For a short while Abigail did not realise that she was awake. She
had become used to the certainty of the light in her eyes to confirm
that daybreak had come already - often for many hours already. The
ability to ward that harsh glare away now came to her instinctively as
her body came back under her own control, learned from the repetition of
it day after day.
However, that morning there was no sunlight to burn her retinas, and
her limbs refused to do her bidding. Instead her head swam in the
darkness, inflicting its own insufferable pain on her eyes, as if in
retribution for the burning brightness it was so often forced to
acknowledge through them. Her first instinct would have been to clutch
her throbbing head, were her limbs not twitching beyond her control and
already clutching at something in her bed. Something soft, warm and
smelling of woman.
"C-Chopper?" Her voice sounded loud in her own ears, but that was
the least of Abigail's worries. Her shivering was wholly involuntary,
and she hoped that she was still merely dreaming of her hangover to
come. She'd had a couple of hangovers in the past, but alcohol had been
tightly regulated in Vault 42, and this had been the first time she had
drunk more than a unit or two in one sitting on the surface. Chopper's
style of surface beer, limp and lacking in both hops and malt though it
was, was much more easily drinkable than the tasty but viciously rough
liquor.
"Abby?" The strong arms around her tightened, and Abigail realised
that though she was clutching her lover as she shivered Chopper was
holding her even more tightly than that.
"About time you woke up," Chopper said over her shoulder, moving to
cradle Abigail's head against her neck. "How am I going to get any sleep
if you're twitching like this all night?"
"Sorry," was Abigail's instinctive mumbled response, but it did
nothing to hide her worry. Was she sick? "W-what is this? How much did I
drink?"
Chopper's hard words didn't disguise her own soft tone either, and
Abigail could at least take comfort from the fact that Chopper was
holding her and had not left her to tremble in her sleep alone. "Too
much," Chopper answered. "Do you feel cold?"
"No." It sounded absurd, but Abigail was warm in Chopper's arms.
Wonderfully so. She just couldn't stop shivering.
"And I don't think you have a fever." Chopper moved her hands and
pulled them together again beneath their sheets. "You weren't having
another nightmare?"
Not that Abigail remembered. In fact, she didn't remember dreaming
about anything at all. "No?"
"Ugh, you are so much trouble. We'll need to find out if you're
allergic to beer, or something stupid like that."
Abigail wished Chopper would make her mind up. She was scared enough
as it was. If Chopper was going to chastise her she should stop stroking
her hair like that. "Well I'm sorry!" Abigail retorted, feeling as
pathetic as she knew she sounded.
Chopper paused in her stroking, and for one worrisome moment Abigail
thought she was going to leave, but instead that hand just wrapped
around her shoulders and held her tightly again. "And I have to look
after you when you start making out with your new punk friend in the
street, and making me look like a fool. Maybe it's your own fault and
you just caught a cold."
"...I did that?" Abigail couldn't remember that. Or, she almost
could, but her head hurt too much to think back. "I didn't mean to."
"You get very friendly when you're smashed."
"Did I... do anything with her?" She knew she hadn't - she trusted
herself and she genuinely loved Chopper, she wouldn't cheat - but then
how drunk *had* she been. What *had* she done?
"Would I be here if you had?"
Abigail breathed a mental sigh of relief, even though she didn't
actually know the answer to that question at all. Then she blushed,
despite her headache, recognising just how naked they both were, and how
closely Chopper held her. "Did *we*...?"
Chopper snorted, though Abigail thought she sounded a little
relieved, if anything. "Hardly. You passed out in the street. She and I
had to carry you back here. Now shush and go back to sleep. Maybe you'll
be better when the sun comes up."
Abigail certainly hoped so. She did still feel tired, despite her
trembling body. "Chopper? I do love you."
Chopper huffed, but did not relinquish their embrace in the
slightest. "Sleep. Now. And get better, so I can stop worrying about
you."
Good enough for now, Abigail thought, and she tried to put her
throbbing brain back to bed.
***
It was with much relief that Abigail did finally rise again. Her
hangover persisted, taking the few bright rays that shone through the
shutters and sharpening them into daggers, but the worst of her fevered
trembling seemed to have passed. Her muscles still wobbled and felt as
weak as paper, but she did not have to clutch herself or at Chopper
simply to feel secure.
She was also relieved to feel Chopper still at her side, and she
buried her head in the woman's chest, and away from the sunlight that
speared into the room. "Chopper? Are you awake?"
"Of course. I have been since sunrise. With your eyes I'm surprised
you never notice it."
"It's not lunchtime already is it? I'm not hungry."
"No, it's not that late yet. But you missed breakfast. The sleep
seemed to be doing you good so I left you."
She had? "And you came back," Abigail added, feeling warm.
"Of course. I keep an eye on all my patients."
Only someone like her could have made that sound provocative, but
Chopper's syrupy tongue seemed to manage it with ease. "That's sweet,"
Abigail mewled. It didn't allow her to forget her hangover though. "I
don't suppose you have a remedy for headaches?"
"Several. Though I think this might be a good lesson in moderation."
Abigail groaned. "Chopper..."
The older woman sighed and pulled away, and Abigail hoped it wasn't
wholly out of exasperation.
"Stay put. I'll mix something for you."
"Thank you, Chopper."
Once she was alone in the bed Abigail pulled the sheets over her
head and curled up. It wasn't very dignified, but it made her feel a
little better. Chopper had seen her at her worst, and her most
vulnerable, so she felt safe showing her a little indulgent
patheticness! She felt less like a weakling invalid curling up like that
and more like a hibernating mouse warding out an excess of... whatever
it was that mice drank to excess. If mice even existed any more.
"I think we should get you a few drinks again tonight," Chopper said
as she tore up some leaves and stirred them around in a mug of hot
water. "We ought to find out if it was the beer giving you the shakes,
or just the combination of too much of the stuff and the cold."
Abigail groaned. "What? I've had enough already!" she whined. In
fact she felt like she'd had enough alcohol for a week!
"So you'll stick to hard liquor for the rest of your life,
regardless?"
That thought didn't seem any better. "Ugh, okay. But only one or
two. I don't want to end up like this again."
"That's probably not a bad thing," Chopper said, sounding
appreciative. "Alcohol is a poison."
"I know," Abigail replied. She'd paid attention in her biology
classes but she was surprised to hear it from Chopper. Her lover was
usually so hard headed about health. "So why do you drink so much?"
Chopper brought her herbal concoction over to the bed and pulled
back Abigail's sheet, smirking. "Who wants to stay sober out here?"
***
Sadly that morning's activity did not prove entertaining enough to
help Abigail forget her hangover. Or, for that matter, the comparatively
faint pain in her right hand. She still wore the bandage that Chopper
had made her the afternoon before, but while Chopper assured her that it
was healing well Abigail didn't feel the need to be reminded of
yesterday's introduction to firearms quite yet.
"Shouldn't we wait until I can hold it before I buy a new gun?" she
asked. It wasn't a particularly hopefully question - both Chopper and
Rathley were the 'get back on the horse' types - but it did at least
have some amount of practical merit to it. Was there much point looking
over the weapons that the merchant had in his shop when she couldn't yet
hold one to see if it even fit her hand?
Rathley thought that there was. "You know what you want, Sugar, and
we know what you can handle. Might as well get one while they still got
some that you'd be willin' to shoot."
For some reason Rathley had taking a liking to her. She hadn't
realised it until this morning, but the callous man was making
allowances for her benefit. Maybe it was their chat after the row about
her Buffout, or helping break him out of prison, or maybe just her
willingness to go along with them and get herself into danger. Whatever
the reason, it seemed like Rathley was looking out for her. After all,
he was there now helping the little girl whose gun had exploded, and not
off enjoying his ale and whores. Abigail wasn't quite sure whether to be
grateful or worried that he was making the effort to be a human being on
her behalf, but at least he knew what he was talking about when it came
to guns. Maybe not as much as Kyle as far as pistols were concerned, but
then Rathley was there and Kyle wasn't. He and Sharn were nowhere to be
found, and hopefully having their promised heart to heart.
Chopper was there though, and being just as unhelpfully supportive
as Rathley. "And your cuts weren't bad enough to stop you holding
anything. That bandage is coming off after lunch you know. At worst
you'll only need a bit of tape to keep the laceration closed."
Abigail hadn't realised that the word laceration was not supposed to
be a cause for concern, but she didn't argue. Her head couldn't take it.
She just sighed and took the gun Rathley had been inspecting from his
hand. "So, you want me to have a revolver? Won't the cylinder bit jam
up? I think I need one that won't go wrong."
"Not a chance, small, dark and mysterious," the gunsmith said. "'ya
want to see how many moving parts a semi-automatic has?"
The grease stained man reached to a shelf at the back and brought
down a tray, filled with the open carcass of a sleek black gun. Had it
been intact Abigail would have thought it looked far more reliable than
the small, clunky and mechanical looking device in her hands, but taken
apart she was stunned to see all the separate pieces that sat rolling
around, freed from their casing.
"Oh. And this one?"
The man took the pistol from her and cracked it open show the
cylinder inside. "That's it. Pretty much anyways, aside from a spring
and a few bits inside the grip, being double action and all. 'ya want it
taken apart?"
He would do that? Abigail thought. Right now? She was tempted, but
she wouldn't have known what she was looking at either way. "No, I
believe you."
The man actually looked a little disappointed. Maybe he had wanted
to show off. Abigail did have one question for Rathley and him though.
"It is still a bit big though, isn't it? Bigger than Albert's."
"No, it's pretty compact for a magnum," the gunsmith replied, a
little confused.
Magnum? That was a word Abigail knew from the movies, and it worried
her. "*Those* things?!"
"You can handle it," Rathley said straight up. "Ammunition's scarce
for a .357, but this ain't nearly as rough on you as a .44 would be, and
if you're not gonna be shootin' so much you won't be needin' to hunt out
spare cartridges."
