Her eyes opened slowly, her surroundings blurry, out of focus. Figures shifted before her, their faces she could not make out through the haze. It was dark, so dark, her head span. She could feel the pulse of her heart hammering in her chest, the rush of blood in her ears, the numbness to her limbs. The cool earth caressed her cheek.
Slowly, the haze lifted, figures taking shape, and crosses, lots of crosses, the scent of decay. A graveyard. Indistinct voices in the distance, deep voices, punctuated by the constant rhythm of cracking and scraping earth. The sound familiar to her, but in her present state she struggled to recall the sound. Then it hit. Digging. They were digging. She tried to raise herself upright from her place on the floor, but her hands wouldn't move. They were bound. She wiggled her wrists against her binds, no use. Her legs too were bound. Panic.
"Hey look who's waking up over here", the voice echoed in her head, her eyes meeting a figure as it approached.
She went to speak, complain, shout anything, but only a stifled grunt left her lips, her voice muffled by the foul tasting material in her mouth. She had been gagged. She couldn't understand. Nothing made sense. She cried out, her eyes welling up as she struggled against her binds to no avail. The skin of wrists left bloodied and raw. Why couldn't she get free. What had she done to deserve this. Blind panic gave way to fear, fear to a reluctant acceptance that her efforts were in vain, and then by something entirely worse as her eyes caught the glint of silver as the figure approached, eyes fixed on the brilliant silver barrel of a gun. This was wrong. All wrong. She screamed against the gag, trying to desperately to unhook her binds with every step he took.
She could see him clearly now, make out his face. The gelled hair, the groomed appearance, that awful black and white checkered jacket, the smug look on his face. It all screamed New Vegas. He was not alone either, two men at his back dressed in leathers, gang insignia on their jackets, shovels in hand, their eyes on her. She struggled and mewled out pathetically against her binds, her eyes filled with terror noting the newly dug grave at their feet. Her grave.
No. Her mind screamed.
"Just do it already!" his associate, a tired looking man with a red mohawk, snapped.
The suave talker held up his hand to silence the man at his back, "Maybe Khans kill people without looking them in the face," he said, his eyes going from her to glance slightly at the dark-skinned Khan, "but I ain't a fink, ya dig?"
He reached into his jacket, pulling out a platinum chip, her platinum chip. Her shipment. She was a courier. That was her shipment, he waved it in her face, "You made your last delivery, baby", he told her gently, like he could sympathise with her. Like hell. "I'm sorry that you got twisted up in this scene", he continued, tossing the chip in to the air with a self-satisfied smirk, the cool moonlight glinting off it's surface, "...but it's Vegas baby."
With a click he cocked the gun, the soft click of the hammer being set seemed to echo in her ears. It was the only sound that mattered, the only sound in the world at that moment in time. Her eyes widened, and she cried against the gag as the gun levelled with her head. She looked pathetic and weak as the fear wracked through her, shaking her to her core. Her eyes widened, and met his, moist with tears. Pleading with her eyes, she begged he let her go. She was terrified.
With a smug grin he lowered the gun, and gave her a look as though he should explain. The guilt maybe. Or the sad look in her eyes. Whatever it was it only stalled the inevitable, "Don't look so sad, it's just business." he shrugged his shoulders, pulling a cigarette to his lips and lighting up, thumbing the expensive looking silver lighter in his hand, "Don't get me wrong baby, I know what you're feeling, and from where you're kneeling, it must seem like an eighteen karat run of bad luck. But the truth is, baby…" his arm slowly crept up, and once again she found herself looking down the barrel of the gun. Her heart pounded in her chest, she knew what was coming and she was powerless stop it, a mocking curl formed on his lips, she gritted her teeth, a final look into her killer's eyes,"...the game was rigged from the start."
BANG.
With a start she shot up from the bed, a cold sweat forming on her brow, her eyes darting about the room hesitantly, the sheets barely covering her lithe form as she'd tossed and turned throughout the night. Her terror quickly subsided when she noted the battered wardrobe, the broken tv, the peeling wallpaper. It was, familiar. Novac. Her motel room. She was safe. The nightmares had become a regular inconvenience since that night in Goodsprings, but their very presence still rocked her to her core. She could remember it in all it's grim detail; the sights, the smells, the blind terror she felt in the pit of her stomach as the trigger was pulled, although the soft sounds outside let her know she wasn't alone. The sounds of a town going about their daily routines. Civilisation.
The dusky morning light was flitting through a crack in the moth-eaten curtains, and catching a glance of the dimly-lit radio clock by her bedside she heaved herself out of bed with a deep sigh, and rubbed her weary eyes. Morning already. A deep groan ushered from her throat as she threw her head back, stretching her arms out, the aches and pains of her weary muscles all too prevalent. She had arrived late last night, tired and weary, having made the four day walk from Goodsprings. The dingy apartment in which she found herself was scant in luxury, but to her it was a glimmering beacon of hope, a shining oasis, amongst the desolate wastes. This was the first time in over a week she had slept safe in the knowledge she would live to see the morning light. And that, itself, was a feeling that couldn't be quantified.
