Chapter Two: Help, I'm Alive
A man should look for what is, and not what he thinks should be. –Albert Einstein.
After being treated to dinner by Sunny Smiles, the other woman encourages her to look around Goodsprings.
"You can come find me tomorrow, and I'll teach you how to shoot," she offers. "There's an old school building you can check out, with a safe that not even Easy Pete's dynamite can crack. There shouldn't be anything more dangerous than some giant mantises." Sunny hands her a few bobby pins, and a yellowing Locksmith's Reader. Lola takes the items with a wordless nod of thanks before exiting the saloon. The sun has begun to go down, and she is grateful for the reprieve from the blinding sunlight.
Goodsprings is simply a cluster of houses haphazardly thrown together. It is difficult to find her way around such a place, but she eventually stops in front of the schoolhouse Sunny mentioned. She steps on a giant mantis nymph before entering the decrepit building. Mantises swarm her, but she easily fends them off with only a few scratches as payment for the effort. She finds the safe, and begins to work at breaking into it. Her hands seem to know what they're doing, even if she does not, and the safe opens with a satisfying click. After placing the loot in her pack, she rummages around the rest of the schoolhouse for anything else to sell. When she is finished scavenging, she exits. In the distance she sees a hill, and can barely make out the weathered grave markers in the dimming light.
"The game was rigged from the start," he says, and his voice holds no apology.
She shudders, her hand instinctively going to hold her head. She feels the fresh wounds on her temple and cheek, causing her to wince. She takes off walking toward the graveyard. The path grows lonely and desolate except for a few bloatflies and a lone barkscorpion that she puts out of their misery. She delicately cuts the poison gland out of the scorpion, once again surprised at what her muscles remembered while her mind did not. Sweat begins to trickle down her face as she reaches the top of the hill.
Her blood runs cold as she sees the open grave with a pile of fresh dirt sitting innocently next to it. She cautiously walks over to the hole, and hears a soft crunch beneath her feet. She looks down to see cigarette butts scattered all over the ground next to the grave. She crouches downs and picks up one of them. The filter has a distinctive white swirls wrapping around it. She didn't see any of the patrons in the Prospector smoking cigarettes of this type, so she pockets a few of the unbroken ones.
She turns her attention to the grave. She leans over, and peers over the edge of it. The dirt at the end farthest from her is dark where blood had dried. Where her blood had dried. Out of macabre curiosity, she lowers herself into the grave. She lies down, staring at the sky fading from orange to black. Gently running a hand over the dirt next to her, she considers her strange set of circumstances. She should be dead. Why isn't she?
"Howdy, partner! Are you all right down there?" a thickly accented voice asks. A moment later she sees a computer monitor with a picture of a cowboy obscures her vision of the sky.
"Yes," she answers unsurely. She sits up and braces her hands on the edge of the grave. A mechanical arm moves out to assist her. She takes it, and the robot pulls her out.
"Well, missy. I didn't think I'd have to pull you out of your grave a second time," the robot says with a mechanical chuckle.
"You're Vincent?" she asks slowly. He chuckles again.
"Victor. Nice to make your acquaintance!"
"Victor," she repeats. "What are you?"
"A Securitron, RobCo security model 20-60 B. If you ever see any of my brothers, tell them Victor says howdy!"
"I'll do that," she promises, though she isn't sure where she would see another Securitron. "Do you know anything about the men who shot me?"
"No, I can't say that I do. One of them was dressed real fancy-like. Fancy-pants, I call him," he said, and Lola swears he would have winked at her if he could. That must be the man in the checkered suit, she thinks.
"Why did you save me?" she asks.
"Well, I've always been one to help a person in need, and I reckon there was no reason to change that particular quirk," he answers. She eyes him doubtfully before answering.
"Thank you."
"Don't mention it, missy! Tell me, do you have a place to stay for the night?" the robot asks.
"I-" she hadn't really thought about it. "I don't really name- know. Probably just camp out somewhere."
"Nonsense! I have a perfectly good bed that's just goin' to waste," he insists.
"Well, that's horribly nice of you, but-"
"Come on! I'll show you where it is!" he says, sounding almost excited. He pivots, speeding off, and Lola coughs at the dust he kicked up. Dazed, she stares after him. Is it natural to talk to robots? She can't remember, but then again, it isn't exactly natural to wake up after taking a shot or two to the head.
So, natural or unnatural, she follows the robot to his shack.
Her unease only increases when she sees the Old World flag hanging on the side of the shack.
She slept fitfully on the dust-covered bed, spending most of the night staring at the cracks that line the ceiling. When she leaves, the Securitron is nowhere in sight. She feels oddly relieved. Lola makes her way to the Prospector Saloon, and sees Sunny leaning against the door. The woman waves a hand in recognition, and Lola finds herself waving back.
"Hey," Sunny greets as Lola walks up the creaky wooden steps. She jerks her thumb back behind her. "Are you ready to learn how to shoot?"
"Ready as ever," Lola answers, following the woman as she walks to the area behind the saloon. She eyes the cracked Sunset Sarsaparilla bottles lined up with amusement. Sunny hands her a worn varmint rifle.
"Here. Try to shoot the bottles," Sunny says. Lola nods, taking the rifle. She braces it against her shoulder rigidly. She pulls in a breath and shoots, the bullet ricocheting off of the wood the bottle stands on.