The shopkeeper agreed. "If it's what 'ya want I've got a couple of
dozen I can sell, .38 specials for it too if ya' want something lighter
to fire, but they don't have the same bark! None of them are cheap mind,
but enough to practice on if ya've never fired one before, and still
have a full cylinder, plus a reload."
It was then that Abigail was saved from the gun-babble by a voice
she recognized.
"Hey, Abby!" Casey called, bouncing into the shop to join them. "I
saw you outside. I thought you said you hated guns!"
Abigail chuckled uncomfortable as the gunsmith raised his eyebrows.
"Umm, well, my last one did bite me," she said, showing off her bandage
again, "but my friends are right. I probably ought to have one."
Casey nodded. "Yup, true enough. Nothing says 'back off' to a guy
than putting a hole in him!"
Seizing that moment Chopper turned and stepped next to Abigail,
wearing a vicious smile. "Speaking of which..."
Casey looked at her and gave a guilty, apologetic smile. "Aha, umm,
I really *didn't* mean anything by last night, you know? Honest."
From the doorway Casey's friend from the bar called to her. "Case,"
the scruffy woman Katina said, sounding bored, "are they comin' or
what?"
"Coming?" Abigail echoed.
Casey just grinned, looking slightly embarrassed. "Uh, I was going
to invite you guys to lunch?"
***
"So where are the lovebirds?" Casey asked as they dug into their
fried fruit-veg and barbequed rat. Once again rough cuisine, but it was
edible, and apparent ant gave the girl stomach problems.
"Making up, I hope," Abigail answered.
Casey's chewing lips broadened into a wicked smile. "Still? Man, I
wish *I* had their stamina."
Abigail blushed as her words were turned on her, but Chopper replied
as if she didn't doubt it for a second. "With them, anything's
possible."
Casey was just as fun sober as she was drunk, but that might have
had something to do with the fact that Abigail couldn't see much
difference. The punkish young woman was still a bouncy, squeaky voiced
bundle of enthusiasm, eager to talk and just as eager to have them talk
to her. She was also surprisingly articulate considering that she had
three rings, a pair of studs and a small safety pin through her lower
lip.
Her appearance and dress was quite at odds with her light-hearted,
personable attitude. Abigail wanted to know just how many piercings she
had, but hadn't plucked up the courage to ask. Casey was *full* of them;
her lip, nose, eyebrows, and especially her ears were all hung or run
through with the plain and even utilitarian jewellery. She also saw
little reason to cover herself with over-hot leather the way most Scavs
or Mercs did, and her dusty white vest was tight enough to show that her
accessorising was not limited to her face. Simple army green trousers,
also tight where it mattered, as Abigail could not avoid noticing, and a
pair of heavy black boots completed Casey's minimal wardrobe of the day.
Her hair would also have been punk looking, hap-hazardly bleached
from a deep auburn into a pale rust colour, except that it had been
bunched into a pair of pigtails, each sitting high on her head but still
long enough to brush her shoulders when she turned her head. Combined
with her bubbly attitude she seemed like she should have been head
cheerleader for a goth football team.
And it was only now, with a clear if aching head, that Abigail
realised that Casey didn't *wear* any jewellery. No rings, bracelets or
necklaces at all. Not even an ornament in her bleached pigtails. Just
piercings, and lots of them.
As for Casey's companions... maybe Abigail had been a little unfair
to them the night before. David might be a killer, he admitted it freely
enough, but Abigail had killed raiders and even two Super Mutants now.
But whatever his reasons for doing so, David hadn't let it make him dark
or bitter. Unlike Abigail he wore his black leathers not as a statement
or as a matter of attitude. It was not worn to protect him either, so
much as it was just his clothing of choice.
His smile was pleasant and approachable, and though he did not pry
himself he was happy to answer her accusatory questions. Abigail didn't
doubt he was keeping a great many things to himself when he spoke, but
he admitted enough to make her feel guilty for having had such a harsh
opinion of him. He just took life in his stride, because what point was
there with getting angry or upset?
Beside him, Katina disagreed with his outlook. She was both vocal
and reticent in equal measure, as her mood took her, and she objected
that she had a *right* to be angry, if for no other reason than
*wanting* to be. But that violent mix of temper and brooding silence
made her seem more human than she had appeared the night before. With
her alcohol she had seemed too calm and worryingly cautious, as if she
might break off from a laugh or an argument to murder someone without a
moment's notice. Now, however, she was just a moody woman who knew what
she wanted, and gone was the edge of tension in her gestures.
And her appearance was as chaotic as her emotions. Her hair, long
and pale, was wrapped up in a garish head-scarf of yellow and red so
that her fringe poked out from under it, and streams of hair stuck out
at odd angles to fall down her neck or shoulders. She hid her toned
physique beneath both a chequered shirt and a thin sweater that was
slowly wearing away. Baggy combat pants covered her legs with the
fastenings and straps left to hang loose. It had all been less modest at
the bar but no less random; a T-shirt with obscenities peeling off it,
sports gloves that she still wore now and shorts that would have looked
more at home on a pot bellied scout leader, held up with a belt.
David and Katina also looked like they shared a parent, or at least
an ethnicity. They were both fairly short and slim, but made of nothing
but bone and muscle. Katina in particular, what could be seen of her
beneath her baggy clothing, looked like she could take apart a man twice
her size. They had the same square nose - though Katina's had been
broken and re-set at some point - and the same slur in their vowels.
What differed was their hair: plain, black and allowed to grow into an
attractive fringe on David, while Katina's messy tresses were bleached
and dyed until they were lighter than Casey's. It was strange to be able
to point them out as kin when so many surfacers had blended together
into a few basic ethnic mixtures, losing their more subtle distinctions
along the way.
The three of them had brought their charge this time as well, so it
was this new woman who garnered much of their attention.
Fran, as they called her, was a woman from another world entirely.
She was certainly not a wastelander, but at the same time there seemed
to be no trace of a vault education or the kind of awe that Abigail
still felt towards the world around her.
Her skin was pale but tanning, like Abigail's, and her black hair
was long and well looked after, but in contrast she wore a coat made of
animal fur and a pale dress that flattered her chubby body. She even
wore sandals instead of boots, though they were sturdily made.
Fran was a woman of privilege. In large towns like Corva, or even
cities reclaimed from the wasteland, there would always be people rising
to the top. In her earlier years, many miles to the east, Fran's parents
had been those people. She had been raised with comparative wealth,
protected by bodyguards, and lived a life of luxury amid those eking out
an existence in the ruins.
Now she was an adult, the last survivor of her spoilt family and
inheritor of an entire city that she did not know how to govern. Where
Erin Goldway seemed intent to succeed in Corva, making herself
indispensable and admired by her eventual township, Fran had failed. But
even now she had fled, that dying city was still hers, in spirit if
nothing else, and it had been decided that whoever took her head would
be the one who had proved themselves fit to rule. She and her bodyguard
had fled, taking the few people they most trusted with them, and after
two years of flight and bloodshed they had arrived in Willets High. And
yet after all that, she seemed more like a normal person than Abigail
was now.
"I am told you are capable, by reputation," Fran said, and she gave
a pointed, melancholy look towards Katina. "And I don't expect I will be
allowed to stay here forever. Would you come with us when we pass under
this 'Cobalt Line' that Casey talks about?"
That was an interesting request. Abigail had not been giving any
thought about where to go next. She had rather hoped that she could
convince her friends to help the slaves here is Willets High, but that
was a pipe dream at best.
"Nope. Sorry, but we're not out for work right now."
Rathley's reply caught Abigail off guard, and she looked at him in
surprise. "We're not?"
"Right now what we need is R&R, not bodyguard duty," Chopper said,
agreeing with him.
"But you've been working here!"
Rathley smirked. "What she means, Sugar, is that she's gonna do her
thing, I'm gonna do mine," he held up his beer, "and we're gonna get you
doin' yours."
"My thing?" Abigail asked, confused. "Which would be what? Are there
any air recyclers to fix around here? A local softball team?"
"Besides sleepin', that's a good question, ain't it? You're good
with machines? Find one to play with. Check out your gun. Keep that
pitchin' arm in shape. Read your little PipBoy thing and do whatever it
is you do with it."
Across the table Casey shrugged. "I don't know, chilling out and
getting drunk seems like more fun!"
Fran seemed disappointed by the reply, and the reasons for it, but
she did not press. "Well, if any of you change your minds I don't hope
to be leaving for some time yet."
"Unless the Radscorpions do start causing problems," Katina put in.
She smiled at Fran, looking a little evil. "Unless you wanna go on
another bug hunt?"
The tall, portly woman shuddered. "Ugh, no way Kat. That's not
funny."
"It's hilarious!"
Chopper on the other hand had a more concerned look as she spoke to
David. "You were talking about them last night. The guards did take care
of them?"
"We don't know. I'd assume not, since they haven't said anything.
The slavers here don't seem like the modest type, but the way they're
armed they either have orders not to say anything until they've made
sure the ruins out there are completely clean, or they have a bigger
problem than they're letting on."
"You meant the scorpions that are eating all the giant ants?"
Abigail asked, "Like the cook at the hotel said?"
Chopper nodded. "Yeah. They'll eat people given half a chance. Tough
bastards as well, unless you're armed and you know what you're doing."
Rathley chuckled. "At least the guys here have it half right. I
expect those fancy guns ain't gonna save you when you've got a stinger
buried in your back."
"And I suppose you can do better, old man?" Katina said, baiting
him.
"Damn right. Old Bert and me, I'll bet fifty caps we killed more of
those fuckers than you've seen in your entire life, Sugar."
Katina just put her hands up, accepting the loss of her trivial
game. "No bet. I've never been dumb enough to walk into a pack of 'em."
With the conversation back on the other half of the table, Casey
turned to Abigail again. "So, when's your hand going to heal up? I'm
always itching to try out a new gun!"
