This chapter is mostly dribble but I always struggle with the first chapter. The second one will be better I promise.

Shattered Minds and Broken Trails

Chapter One:

A Day in the Life

October 2297

The sun rested high above the sleepy town known as Goodsprings, giving the residents little mercy. The settlers did their best to not succumb to heat stroke while they tended to their withered crops and other mundane chores. Sunny Smiles patrolled the town with Murphy, a cyber-police dog she received as a gift from the Courier, Easy Pete was sitting in front of the saloon as always, while Trudy was inside tending to her patrons.

Just another day in this one brahmin town.

One of the residents who had been living there for the past ten years was sitting on the front porch of her home with an old friend. The two women who were now both middle-aged and long past their glory days, listened to Radio New Vegas while swapping stories and a bottle of whiskey.

Vix, once known as the Courier, propped her good leg on the railing of her porch and looked over the town with an empty feeling in her heart and a deep yearning to travel once again. Seven years earlier, she was helping a caravan when Vipers ambushed him. Raids were a rarity since the NCR took hold of the Mojave, but that night some of them had the courage and insanity only Jet or Psycho could give them and attacked while the caravan workers were making camp. Vix happened to stumble upon the attack and intervened, resulting in shrapnel from a grenade striking her left leg. She was low on stimpaks before the fight broke out and after the fight, she donated them to the injured. Because of this, her leg didn't heal properly and now walking long distances was painful. Since that day, she'd been stuck in Goodsprings, traveling very little.

Her deputy badge flashed in the sunlight as she shifted in her chair for a more comfortable position. She yawned and blinked to stop the burning in her sleep-deprived eyes. What she wouldn't give for a soft and comfy bed to fall into at that moment.

She took a drink from the bottle and passed it back to her companion, Rose of Sharon Cassidy. The older woman took off her hat, revealing the gray streaks in her red hair, and began to fan herself.

"I can't remember the last time it was this hot," Cass commented.

"That's because it's always this hot," replied Vix.

"Not always. Remember that one winter the temperature dropped so low we got heavy snow?"

"Yeah, I remember and poor Soda didn't know what to do." Cass giggled at the memory. "How is that kid doing anyway?"

Vix stretched out her crippled leg to relieve the tension in it. A sharp pain shot down from her knee to her calf, making her wince in surprise and reminded her that all her medical knowledge couldn't save her from forced retirement.

"He's good. Boone took him shooting this morning. They should be back in an hour."

Cass took another drink and passed it back to Vix. Vix took a long swig, only leaving Cass enough for one more sip. The redheaded cowgirl snatched the bottle back from her friend and finished the rest off.

"Jesus, Vix, you need to calm down. Don't wanna slip back into your old ways, do you?"

Vix chuckled at this and took a cigarette from her breast pocket. Years ago, she would have never considered herself to be a smoker, but the last seven years had been a stressful time for her and nicotine was the perfect stress reliever.

"Don't worry about me; I'm not going back. I made a promise to myself I wouldn't." But Cass wasn't so sure and the Courier saw this. "I mean it, Cass, I can't afford to go back. A lot of people rely on me in this town."

That was a partial lie because Goodsprings didn't really need her at all. A lot of folks didn't these days...

Cass was still skeptical but didn't argue any further about the issue. After all, she was far from perfect herself and her own demons had yet to be faced. She decided to change the subject as to not start an argument with Vix. Her friend seemed to be forlorn as she stared down at her bum leg. Her gaze drifted up to landscape before them and she sighed.

"You okay there, partner?" Cassidy asked.

Vix blinked and turned her attention back to Cass. "Hmm…? Oh… right, yeah, I'm okay. Just thinking."

"Thinking about Veronica?"

Vix felt a pang in her heart at the mention of her former lover and best friend. She couldn't blame Veronica for choosing Christine over her. First love trumps all and all that jazz. Although she was happy for the two, it didn't make her leaving less painful. The only cure for a broken heart was to simply not think about it or at least try not to.

"I'm not thinking about Veronica. I was just remembering when we fought those brother-sister weapons dealers in Freeside. What were their names again?"

Cass raised a brow. "You mean the Van Graffs? Yeah, I remember those shitheads and I remember how long it took for the NCR to do fucking shit about it."

"We did the right thing, though."

