Goodsprings
1
South of Quarry Junction, Long 15 was sidewinded against three buildings, all of them made of scavenged steel. Two of them were like huts, one of them was like a motel. In and around these steel huts were men, young and old. All of them wore bright yellow hard hats, and tacky work overalls that went down their arms and legs fully. This excuse for a landmark was known as Sloan, but with no signage or significance, it was just simply an old NCR outpost.
Up a small incline of the road, man and Deathclaw (still chewing the gun) were waved over by an elderly man, white thick beard, and eyes filled with surprise, a pair of black goggles hung loosely around his neck, hard hat firmly sitting atop his head, as the man wanted no one to see his balding dome.
"Can't believe anyone actually made it through from the north, what with all the Deathclaw's in the quarry." said the old guy, hands on hips.
Ryder approached, a small barricade between him and the old man separated them. Ryder gave a small smile.
"Well you won't have to-"
"Behind you!" he called, revealing a small pistol from his belt, pointed right at him. Ryder raises his hands in response.
"Woah, woah! What's- oh."
The Little One was clutching his right leg tightly, but it kept its claws facing away, so he wasn't in pain. Its other hand was still pressing the gun into its mouth. Seemed chewing was a priority for this one.
Three other workers had noticed, and drew similar black pistols, all aimed at his leg.
"Relax, take it easy, its fine, its friendly." Ryder said, calm as could be.
"Never heard of a tamer of Deathclaw's, and it don't look friendly to me." old man countered.
The Little One growled, Ryder whispered for it to 'Calm down' and surprisingly, it did, it shrunk behind his leg as much as it could.
"Trust me, it came from the quarry, its cleared out, this one's just… following me. Its harmless! Look."
Slowly, Ryder places a hand on the Deathclaw's head, it leant into his touch, and he was soon petting its rough head thoroughly.
He suppressed the urge to swear in shock.
"Fine, but its best you move on soon kid." The old man turns to the others. "Let the men know about this, give em' some wide berth."
The men acknowledged, and walked off, but their hands still laid on the butt's of their guns, all the more on edge.
Ryder took a step forward, but was pulled back by the Deathclaw's grasp.
Unknown to him, the Deathclaw understood no words the humans spoke, not even Ryder's. So it was still sceptical to all these humans around it. But it recognised the tone of Ryder, and his voice calmed it.
"Relax... Little One?"
Ryder hadn't thought of a name, he should work on that, maybe that would make things easier to introduce his new pet/friend to the wastes.
He pet it some more, and its arm slowly released from him, and he moved forward to shake the old man's hand, shadowed by the Deathclaw.
"Chomps Lewis." he said.
"No, no it hasn't chomped anyone-"
"That's my name."
"Oh, I'm Ryder."
"What brings you out here kid? And how did you get that thing to follow you?"
He recalled how he cleared out the quarry for 'a client', but failed to mention the sack of eggs he carried out. He finished with how the baby Deathclaw followed him ever since he came back after the Radscorpion chase.
As Ryder spoke, the Deathclaw in turn began wondering around him, picking up fallen bits of litter and rocks whilst chewing the .45. But it made a small 'out-of-bounds' area around Ryder, and never strayed too far away.
After a minute, a Mole Rat wondered towards the Deathclaw. Its pink skin held a thousand hairs, and they all stood up on edge. It sniffed and approached the Deathclaw with care, limping as it did so.
The Little One did the same, poking its hide with the blunt sides of its claws. Eventually it handed the .45 to the Mole Rat, and its two large fangs that hung out of the rat's mouth began destroying the trigger.
The Deathclaw growled as it bit off a chunk of the wooden grip of the barrel and spat it out. The Mole Rat snuffed in response, and they continued into thier meal.
Ryder and Chomps stared in awe, how quick they had made friends truly was something else.
"How did it get a gun like that?"
"Well, I dropped it in some water and, well, it's not working. But it seems to like it."
"Couldn't you have just let it dry out? Things a powerful tool."
"Uh, no." he shook his head. "No I waited a while, it's gone for good."
"Alright then. Snuffles seems to like it too."
The two beasts were like a pair sharing a romantic dinner, a dinner of bolts and metal, all of it now unrecognisable compared to what it looked like when he found it.
'Snuffles' snuffed in response to its name, but never stopped clamping down its jaws.
"You guys have a pet, why so hostile to mine?"
"Mole Rats don't chew your face off as easily as a Deathclaw's can."
Chomps sounded as if he was explaining to an idiot, which he was.
Ryder couldn't help but agree. He bid Chomps farewell, and walked up to the pair of mutants. He cringed at the state of the .45, no getting it back now.
"Come on, were going."
At the sound of his voice, the Deathclaw leapt up, and was at his side at once. Snuffles went at his gun like there was no tomorrow.
"You're not gonna take it with you?"
The Little One said nothing, only stared at his mouth.
"Fine. C'mon."
They passed the rest of the workers, who starred in awe at the Deathclaw, its face gave the illusion that it was smiling. Smiling that it had made a new friend in such little time. Ryder wondered if it really did speak to snuffles, but dismissed it long after they were out of sight of the outpost.
The road emerged from two high hills on each side. To the left of the road, the train's rails ran alongside where they walked, past it was a rocky plain, far in the distance was a large prison, four watchtower's on each side.
To the right was nothing but great hills dotted with cacti and rock. The largest of the hills held an old symbol of religion, two planks of wood crossed each other, not quite in the centre. Ryder knew this as a symbol his mother followed – a symbol of the Man Jesus – she still did.