Abigail opened her mouth, but to her surprise Chopper's attention
was on them and not Katina and Rathley. "Oh, that bandage is coming off
today," Chopper said. "I'm going to be dragging her off to the ruins
again once we're done with lunch."
"What?!"
Chopper leaned in and kissed her, transparent in her attempt to
mollify her. Annoyingly it did work, at least a little.
"A few bits of tape to keep the wound from opening up again and
you'll be fine. I can even give you a shot of my painkillers if the
kickback's too rough on it. Better you learn how to aim when you've got
an incentive to waste as few bullets as possible, hmm?"
Now that was a bit much to ask, even from her. However, it was now
that she saw Kyle and Sharn coming to join them, and the first thing out
of Kyle's mouth was, "The range awaits your arrival, ladies. Are you
ready for your re-match?"
Abigail glared at Chopper. "You couldn't wait until tomorrow?"
"We have plans for tomorrow. They involve being able to shoot."
"And you couldn't even ask me along for my opinion?"
Chopper did not seem dissuaded by her annoyance. "You had passed out
by then."
Opposite her Casey giggled, and tried to look sympathetic. "Ohh, a
drunken plan about guns. That bodes well, huh? Well, if you're going
shooting already do you mind if I come along. I want to see how good you
guys really are!"
***
After all that there little chance for Abigail to escape, and both
Casey and Katina joined the five of them in their second attempt to get
Abigail shooting.
To her surprise, the gun itself was actually not much larger than
the old thing Albert had given her, now that it was in her hands
properly. It was aged as well - she suspected most guns had been
reclaimed from the wreckage of the war - but had been cleaned well and
treated with care by whoever had last owned it, or by the gunsmith
himself.
What scared her were the bullets. Or 'cartridges', according to
Katina and Rathley. They had roughly the same diameter as Choppers
bullets, but instead of a simple casing the things she was supposed to
be firing had a huge back end, making it look more like something to put
down an elephant than any normal bullet. Well, maybe that was a bit of
an exaggeration, but they were big!
"Not as big as some," Kyle had replied, pulling his own largest
pistol from his pack. He'd brought it along once he had been told that
Rathley had recommended the smaller magnum for her, and she'd never
actually seen him fire the thing. The so called 'forty-four' was Kyle's
worst-case scenario pistol, and he only had two clips of ammunition for
it, but he told her about it with a strange sense of reverence.
"Now hold up one of your bullets next to this one," he said, popping
one of his .44 magnum rounds out of the clip and holding it up.
With a sense of trepidation Abigail did as she was told, and it was
clear that Rathley had not been entirely untruthful when he had said he
was going easy on her. "Yours will kick until you get used to them.
These? They'll try to rip your fingers off!"
"That's not really helping, Kyle."
It also didn't help that he laughed in response either. "Fair
enough, but the point is that you could handle my Eagle if you took the
time to get used to her. You've got the strength, you're an athlete, you
just don't have the experience."
Abigail didn't believe him, but at least he was being nice about it.
"Maybe. Better you than me though. Well, let's get it over with."
Given that they had guests this time Kyle had decided to abandon the
shooting challenge, and instead had everyone lined up with a can or
bottle on the wall in front of them. Rathley and Sharn sat back and
watched, since bringing their shotgun and rifle to a pistol range didn't
seem fair.
Chopper started off the shooting by missing her target
spectacularly, but the rest of them had better luck. Casey used a gun
similar to the one Abigail had lost, and picked her target off the wall
with little trouble, although she had a very square stance that Katina
was constantly trying to correct for her. Katina herself also had a
revolver which Abigail was glad to see, though it was larger than her
own. Then she heard the woman shoot it. The weapon sounded like a cannon
going off, and Katina's can was torn in half when the bullet punched
through it.
"Oh shit..."
"Don't worry about that," Kyle advised. Lining up his own shot.
"She's firing .44s, like mine."
Kyle the planted his feet, looked down the line of his huge silver
gun, and mimicked Katina by shattering his bottle on the wall.
"One of these'll put down a brahmin," Katina boasted, grinning at
Abigail's hesitance. "Go on already. Give it a squeeze."
Abigail swallowed hard, and set her feet in the way Kyle had told
her. She looked down at the long cut on her hand and the strips of
surgical tape that held it shut. Oh fuck, she thought. Here goes
nothing.
"Get your back straight," Rathley called from behind her, and she
let out a held breath, wishing he would shut up just at that point.
"Just be prepared for more recoil than last time, and you'll be
fine," was Kyle's more helpful advice.
Abigail decided she had better just shoot before anyone else decided
she needed 'help', so she raised her gun, squinted down the sights and
fired.
She flinched when the gun bucked violently in her hand, and damn was
it loud, but then it was over. She was still standing, her fingers were
still intact, and there was a neat chip out of the top of the wall, a
few inches from the bottle she had aimed for. She let out a sigh and
lowered the gun again. "Whew. Heh, yeah, that feels worse than the old
one!"
"It should do," Rathley replied, "with the amount of gunpowder they
stuff in those."
"Hey, I guess that's not bad for your first shot," Casey said, and
Sharn bounded over to them with a grin on her face.
"So? What do you think? Gunner-man was right about how much meaner
it sounds!"
Rathley just looked smug from his seat among the rubble. "That's the
plan."
It was a fairly good plan, it turned out. Given her attitude towards
guns he had advised that she buy a dozen or so of each type of
ammunition the gunsmith had offered. She would train on the harsher .357
rounds and they would get her used to how the gun sounded and felt, but
once she was comfortable with it she would only ever have one of them in
her gun at any time, as her 'warning shot'. The rest of the chamber
would be filled with .38s which were easier to fire, but slightly less
impressive to hear. That way if she had to take part in a fire fight the
gun would feel a lot easier to use, while her first shot would hopefully
make enough of a statement to dissuade anyone from starting one to begin
with, or guarantee a more lethal opening shot if someone else started
it.
Not that it was going to replace her knives - she was far more
comfortable and accurate with those - but at least now she had something
to use as a scare tactic, or against more heavily armoured assailants.
And beyond the sharp flashes of pain in her wounded hand, the gun
behaved itself just as the gunsmith had said it would. Casey seemed
surprised that Abigail was such a poor shot, but then she hadn't quite
realised that that firearm training had been restricted to security
personnel down in the vault. "I was just learning how to fix the
ventilation and lighting systems!"
Katina however had been spending more time observing her as the
afternoon had worn on. After Abigail had emptied her chamber and called
a halt to her practice for the sake of her throbbing hand, Katina tucked
her own gun into her waistband and wandered over.
"You looked more formidable that that. I can't believe you still
need teachin'."
She had spoken with an idle sort of condescension, but Abigail took
exception to it. "Life was better when I didn't have to worry about
guns, and being shot at all the time. And *you* were always pulling
Casey around because she's standing wrong."
Katina smiled. "Fair enough. But she can fight, at least."
"She is pretty good," Abigail admitted. Casey was nowhere near
Kyle's level of skill, but she was better than Chopper or herself.
"And at least she's less likely to run up to a raider in nothin' but
that vest with whatever blunt instrument she found last."
That was exactly what Abigail's own companions were trying to do for
her. If only Katina didn't make it sound so much like a joke. She
couldn't help it if throwing sharp objects was as good as her fighting
skills got.
"And at least I've graduated from throwing ground nuts at raiders,"
she joked.
She never expected Katina to laugh though, but she did. The scruffy
woman actually collapsed on Abigail's shoulder, laughing like she had
just heard the best joke in the world, all her attitude vanishing in the
blink of an eye. "Hahahahahahah! No wonder Case likes you, vault girl!
Oh, you two are precious! Hey Case, guess what, vault girl was a rock
chucker as well!"
Casey looked around from the firing line, surprised. "Really? No
way! And you said it was a stupid idea! Those rocks saved my life more
than once, you know?"
"Hey, don't point it this way! Gun down, damn it!"
"Umm... Oops?"
***
That night Abigail took to the beer with more caution. It wasn't
that the limp alcohol was any worse than the night before, or the
company any less fun, but after her night of shivers both she and
Chopper had decided that it was worth seeing if it really was the
alcohol that had done it, or just the cold.
Or, Abigail had realised, the combination of booze and pills that
night. That was most likely. You couldn't drink with aspirin, and now
maybe she had found out what happened when you mixed alcohol and
Buffout. All the more reason to rely less on those little green tablets,
she decided.
She didn't dare share her late realisation with Chopper though. She
had received enough of a bollocking about it the first time, and so far
her scavenged tube of toothpaste was hiding the chemical taste of the
steroid behind a veil of peppermint. With a strategic bit of tooth
brushing every now and then Chopper need not know, and it was Abigail's
business to deal with.
Still, she was pleasantly drunk soon enough, and she was content to
play with Sharn, Katina and Casey while the others drank and compared
weapon calibres.
"Bah, as if point-oh-four-three of a centimetre makes any
difference," Katina said, very loudly. Her baggy clothing was now
hanging off her as if she had slept in it and just woken up, and it made
her look far more drunk than Abigail suspected she was.
"A gun's a gun. It does the job. It's a tool. And if your tool ain't
up to it then you just make up for that as best you can." She grew a
huge, salacious smile and cocked her head back to the other table.
"Right David?"
"I love you too Kat."
"Hee, he loves me. And he's good with his fingers," she added,
wiggling her digits at Abigail and Sharn.
Sharn just gazed lazily back at her, her head propped in her hands.
"Hm. I don't have that problem."
"Trust me, teach him. No matter how good his gun is, it's worth it."
Abigail was having flashbacks of her old sleepovers with Dee and
Jaqueline. Abigail had been as interested in gossip, sex, or gossip
*about* sex as the next girl, but when it was other girls she was
wanting to sleep with? It would have made for a bit of a conversation
killer, and she knew Sharn was still wary about Abigail and Chopper's
physical intimacy.
Not that Casey or Katina knew that, of course. "Eh," Casey sighed,
"I need to find someone who'll let me drag them around the desert too."