She pushed herself to her feet and ambled to the bathroom, her fingers buried in her thick blonde mane, and gazed at her tired reflection in the cracked mirror with a grunt. If the dark circles were anything to go by, she'd guess she'd had a pretty bad night. But she already knew that. Without a second thought she cranked the shower, enjoying the cool caress of clean water on her sun-brushes skin, and raked her damp hair into into a messy bun. She'd looked worse, she conceded as she smudged some kohl liner around her eyes, and pulled on some clean fatigues and a green vest, securing a faded leather gun-belt around her slim waist.
She had planned to ask around town in the hopes that somebody may have information about the man who shot her as it was likely, in her mind, that they had passed by just as she had, and to do this she felt she should make herself look presentable, and less like gunshot victim. She had also decided the best place to start would be that old lady who'd rented her the room, Jeannie-May, when she arrived exhausted and covered in dirt. After all she did kindly offer her services.
She took a long drink of water from the faucet, and pulled a box of snack cakes from her bag for breakfast. Nothing like a quick sugar fix to start the day. Sliding her battered pistol into the holster at her side and a sleek combat knife into her boot and she made her way out into the sunlight. She acknowledged that it was unlikely she would need them, but after previous experience she felt safer having the option. Besides, nowadays almost everyone carries a weapon, between the raiders and ferals, these were dangerous times.
The courtyard seemed a lot more animated, people where out and about, going about their daily routines, caravaneers and traders coming and going. She made her way swiftly down the iron stairwell to the main yard, and made a beeline for the head office. Since scrubbing up she also found she wasn't viewed with quite as much suspicion as she had on arrival, it was quite possible that underneath all of that dirt they weren't sure who, or what, she was. She couldn't take it to heart.
Jeannie-May was, as suspected, busy at work behind the old computer on her desk. Her eyes darted up from the screen, adjusted her thick rimmed glasses with a look akin to surprise, and in that cheerful southern drawl greeted her, "Good morning hunny, you're looking much better. I almost didn't recognise you. I hope you slept well"
"Yes I did, like a log, thank you".
"Good to hear, hunny. So what brings you here?", she asked, a small smile forming at the corners of her mouth, "I do hope you're not leaving us so soon."
"No, no, not just yet. Actually, I wondered if I could ask you a few questions...?"
"Sure thing, sugar."
"I'm looking for a guy, he may have passed through these parts, he was wearing a black and white checkered suit, seedy looking..."
"I'm afraid I haven't, they didn't stop in here that's for sure, like I said those New Vegas types usually just pass us by. But if you stop in an ask Andy, he's our Ranger, he might be able to help. You'll find him in his bungalow across the way", she replied.
Alex nodded in response, slightly annoyed that she'd hit a dead end, but given Jeannie-May's position she had half expected her not to have seen anything. From what she could tell most of her time was spent inside the front office, although she was appreciative of her willingness to offer other suggestions, "Thanks, Jeannie".
"No problem dearie, I hope you find your man", she replied with a coy smile.
Alex cringed inwardly at the thought of him being her man, but acknowledged the sentiment. She was only trying to be nice, and the idea of explaining why that weasel is in now way what-so-ever to be considered 'her man' did not appeal. She took it in her stride, smiled and left her to her daily chores.
~o~
Just as she was told, across the yard stood a rickety old bungalow with a red door. She knocked gently, and was greeted by an older, dark skinned, smartly dressed man in an NCR ranger uniform.
"Can I help you?" he asked, somewhat irritably, as he peered down on her through dark eyes. He was much taller than her, and damn serious looking.
"Hi, I'm Alex... I'm new in town...", she scrambled her words, slightly unnerved by the icy reception, "Sorry to trouble you but Jeannie-May suggested I talk to you, but if it's a bad time I can-"
"No, not at all, I'm not used to visitors, least not polite ones. Where are my manners...?", he replied softly, opening the door to her, "Please, come in". She nodded gently, a faint smile, and stepped in past him, noticing he was bearing his weight onto a walking stick. He shuffled past her, and lowered himself stiffly into his chair, "You'll have to excuse me, the old legs ain't what they used to be. Please have a seat...", he said, softly, it made a pleasant change from his initial tone, she obliged, pulling up a chair in front of him, "How can be of use to you, miss?"
"I'm looking for a guy in a checkered suit I think may have passed by here in the last few days..." she replied.
"No, my apologies miss, since I got this bum-knee I don't get out as much as I used to and I haven't heard of anyone matching that description pass by these parts. Those New Vegas types and their suits. I'm sorry I couldn't be of more use to you little lady..."
"That's no problem Andy, thank you for your time", she replied.
