I awoke with a small start to the sound of Cogs repeatedly kicking the Corvega's wheel and muttering something angry, but surprisingly polite. Cogs must have been blowing off quite an amount of temper, because the thing shook with each "damned junker" like it was being rammed by a bighorner.
"I take it we ain't there yet?" I croaked, readjusting my hat and coat, and slithered out of the car. Damn I was groggy.
"Oh. Good morning. Or evening, I suppose." He sighed.
The hood of the car was open. Some parts were taken out, and judging by the smell of burnt plastic and faint- Invigoration? Excitement? Tickling? -I felt, which could only come from slight radioactivity, the score was 'Wasteland - One, Chryslus - Zero'.
"That thing didn't just run out of fuel, did it?" I asked, peering at the partially disassembled engine block, as if I had any goddamn idea how it worked and what made it not work anymore.
"Well, no. The good news-" he pointed at some baked-looking thing running across the top with a wrench "-is whoever fixed this car up and got it running after the bombs wasn't an idiot. There were secondary and tertiary fail-safes that flooded the whole thing with coolant. That's the only reason we didn't blow up when the engine went into partial meltdown." He pointed at some other thing that looked as rusty as the other ones, and just as nuclear. "That said, the previous owner ran this car into the ground. No maintenance. No TLC. This is a beautiful wonder of pre-war engineering, and they treated it like... A damn brahmin!" He managed to look more outraged about the condition of the car than about the fact that he was hunted by raider gangs and Brotherhood exiles. "And us tap-dancing on it didn't help things much."
"Can you fix it?" I asked hopefully.
"I don't think so..." He shook his head ruefully. "I'd need a workshop and another car's worth of spare parts. It'd be easier to get a new one, not to mention the towing fees... This Corvega's frolicking days are done."
"Shame. How far did we manage to get anyway?"
"Well, you've been out for about a couple of hours, so, a hundred and fifty miles? Hundred seventy?" He scratched his chin, leaving a grease stain. "I was afraid that if I'd gone any faster, the drivetrain would fall from under us. There isn't exactly a highway here."
"Not bad! I think we'll make it today, give or take." I looked around the desert and spotted a hill with some large climbable-looking rocks on top of it. As good a vantage point as any. "It took me days the last time. We have a good head start."
"Well, at least there were some tools in the trunk... Never used." He sighed again.
"That's great, keep them. Hey, look, give me a moment. I need to go check where we are now and where we should be going." I pointed towards the hill. "And you should pull whatever useful parts you can from the car, since you're such a fucking expert."
"Useful?" He looked at me with an unreadable expression. Like he was asking me if it was really okay to butcher our mutual acquaintance.
"Whatever we can sell," I amended. "People here use all sorts of cobbled-together shit. Generators, bikes, cars, electrified fences, water pumps... And it all needs spare parts."
"Well..." He scratched his chin again and looked at the car, more hopeful this time. "I'll see what I can do!"
"Attaboy," I muttered and left him to it.
It felt good to stretch my legs. The hundred or so rads I soaked up napping and standing near the ruined car were enough to get me back on my toes again. I wasn't feeling quite as drained, at least, and the simple act of putting one foot in front of the other has always worked for me. Most importantly, it helped stave off boredom and psych myself into whatever the hell I was doing with my life at the moment. Step by step by step by step and you're that much closer to your destination, Charlie, just keep on walking, and there will be caps and all the happiness they bring at the end of the line. To be honest, I would probably go double-or-nothing if I ever reach that particular destination. Sitting on your ass isn't very healthy for a jerky boy. And speaking of jerky...
I rummaged through my backpack and yanked my binoculars and a paper bag with dried brahmin strips. This will have to do until we reach Rusty Plains and can have a hot meal with some cold beer and wine. Or, more likely, some critters will try to eat us and will end up our dinner instead. I had all I needed to make some mouth-watering roasted cactus side right here in the desert.