To Abigail and Sharn's surprise Katina looked hurt. "What? You have
us."
"Yeah, but... you and David are... you know, you and David." She
sounded earnest about that, if a little melancholy.
"What? Of course not. Well, sometimes, except when it's you and
David. Or you and me. Or all three of us in a heap."
"Well, yeah, but..."
Abigail blinked, the latter part of their exchange passing her by as
she looked from Katina over to David at the other table. "Huh? You two
aren't related?"
"What?" Katina stared at her as if she was mad. "No. And no, we
*don't* look alike!" Despite the fact that they definitely did, and both
Abigail and Casey could tell they agreed on that.
Then Sharn stopped them, wearing an incredulous expression. "Wait,
wait. You three *do* that?"
"Sure," Katina replied, drunkenly unassuming. "You know. Variety,
seasonings, all that jazz? We're a sharing lot!"
Sharn just looked confused, and a little cautious now. "If someone
did that with my gunner-man I'd run her through."
"And what if *she* was a *he*?" Katina asked, obviously looking to
make trouble now that Sharn's mores were in the open.
"Then I'd 'disarm' the bastard."
Casey sighed while the other two squared off, and turned to Abigail
with a smile. "I guess Chopper must be good too, huh? I've heard stories
about her."
That brought Abigail up short. She hadn't a ready excuse for her
nocturnal proclivities, but then it seemed she didn't need one any more.
"Umm, yeah. I met one of those stories. She was nice, but Chopper never
said why she broke up with her. Or she didn't give a decent excuse,
anyway. But Chopper's a bit like that. She's not very nice a lot of the
time, until you find all the love underneath that insensitive skin."
"Must be a pretty thick skin, because no-one but her girlfriends
ever seem to see it," Sharn said, sounding unconvinced.
Abigail shrugged. "It's... personal. She's passionate, very
passionate, and she just sweeps you up. Even when I'm mad at her she can
do it. It's really annoying!"
"Sounds brilliant to me!" Casey said, grinning from ear to ear.
"Maybe we could share sometime?"
Abigail blinked, unable to form a coherent response to that. What
reason was there not to? Except that she wanted Chopper to herself. The
passionate Chopper was *her* Chopper. And looking at the other side,
Casey was fun, and Abigail was attracted to her despite her unsettling
choice of facial accessories, but actually doing anything would be
betraying Chopper's trust. Abigail was Chopper's lover, and despite her
prickly exterior she *did* love her.
Chopper was a deeply passionate cactus?
Abigail had to stifle a giggle as soon as she opened her mouth.
"Ah." Casey looked embarrassed. "Silly question?"
"Umm, no, it's just... I don't think..."
From the other table Chopper's voice caught their attention. "I'm
not available, and I'm afraid you're not my type." She paused, her voice
getting quieter. "What Abby wants to do is her business."
Abigail found herself sobering up at that statement. What the hell?
Was she allowing Abigail to sleep with Casey?!
"I'm not going to spend our entire stay trying to separate you two,"
Chopper added. So it was clear there was a line, and from the tone in
Chopper's voice it made a big difference which side of it Abigail stood
on. Chopper just wasn't going to stop her crossing it if that was what
she was intent on doing.
Abigail looked back at Casey, trying not to notice that both their
groups were waiting for her to speak. "... I'm sorry, Casey. I don't
want to lose her."
Thankfully Casey didn't seem hurt by that. "Yeah, I didn't want to
break you up or anything. I just thought it might be fun."
"Well," Rathley said, now that the eavesdropping was over, "if you
girlies *do* want to play together while you're here, Kyle, Chopper and
me have been thinkin' about a little run around the ruins. And assumin'
the Dean's people still ain't back by mornin', we might just wander out
and take out those Radscorpions ourselves. Properly. Earn ourselves a
little respect. What do ya' say?"
***
This time Abigail woke to a hotel room that was bright with morning
sun and a body that was still fully under her own control. Her weak arms
ached from breaking in her new gun and she barely had the energy to turn
over, away from the sunlight that tried in vain this time to filter
through the shutters, but there were no shivers or spasms to scare her
into full wakefulness. So it was not the alcohol that disagreed with her
after all.
Her head did not bother her so much either, and it was with a more
luxurious laziness, rather than pained retreat, that she tried not to
finish waking up. No more Buffout with her beer, and probably no more
before bed regardless, just to be sure.
She had no time for her own advice that morning though. She just
wanted to enjoy her lie in before she was roused for either more medical
study or, if she was unlucky, a bug hunting expedition. If she did have
to go then having Casey along would be nice, but apparently attracting
attention to themselves was the last thing on David or Katina's
schedule, even hidden away in Willets High. The people they were running
from must have been very persistent.
But soon enough Abigail's bleary dozing was disturbed by the sound
of the closing door, and the heavy footfalls of Chopper's boots.
Maybe if I pretend to be asleep she'll be in nice mode and won't
bother me, she thought. I don't care how late it is. I don't want to
waste any energy getting up!
To her thankful surprise Chopper seemed to do just that. She
dropped a few things, but whatever she *was* doing she didn't say a
word. Abigail found herself trying not to smile and break her slumbering
act. Thank you, Chopper.
Then, a few moments of blissful non-sleep later, was the sound of
two boots being removed. And more clothing? Abigail had barely
considered it before Chopper did pull back the covers and crawl back
into bed.
But not beside her. Instead Abigail felt one warm, sturdy leg climb
over her so that Chopper's soft thighs straddled her waist. Somewhere in
that right thigh was a deep, ugly hole - a bullet wound long since
healed - but right now it simply caressed her hip, the old scar of no
matter at all.
Large, gentle hands - larger than Abigail's own at least - took her
shoulder and rolled her onto her back with care. It opened Abigail's
eyes only because she knew she could not keep up the charade any longer,
but the lack of force or roughness in Chopper's touch might never have
roused her otherwise.
Kneeling above her Chopper looked down and pursed her lips. "You
were faking?"
Abigail was too relaxed by the care with which Chopper had handled
her to be embarrassed or ashamed, and simply blushed up at her. Chopper
was clad only in her underwear, and the sheets pooled behind her. "I
hope you were going to wake me up before doing anything else."
Chopper leaned down to kiss her, just brushing her lips at first,
but more deeply when Abigail gave in to the desire to kiss back. Chopper
tasted of ant meat and apple-tomatoes, and it made Abigail realise how
hungry she was, but more than that she was pleased to have found out
what Chopper had chosen for breakfast like this.
Abigail was loath to let her go just then, but Chopper pulled back,
looming over her on all fours. "Would that have been enough of a
warning?"
Abigail kicked the now uncomfortably warm sheets from her legs and
nodded. "What brought this on?"
Chopper lowered herself, and nuzzled into Abigail's neck as if
seeking her own comfort in Abigail's body they way Abigail so often
sought it in Chopper's. She felt Chopper's fingers trailing down her
sides, stroking comfortingly. "The missing slavers haven't come back
after all. You're going to have to put that gun to good use."
Abigail released her soft hold on Chopper, and tried to look her in
the eyes. "Then this is consolation?"
Chopper pulled herself fully onto Abigail, her heavy breasts and
twisted bra pressing into Abigail's small bosom. To Abigail's surprise
she didn't seem in the least worried or apologetic. In fact she almost
seemed to gloat to herself, and she kissed Abigail again, her eyes
glowing with triumph. "Why would I need an excuse to take you to
paradise?"
Abigail caught her breath, a blossom of warmth flooding her stomach
as Chopper's thumb swept over her navel. "And the scorpions?"
"What about them?" she replied, kissing back down into Abigail's
neck. "They won't be a problem. I just thought you'd want to know."
That unbridled confidence only made Abigail's cheeks warmer. Maybe
this was Chopper's display of victory over Casey, or perhaps her lack of
concern about the Radscorpions was a bluff, but either way she had drawn
out Abigail's desire with ease. If Chopper wanted to love her now, then
Abigail would revel in it eagerly. She untied Chopper's brassiere and
pulled it from between them, and wrapped her legs around the hand that
edged between them. "Okay. Show me that paradise of yours then."
***
According to Rathley hunting Radscorpions was rather like emergency
dental surgery; laborious, painful, and with a high risk of infection in
the most awkward places. They both also tended to leave you wondering if
it was really worth the effort or the toxic swellings. Either you were
desperate to have the problem dealt with, or you were a masochist.
He said all this with a casual cheeriness that made Abigail wonder
if he was just reliving his glory days. Apparently Old Bert had spent a
week as a hunchback thanks to these creatures and the poisons they had
pumped into him.
Casey, Kyle and Chopper had far more measured opinions on
Radscorpions though. They were not fun critters, but despite their size
they were still little more than vermin. Vermin that could take on a
Brahmin one for one and win, but vermin none the less. It was their
tendency to hunt in packs that made them dangerous. The general
consensus was that if you had to go after Radscorpions, you needed to
ambush them before they ambushed you.
"And don't fight them at night," Rathley added, spitting into the
urban detritus. "They can see better than you can. Well, maybe not you
Sugar," he looked into Abigail's sunglasses, "but these slavers? Bought
it as soon as the sun went down, any money."
It wasn't a cheery thought, but Abigail wasn't in the least worried.
She had an angry green fairy flying through her head, injecting
confidence directly into her brain. To her mind it made a lot more sense
to get the Buffout into her system *before* the fighting started, that
way whatever powering up the drug gave her had time to get working
properly. The initial rush of aromatic adrenaline was great, but she
should be able to push herself further once it had got into her
bloodstream. She knew that if she was going to be fighting eight foot
killer scorpions then she was going to crack when it came down to the
fight. And if she was going to do it anyway then she ought to be making
the most of every tablet, not popping them any time her nerve broke. She
had to make sure that she didn't freeze up and didn't flinch. She had to
be professional about it.
Even Casey was professional. She had swapped her bubbling energy for
cautious darting eyes and a grim curl on her pierced lips. When she
spoke she slipped back into her happy demeanour, grinning at them
despite her wariness, but she only let her guard down for a moment at a
time.