"If it isn't too forward might I ask why it is you're looking for this guy?" he asked, apologetically.
"He has something that belongs to me, stole it actually, and I intend to get it back, but I got to find the guy first..." she replied, a serious tone.
"This guy, he sounds like he's mixing with a bad crowd, they always do. You'd do well to stay away from him, but if you must find him I suggest you ask Manny, or Boone, they might be able to help you out. They see pretty much everyone who pass by, they're good guys, ex-NCR. Good men".
"Okay Andy, where can I find them?"
"The big green dinosaur out front, got a sniper nest up there. They keep a lookout over the Mojave for unsavoury types, sounds like your guy would fit that description, nothing passes those boys unnoticed...", he replied with a cheerful smile.
"Thanks", she replied sweetly, rising from her seat.
Andy went to stand but gave up on the idea, his leg was obviously giving him discomfort, "Old legs ain't what they used to be..." he grumbled, she walked over to him and took his hand in hers with a warm smile, "If only I was ten years younger, you know I used to be quite the charmer in my day..."
"Used to be...? I'd say you still got it", she replied in a sultry tone, a coy smile playing on her lips. He smiled back, flattered at her charm. She knew her way around a man, good at getting what she wanted, most of the time. Growing up in the wastes, it was a necessity.
"You take care of yourself miss, feel free to come back and flatter this old dog any day, I may be retired, but there's probably still a thing or two I could teach you!"
"Now I don't doubt that", she remarked as she showed herself the door, throwing one last smile in his direction.
Courtyard again, no closer to an answer, and somewhat disheartened. Two down, how many more to go in this little town? There couldn't have been more than twenty residents, thirty at a pinch. Her hopes were already dwindling, but as Andy had suggested, the town lookouts may have a clue. She hoped.
She made her way across the courtyard, towards the goofy monolith with a sigh, and clambered up the stairs and through the door. She was somewhat surprised to find what looked like a shop stashed inside the belly of the beast, the man behind the counter introducing himself as Cliff. Seemed friendly enough, plenty of small talk, couldn't add anything to her quest however, for which he was very apologetic.
She ascended the stairs and slipped through the door, finding herself standing in the mouth of that ridiculous dinosaur, surrounded by it's grinning white teeth. A man in army green fatigues and a red beret turned to face her, a perplexed look plastered his tanned mug, "Do I know you...?", he asked rifle in hand.
She approached him, looking him over, his eyes fixed on her. His skin tone, his eyes, bore a passing resemblance those those that had accompanied the suit that night. That tribal air, but no this one was different. He wasn't one of them. Lucky for him. In a confident tone she replied, "No, but you're Manny right?"
"Yeah, you see a rifle sticking out the dinosaur's mouth you got a fifty-fifty chance it's me or Boone. Anything comes within a thousand yards that looks like trouble we deal with...", he replied, adjusting his beret, "...but what's it to you?"
"I'm looking for a guy in a checkered suit, had two guys with him, tribals or something...", she paused, noting the faint change of expression across his lips, mulling it over, he knew something.
"I might, what's it worth to you...?" he replied, grazing his dark chin stubble with his thumb and forefinger.
Her expression dropped somewhat, she brought herself closer to him, her dark brown eyes fixed on his, "Everything...",she replied, a seductive smile crossing her lips. If all else fails turn up the charm.
His face froze for an instant, a brief moment, before he let loose with a whole-hearted chuckle, clearly not impressed, "You're all the same aren't you? Come here looking all lost, flutter your eyelashes and think you're Gods gift. Well darlin' hate to burst your bubble an' all but you're just not my type, so sorry toots, either make with some caps or take a hike..."
"You think I really came here to flirt with some grease ball I just met? All I've got an the clothes on my back, the gun at my hip and this fucking souvenir...", she replied curtly, pointing to the purple blemish on her forehead, "If you're not gonna help just say so, I ain't got time for this shit!"
No reply, she grunted and turned to leave, "Hold on..." he said, in a softer tone, "I have some information that might help you out but it's not going to come for free. We can do a trade, I'll help you if you to help me..."
"...and do what, exactly?" came her response, suspicious of the request.
"There's a facility just north of here, the old REPCONN testing facility, been having some problems ghouls there recently. You get rid of the ghouls and I'll tell you what I know..."
She raised an eyebrow, not entirely sure what to make of this guy. She'd heard stories of ghouls, none of which particularly instilled her with confidence about what was being asked of her, "That beret, military issue right?"
"Yeah, NCR first-recon, the best of the best..."
"...So why can't you sort out the ghoul problem?" She thought it worth asking.
"This town depends on me, I can't leave my post. That's why", he grunted, nonchalantly, "You gonna help out or what?"
"Fine"
"Thanks, I really appreciate it." He replied, a subtle honesty to his tone, maybe he really was grateful. She threw him a half-hearted smile and excused herself from the room, thinking to herself it was a good thing she brought her gun after all.