Surveying the immediate environment confirmed my rough guesstimates. We were some miles south-westish of Rusty Plains. I took the opportunity to scribble on my map with a pencil, marking the rock I was perched atop. I will call this land... This Land! No, of course I won't, that sounds stupid. But I will call it... Hm. I marked the broken Corvega with a doodle of a car and decided to dub the spot Meltdown Rock. And forever it shall be named thusly, at least by whoever copies notes off my map. I really should start a surveyor's office in Hub. Maybe I will the next time they issue an official pardon to all wanted criminals... Whenever the hell that happens.
Though I suppose it will take just one moron with a Pip-Boy to put me out of business.
There was only one pressing matter holding me up near that rock after I climbed down, a matter of a more prosaic nature. It was unfortunate, really. I noticed a long time ago that whenever I drain my bladder, I shed rads. All the isotopes just leave my body, which is not that rare with ghouls, apparently. Useful in helping me not become a glowstick, but considering how often I got into fights, I really did need that extra regeneration sometimes. Radiation had long since given up on the notion of giving me terminal cancer. Hell, some of my body already was a constantly regenerating tumor. My brain especially, I suspected, since it was responsible for getting me in ridiculous adventures such as this one.
After irrigating some of the local flora I made my way down the slope, shielding my eyes from the setting sun. Hopefully, we could make it to the town before nightfall. I didn't want to walk down some crevasse in the darkness and break my fucking neck. Vertebrae are a bitch to heal.
"How goes it?" I asked, hopping into the seat and re-shuffling gear and loot in my backpack.
I swear, the thing must be bigger on the inside than on the outside, because I can't explain how else it could fit so much junk. I- Aha! -found the spare super-compact duffle bag I kept for just this kind of situations and tossed it to Cogs.
"Thanks. Honestly, it could be worse. I could fence some of it in NCR for a tidy sum. Out here in the sticks... Well, who knows? It's worth... Something."
"Good enough for me. Pack up and let's get moving."
He took some more precious minutes pulling some last bits of junk off the engine and shoving it into the bag. Then, with the last parting glance towards our deceased and butchered transport, we set off where my map and fuzzy memories said Rusty Plains would be.
"Say, Folly?" Cogs asked after about ten minutes of silence.
"Yeah?"
"I heard these cacti are mostly water. Is that true? Because I'm getting awfully thirsty."
"Oh." I turned towards him. "Why didn't ya pack some water like a, a normal person?"
"Well, I was hoping I'd be able to travel by Long Fifteen and buy some as I needed. I didn't plan for this globetrotting adventure. So can you please help me or not?"
"Fine." I almost could resist rolling my eyes. I had to admit, I was pretty parched myself.
We didn't have to make much of a detour to find some prickly pear. I showed Cogs how to harvest the fruit and the pads with my tongs, how to clean them, and how to avoid getting his fingers cactied. He seemed pretty disinterested in the last part, as if his fingers were needleproof, probably because he was in such a hurry to get hydrated. In any case, some time later we were both happily munching on the peeled succulent cactus flesh. It was a shame not to use it for some recipe or other, but we were in a hurry. Cogs proved to be a good student, smart and respectful. I had to admit, I was warming up to the idea of working with him for the foreseeable week or two.
"How diw yu nnow it waw in seawon?" Cogs asked, splattering his snack all over his chin, like the refined gentleman that he was.
"Oh, it'f awwayf in seawon." I swallowed. "The thing about the world exploding is that the soil became very fertile. With so many people and animals dying and stuff? Also there was some mutation or other? I don't know. Tanisha said she doesn't recognize this place anymore."
"Tanisha?" He wiped the cactus muck off his face, and it made me chuckle for some reason. At least he also finally wiped that Chryslus (patent pending) disgusting grease.
"Oh, Motherlode. Tanisha is her real name."
"Were you two that close?"
I turned to look at him again. His bright eyes were full of some... Childlike wonder. Like he was asking me to tell a bedtime story. Well... Why not? The guy was obviously fish out of water. What could it hurt?
"Yeah, we were. We still are, really..."
"But you fought today?" He cut me off.