"Yeah, I've done Radscorpions before," she said when Sharn asked.
"Nasty, tough things. It's hard to get close enough to them for a good
smack!"
She pulled an old golf club from the cylindrical bag on her back,
and swung it downwards to illustrate. "Trouble was they didn't think
anything about crawling right up to us, even when Kat and Dave were
shooting them. You need *really* good aim or a *really* big gun to take
one down in one shot."
Chopper shrugged, as if that didn't matter. "Just throw as much lead
at them as you can. They can't walk if you've shredded their legs."
Casey glanced at her, but ignored her advice since she and Rathley
were the only ones whose weapons could manage that. "The best way we
found if you're up close," she advised Sharn and Abigail, "was to have
someone with good aim shooting at the head or side, and someone keeping
the tail busy to distract it."
She swung her golf club again. "Whoever's clubbing needs to watch
out for their claws though. Just distract it, then get out of range and
let your partner shoot."
"Maybe I should have brought a spear after all," Sharn said. She had
her rifle, and that should be enough, but Sharn was good with long hand-
to-hand weapons.
Similarly, Abigail was not good in a melee, and if these creatures'
carapaces were as tough as Rathley said then her knives wouldn't do her
much good unless she was stabbing up close.
"I've got more if you want one?"
Casey pulled another club out of her golf case and offered it to
Sharn. "My hockey stick doesn't work to well on their shells, but a
metal club can crack them nicely!"
Sharn looked at it a moment, then declined. "No, thanks. I'd need
something pointed. But I'm sure a rifle bullet will do just as well. You
do have an... interesting collection though."
"Hee hee, thanks! I've never been so good at fighting, but it's kind
of hard to argue with a nine iron!"
Kyle gave a look at the bulge of her handgun in the pocket of her
green pants. "And the ten mil?"
Casey looked down her to pocket and smiled sheepishly. "Same as
Abby. Kat's right, it can't hurt to be prepared. And besides, it's
cool!"
***
Just as Willets High was not a large town, its surrounding city was
not vast by the standards that Abigail had been brought up on. The
fallen skeletons of high rises could be circumvented given time, and
wide roads offered some ease of passage through the mountains of debris.
In fact, getting around the ruins was far easier than getting *into*
them, especially now that its inhabitants made infrequent but regular
forays to hunt rats and ants, clearing foraging runs for themselves as
they went.
More worrying than the scrambling over rubble was the looming threat
of a collapse. Not a single structure, be it a shed or a sky scraper,
looked as though it still had the strength to support itself. Abigail
feared that a single sneeze might knock any given building right down,
and even Rathley in his metal shell would be hard pressed to escape from
that unscathed.
And even though the city had been smallish, and only the centre had
ridden its earthquake plug into calamitous obscurity, it was still a lot
of ground to search on foot.
"Tracking these things ain't so easy in here," Rathley retorted when
Sharn complained. "For such big bastards they don't leave such great
tracks, even out in the desert. In here we'll be lucky to spot anythin'
less obvious than a dead shell."
He waved his arm at the fallen buildings, and Abigail could
understand his point. Even their own six strong party wasn't leaving
much in the way of tracks in the concrete rubble and sparse dust.
Looking for the 'pointed ripples', as Rathley called them, of Radcorpion
tracks would be even harder.
Rathley continued. "They don't nest in the open though. They'll hide
up in caves or hollows. That's why I told you to be looking at the
buildin's. They're gonna be in there, or else in some basement. Findin'
tracks'll just give us a better idea of *where* to start huntin'
properly."
Rathley's idea of 'hunting properly' didn't sound like a great idea
to Abigail. "If we go inside any of these they'll collapse!"
Kyle chuckled at her worried voice. "If the building they're in can
hold a Radscorpion it can certainly hold a skinny thing like you, Abby!"
Beside her Casey patted Abigail on the shoulder, commiserating. "I
think we've just been volunteered."
Abigail had to admit, Casey was almost as thin as she was, and
taller to boot.
***
The day was wearing on and the sun had got very hot when Rathley
pulled them to a sudden stop. Kyle and Casey froze the second the old
wastelander's arm went up, but Abigail's attention had faltered under
the heat, looking for something to keep her Buffout fuelled nerves
occupied, and she only noticed they were stopping when she walked right
into Kyle's back.
"Oof, what..."
To her surprise Rathley clamped his hand over her mouth hard, and it
took her a moment to realise she wasn't supposed to struggle.
"Shh!" he hissed, and while he held her still his eyes began to scan
the heaps of rubble and the blasted shop fronts that lined the chewed up
road.
With her head trapped by Rathley's hand Abigail couldn't follow his
gaze, but both Kyle and Sharn were scouring the ruins as well. What on
earth could Rathley have heard? There was nothing there. Abigail's
senses were better than theirs, especially with her head lit up by the
Buffout.
Then she heard it too. Something was scratching against wood, up
ahead. Where was that? The sound was faint and difficult to pin down
among all the grey wreckage, and then just as suddenly as they had
stopped so did the scratching.
"Shit, I think they heard us." Rathley reached for the stock of his
shotgun, sticking from his backpack, and Sharn and Casey followed suit
with their own weapons of choice.
"But we heard them first," Kyle replied with a confident whisper.
"So everyone take a shop and make a racket as soon as you see something.
Everyone get back here, and we let them come to us."
"Fair enough. Pick a door, boy."
He, Kyle and Sharn immediately slipped away to whichever door was in
front of them, leaving Abigail, Chopper and Casey to look at each other.
While Casey simply shrugged at them Chopper mirrored Abigail's
expression, distinctly unhappy with the new plan.
"Gah, fuck it. Go already, I'll check that one. This is *not* how I
fight."
Abigail shared her girlfriend's sentiment, but she took the cue and
dashed in the direction Kyle had gone. That was where *she* thought the
sound had come from, and ran as silently as possible past the shop front
and into the alleyway between the still standing walls of the two
buildings there. To her rational mind this seemed very unwise, but to
her tense, chemically enhanced one it made perfect sense. The alley was
not wide and offered little chance for the beast to ambush her except
from the roof, and she was still an athlete, so darting past each
intersection and eliminating them one by one would be child's play.
She did not get far before she saw the blood on the windowsill. She
froze, having already circled to the back of Kyle's chosen shop. The
window was gone, as they all were, but someone or something had bled
over the windowsill, either crawling in or out. She touched a finger to
the stain and it came away tacky, but not wet. It was nearly dry.
Then Kyle hollered from inside.
"Got her! In the key cutters! Just one!
So she'd been right! The scratching had come from in there. She
puffed up with pride at the thought. What was more, she was in a perfect
position to take advantage of it. As long as there were no more waiting
in the wings she could stop it from retreating further into the shop.
After all, if they liked to hunt in packs, would just one of them be
willing to chase Kyle all the way into a five man firing squad? If so
then job done, but if not she could make sure it didn't escape.
She tested the sill for stability, and when it didn't budge she
vaulted inside.
***
Rathley took a step inside the room that sat behind the shop's
splintered countertop. In one swift movement his body and his shot gun
came down to face the right wall, and when nothing moved his eyes and 12
gauge muzzle panned across the room in a swift arc, covering as much of
the floor as possible. Seeing nothing he strode in and made straight for
the door on the left wall, one room down and moving on to the next.
Quick, methodical, and careful. It was a rare mantra for him to use,
but combating Radcorpions in such confined quarters required it. He
would be lucky to get two shells off before the arachnids could be on
top of him, pulling him apart.
Not that he intended to fight inside. He would have done had
circumstances been different, but he was with new company these days and
Kyle's plan was both sound and safe. He had killed enough of the eight
legged monstrosities to have turned their extermination into an art-
form, almost on a par with the old bastard who had taught *him*. Those
two shells would be all he needed to put one of the giant critters down,
knowing exactly where to put his lead at such close range and then
advancing or retreating as the remaining Radscorpions demanded.
The only reasons not to were Abigail, Sharn, and the stability of
the building. The two women needed to be introduced to Radscorpions
quickly, and fighting them above ground was the ideal way of doing so.
There would be plenty of places to run, and many opportunities to
overwhelm even a moderate group of 'scorpions.
And the shop? Well, that had remained standing through a continent-
wide nuclear holocaust, at least one major earthquake, and over a
century of seasonal sandstorms. One wad of misplaced buckshot might be
all that kept it from its eventual and inevitable collapse.
But that wouldn't happen today. Kyle's shout echoed across the
street, signalling his success at hunting down their quarry. Rathley
allowed himself an annoyed smirk before dashing back out. The boy would
be cocky as hell about it tonight, the bastard.
And it was just the one 'scorpion? Talk about an easy introduction
for the girls. Still, as long as they didn't get over-confident about
their easy kill...
Rathley ran back to the street, just as they all did. Sharn and
Chopper looked relieved, while Abigail's new punk/goth/raider friend had
swapped her paranoid look for one of energetic anticipation. *She* had
the right idea, and who the fuck cared if she took it too far. You could
*never* be to too careful, but nor should that take the fun out of the
hunt.
Rathley did not expect to take part in this fight though. He simply
watched as the Radscorpion scuttled out of the wrecked shop-front, and
right into Sharn, Chopper and Casey's sights. Kyle was drawing one of
his own pistols as well, even as he joined them. There was no point in
Rathley wasting a shell just to add to the wall of lead that would rain
down on the giant arachnid. His energy was better spent watching the
alley and streets, because even if there was just the one they were
about to announce themselves *real* loud.
The Radscorpion was a large one, but just as Rathley had described
to Abigail and Sharn. Unlike many other creatures the only major effect
of the war's radiation on the Radscorpion had been to give it its size,
and its more potent sting. The thing's body was a full five feet in
length, maybe more, and then its large claws could reach another three
feet out from its mouth. Add to that another five feet of tail arched
over its back, capped with a sizable curved stinger, and even one alone
was an intimidating sight. It was also covered in deep reddish plates of
chitin, though Rathley had seen Radscorpions with shells that were
almost black.
