again spooked some ponies real bad, so eventually word got back to ol’ Grimfeathers-”
“Gawdyna Grimfeathers?”
“One and the same.”
“So you’re Talon?” I probed. He didn’t look particularly feathery to me, and I wasn’t about to ask that he start stripping.
“Not quite. After the real Red Eyes got his flank whooped, Gawd up and adopted all the folks he’d put to work. The decent ones, at least.”
“You included?” I asked.
“Me included.”
A mercenary. It still wasn’t the whole picture, though.
“So why sneak up on me in the middle of the night for a tooth inspection? You a dentist, too?”
Giving me an amused look, the earth pony gestures towards my pack, before eventually continuing, “Every single bit of that screams NCR.” It was true. Every bit of kit was NCR-issue, or had their mark somewhere on it. If I had ever gotten stopped by anypony with half a brain, they would make the same assumption this stallion did.
“I assumed that since ya were traveling alone, you weren’t one of ‘em, and were making off with their stuff to sell to Lil Red Eye’s folks, that you were a deserter, in which case I may as well give ya the shakedown anyways, or one a’ that poor sod’s colts, too dumb to be subtle in yer trying to fit in.”
“And why my teeth?” I asked.
“Cannibalism ain’t easy on the mouth, and Pink Eye’s folk are big on Rage. Tend to lose teeth during whatever fool infighting they get up to, and pro’lly most tellin’ of all, it turns your gums blue.”
Cannibal raiders. I was starting to look forward to my immediate future less and less as I heard more and more.
“Why are you out here, and who are you, anyways?” he interrupted. Apparently realizing his mistake at the same time I did, the earthy-toned stallion extended a steel-clad hoof. “Pecan Pie.”
“Smoky Mountain,” I replied as I shook the hoof of my new best pal. “I’m looking for a group of raiders that were on their way through here.”
“Wouldn’ta been the way yer going. Unless they’ve got more bullets than sense, they’da headed a few days East to Fillydelphia to catch the train.”
“Pardon?”
“The train.” Pecan’s face scrunched up, confused. “You never seen a train before?”
I hadn’t, actually. Living so far South-west of everything meant that we got every advancement or rediscovery a few years later than everypony else. I knew what trains were, knew they used to be hugely important to the more developed parts of the old world, but to think that somepony had gotten them working again? That they were routine? I had to see that.
“You really are a bumpkin, huh?” he teased. “They got two train lines running nowadays. One from Fillydelphia to Manehattan, mostly moving food and scavenged up goods back and forth, and another from Manehattan to Junction City, mostly moving NCR folk back and forth from camps, and gettin’ scavengers out into the juiciest parts of the wastes that haven’t got a name scratched in ‘em already.
“If ya head thataways, I’m sure ya’ll find whoever yer lookin’ for a bit easier than wanderin’ around out here.”
Faith in my mission restored, I asked, “And you?”
“I’m headin’ that way anyways. Got a hot tip that I’ll be able to catch ‘em if I hop the train to Manehattan.” Grinning, Pecan added, “Easier to bag him with a couple of his boys as he steps off a train instead of tryin’ t’ ‘sault his camp head on.”
“Good plan.”
It was strange. I had only been off the farm a few months, and hadn’t ever taken a life, but here I was talking about it with a stranger like it was the most normal thing there was.
Well, it was, I reminded myself. Even though things had started looking up in the past decade, ponies still fought and died on the regular. This place was far from safe, and ponies like the ones who had taken my home and family from me were the reason why. Even if I couldn’t undo what was done, I could return the favor. And if I made the world safer in the process? All the better.
“Wanna tag along?” the stallion asked after several moments of my awkward introspection.
“And pass up an opportunity to get a good look at that?” I joked, eyes greedily drinking in the pre-war masterwork that was the stallion’s power armor. I couldn’t wait to get my hooves on it, even for just for a moment. “You’d have an easier time getting a Steel Ranger to smile.”
*** *** ***
“You sure about this?” I asked, as Pecan Pie tucked the sack of caps back into the the armored section around his tail. I hadn’t even considered that somepony could use that for storage.
“Ticket price is chump change, and havin’ some extra eyes’ll be useful.”
The trip to Fillydelphia hadn’t been particularly eventful. Pecan had explained a bit more about himself and his relationship with the Talons, especially Gawdyna, and we scared off some lurking scavengers that had followed us. No sign of Red Eye’s gang. Pecan said he preferred it that way.
