The Monster
By Michael Grainger
Captured. Shit. This was bad. I was bleeding pretty bad from a hole in my leg. That alone would have been bad news, but the bastards who'd put the hole in me had then picked me up and dragged me back to their lair. I had no doubt they were planning on taking me for a nice little trip to Paradise Falls.
What an amateur way to go. Things looked bleak and even I didn't know how I was going to get out of this one all in one piece. I was too wounded to fight, or to run. And my bonds seemed pretty secure. The three who had nabbed me were obviously professionals and I couldn't see any holes in their plot. I'd have a better chance if they'd just clapped a collar around my neck, but these guys either didn't have any collars or did use them.
Whatever the cause, I didn't have much of a chance.
They were sitting around their campfire now, smoking and drinking over the remains of a mole rat dinner. Bastards. I was starving too. They'd gotten me right in the middle of a meal, probably the smell of which had drawn them. What an amateur mistake.
But that's how the Wasteland was. One little mistake and that was it. The land was unforgiving and didn't tolerate weaklings kindly. Sometimes you can get away with a mess-up, but most times it's going to cost you. And the cost isn't always worth what you paid. I heard about a guy once who decided he might risk setting of a small car alarm for a handful of caps. The alarm went off and alerted a nearby yao guai. He got away in the end, but he left behind an arm all the same. Hardly worth the caps.
And now me. Decided to have a nice little breakfast after catching a nice mole rat the other day. Thought I might spice it up a bit with some pepper and others little things I'd picked up. And for my troubles now I was shot up, beat up, and tied up on my way to the slave house. I could only blame myself, but that didn't make me feel any better.
And it was as I considering the cruel nature of the wasteland that I spotted the newcomer. Sneaking down the side of the dell we were holed up in, he went unnoticed by the three raiders sitting around the fire. It was strange to look at him. Even by the flickering light of the fire he looked so full of life, so vital and healthy.
I barely registered that he was approaching the raiders with a shiny black truncheon held tightly in his hand. Didn't even notice the blue and yellow jumpsuit he was wearing until later. He sprang upon them suddenly, cracking one across the back of the head savagely and then striking the other on the nose. The distinctive crack of a nose breaking preceded an awful shriek, and the wounded raider fell back clutching his face, his eyes streaming tears.
The third raider went for his gun but the newcomer struck him on the wrist and then slashed him across the jaw with the baton. The raider went down without a sound. The first man was staggering to his feet when the avenger leapt upon him, striking him several times in the head until the raider was nothing but a twitching mess. The survivor, hands covering his busted face, lost all nerve and tried to flee. But the newcomer chased him down without trouble and throttled him to death beyond my field of vision. I heard the terrible choking and spluttering quite well though, and the final blood-chilling scream before the newcomer returned, dragging the body back to the fire.
He seemed to ignore me as he went about pillaging the corpses, and I had the sense to keep my mouth shut until he chose to acknowledge me. He didn't as it were. Instead he just went about taking the best gear from the dead men, piecing it together and either discarding it or taking it with him. When he was done he appeared a new man. Gone was the jumpsuit, replaced by ragtag raider garments. The baton was discarded in favour of a pistol and a hunting rifle, probably the one which nicked me, and he strapped a twelve inch blade to his leg.
He took some of the food, a half a carton of cigarettes and some whiskey before preparing to leave. The sun was beginning to rise now, its faint rays on the horizon replacing the light of the fire. Finally he glanced down at me, a lit smoke in his mouth. Suddenly I wished he hadn't come. Those eyes, such terror seemed to emanate from those eyes that I wished I'd never seen them at all, no matter the situation. He casually tossed a fresh packet of cigs in my lap, and dropped a rusty knife next to me.
And then he was gone. It took me awhile to recover my senses. The smell of blood and death was sure to rouse suspicion from the local wildlife and so I worked as quickly as I could to cut my bonds. Taking a rifle and the knife I set off as quick as I could in the opposite direction from my saviour. I was going to get to Megaton, or Rivet City maybe. And if I ever went back out into the wastes it would be too soon.