Boone awoke to a loud banging on his motel door. Slowly, he opened his eyes only to be blinded by the rays of the setting sun glaring through the gaps of his boarded up window. Cursing, he put his hand up to shield his eyes and gingerly sat up as he tried to get his bearings. Yet again he had slept on the couch and yet again he had a bottle of whiskey for a companion.
''Boone answer this door this minute,'' a voice came from outside. The unmistakeable voice of Jeannie May Crawford.
Fuck, he thought as he put his feet to the floor. What does she want? The movement caused a wave of nausea to wash over Boone. Hunched over he closed his eyes and held his head in his hands in a vain attempt to stop the room from spinning.
''Open this door or I'll open it myself!'' Jeannie May warned, ''I have a key.'' Boone decided to let her do just that as any further movement from him was likely to result in a new vomit rug for his floor.
The door swung open ''What is this?'' she asked as she pointed her hand to her left inviting Boone to look outside.
"What?" he replied still unwilling to move to see what she was talking about.
''The smashed bottles. How am I supposed to attract customers when there is broken glass everywhere. Folk won't find that welcoming now will they?"
Boone finally raised his head from his hands and gave Jeannie May his most disinterested look, hoping she would take the hint and leave him alone. He had no idea what the motel owner was talking about, he knew he started drinking when he arrived home after finishing work that morning but that wasn't an unusual occurrence. He could admit that not remembering much after opening his first whiskey bottle was new territory for him though. He wondered what thoughts his mind had entertained for him to go that overboard.
Jeannie May's shoulders slumped in response to his silence as she let out a heavy sigh. '' You know I don't like troublemakers around here Boone, you need to sort yourself out, move on and try to forget about her.''
The words hit Boone like a jolt of electricity to his system, 'forget about her'. Suddenly his mind felt clear. Enraged he shot to his feet, his eyes narrowed focusing them on Jeannie May as a low menacing growl escaped his mouth. How dare she speak about Carla as if she were no more than...no more th..as if she were... no more?
And with that thought the fire in Boone was quenched as soon as it had ignited. He slumped back down onto the couch, suddenly exhausted, drowning in a ocean of his own thoughts. She may not be alive but she still existed to him. She existed in him. She forced every intake and every exhalation of his breath. She commanded every heartbeat, pumping rage through every vein. Every day in every alcohol fueled dream, she was there. Each one more vivid than the last.
Perhaps though, he conceded, she really was no more, because that pale, drawn, lifeless battered woman with the slave collar tight around her neck was not his Carla. But it was the woman who haunted his dreams every single night, crying out for him. Accusing him. Questioning why he never came for her. He had come for her though, she just never saw him. The last thing she never saw.
"Listen, dear," the sound of Jeannie May's voice hauled Boone out of his thoughts and back to reality "I think-"
"Get out," Boone snarled at her as he cut her sentence off. He could see fear creeping across her face owing to his aggressive tone but he wasn't in a forgiving mood and she crossed a line bringing up Carla in such a blasé manner.
"Okay,"she said in a calming tone "Lets not start a fight over this. Just want you to feel better is all." And with that she left.
Boone shook his head in disgust. The woman hadn't a clue.
Boone splashed water on his face in an attempt to freshen up. His night shift was starting in a few minutes and he didn't want to give Manny anymore reason to show his fake concern by going in looking like shit. He wasn't in any mood for one of his 'I'm worried about you' speeches. His concern wasn't there when Boone actually needed it. It wasn't there when he told him Carla had been taken so what use did he have for it now?
He let his mind wander to thoughts he had had many times before. Were Manny the friend he should have been and was with him when he went to find Carla, would things have turned out different? Maybe the two of them could have taken on enough of the Legion to get her out. Two ex First Recon snipers, two of the best. Maybe he'd have a family now and the greatest friend a man could want by his side. Instead all he had was a hollowness inside of him, getting bigger with every moment that passed as the bitterness eat him up.