The cowgirl scoffed. "Did we? Because sometimes I wonder…"

"No one was killed. That's a good thing. Well, most of the time."

"Whatever you say, Courier."

Cass checked her old pre-war stopwatch and realized it was getting late. She had to get the caravan back on the road. If she were to be late again, the NCR would fine her for it. She stood from the rickety wooden chair and stretched her small frame.

"Are you leaving?" Vix asked.

"Unfortunately," Cass replied. "I've been late for delivery in the past and the NCR can be real dicks about it. I'll be back in a few days though, so save me a seat at the saloon."

Vix was disappointed but understood. Back in the day, she had made a few late deliveries herself and the receiver would sometimes withhold payment or dock her pay.

"Sure, Cass, see ya around."

She watched as her friend disappeared into the Saloon to collect her caravan employees. Within half an hour Cassidy's Caravan was gone, leaving the Courier to patrol the town, even though she knew she didn't need to.

The townsfolk greeted Vix warmly as she limped around the town with her walking stick in her left hand. She often wondered if Sunny gave her the task of deputy simply out of pity rather than seeing her skills for what they were. It wasn't like anything ever happened here. Sure, sometimes raiders will get a wild hair and decide to try and invade the place but that was rare these days. No one was stupid enough to attack with the NCR and Brotherhood of Steel patrolling the roads.

The day continued into the evening. So far the only interesting event to happen was Sunny throwing a drunk out on his ass and a few teens getting chased by geckos because they couldn't follow simple orders. Damn kids, she thought. Then she had to deal with a domestic dispute between a husband and wife. No one was hurt, thank goodness but their shouting was making everyone else nervous. It wasn't uncommon for that particular couple to argue, though. Still, Vix wished she could lock one of them up just to teach them a lesson.

By the time the sun had made it to the west, her shift had ended. The moment she walked through the door of her home, her duster coat, armor, and badge came off and she traded those for a light shirt and a skirt for more comfort. Sodapop would be home soon and hungry. Taking out a pound if deathclaw steak, she began to cook one of his favorite meals.

Vix was in the kitchen, cutting fresh vegetables and adding them to the deathclaw meat sizzling in the pan when Soda and Boone walked through the door. Soda with a green gecko tossed over his shoulder and Boone masking his pride with his typical stoic nature. Soda slammed his kill down on the table, with a loud thump. Vix jumped and spun around.

"What in the hell is that thing?" Vix asked.

"It's called a gecko, Mom. You'd think after all the years of wandering the west, you'd know," Sodapop replied sarcastically.

Vix glared at her son. "Watch it, kid. I may have a bum leg, but the other still works good enough to kick your ass."

"I'm only teasing," he replied.

"Well, anyway, you and Boone take that thing out back and clean, 'cause I'm making dinner right now."

Soda looked at Boone for back-up.

"Come on, Soda, let's do as your mom asks," Boone said.

The boy huffed and reluctantly followed the former NCR sniper outside. Vix shook her head as they walked around the side of the house.

Sixteen years ago, Vix found out she was pregnant shortly after the battle at Hoover Dam. It was then she had regretted spending the night with Benny and even sparing his life. She had never considered herself the maternal type and didn't know what to do. In the end, though, she packed what weapons and supplies she needed and fled to the Big MT with Veronica and Rex, where they spent the next eight months surrounded by machines and scientist. When it was time, she lied in the bed, the machines staying quiet to give her some privacy. The lights gave her purple glow in the room, claiming it would calm her, but only a small dose of Med-X seemed to take the edge off. For hours, she labored with her friend by her side giving encouragement and checking to make sure everything was going well down there. Vix's abdominal muscles tightened painfully and her loins burned like thermite when it was time to push. Never had she been in so much pain or screamed so loud. Poor Rex hid away in the other room, frightened for his human. By midnight a baby boy entered the messed up, irradiated world. Veronica cried and hugged Vix, telling her she did a great. Vix wanted to cry too, but she was too exhausted.

Two days later, after Vix rested, she named him Sodapop after a character in a book she read as a child.

Now that baby was a fifteen-year-old boy. He was already a head taller than her and his muscles were lean from hard work. In another year, he would be a man and old enough to go on his own adventures. She made sure he knew how to survive in the Wasteland, but that didn't stop her from worrying.