As soon as Kyle had reached his firing line he, Sharn, Casey and
Chopper all opened fire. Chopper only fired a few short bursts from her
submachine gun, but for her hitting with two bullets out of seven was
better that trying to aim properly and hitting with none. Kyle and Sharn
were far better, each putting two rounds into the creature, while Casey
managed to add a fifth soon enough. However, both her shot and one of
Sharn's could only punch into the beasts heavy claws when they should
have been entering through the weaknesses in its armour around its face.
But despite their amateurish showing Sharn did put one round into
its body proper, and with the penetration power that her rifle could
muster it must have done a world of hurt to the beast's insides.
Similarly, Kyle knew exactly where to aim and carefully put two bullets
into the same spot in quick succession, cracking open its shell and
ripping a dirty great hole in the side of its recessed head.
Radscorpions were not known for their stupidity however. This one
knew that it was outmatched, and rather than charge further into the
hail of gunfire it wisely turned and began to scuttle back into the
building, letting out its rattling call and trailing its damaged claw
across the ground as it went. It was not dead, but it would not survive
long like that.
It was then that Chopper also realised that her girlfriend was
missing. "Wait a minute, where the hell is Abby?! God damn it!"
Rathley shook his head and idly wandered over to her side of the
line. "Give the girlie some credit, Sugar. Who's money says she's in
there already?"
"What?!"
And just as he said it the Radscorpion reached the wall again,
crawling sideways to drag its claw as it went, and in an instant its
exposed tail was grabbed from behind the concrete wall.
"Damn." Kyle exclaimed, watching as the creature dragged Abigail out
from behind her cover to reveal her with one arm wrapped around its tail
and another pushing her knife deep between the articulated plates of
chitin. "Crazy girl. That's one way of doing it I guess."
They all watched Abigail, afraid to fire in case they hit her as she
yanked the knife sideways, ripping the Radscorpion's tail apart in the
process. The creature gave a hissing croak of a scream and Abigail
danced away to let the broken tail hang from its bloody, thrashing
stump, not quite cut through.
Rathley loved being right.
At the gun line Casey set the safety on her pistol and bounded
forward, pulling her golf club from her bag. "Now *that's* better!
Fore!"
They all watched as Abigail stood back, breathing heavily, and
allowed Casey to bring her club down right on the fleshy wound that Kyle
had opened up. The Radscorpion must not have had long left to live now,
but that was one blow too many and its legs finally stopped their
panicked crawling and let its body fall limp.
Not that it stopped Casey giving the creature another whack for good
measure, and even Abigail kicked its tough shell in one last fit of
adrenal defiance.
Rathley wandered up to them, the gun line in tow, and smiled as he
regarded Abigail, Casey and Sharn.
"And that, girls, was a Radscorpion. Just don't get cocky. It's only
easy when you know how."
"Or when it's outnumbered six to one and Abby's feeling reckless,"
Kyle added. "Not that it didn't work. Nice job by the way."
Abigail smiled though her slowing breaths, and as always it was
clear to Rathley that she looked for Chopper's reaction. For all her up-
tight worrying, at least 'Marie' looked like she agreed with Kyle this
time. Abigail had kept the creature and herself under control, and it
*had* been good work.
Rathley made another mental note to piss Chopper off about that
again sometime. As long as they kept bugging her she couldn't keep the
Marie thing to herself forever. She had limits.
***
That had been an exhilarating battle for Abigail. She had no real
reason to feel proud, mutilating an already badly wounded animal, but it
had proved to her that surprise and precision were not only what she was
best at, but that they could be very effective if only she got it right.
She had been in no danger from the unknowing Radscorpion at all - more
dangerous had been the chance of getting shot by one of her own hunting
party. She did her part, and retreated to a safe distance once the
creature's stinger had been cut apart so that Casey could finish it off
without risking her life in the process. Her plan had worked even better
than she had hoped. She felt like she had been an integral cog in their
combat machine, and they appreciated her for it.
And there was the thrill of the fight, of course. The anticipation,
the potential danger, the heady fuzz of adrenaline tied to her razor
sharp nerves... Chopper had been right about her, those weeks ago in
Corva. Abigail *did* like it. Combat was stimulating in a tense, nail-
biting way that was unlike anything else in the world.
Assuming it was going her way. Assuming she could participate, and
avoid getting herself or her friends killed. But still, thrilling! Or
was that the Buffout? Did it even matter? However, caught up in the rush
of the battle Abigail had not turned her attention to why the
Radscorpion might have be scratching away inside the back of the shop.
Kyle had.
"It was back here," he said as he led them through the shop front
and into the rooms behind. The building, like most shops in that part of
the city, had been built no higher than the ground floor, which was
probably why many of them were still standing. That being so, instead of
living above the shop the old owner had evidently found space to live in
what Abigail assumed would have been office space, rather than having a
separate home elsewhere.
"I caught it coming out of here," Kyle explained, "but from the look
of that wardrobe I'd say it wanted in."
True enough there was a large wardrobe on the far wall, and while
much of the ceiling had caved in over the wrecked bed and furnishings,
the wardrobe had survived intact.
Until the Radscorpion had got at it. The front of it was covered in
scratches and claw marks, from the ground and up four feet of the door,
and above that the wood had been pock marked and broken through in
several places by the animal's stinger. Enough wood had been scratched
or splintered off that the Radscorpion would have got through sooner
rather than later.
Rathley pushed to the front, a crooked, scarred smile on his rough
face. "So let's see what it wanted so bad."
He took hold of the knob and yanked hard. A second later he stared
grumbling at the knob in his hand, and the still closed door. "Mph,
well, fuck that then. Your turn, boy."
Kyle grinned openly at Rathley's annoyance, and dropped his pack to
get out a crowbar. As he did, Abigail had a question.
"What would a giant scorpion want inside an old wardrobe?"
Chopper gave her an educated guess. "Meat, probably. If one of the
slaver guards managed to get away and lock himself in. Either it saw
him, or followed his scent?"
"More like a blood trail," Kyle noted, pointing out a few spots of
tacky blood that had oozed from under the wardrobe door. That reminded
Abigail of the blood on the windowsill she had climbed through, and her
stomach turned slightly at the thought of what the poor man must have
gone through. Then she remembered that these men were slavers, and was
this any less than they deserved? Her stomach turned again. Surely that
should have been a simple question but it disturbed her that no
immediate decision came to mind.
Chopper and Kyle were proved right when Kyle broke open the wardrobe
a second later. Sitting in a heap, slumped over itself, was the body of
one of the slavers. He had no weapon in there with him, and blood
covered his left forearm as it lay cradled in his lap, looking an
unhealthy shade of purple.
"Is he dead?" Casey asked, peering in with the rest of them, and
Kyle checked the body for a pulse.
"Not quite. Doesn't feel too strong though."
Abigail looked at the unconscious man, pity welling in her despite
her abhorrence of his chosen profession. He had come out here to try and
protect the town at the city's heart. He'd just... failed. But put next
to how many lives he must have ruined, and how many people's freedom he
had stolen... "So, what are we going to do?"
"That's easy," Sharn said, turning to Chopper. "*Can* we save him?"
Chopper gave her a dark look, before sighing and taking Kyle's place
in front of the wardrobe. She checked his pulse, his forehead for
temperature, and examined the swollen, discoloured arm. The man stirred,
barely even returning to consciousness, but he managed to groan in
discomfort.
"Yes. I can keep him alive. Do we want to play hero?"
Rathley grinned down at her, and sucked at his teeth in amusement.
"Tck, that's why we're out here, Sugar. If we can show 'em up a bit, all
the better!"
So that was the decision made. It surprised Abigail how much of a
relief it was to hear that they, as a group, would do the right thing.
Even if it was for the wrong person - no, a person less deserving of
clemency than some - he was still a person. Feeling that relief, Abigail
realised she *would* have felt guilty if they had just stolen what
little he had and left him to die, curled up in his own scavenged
coffin. She would have regretted it. It would have changed her, set a
precedent, and not for the better. Not in the least.
She actually felt her knees get a little weak at the thought. She
had just come so close to letting a man die out of pure spite, simply
because Rathley might have allowed her to. Rathley, of all people!
But while she worried for herself Chopper took charge. "Fair enough.
Kyle, take the door off this thing and lay it on the bed. Sharn, help me
get him out of here. He's too far gone to get him on his feet."
Casey retreated to a safe distance while they did as Chopper said.
"A table? You can't just give him a shot? Uh, actually, do you *have*
any Radscorpion anti-venom?"
"Yes, but that won't keep him alive now." Chopper and Sharn lay the
fading man on her makeshift bench and turned his swollen forearm over to
show Casey. Abigail also watched, and it looked far nastier than it had
in the man's lap. It was not bleeding, though it was caked in the same
drying blood as his lap and the wardrobe floor. The flesh had swollen to
twice its size, and mottled across the bloated purple skin were blotches
of sunken blackness. A clear ooze seeped from the wound as Chopper
handled it, from the size of the puncture Abigail was amazed that the
sting had not emerged from the other side. Evidently it had burrowed
into his arm at enough of an angle to deliver its poisons properly.
"Either the Radscorion's poison sacks were running dry or he was
very lucky he didn't get this sting in his trunk. He'd be dead by now if
he had."
"Oh no," Sharn moaned, "you're going to amputate it?"
Chopper nodded and, from her bag rather than her medical tin, she
pulled a wide, flat saw - a bone saw - and a wickedly sharp meat
cleaver.
"The poison is one thing," Chopper explained as she pushed her
patient across the door, getting him into a position to work from, "but
his arm is already rotting. Don't want any more bad blood getting back
into him. Sharn, hold his shoulder and pay attention. You too, Abby,
hold his hand and try to keep it steady. He's not going to sleep through
this."