"Y-yeah, but we fought for caps, not because we hate each other. Those are different. You hired me to protect you, and Motherlode recognizes that. Business is business. S'not the first time we were fighting each other. Never stopped us from gettin' a drink afterwards and..." I coughed politely. "Fuckin'."
"Amazing," he muttered.
"Yeah, it is. I guess they don't teach you Scribes about relationships?" I said with a sly wiggle of my eyebrows that could've worked better if I was looking in his direction instead of scanning the hills we were headed towards for threats.
"You guessed right." He smiled. It felt good to see him smile genuinely. The emotionless robot act was wearing pretty thin, but I could understand his raised guard in a place like Angeltown.
"Tell me all about it over dinner?"
"I don't know. Maybe. Not much to tell." He shrugged uncomfortably and stuffed his face with cactus.
"Really? After I just opened up about my intimate relationship with your former boss? After I killed a dude for you? You don't trust me?" I gasped. "You wound me, Mister Cogs."
"Sowwy, Miftew Fowwy." He chewed sheepishly.
"Eh, it's alright. Maybe after I murder some more motherfuckers for ya."
"Or after you feed me some more." He looked at a cactus pad thoughtfully. "This is very good."
"You don't have much tasty stuff up north, do you?" I asked, nibbling.
"No. Grains and berries, mostly. We had a nice hydroponic garden in our bunker. Grew all the food we needed, but there was little variety. Potatoes can get very tiresome over the years..." He sighed and chewed wistfully for a while. "I grew up in a Vault, you know. We had fish tanks. What I wouldn't give to taste salmon again."
"Wow. I think you'd really like it in Boston. There's all sorts of mutated fish there. Some guy taught me how to make takoyaki."
"What's that?"
"It's octopus bits fried in balls of batter." My mouth watered from the memories. "We didn't have octopi, so we settled for a mirelurk. He was a real good cook too, even had some scavs make him a takoyaki grill out of some factory salvage. I think he programmed on the side and made a bunch of Protectron ramen cooks... Shame he didn't write a cookbook before I left that hole."
"You don't strike me as a chef, Folly." Cogs laughed.
"And you don't strike me as a moron who wouldn't pack water when travelling the desert."
"Says the junkie who jettisoned all his caps."
"Heh. Jettisoned." I laughed a little, but still kicked a small rock out of spite. Imagine being rich again.
Who woulda thunk that Cogs would be such a pleasant fellow? We spent the next couple of hours just walking and chatting, mostly about food and drink. I spent more time than is healthy bitching about how most of the East Coast was an underdeveloped shithole that shouldn't even exist. Cogs was very eager to try my cooking sometime and was almost ecstatic when I told him about the Rusty Plains microbrews. The idea of mutfruit sour ale probably gave him a bit of a woodie. He struck me as eager for experiences. He'd make a pretty well-adjusted ghoul, all things considered.
It was getting pretty dark when I first saw the lights of Rusty Plains. The town was surrounded by a sturdy fence with some barbed wire on top of it and dim lights leading to the wide opened gate. It felt good to be here. I liked the little towns away from the hustle and bustle of NCR. The military presence, taxes and drafts always cast gloomy shadows, especially considering that those very things eventually destroyed the civilization. I wasn't one to mourn the Old World. Fuck those guys. Greed and stupidity grew there like fungus on brahmin shit. NCR was trying to recreate the same system of impenetrable bureaucracy, meaningless money and quote unquote democracy. What's the point of prosperity if it's locked behind a mountain of red tape and a term in the army for a pittance.
Cogs visibly relaxed. I could see him constantly glancing around, looking for threats, even as he was laughing at my shitty attempts at humor, but the sight of a settlement spelled safety. We could already hear the hum of a generator that powered the lights. We carefully made our way towards the gate, mindful of the uneven slopes. Some helpful sort put down some planks to act like a ladder, but judging by the state of it, that was probably pretty long ago, and the ladder now was as much a tripping hazard as the rocks. I could hear something shuffling in the distance behind us, and I didn't know whether it was a gecko, a feral ghoul, or an iguana. Anyway, it wasn't much of a threat. Otherwise, it would've attacked us by now.