Boone shook his head to empty it of these thoughts, they were of no use to him.
He grabbed his rifle from where he had thrown it on the bed and his 1st Recon beret off the floor at the end of the couch. That was where it usually ended up after he would knock it off in his sleep. He knew it would make sense to just remove it before sleeping but he felt uncomfortable without it, like a child without their security blanket.
With everything he needed for the night gathered up Boone was ready to leave. He made out on his usual route to the sniper's nest in Dinky's mouth only to be surprised by a crunching noise under his feet. Looking down he realized he was walking on shattered glass and was reminded of his earlier conversation with Jeannie May. Surveying the area it was obvious that the spread of glass wasn't sporadic but concentrated in one place. At Manny's door.
Looking up he clocked a note stuck to Manny's door. The note was barely legible but Boone recognized his own drunken handwriting. Fuck, he thought to himself as he read it. All he could make out was a few curse words but even that was enough to annoy him. Here he was leaving his emotions on display for anyone to read. Making it obvious how upset he was.
"That's it," he said aloud to himself, "No more whiskey."
He couldn't afford not to be in control. An emotional drunk wasn't going to get the revenge Carla deserved. He may not have been able to save her life, but he would damned well do all he could to end the lives of those responsible for taking her from him.
First though he needed to find out who in Novac betrayed him. How yet, he didn't know, but it would happen.
With that thought Boone scrunched up the note, shoved it in his pocket and continued on his way to the dinosaur.
As he entered the door to Dinky, Boone expected he'd do his usual and ignore Cliff Briscoe's greeting while continuing quietly up the stairs to start his shift. This time was different. Without warning he felt a creature jump at him going for his face . Instinctively Boone kicked out at the creature,sending him flying across the room and hitting hard against the wall. Already he had his rifle drawn and aimed, ready to kill the creature. As he was about to pull the trigger he heard a shout from beside him.
"Hey! Shoot him and I shoot you."
Boone turned to see a girl pointing a hunting rifle at this head. "He attacked me," he replied, keeping his voice low and even.
"Bullshit! Rex wouldn't attack anyone unless I told him to, he probab- Oh wait... you're wearing a hat."
Boone arched an eyebrow in her direction, waiting for further explanation.
" He doesn't really like hats. Doesn't like rats either actually. I'm not sure if it's related. You know, the way the words rhyme and all. Anyway the point being, he wasn't really attacking you, he was just attacking you're hat so you can stop pointing your gun at my dog now. Unless of course you don't appreciate having your head attached to your body?"
Normally Boone wouldn't react positively to someone threatening him, but the girl was just protecting something she cared about and he could relate to that. He could relate to anyone who gave a fuck about anything other than themselves, something this town wasn't big on.
He lowered his rifle as asked and the girl did the same in response.
"You're not from around here," Boone said as the girl went over to inspect her dog.
"Just passing through. I'll be on my way just as soon as my dog regains consciousnesses," she replied cutting Boone an accusing look.
"Maybe you should keep him on a leash."
"Maybe someone should keep you on a leash," the girl muttered as she petted her dog.
Boone let the comment go without response. There was something he liked about the girl. She was certainly different. She had pink hair tied back but loose strands falling around her face. Leather body armor in bad condition. Dried blood clotted around a slash in the arm of her armor and a long slash across her stomach. There was also a scar on the side of he forehead. She definitely looked like she'd been in a battle or two.
The girl looked up from her dog and caught Boone staring at her, "Wondering how you can incapacitate me too?"
For a moment Boone found himself lost in her eyes. They were open and alert but there was a tiredness evident in them. A tiredness of someone who always has to be alert because the world has thought them to trust nobody. Not too dissimilar to what Boone himself saw when he looked in the mirror.
Maybe this is who he was waiting for. Maybe this was the person who could set him off on his final journey.
"Come see me before you leave. We need to talk"