She ran her fingers through her Unsettled black hair and finished the deathclaw stir fry. After setting out the plates, she made Yucca juice. It was at that time Boone and Soda came back inside with the meat already wrapped and packed in the cellar's freezer.

"Smells good!" Soda said as he plopped down into the chair.

"It's your favorite, deathclaw stir-fry," replied Vix.

"Yes!" The boy took a large helping and began to dig in.

"Grab you a plate, Boone, and dig in. I made plenty."

Boone shook his head. "No thanks. I'm going to the Saloon for a bit."

"What? And miss out on a home cooked meal?"

"Sorry, but I'm not in the mood for company."

Boone turned and left the house. Vix placed her fists on her hips and huffed. It was to be expected, of course, but she wished just once he would socialize with everyone more. The only person he seemed to want to be around these days was Soda and even then Soda had admitted that Boone wasn't much for conversation.

"Soda, be a good boy and go fetch Raul, won't you? At least I can count on him to stick around."

Soda looked up from his half-eaten plate and swallowed a mouth full of meat. Without complaint, he pushed himself away from the table and stood up, sadly walking away from his meal.

He made his way down the hill and took the short trail until he came to the tiny shack at the end of the road. His mother told him it once belonged to a peculiar robot named Victor. When the robot left, Raul took over the shack. Vix said that Raul once lived completely alone near a deathclaw nest without a friend in the world. Soda found that to be sad because Raul had been like an uncle to him, teaching him how to repair everything from toasters to weapons. Even learning Spanish from the old ghoul. Some folks in town didn't like the idea of a ghoul living with them, but he kept to himself, only interacting with the townsfolk if they needed something repaired.

He lifted his fist to knock on the metal door when he heard something strange on the other side. He leaned in and pressed his ear to the door and listened in. Grows and muttering could be heard. Soda thought maybe Raul had found himself a dangerous pet, but that didn't sound like any animal he had heard before. Except for maybe…

"No, we'll die if we don't flee… Rafaela… run… " Raul said on the other side.

More incoherent muttering and growling.

Soda backed away slowly from the door. His mouth went dry and his heart raced in his chest. Raul couldn't be going feral… could he? No. It was impossible.

A crash could be heard from inside the shack followed by high pitched shrieks. He turned on his heels and ran as fast as his long legs could take him back to his house.

Vix scooped out a hearty portion of dinner for herself when Sodapop burst into the house, frantic and panting.

"Soda, what did I say about running in this heat?" She noticed the color had drained from his face and his eyes were wide with fear. "What the hell happened?"

"Mom… it's Raul… strange noises... something's wrong!" he panted out.

Vix set her silverware aside and rose her from her chair. "Wait here. I'll go check on him."

She made it to the shack, her leg throbbing and begging for rest. She pounded on the door and called out to the ghoul. After several more tires, she threatened to kick down the door.

Finally, the door crack open and a sliver of light cast itself on Raul's face. He glared at her, but he didn't seem pissed.

"Christ, boss, can't a man rest in peace? Or in pieces in this case…" the old ghoul deadpanned.

"Soda said he heard strange noises coming from your shack. Are you feeling alright?"

"Sure, just taking a nap."

"He said something was wrong."

Raul opened the door to his home, giving Vix a better look inside. Everything was neatly put away in its place as he had always kept it. The only messy area was his workbench.

But Soda had said that something was wrong, yet everything seems normal… that boy, I'm gonna give him a talking to after dinner!

"He must have heard me just waking up," Raul said. "These old bones ain't what they used to be, boss."

She understood, feeling her own age creeping up on her. "I know that feeling. Listen, I sent Soda down here to tell you dinner is ready."

He brightened up at the mention of food and stepped outside. "Count me in. I better not get food poisoning from you, boss."

Vix laughed. "No promises."

Soda waited for his mother to come back for what seemed like forever. A thousand horrible scenarios ran through his head the longer she took. Raul, thin and gangly, pinning his mother to the ground as he ripped her to pieces. He looked down at the food that was quickly growing cold, realizing he was no longer hungry.

Stop thinking about gross shit like that!

Outside, he could hear his mother's laughter, giving an ease of mind. Vix had returned with her ghoul companion in tow and everything looked to be okay. Raul didn't look like a feral and Vix didn't look as if one had chewed her face off. That meant things were great, right? Well, it didn't feel that way to him. Something in the pit of his gut told him that not all was well with dear old Uncle Raul despite the cheerful outward appearance.