"Don't hold it against you so tightly," Sunny warns. "Do that with a bigger caliber, and it'll break your collarbone." Lola nods, trying to relax. Another bullet misses, and embeds itself in the back wall of the Saloon.
"Try crouching down and aiming." Lola does as she's told, tilting her head to the side as she tries aiming down the sights. A bottle shatters with a satisfying crash. She stands again, and tries shooting another one. Two more come down. Sunny nods, flashing her a grin.
"Good. But I reckon you didn't come here to learn how to fend off Sarsparilla bottles," she says.
"No, ma'am."
"You interested in clearing out some Geckos with me? I'll pay you for your time," Sunny offers.
"Sounds good," she answers. The two women make their way to the watering holes, chatting leisurely about nothing on particular. Lola lets the other woman do most of the talking. When they near the first one, Sunny crouches down behind a rock and motions for her to do the same. Lola leans up against the rock, looking around the corner to see three geckos milling around.
Lola manages to shoot the closet one down before the other take notice of them. After the geckos are dead, the move up the hill to the second watering hole. More linger at the top of the hill, and the two women are easily spotted. Lola misses a few shots before hitting a gecko, and curses quietly. An ear-splitting scream cuts through the stagnant Mojave air.
"You got this?" Lola yells to Sunny. The other woman waves her away and Lola takes off running. She jumps down the ledge to the distressed woman below, rolling into the fall. She stands up, swinging her gun to point at an attacking gecko. It sinks it's teeth into her shoulder. She cries out in pain, and with great difficultly, presses the gun against the gecko's head. When it falls, she shoots at the remaining geckos. She kicks away one that gets too close before shooting it between the eyes. The woman grabs her arm reflexively, and Lola's shoulder throbs. She grimly makes quick work of the last monster. Lola looks over her shoulder at the quivering woman, and sees Sunny come running down the hill toward them.
"Hell's bells!" she shouts. "What have I told you about coming here by yourself?" The woman, who looks no older than twenty, grips Lola's arm tighter as she takes her scolding, and she does her best not to wince at the pain. Sunny runs a hand through her hair and tells the girl to follow her back to town. She looks up at Lola with wide, watery eyes.
"Thank you," she whispers, holding out a few bottles of water. "Take this. You look like you need it." Lola takes one, and motions toward an aggravated Sunny.
"We better take you back," she says. The girl nods, and the three of them make their way back to Goodsprings.
Sunny hovers over her the entire way, and demands she goes to see Doc Mitchell when they get to town. Lola looks ruefully down at the caps Sunny pays her, and doesn't want to spend them all on a doctor's visit. She knocks on Doc Mitchell's door, and he opens it. His expression turns grim when he sees that it's her.
"I was hoping I wouldn't have to treat you again so soon," he says. She smiles.
"Just a gecko bite. I can patch myself up with some…" she says, her voice trailing off and a blushing creeping over her cheeks. She's trying to think of the word she wants. "Some white fabric. You wrap it around wounds, and you-"
"Gauze?" he asks, sympathy coloring his voice. She nods bitterly and he steps aside to let her in. "You should probably let me take a look. It'll be free of charge." He motions to a chair, and she plops down in it. The good doctor probably thought she wasn't all there, and knew nothing about taking care of herself.
She is worried he may be right.
When he comes back with the gauze, she notices he's holding a bottle of vodka and a book. He sets everything down on the table in front of her.
"I was thinking we could start your lessons," he said, gesturing to the book. "Help you get your grasp of language back, so you wouldn't have to feel embarrassed." She gives him a tired smile, and nods.
Later that night, she thanks Doc Mitchell and leaves with a tremendous headache. Words she can't make sense of buzz around in her mind. But she feels surprisingly serene. Doc Mitchell had been patient with her, and said that she would make progress, given time. She just isn't sure how much time she has.
Her stomach growls, and so she makes her way to the Prospector Saloon. Angry voices greet her ears when she opens the door.
"I'm done being nice," a man in blue security armor snarls. "If you don't hand over Ringo soon, I'm going to get my friends and we're going to burn this town to the ground, got it?" Trudy's arms are crossed tightly over her chest, and she radiates a look of disinterest. But Lola makes out her stiff posture, and the grim line her mouth is set in.
"We'll keep that in mind. Now, if you aren't going to buy anything, get out," Trudy says, hand motioning toward the door. Lola is impressed by how tough she sounds. The man swears, and stalks away, bumping Lola roughly with his shoulder.
"You got a problem?" he growls, and Lola raises her hands in a gesture of surrender. He seems momentarily satisfied, and slams the door on his way out.
"Who was that Casanova?" she asks Trudy, who pulls out a broom to begin sweeping up some broken shot glasses.
"Joe Cobb. Sorriest son of a bitch I've seen in a while," Trudy answers.
"Who is Ringo?" Lola asks. Trudy sighs, leaning against her broom.
"This trader who waltzed into town about a week ago. He said he was a survivor of an attack, and needs a place to hide. Has bad men after him. All he's done since showing up is get our town dragged into something it doesn't want to be involved with," Trudy tells her, and bitterness is evident in the town of her voice. Lola nods.
"Where's he stowed up?" Trudy tilts her head.
"Pardon?"
"Sorry. Holed up? Where's he hiding?"
"Old gas station by Doc Mitchell's place," she answers, eyeing Lola. "What're you going to do?"
"See if I can't help any." Trudy shakes her head before continuing her sweeping, and says,
"Don't get shot again."