“Jus’ remember not t’ get too involved,” he instructed. Rapping a hoof against the sturdy exterior of his powered armor, the stallion grinned. “Don’t wantcha’ gettin’ a knife in the gut fer me.”
I didn’t intend to.
Reluctantly checking my weapon in with a bored-looking stallion who immediately disappeared with it into the trailing car, a signed tag dangling off the sorry hunk of metal, I sat by the passenger compartment waiting for Pecan. He’d gotten no end of suspicious looks as we bought our tickets on account of his armor, and as I looked back, I noticed him angrily fighting with the customs agents over what I had to assume was allowing him continue to wearing it.
From what I could gather from his loud drawl, this hadn’t been the case last week as he’d headed out here, and the anxious-looking grass green earth pony colt he was bearing down on was, apparently, a “no-good, sugar-spined horseshoe-licker.” Fully prepared for this to last until the train left in an hour, I sighed.
“What a hick, huh?”
Catching the cloaked feminine form with the corner of my eye, I smiled, answering, “He’s just like that sometimes.”
Turning more towards the small-talker, I continued, “And I haven’t been with him very long, but he seems like a decent sort.” She smiled, and with a gentle flick of her head, shed the hood.
She was definitely pretty. Not drop-dead gorgeous like Marigold, but cute. The kind of cute my little sister would’ve been, had she gotten the chance to grow up.
Evidently I wasn’t as good at hiding my emotions as I thought, because the sky blue mare’s amused smile gently faded. Turning back to the amusing sight of Pecan and a new, livelier mare arguing over his armor, she noted glumly, “You too, huh?”
What?
While I was left confused as to what she meant, the mare stood and slowly plodded away, her head held just a bit too low to be normal. Had I upset her somehow? What had I said? And that’s when I realized. The gentle bulge in the coat around her middle. The outline of the shape.
She was a pegasus.
There were never very many in the wastes before the day the sky opened back up, only the odd Dashite or descendent of one, but after the Enclave made their presence felt and had their noses bloodied, they’d become a much more common sight. Some were motivated by disdain for the leadership of the Enclave and left seeking freedom. Some wanted to make amends for what they’d done, and brought important technologies with them as a peace offering. Others just wanted something new.
But they all had to beg for forgiveness. Every last mare, colt, and filly. And it wasn’t always granted. Sometimes it just couldn’t be. Sometimes even when faced with the pointlessness of it, you just had to keep hating the pony that took everything from you until your dying breath.
I could understand the feeling.
Watching her go, the cold tap of a metal-clad hoof on my shoulder rocked me back to attention. It was Pecan, and apparently, he’d won the argument.
“Ready to go?”
Eyes following the downtrodden mare as she climbed aboard, I answered, rather bothered by how quickly the exchange had turned sour, “Yeah. Let’s go.”
*** *** ***
Click clack
Click clack
I had always thought that trains would be a noisy, hellish experience to ride. Something about a many-ton monster of steel and fire left me under the impression it would be uncomfortable, but the truth was far from it.
Click clack
Click clack
The rhythmic sounds of ties being crossed and the pistons pumping was soothing, not annoying. I felt as if I could have taken a nap, and I never did back home. There had always been some interruption.
SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECH!
Speaking of which.
The inertia burying me in my seat, a loud, annoyed groan went up amongst the other passengers. I admit I may have joined in. Pecan, however, looked and sounded more anxious than annoyed.
“Aw, hell.”
Crack! Crackcrackcrack!
Joining him at the window, and peering out, a large group of unkempt and often-high raiders scrambled out of ditches and from behind bushes to hop aboard the stopped train. They didn’t seem to be in any rush, and the sparse smatterings of gunfire further up near the higher-class compartments, when compared to just how many there were, made it clear that they weren’t exactly having a hard time. If the fear for my own life wasn’t growing by the second, I would’ve felt bad for the armed guards who’d likely just gotten shot.
“What do they want?” came a fearful question from other passengers.
Muttering under his breath, loud enough that only I would hear it, Pecan answered. “This is a passenger train. There’s only one thing on it worth stealing for how much heat this’ll bring down on ‘em from the NCR.”
“What?” I asked.
“The passengers.”