"Are you okay?" Soda asked the ghoul.

"For a man over two-hundred years old, I'd say I'm doing pretty well," Raul teased

"I thought I heard you in pain."

"It's called getting old, kid."

"Enough talk. Let's eat before my masterpiece gets cold!" Vix said.

"You and I both have different opinions on what's a masterpiece, boss."

Occasionally, he'd glance up at Raul, searching for any clues as to what might be wrong. Raul would always say his mind wasn't as sharp as it used to be, but Soda never believed it. Sure the old ghoul would forget something, but most old people were forgetful. So that meant Raul would be fine. As dinner wore on, he shrugged it off or at least buried his worries deep down so he wouldn't lose sleep at night.

Soda ate his meal in silence, listening to Vix and Raul reminisce about their days exploring the Mojave and how Vix had a hand in taking down the Legion. While most kids would hate to hear these stories after some time, Soda loved them and loved the fact that he was the son of a hero. He hoped that someday he could make a name for himself as well.

They gathered in the living-room after dinner to listen to the radio. There was talk of the NCR bringing back television so they could broadcast their own news and programs, but that rumor had been going around for years and so far nothing happened. Soda didn't care, though. The thought of staring at a screen for hours on end did not sound appealing to him.

Come next year, he would be old enough to be on his own, exploring the Wasteland and meeting interesting people like Vix used to. Maybe even going beyond the boundaries of the Mojave. He heard the wild stories about New Reno.

He lied across the sofa, thumbing through a copy of ¡La Phantoma!. Because Raul had taught Soda Spanish from an early age, he knew what was going on. Even if he couldn't understand it, he still read for other reasons such as her tight purple suit.

"You know," Raul began. "after the war, Rafaela and I would sit inside an abandoned building and look for radio signals."

Soda looked up from his comic and asked, "Why's that?"

"Looking for survivors, looking for entertainment. Those kinds of things. Once we found a shortwave radio and came across a number station."

"A number station?"

Vix, who had a cigarette hanging out the window, chimed in. "Yeah, those creepy stations that read off numbers and play disoriented music."

"Yep, those. Poor Rafaela was so scared she didn't sleep that night, but it didn't stop her wanting to listen in again. We talked about finding them, but then I got sick."

"Have you ever wanted to find them, Mom?" Soda asked.

"Hell no! The last time I followed a radio signal I ended up at the Sierra Madre," Vix replied. "There is no way in hell I'm going back there!"

"I remember when I followed you to that bunker. We were both gassed and when I woke up, you were gone. Didn't see you again until weeks later."

Vix flicked ash out the window and said, "At least there was gold at the end. Still wasn't worth it, though."

"You couldn't make me go out there."

Hearing this story multiple time in the past, Soda tuned them out and went back to his comics. Besides, Sierra Madre stories used to give him nightmares. He once overheard Veronica say that the Courier had difficulties adjusting after that coming back from that place. For years, she couldn't stand beeps.

Their voices drifted in and out of his attention span as he moved on to Grognak the Barbarian. He was halfway through when Raul announced he was leaving.

"Aw, can't you stay a little longer?" Soda asked.

"Sorry, but Rafaela is waiting for me."

Vix raised a brow. "Raul, Rafaela…" She paused, then said in a softer tone. "You shouldn't keep her waiting then."

Soda opened his mouth to say something but his mother shook her head.

"See you in the morning, kid," Raul said.

Raul stepped outside and looked over the sprawling land before him. He saw his family's farm and his father working near the corral with the caballos. The aroma of his mother's cooking drifted outside of the house, his grandmother was sitting on the porch with Raphaella, and his younger brothers and sisters were playing in the front yard. He smiled to himself, happy to see that everything was normal. With the threat of nuclear annihilation looming over them all, it was good to see this peaceful scenery before him. He quickly made his way across the fields, hoping to make it in time for dinner. However, the moment he got to the barn the vision faded.

Raul stood in the middle of Goodsprings, not the open land his farm rested on. For a moment, he couldn't understand what was going. He no longer had grass under his feet, but instead sand crunch under his boots. The house and barn were gone and all around him were broken houses and some Joshua trees. Bighorners took the place of his favorite horses, but worst of all, his family was gone.

Something wasn't right and he had never been so afraid in his life.