"The Road to Reno"
Death, heat, flies and a parched throat can accompany the life giving sun, especially when one's vehicle and only means of transportation breaks down in the middle of the post-apocalyptic Californian desert. All Vic could think of was misery as he wiped the grimy sweat from his brow. He scrunched up his face and wiped his dirty hand on his greasy overalls. That didn't feel much better, so he grimaced again before slamming down the hood on a black 1947 Cadillac. A loud clang emitted into the desert landscape. Vic hitched up his overalls and trumped back to the driver-side window where The Boss was waiting.
The Boss was, all in all, just a man. He wasn't the most fearsome critter roaming these wasted. Vic therefore had no idea why his stomach fell to the floor as he approached The Boss with the bad news. Resting large hands on the rolled down window, he poked his bald head inside the car. The Boss stared back at him, his sharp blue eyes unblinking. Vic gulped.
"We seem to have a problem Boss," Vic began. He looked furtively from side to side. "Seems the micro cells have given out- we're outta juice!" Vic's distinct New Jersey twang seemed to have no effect on The Boss. Suddenly, a large man straightened himself to a sitting position from the back seat. The man bore a fearsome appearance; indeed, he seemed more like a bear than a human. Intricate green tattoos of swirls and lines traced themselves on his bare chest, and sweat glistened off his body in the half-light of the car. An enormous ivory-colored bone was thrust through his nostrils, a fearsome effigy of strength and power. Yes, Sulik was a brute of a tribal all right. His leather chaps retained the odor of a den of animals. He began to speak to Vic in broken English.
"What Vic mean, fuel cells out? We and I is not interested in dyin' out here!"
Vic was afraid of The Boss. The Boss was tough, and his faze penetrated Vic. Vic could not remember the last time The Boss spoke ; he was quite fine communicating what he needed via facial expressions and gestures. Sulik was twice The Boss's size, but Vic was not afraid of the fearsome tribal man. He sneered at Sulik. "Of course we ain't gonna die out here! Look Boss, I've checked the map. New Reno isn't that far away. Maybe only a day or two even! We could hoof it there, grab some cells from the stash, and make it back here before the weekend!" Vic's fat face broke into a thin smile.
The Boss reclined his head over the dilapidated leather seat and closed his eyes. A sense of serenity overcame his face. Despite the calm he looked like a sleeping lion, ready to pounce should anything disturb his crucial thoughts. With a snap like a whip, his eyes were open and he was groping for the car door handle. Vic obligingly opened the door for The Boss, and the tall, muscular man stepped onto the soft desert sand. The Boss stretched his built frame, and grabbed his .223 pistol off of the yellow leather seat. The sleek metal pistol was a thing of beauty, expertly crafted and smooth. It was The Boss's favorite weapon. He placed the gun in a holster, and looked about for his companions.
While The Boss had been getting ready, Vic had gone around to the passenger side and unloaded his automatic shotgun. The large weapon was a favorite of Vic's. He had taken it from a fresh Raider corpse, one of his first kills while traveling with Sulik and The Boss. In addition, he hefted a large sack of supplies that felt like it had a couple of cinderblocks in it. Inside the sack were tradable items that The Boss didn't want, medical supplies, and food. The Boss didn't like carrying supplies, because it hampered his bestial fighting style. Sulik had also emerged from the car, bearing a large canvas sack and a bristling array of weapons. The smelly tribal licked his knife, savoring the metallic taste before sheathing it. Sulik's entire body was like an armory, rife with all sorts of guns and weapons. Vic realized that Sulik knew how to use every bit of his firepower perfectly, and yet Sulik was still afraid of the Boss. Vic shrugged.
The Boss's sharp eyes darted back and forth. Once he saw that his men were ready, he set a trap in the driver's seat. If someone tried to sit down without disarming the tripwire, they would end up with a three foot metal spike embedded in their chest. Dried blood was visible on the spike, brown and ugly. The Boss glanced at Vic, who promptly handed over the Boss a Pip-Boy, which quadrupled as The Boss's log, calendar, alarm, and map. New Reno was marked on it with a large green zero. Without looking around, The Boss started walking at a brisk pace. Vic sucked in his large gut and began to walk as well. The monstrous Sulik fell in line behind them. The three companions made an organic train in the wasteland, a herd of animals searching for a watering hole.
Through the desert the lonely beasts trekked. For the entire day, the group saw nothing but bland nuclear wasteland. The bombs had done their job well, transforming the Californian desert into a hellish landscape complete with vultures. The Boss bore this depressing sight stoically. He was like a patient sloth, able to endure the elements for the prize at the end of the long road. As afternoon turned to dusk, arrangements were made for sleeping. Sulik would take the first night watch shift, The Boss would take the second one, and Vic the third. There would be no campfire, as the group did not have the means to build one. They would sleep like primitive humans, even animals, without a bed or a fire. The Boss simply sprawled spread-eagled on the ground. Vic sat down on a rock, with his shotgun across his lap and his head drooped to his chest. Sulik drew his favorite weapon, an SMG, from its holster and stared out across the dark and bleak desert landscape.
A few hours later, Sulik was as tired as a dog. He was just about to wake The Boss up when he heard a lone howl coming across the desert: it sounded like a pack of wild dogs. Suddenly, from out of the black, came a snarling frenzy of fur and teeth! Sulik quickly fired a single shot, hitting the blob squarely in the head. The bullet penetrated the thing's skull and buried itself deep into the brain of the monster. The beast died instantly. Sulik stared down at the carcass, and identified the dead body of a wild dog.
Meanwhile, the gunshot had awakened The Boss and Vic, who both stood up with their weapons drawn, claws out like cats ready for battle. Sulik laughed and pointed into the gloom. "Dere be more where dat came from, Boss-man!" he cackled and spat onto the ground. As if on cue, five more hounds burst from the shadows, yipping and snarling furiously. Since the dogs were black and nimble, they were nearly impossible to see. The team had to rely on senses other than sight. Vic inhaled deeply, and turned around and blasted a mutt who was trying to flank him, riddling the dog's body with buckshot. He had smelled the rank scent of emanating from the animal's fur. Meanwhile, some frothing spit from a dog splashed into Sulik's mouth, allowing him to taste the thing's foul saliva. Quick as a monkey, the SMG was up, spattering bullets into the dog's shadowy form. The bloody corpse fell, literally ripped apart.
As the tastes and smells of battle sang through Sulik's blood, he joyously drew a large, serrated Bowie knife from its sheath. He engaged the fourth hound in melee combat as the boss quickly dispatched the fifth with a well placed pistol shot. The sound of the gunshot cracked through the cool night air as Sulik pinned his quarry to the ground, feeling the damp fur between his sausage-like fingers. As the cloud cover vanished, the knife gleamed in the moonlight. Sulik plunged his weapon straight towards the dog's heart. Blood spattered from the wound, spraying Sulik with the bright red fluid. The coppery taste danced on Sulik's tounge, and with a howl from him and the dog, he brought the knife down again. The dog shuddered in Sulik's grasp, and died. Sulik stood up, a bleeding, panting ape of a man. He was by far the worst off of the humans, as his close encounter with the wild dog had rendered him scratched, bitten, and slashed. He gave an ugly laugh, and strode off to find a comfortable place to sleep. The Boss undertook his duty as watchman, never saying a word. The smell of blood and sweat floated on the breeze, like so much gas. The Road to Reno had never seemed longer.