Then, to Abigail's concern, an unpleasant grin found its way onto
Chopper's face. "Kyle, Rathley? Casey? Hold him down."
And as soon as Rathley had trapped the man's arm in his own, Chopper
drove the cleaver forward into the man's flesh. Abigail could barely
believe what she was seeing, or hearing. Chopper brought the blade back,
and then forward again, slicing through the man's bicep like it was a
freshly pulled potato. The slaver screamed as well - of course he
screamed, even half-dead and delirious he could not remain unconscious -
but Abigail had never had to sit there and listen to pain so close at
hand before. This man was screaming for his life, screaming for darkness
to overtake him again as Chopper's blade bit down into his bone,
grinding to a halt.
Chopper was talking as she went, instructing Sharn as to why so much
of his arm had to be removed, and how to check the toxicity of his blood
by its colour, smell and consistency, but none of it registered. All she
could feel was the pull of the man's arm in her hands, flexing in agony.
Chopper made quick change to the bone saw and took another stroke
forward, as if sawing copper pipe, before a loud, visceral *SNAP* shook
his whole body. The slaver's scream cut out and he gagged on the back of
this own throat in shock. Casey recoiled simultaneously, her hands
flying into the air as she recoiled from the body that had convulsed in
time with that breaking of bone.
"Aaah! Oh, GOD! Ewwww! Oh god that's so *nasty*!"
As soon as she let go the man's leg flew up, kicking out impotently
into the air.
"Casey! Hold him!" Chopper shouted over the gagging screams.
"Haven't you ever butchered your own meat before?!"
"But he *cracked*." Casey grimaced, wrestling the leg back under
control. "Ewwwwwww."
Two last strokes with the knife and Chopper was down to the wood.
And she had smiled with that same grim satisfaction the entire time.
Even more so when she had finally made it through the bone.
"You can let go, Abby. It's just dead meat."
Abigail looked down at the hand she held, and realised it was no
longer connected to the man that screamed in the hands of the others.
Even though it still twitched in her fingers. In an instant she released
it, and fought down the urge to throw up over herself.
We just saved his life, she forced herself to think, blocking out
the feeling of those fingers or the vicarious pull of the saw. We just
saved his life, we just saved his life.
And she could only watch in sickened fascination as Sharn and
Chopper wrestled with the man's bleeding stump, stemming the huge gouts
of blood so that Chopper could sew up the arteries and blood vessels
that now led nowhere.
Wasn't Chopper going to use a stimpak to help stop the bleeding or
numb the man's pain? Was the cost of them worth putting up with his
weak, fevered screams? And Copper she really taken such satisfaction in
dismembering him, even if it was to save his life?
But then, soaked in blood and feeling both tense and nauseous,
Abigail realised that she had forgotten something very important. The
thing that had first led her to respect Chopper for who she was, and not
just because she had saved her life in the desert.
Chopper was a maverick. She was willing to risk killing a man if it
gave him even the slightest chance of survival beyond his ailment. Some
even reviled her because she would try to save those with no other hope,
and would be blamed for failing when no other doctor, whatever their
reason, would even try.
And she was rightly proud of it.
***
The decision then was how best to hunt down the nest from there. The
blood trails that the slaver had left behind vanished soon after he had
bled over the windowsill at the back of the shop, probably doing his
best *not* to leave a trail for the arachnids to follow until that
point.
And they had the man himself to take care of, but Chopper had given
them all an un-amused stare when the subject had come up. "*You* go play
with the bugs, I'll do *my* job here. I doubt you'll miss the extra gun.
As if it would help."
She didn't sound particularly self-deprecating about it either,
despite her choice of words, so the rest of them let her dodge the hunt
since she had obviously been looking for just this excuse not to go.
"It shouldn't take long from here," Kyle explained, for Abigail and
Sharn's sakes. "One of these things wouldn't be out far from the nest
alone. Definitely not during the day. The fact that they haven't come
down on us already after that racket means they're not up and about with
their brother there either."
"We stick together and search each building in turn," Rathley said,
deciding for them. "Then we check the sewers if we have to. Don't want a
nest swarming a smaller team, so no splitting up. You're looking for
basements or back rooms if we get to the larger buildings. Somewhere
dark and private."
There weren't many such places either. Most of the shops and homes
in the vicinity were single story and uncomplicated, being outside the
main knot of the ruined city centre. When they did find a cellar or an
old meat locker Kyle and Rathley co-ordinated them like a trained strike
force, rather than the cavalier and haphazard fights Abigail had taken
part in with them so far.
The same was true as they went down the stairs into the basement
stockroom of an old toy shop. With the stairway only wide enough for one
Rathley was crouched at the front with this shotgun levelled at the
floor below. Behind him Kyle had a pistol drawn over the older man's
shoulder, knowing what to look for and without an unwieldy weapon to
interfere with their combined retreat if need be. At the top Sharn had
her rifle aimed over them both, ready to take the first shot if anything
moved below them.
Abigail and Casey waited for the all clear. There wasn't room to
make use of them and their less reliable aims in that tight stairway
except to guard the rear.
But the way down at least was clear, and in the settled dust at the
bottom they saw the wide caterpillar tracks that Rathley had told them
to look for all morning. Radscorpion tracks.
Kyle whispered for the girls to follow, and remain silent. The
corridor at the bottom turned fright from the stairs, an open door on
each side at its far end. The tracks led from both.
"Kyle, take the back room. Case, you keep 'em away from Sharn,
Sugar. Abby, you an' me are takin' the front."
Abigail felt as though she was taking part in a spy drama, or a
dream like the one she faintly remembered from Micasa. It was Special
Agent Abigail all over again as Rathley had her line up behind him, her
new, powerful gun in her hands.
"Go!"
On that signal both Rathley and Kyle leapt around the corner and
into their rooms, and the two groups were on their own.
However, while Kyle and then Sharn and Casey began firing
immediately, Rathley had paused to take in the room and Abigail did the
same. Dry brittle crates of dry, brittle toys lay about in heaps,
covered with a century of dust and decayed cardboard.
And at the back their prey rose, stirred by the others' gunshots.
Two Radcorpions scuttled around to face them, and immediately hissed and
charged, but left behind them the third member of their brood got slowly
to her feet. She was not larger, but weighed down with the white,
writhing infants that clung to her back. At least seven, if not more.
"Looks like we got here just in time," Rathey quipped, and he
punctuated it with the boom of his shotgun. "Focus on that one! Drive it
back!"
That sounded like a fool's move to Abigail, but Rathley was the
expert and she had to trust that he knew what he was doing. She ignored
the other Radscorpion that swiftly closed the gap, and instead fired
three rounds at its partner. Each time she pulled the trigger the hard
recoil pulled off her aim for the next, but while only her first bullet
hit its target, the third shot flew past it and into the laden mother
that had joined the chase. Her magnum powered round punched through one
of the young and into the mother Radscorpion's back. The pale, weakly
armoured Radscorpling fell limply from its mother's body, a huge hole
torn through it.
"Eh, whatever works," Rathley snarled, putting another round of
buckshot into the now punctured and oozing beast between them and the
mother.
It was only after that shot that Abigail realised what Rathley had
intended. His shotgun shell had not stopped it advancing. It had
hesitated a moment but kept coming at them, into their fire. Only her
following shot, and another shot from Rathley, had done damage
significant enough for its self preservation instinct to take over from
the instinct to attack and feed.
Abigail tried to compose herself, now acutely aware that she had
only two rounds left in her gun's chamber, but now the second un-laden
arachnid had reached them, and it lashed out with its claws and tail.
Rathley was not to be outdone and knew exactly how to handle the
creature that was now right on top of him. He leapt back a few steps,
cocking his weapon again, and when he landed he was perfectly poised to
unload the shell point-blank into the Radscorpions face.
Abigail, fuelled by adrenaline and still riding her Buffout, had to
admire his skill. So that was how it was done. She was not about to get
dispirited by her own lack of ammunition either, and while the
Radscorpion tried to step closer to Rathley again she put her last two
.38 Specials into the creature's tough carapace. At that distance it was
no effort at all for the over powered bullets to punch through.
And that was her ammunition gone. Somehow she had expected it to
carry her further than that, but if her knives were all she had left now
then those where what she would use.
It didn't matter as much now either, as Rathley still had two of his
own six shells left, and one of those finally overpowered the giant
arachnid and sent its limp body sliding back across the dusty floor.
That just left the mother. And her babies.
Rathley cocked his shotgun one more time, and paused. Abigail wanted
to advance, but she didn't have the distraction to get behind the
creature this time. Instead she hesitated with him, waiting for
instruction.
"If you have to use that take the little ones," Rathley said, eyeing
her drawn knife. "They're still soft." He reached into his pocket,
giving up the chance to advance into the wider part of the room to load
another two shells into his gun. "Leave Mom to me."
That was a plan Abigail could deal with, and they had wasted enough
time already. The mother Radscorpion had closed most of the distance
between them, and now that she was close her pale children were swarming
from her back to cover the floor. Though vulnerable, they were just as
aggressive as their parent.
Abigail dashed a knife into the one that still remained contrasted
against its mother's hide and it let out a fractured hiss as the knife
pinned it to her. Rathley ignored the young advancing on him in favour
of shooting the mother, and Abigail threw another knife into those that
threatened him. However, one thrown knife will not kill two infant
Radscorpions, and before she could make another throw the mother had
come between her and her retreating partner.
Abigail swore, but turned to focus on what she *could* do. She
tossed her knives in quick succession, either killing or maiming the
young that had come after her, until she was down to her final blade.
She had thought it would be an easy matter to stab the last two, but
they were nimble creatures and while she managed to avoid getting stung
her patched up hand was bleeding again from their small pincers before
she had killed them both.
It also took that long for Rathley to kill the last adult, and
Abigail pulled the dead creature back so that she could get at the door
again and see what damage, if any, had been done.
