What happened to me?
I try to think back to my last memory:
I'm kneeling, watching the man in the green checkered suit, whose face I can't remember, shooting me. He won't miss, I thought to myself, not at this close range. Even if he did, where would I go? His goons would surely follow me, even if he didn't. What was I even doing there?
That's the real question, because now, lying in this bed in a strange house that smells like dust and despair, I have no idea who I am or where I came from.
A man speaks to me, and asks me for my name, which is just about the only thing about my life that I do remember.
"Can't say it's what I'd have picked for ya, but if that's your name that's your name." The man looks down at some kind of computer tablet.
"Here, this thing's got a mirror on it. Maybe seeing your own face will jog your memory."
Sure enough, I remember the face.
I observe my face more closely. My chocolate hair is there, my high cheekbones, my chestnut colored eyes, and my slightly tanned skin tone. There's a new addition, though. A scar, above my left eye.
"Well?"
"Looks like me."
He chuckles a bit. "Well, I'm relieved to hear it. Do you know what happened to you?"
"I know I was shot. I don't know why. And all I can remember about my shooter is that he was wearing an ugly green checkered suit."
The man stands up and helps me sit up. It's then that I start to survey my surroundings.
"Where am I?"
"Goodsprings. We're a quaint little town in the Mojave wasteland. Good place to rest up."
"How did I get here?"
"You should see victor, he's the one that brought you in."
"And victor is?"
"Uh, well, he's a strange one. He's a cowboy...sort of. He's hanging around at the saloon. It's down the road a ways. Just go straight, can't miss it."
"I can't believe you were able to heal a gunshot wound to the head."
"Normally, I couldn't. But you're a fighter, that's for sure. And you're a lucky girl too, you've got a thick skull that slowed the bullet down quite a bit, and it didn't hit any important brain matter. From what I see so far, you've still got all your brain function. But why don't you try your hand at that old machine over there?"
To my slight right at the end of the room, is a vigor tester machine. I have used one before, but I don't remember where.
"Do you know what it is?"
"Yes, but I don't remember how."
"Your memory is gone because of the swelling in your brain due to the shot. I can't make you any promises, everybody is different. But your memory should return slowly, with time."
The vigor tester is a machine where you put your hand on a joystick and it measures your charisma, strength, intelligence, stuff like that. Some people think it's a bunch of bull, entertainment purposes only. Others think it has an ability to judge your characteristics based on the pulse and temperature in your hand. I'm not sure what I think about it. But if it's for real, then for what I lack in strength and charisma, I make up for in intelligence and endurance. For the rest, I'm average.
He instructed me to sit on his couch and go over a "couple of questions." It wasn't till I sat there that I realized I was nearly naked. "Uh, where are my clothes?"
"Don't you worry about that, soon as we're done here, I'll find something for ya. You look to be about my wife's size anyway. Couldn't get the bloodstains out of your old clothes."
Well, good thing I'm not so easily embarrassed.
The doctor had me look at inkblot tests, and I noticed him flinch when I said the last one looked like a mushroom cloud.
When we were done, the doctor walked me to the front of his house, and gave me my stuff back, along with a vault tec suit he said his wife once wore. "This is all you had on you." he said, handing me a small sack, a gun holster, and a pip boy.
Once the door is opened, I nearly pass out again. It's hot, blistering hot. And the sunlight hurts my head, it's hard to adjust to the brightness. I have no idea where the saloon is, but it's a small town. Looks to be only a few buildings. I shouldn't have a problem finding it. But first I sit down to give my eyes a minute to adjust. And I need to go through my backpack.
I open the drawstring to find a machete, a small handgun, a water canteen, and some bottle caps.
I put the vault suit on and put my worn out boots on over it. It fits well, but I still feel naked. I get the feeling I'm used to wearing something heavier. I attach my gun holster to my waist and take the safety off the nine millimeter. And I strap the machete to the inside of my right boot.
To my left is a gas station, and to my right is an old schoolhouse. There are a few lone standing houses scattered about, and only one main road. I take the main road down a ways and find a general store and a saloon.
I sure could use a drink.