The town welcomed us with lights and sounds of merriment coming out of a tall brick house labeled "Blue Collar Taphouse". It wasn't that late yet, and yet not many people were still working in the plantation that I knew was on the other side of the town. Adjacent to that were brahmin and bighorner coops. Some beasts wandered the streets, basking in attention that being a town's livelihood entailed. All the buildings, taphouse excluded, were humble one-storey family houses. Between them and the fields towered an old over-engineered pre-war factory that now housed all the local food processing plants, most important of all the brewery, the bakery, the candlestick makery and pretty much anything anybody wanted to put time and effort in. I'm sure that if I ever wanted to do something with my life other than shoot stuff for script, they'd gladly give me some room for a modest percentage. The atmosphere was... Healthy. These people dealt in craft food and drink, not in shitty sex and equally shitty chems. I think the mayor was still working in the tomato greenhouse instead of being the liaison between raider gangs and booze. It's amazing how differently two towns could feel, despite both of them being based on booze. Why did I ever think that staying and working in Angeltown was a good idea? Oh, yeah, that's because there weren't any chem dealers in Rusty Plains. That was the only thing the production of which they shunned here. I've been playing the five-more-minutes game for the last hour. I promised myself I'd take a huff before bed, but I could also probably wait for the next morning. I could go cold turkey without much trouble, and I have, but I liked jetting, and when the stress of having to eventually fight Firebird catches up to me, I'll be huffing and puffing like a damn wolf.
Naturally, the first place we visited was the saloon. Cacti quenched our thirst and hunger just fine, but a man needs his drink and finer cuisine to survive. Plus, if Meatball still ran the little poker lounge, that could be a good way to fix my financial situation a little. I was always pretty good at gambling, and, more importantly, it was fun, and I hadn't had the chance to play with decent folk in a while.
"Hey, Cogs. How are you with cards?" I asked him, as we found a table and sat down to give our legs some rest.
The people around us were having fun. A good crop, probably, or some other cause for celebration. Chances are, everyone we needed to talk to was already here. Good drink usually leads to good deals.
"Well, I'm... Decent, I suppose? I never really played much." Cogs looked around, drinking in the atmosphere. The place was good for his nerves too, it seemed. "Do they have that mutfruit stuff you told me about?" He muttered, glancing at the chalkboard over the bar, but failing to decipher all the different names and styles. Poor man.
"I'll go ask Meatball and get us something to eat. You guard our shit." I reluctantly got up, feeling sore muscles protest with every movement. Soon I'll know the embrace of a bed. "Do you have any caps on you?"
"About two hundred. Why?"
"Then you'll get the next round!" I grinned. I haven't been here for over a year. It's amazing how stupid I can be.
Meatball was this absolute olive-skinned hunk of a man behind the bar. He constantly fiddled with his goatee and his curious eyes twinkled at everyone nearby from under his bushy eyebrows. He leaned onto the counter with his muscular hairy arms far apart in a welcoming slant, and he lifted the heavy kegs almost effortlessly. There was always something cookin' near this good lookin', and that train of thought went... Point is, he was of Mediterranean descent, and he knew how to capitalize on it. Being the owner of Blue Collar Taphouse put him in touch with anyone worth anything in this town, and that meant most anyone. Give Rusty Plains fifty years and they will become an independent metropolis with someone like Meatball at the heart of it, assuming NCR and Legion don't level the town first.
"Ah! Folly! Welcome back!" He smiled at me with his yellowing teeth. The only unspectacular part of him was the natural consequence of smoking like a chimney. I still liked him. No homo. "Long time! Why the hell didn't you visit?" His voice was raw and energetic, a perfect fit for this establishment. "Anyway, what can I do for you, old buddy?"
"Good evening, Meatball!" I beamed. "I'm on a business trip, unfortunately, so I won't stay for very long. I need to ask ya something, or a couple of somethings, but first, do you still have that mutfruit sour?"