Rathley looked remarkable unperturbed. His trousers were torn and he
was favouring one leg, but he had killed the mother and the last infant
that had been harassing him. He had trodden it to death. Taking a closer
look Abigail could see that his new limp did not come from a large claw
wound though, but from several small punctures in his shin. The infant
had not been stamped out of existence without a fight, and had stung him
repeatedly for his trouble.
Neither of them could pause to celebrate or treat Rathley's wound
either. The battle was still going in the back room, and Sharn's scream
brought them both running, Abigail leaving her knives behind in her
haste.
Four more Radscorpion carcasses littered the floor between the
shelves there and Kyle, Sharn and Casey stood crowded around a fifth and
final one. Casey, was laying into its tail with her golf club, her gun
abandoned, while Kyle hurriedly reloaded one of his pistols. The obvious
reason for his haste was Sharn, her right thigh caught and bleeding
between the creature's claws.
But while trapped and in pain, she was not helpless. Her rifle was
already pointed at her attacker, and one point blank rifle round into
the creature's braincase caused its claws to go slack and put it out of
the fight forever.
Abigail ran to her ailing friend. "Sharn, are you okay?!"
Sharn nodded, breathless as she looked down at the dead animal. "I
think so. They're, uh, faster than they look. And stronger."
"Sia, let me look at that leg," Kyle said, all business, and with
her taken care of Abigail turned to the other two to see if they were
okay. Kyle seemed unhurt, though his hard leathers might have had
something to do with that, but Casey was sporting an angry red scratch
down her bare midriff, which had torn the bottom of her vest.
"Casey, it got you?!"
Casey just grinned sheepishly, but it was obvious that the meagre
injury was hurting her. "Yeah, a bit. You think your girlfriend has any
of that anti-venom left? It didn't get its stinger in me properly, but
it's kinda starting to burn."
"You and me both, Sugar," Rathley said with a grin, limping back to
the door. "If you slackers are done down here, let's get the fuck back."
"They *got* you, old man?" That evidently came as a surprise to
Kyle.
"Eh, this is nothin'. A fuckin' rugrat had a go while I was blowin'
Mom's head off."
Sharn scowled at him. "You mean 'yes'. Asshole."
***
Rathley, Sharn and Casey returned ahead, eager for some medical
attention and confident enough in their success to let Abigail and Kyle
finish scouting for more Radscorpions.
Kyle didn't expect to find any, and after another half-hour of
searching the area he was happy to have been proven right. Still, it had
been worth the effort to make sure no stragglers remained.
And it had given Abigail time to think. She was not only starting to
get used to combat, and somewhat used to the blood that came with it,
but she was beginning to *think* at the same time as well. Up until now
she had always put all her mental effort into the fight, remaining alert
and tensed for action that might save her life. Now she had plotted as
she had resumed the last of their reconnaissance.
She had a plan.
But before that came the welfare of her friends. Casey looked
uncomfortable with her angry stinger scratch, but Chopper had treated
the 'injury' with distain.
"You couldn't even get stung properly?" had been her first,
insensitive question. Unfair, in Abigail's opinion.
"Well I didn't want to get it stuck through my heart!" Casey came
back. It didn't make Chopper think any more of her, but unlike Sharn and
Rathley the thin young woman *had* been able to get out of the way,
barely. She didn't even need a shot of anti-venom, apparently. A wipe
over with a root-medicine covered cloth was all Chopper would give her.
It numbed the burning a little, and would clean the wound enough to let
it heal on its own.
"Just treat it as a Radscorpion booster shot!"
Sharn fared far less well. Radscorpion claws were meant for gripping
prey, not cutting, but in their struggle the inside of its pincer had
torn open her thigh, leaving a very bloody laceration. That Chopper did
take seriously. Enough to 'waste' a stimpac and a few stitches of thread
on her instead of simply bandaging the wound.
And Abigail had never seen Sharn cry before. Or seen her after she
had obviously been crying, as was the case when she and Kyle actually
got there. Sharn was a strong woman. That gash must have hurt far worse
than any of them had given credit for. It was certainly larger than it
had looked through her torn trouser leg. Abigail would have hugged her
if Kyle had not got there first.
Then Rathley, in obvious pain but grinning through it as if it was a
status symbol. Chopper had pulled the leg of his trousers up to reveal
an already swelling calf, sporting four angry red puncture marks. Enough
to warrant a shot of anti-venom from a very old, red bottle. Again, the
serum was probably something of Chopper's own devising, but both she and
Rathley looked confident that it would work.
There was, of course, a fourth casualty, now lying awake on the bed
and with his makeshift operating table cast aside. The one armed slaver
looked out of it, but he was now conscious. Apparently Chopper had gone
back to working on him as soon as they had left for their hunt.
Cable was a young man, physically fit and probably quite alert when
he had his wits about him. His speciality was exploring ruins, coming
from many years of living in Willets High, but that had earned him a
relatively isolated adult life, and even he had not been prepared to
deal with creatures like Radscorpions en mass, never having even seen
one before. He could rappel down a destroyed skyscraper as if it was
child's play, hence his name, but he and his team had underestimated the
arachnids.
But he was alive, and he was thankful for that. Even more so that
his rescuers were willing to help him back to the town.
And if he had underestimated the Radscorpions, they had *all*
underestimated Abigail, walking at the back and making idle conversation
with Casey.
Rathley led them back to the town the short way, limping slightly,
but he made sure to take them through the heart of it on the way to the
old school. Abigail guessed they made for quite a sight; two limping
scavs, one with her pants drenched in blood and the other limping and
with a Radscorpion tail slung over his shoulder, and the rest of them
either helping those two along or escorting a man that every resident
would have known. Cable didn't go on 'outside operations' - slaving runs
to Abigail and company. The city was where he was best and so that's
where he worked, as one of the Dean's town guards. Now he was being
brought home and was missing an arm for his troubles.
The rumour mill started almost immediately. Yes, there had been
Radscorpions infesting the old city. But they were gone now, as were the
team the Dean had sent in to deal with them. Unprepared and under-
trained to boot. "Cable owed his life to *that* Chopper?!... I thought
Rathley had retired... No, I heard he'd been shot already!... Man, you
can't shoot someone like that and kill him!... Oh man, *that's* the
chick who killed the Hearts' Super Mutant?!... I thought she'd be
taller... Man, she must have wiped the floor fighting Radscorpions!...
She didn't even take a hit!... Neither did that guy, look... What a
hunk! Who is he?"
The attention was... nice. Even if Abigail bristled a little at the
'short' comments, they knew who she was. They were talking about her
like she was someone important! In this vast desert full of people who
blurred together in their toil and routine, looking for figureheads and
direction, she was *someone*. The smile on her face was a broad one. You
couldn't buy confidence like that, even in little green pills.
They arrived at the school with a crowd following behind, and the
huge man at the door had already called for the Dean by the time they
reached him.
"Cable!" The guard blurted as soon as he saw the cause of the
commotion. "Jesus, Cable, what the hell happened to *you*?!"
"I'd have thought that looked fairly obvious," Sharn said from the
front, the dulled pain in her leg giving her smile a sharp edge.
"Suffice it to say, we've been cleaning up out there a little, and found
something of yours."
The Dean smiled warmly at them all, and especially at Cable himself.
"For which I must thank you, Chopper and... Shaan? We have dropped a
ball that we - I - was not willing to part with." His voice fell to a
sad sigh. "Were there no other survivors?"
They allowed Cable to answer. "No, sir. Those things, they were
fast, but they were *smart* too. We never knew what hit us."
The Dean nodded. "Yes. Well, welcome home, Cable. And for your
rescuers..."
Sharn had been ready to negotiate, and Rathley and Chopper had
obviously been looking forward to watching her rub in their success, but
Abigail silenced them all with the soft click of her revolver's hammer.
"I'm afraid it isn't quit that simple, Mr Principle."
Abigail stepped to the front of the group, the barrel of her gun
pressing into the nape of Cable's neck. Gasps and fresh, louder voices
flew from the crowd, but Abigail forced herself to ignore them.
"You see, as stupid as they might be, I think it's rude not to
follow surface town customs. Which is a shame, because you lost a lot of
property recently. Still, it's better than losing family I suppose."
Sharn looked at her in shock. "Abby," she hissed, "what are you
doing?"
Casey started to ask, "Uh, when did you..."
But behind her someone stopped them both. Probably Rathley, or
Chopper. Privately, Abigail was grateful for that. This was *her*
scenario, and she wanted to feed these slavers some of their own poison.
With the worried ripples going through the crowd she needed all the
support she could get to go through with it. Despite the armed guards
Willets High was a peaceful town, unused to real violence.
The Dean's mournful look vanished, to be replaced with anger. "I...
see. You did not pay much attention last time you were here. *Everyone*
here is family."
"That wasn't what I heard from Mr Pearcing. You sold his wife, and
left him in a cell to grieve."
The Dean's anger faded slightly. "Yes. We stole them away. And we
have taken those with much less need for relocation. But arguing
business and morals is pointless, Miss..."
"Iseley."
"Miss Iseley. You have found and rescued one of my men. I would like
him returned to us. I suppose, since he is now in your possession, you
wish to barter."
Abigail nodded, tense inside but smiling outwardly. "Of course. As
you say, it's just business."
"Then I will arrange a viewing. Given what we owe you now you will
have an excellent choice, Miss Iseley. Please, come inside."
The Dean turned and slowly marched inside. Abigail actually felt a
little sorry for him, despite the 'business' he was in. He wasn't even
fighting it.
"Abby-girl, what the hell was that?" Sharn whispered out of earshot
as they followed. "You didn't even load your gun!"
"That's what I was going to say!" Casey added. "That was a *major*
bluff, Abby."
"And there goes our reward," Rathley said, far too loudly. "You had
best not make a habit of this." But from the amused look on his face it
must have been entertainment enough for him to let it go this once. And
they were all very well off still, in wastelander terms. They could
afford to make the statement.
Abigail's statement. She would 'waste' her reward to buy someone
their freedom, simply because she could.
And it felt fantastic!
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