"No can do, sorry. We're fresh out of mutfruit. But!" He hopped to a tap and poured me a taste of something light ruby. "We finally managed to get that Belgian yeast from Midwest Artisan!" I took a sip of the deep, slightly bitter and tart... Something. Something very tasty.
"What is this? Never tried anything like this before."
"That, my friend, is Trappist Quadrupel, or what we managed to do with the recipe. This is only our second batch, but it's selling like crazy! You're lucky you get to try that, it'll all be gone by next week! It's a bit on the strong side, so be careful." He chuckled. "You like it?"
"Hell yeah! Give me two of those. And, uh, something hot and tasty from the kitchen, don't care what. Surprise me."
That set me back a hundred and fifty caps, but the look on Cogs' face when he gulped the beer down was absolutely worth it. Not many people can appreciate how much better actual beer can really be compared the pre-war garbage or raider swill.
"This is incredible," Cogs whispered. "Why have I never heard of this place? I want to see the factory!"
"I'm sure they'll let you if you ask nicely." I chuckled into my glass.
Soon enough a waiter brought us a slab of wood with assorted grilled vegetables and a large bowl of chili con carne. By the time we were done with the meal, we had quite a few refills of the frothy goodness. And... The conversation was revolving around whether or not ballistic weaponry was better than lasers... I think our opinions didn't quite align on that topic?
"Look. Look. Look look. Look. 'Stead of sittin' here an'... Bullshittin'!" I remember drawling. "We could jus' slide out an' I can prove ya wrong once an' for all."
"You're so -hic!- going to -hic!-" Cogs tried to say. I understood him well enough due to drunk telepathy.
I think we were ushered into a room when we went around the town looking for a shooting range with silverware, or robots, or something. We maybe also had a bit of wine? Or was it whiskey? I can't remember. I can remember Cogs shooting circles around me though. He was an amazing marksman with his laser even cross-eyed drunk. He couldn't shoot a normal gun to save his life, which doesn't make sense, if you really think about it. I also remember ranting for half an hour about that to... Someone who wasn't Cogs... I remember a woman being involved somehow. The only question is: what were we shooting at, exactly?
A great deal of worry for some reason. The rancid taste of jet in my mouth. My hand... Hurting from... Too much... Doodling? What the fuck is wrong with me that I can't remember why my hand hurt? I also remember... Shooting, but not at junk. I think there were people, but not like really people like I mean I think they were raiders or something and everybody knows that raiders aren't actually people, like not really though, am I right? Ugh I need to find my notebook but I don't remember where I left it and I don't remember why I even have it there's something about flies or some insects or other and I remember writing a giant "E" I think it was important and also I think they found us oh wait no nevermind anyway you ever wonder why energy weapons and ballistic weapons are so different to shoot like it stands to reason that if you shoot a gun and it recoils and you have to take that into account and also your heartbeat which admittedly I don't have much of anymore because I'm a ghoul oh hey did I ever tell you how I became a ghoul okay get this so I was running with the Khans and I think I was trying to rob someone or something like that look it doesn't matter the point is i stepped in some shit and it tried to bite my fucking face off and anyway I started turning and ran off look the point is my heart's pretty slow so it ain't a big deal for me to get these groups but what I don't get is how the fuck can't I shoot lasers they're like easy mode like guns for retards yeah whatever Cogs I don't care pshhh fucking nerd anyway did I ever tell you about that time I was all like ah screw you guys anyway look what hey what what WHAT oh never mind shiny come to papa HOW MUCH okay cool hey keep that for me anyway oh fuck me it's coming up it's coming up where's the bathroom I think I'm gonna oh never mind then anyway you ever been to Boston what a fucking hole they don't even have Brotherhood of Steel there like who cares no I never heard of him why oh okay cool but see thing is if he died before he wrote it how come his robots cook noodles that makes no sense he'd have to write it no I know the moo-moos are tasty fuck off man I know how to cook a moo-moo give me that no wait what oh fuck you too guys I so know how to cook Cogs knows that hey Cogs hey where are you man oh fuck you too then who are you dude anyway I think I left my notebook why are you so angry yeah I got the caps right here sure thing man oh shit the caps oh shit I left them oh shit where did I leave them OH SHIT FIREBIRD IS GONNA KILL ME never mind that's just a campfire oh sorry didn't mean to intrude hey there man where you been let's investigate ssssshush no shush I know what I'm doing yeah that's safe to drink who do you think I am dude come on I know you can dude no dude I don't look okay dude I mean you're nice and everything but it's weird and also I think oh fuck here it comes here it comes where's the bucket oh wait no never mind hey look I can shoot the hat off that motherfucker why are you so angry at me it's just a small graze see good as new you wanna fucking go bitch Cogs where are you OW oh shit I lost my shit I forgot what I lost fuck I need to find it fuck oh tasty jet cool thanks man who are you anyway oh yeah shit no duh sorry for shooting you in the head it's cool don't worry here I'll buy you a beer what the hell you know what cazador is uh-huh uh-huh shit fuck I forgot my write thing white paper thing I knew I should be writing it down there's no way I'll remember this tomorrow haha what where am I oh my look I'm flattered and everything but I don't date smoothskins oh okay hello Cogs anyway good luck you two I think I should do something well I did that and it was fun where did all my fucking caps go anyway come on just one more for the road I have to kill Master and save the human race pssshhhhh who cares about those smoothskin fuckers but you understand me oh fuck I think I lost my buddy have you seen my what what I don't remember tasty jet tasty jet TASTY I can cook better than that see I told you yeah buy me beers sure I'll cook more for you hey you wanna see who's a better shot pssshhhh easy money where did all my script go oh yeah also can we please take a moment and remember that hubscript is a thing why did everyone suddenly forget about Hub no the fuck I never met that retard fuck this guy what did he have against Unity oh come on he was just attacking whatever came at him oh come on it's fine I'm sorry I didn't mean it come on man I'm sorry she died mine died too I'm a fucking ghoul man come on do you think she'd be alive it's a harsh world I know how it feels man fuck me get me a tissue please you didn't see that anyway where am I really what
what
where
Cogs?
But oh fuck me
OH FUCK FIREBIRD IS GONNA FUCKING KILL ME OH MY GOD WHY DID I EVER GET IN THE MIDDLE OF THIS SHIT JESUS CHRIST I'M SO FUCKED WHAT STUPID FUCKING MORON LETS ME MAKE DECISIONS HOLY SHIT I'M DEAD I'M SO DEAD oh tasty
Where are all my caps?
I don't remember jack
I found myself lying in a bed with my head spinning thinking exactly that. I was very sleepy, but I didn't feel good enough to go to sleep. I had one boot on, and my poncho was wrapped over me all wrong. I had a feeling that by next morning we'll be very very capless, if not in debt to our eyeballs. Fucking typical.
"Look is all I'm saying is man the Chinese kinda y'know they had a point, y'know. Like, it really do be like that sometimes man y'know like I don't really y'know begrudge them for y'know what they did." Cogs was going on some vaguely political rant on the neighboring bed. "Like I'd blow the world up, y'know, why not, screw them, man, y'know. Y'know? Yeah y'know."
"Oh fuck me, how much did we drink tonight." I intended that as a question, but my mouth refused to cooperate. "Mister Cogs, I don't feel so good."
"Me neither." He hiccuped. "Hey, want to see something cool?"
Without waiting for my response he reached into his sleeve and started unwrapping his hand. Little by little the cloth straps fell onto the bed and revealed a shiny mechanical limb. He wiggled his silvery fingers at me with a dumb expression on his face.
"So that's why you weren't afraid of cactuseses!" I cried out in a huge Eureka-moment that tied all the subtle clues together nicely. Or at least I think it did. Cogs' mechanical limb was the second thing on the agenda at the moment.
Because that was when I scampered off to the bathroom and at long last violently emptied my stomach into a stained toilet and passed out for good.