Ryder would not be called a man of faith, nor an atheist like his father, he didn't know what to believe, he was young and stupid, and with the two forces of his parents, he knew not who was right in the end.
He only passed this way once, that was when he had his family as company, eyes facing north. Far to the south was the town of Primm, and he gave not a single glance at it, partly because his caravan was in a great hurry to Vegas.
Great posts of wood stretched out of the ground like fingers, each one connected with a handful of wires that hadn't been cut by the elements. These things were once said to carry 'electricity' through them, some still did, they powered lights and such in the big towns, he wondered if these very posts powered those bright lights in Vegas, and if one snapped, it would all turn off.
But that was stupid, these small wires couldn't power all that… could it? If not, then where did it all come from? Such things he knew not of.
After a good few minutes of walking in silence, a large corpse of a Brahmin lay dead in the centre of the road ahead of them. He squatted next to it. Its dead stench filled his nostrils, and a thousand flies swarmed the gaping face's of the animal.
Two holes melted the skin around its neck, and its back two legs were nowhere to be seen. The road around it was scorched black, as if something had exploded here.
The Little One circled the dead Brahmin with equal interest, it snapped its jaws hungrily, giving off a low moan afterwards.
"You hungry?"
Its silence was its answer.
On the Brahmins back was a few leather bags, he unbuckled the under shackles, lifting it off to the ground and exposing its rather red hide to the Deathclaw. He waved at it, and the Deathclaw dug in greedily.
He searched its bags, empty, of course.
Bits of flesh went flying off around the Deathclaw's mouth as it ate the meat like it did to his gun. Small tags of red meat stuck to Ryder's face as he searched the other bags. But after the fourth piece landed in his hair, he couldn't go on ignoring it.
"Could you just-" Another slab hit him. "Hey!" One more. "You-"
He placed the bags down and walked to the Deathclaw's side. It watched him, bits of Brahmin hanging out and between its teeth.
"One at a time, c'mon." He rips off a small chunk from the hide – it felt squishy in his grip – it was no bigger than his palm, and he moves it to the beasts mouth.
It takes it all in one bite, scraping his gloves with its teeth over so slightly. He checks it, no skin tear, thankfully.
"Don't want you eating like that in front of everyone, know what I mean? Sloooow down."
It stared, seemed to get the message, and began eating the rest of the hide a bit slower, less chunks of flesh flew around, and it didn't make slapping sounds with its tongue or lips anymore.
This was one wild wasteland, he was telling off a Deathclaw about eating, though he couldn't blame it for being so hungry, it probably hadn't eaten in its short life yet.
At the thought of eating, his stomach howled in protest.
Ryder waited a few minutes for the Little One to finish, he scanned around, at first he only heard the wind passing by, but he heard a few voices up ahead, past the tracks. Four men, wearing guard uniforms and holding dynamite, were walking down the way he came, feet on the tracks.
Ryder nodded, gave off a wave at them. The looks on their faces were priceless, and they went to the east rather than the south, feet now running.
The Little One had growled at them, then resumed eating when they went on their way.
Maybe a companion like this had some rather useful perks.
To finish, the Little One wiped its face, and it ever so slightly seemed to grin up at him. Blood trickled down its chin, spotting the black road with red spots, giving it the savage look like its pack had.
He bundled up his cloak in his hand, and wiped it on its face, scrubbing it clean. The Deathclaw leant into his cloak and hand like a dog would to its master.
It made the cleaning process difficult.
"Cut it out." he said, pressing the cloth past its forehead to its teeth, but the Little One wouldn't have it, his palm would always end up rubbing its forehead like he had done before. It rubbed back against his hand, that's all it did.
"Come on just- I need to- you…"
For the next five minutes this went on (It had resorted to try and pull the cloak away, resulting in a tug-of-war scenario) but he was relieved to have finally made it look more presentable, it was frustrating, but he didn't notice his face was in a constant smile the more it tried to make him pet it.
2
They had passed a sign that read out 'GOODSPRINGS' and followed it. No wildlife was around, and Ryder didn't feel like eating rotting Brahmin after a Deathclaw chewed off most of its hide.
And he had a few caps to spare, Lucy was generous in that department.
It was a constant climb up a rather steep hill. The road was rough, and made the trip unnecessarily harder and longer, each step was like a small leap or lunge. He had to plant his hands on his knees with each step of the way.
So much so, that at first the Deathclaw lagged behind, then eventually stopped altogether. Its little legs couldn't carry it for so far, regardless if it was a Deathclaw or not.
He turns, the poor thing was huffing, face aimed to the ground. He walked and hunkered down in front of it, rubbing its head.
"Were almost there, c'mon." he encouraged.
The third time he had said that so far. And the Little One didn't look like it could go no further.
He thought, then his face lit up, a big smile painted on him.
He turns his back on it, and pats his shoulder.
"Here."
It looks questioningly at him, tilting its head. He smiled, and repeated himself.
Figuring it out, it places one hand on each of his shoulders, and hoists itself up. Clawed feet pressing against his back and hip.
He stands up, and the beast on him makes a small shriek and growl combined, and clutches him tighter.
"Easy, its-OW!"
His back felt like two giant needles had pinned themselves in him.
At his outburst, the Deathclaw relaxed slightly, pinning more weight on his shoulder pads, its face looking at the distant ground, eyes wide. Ryder pats each of its hands, calming it down a bit from the sudden escalation of height.
With a lot more weight on him ('Christ, how heavy is it?' he thought) he carries – literally – onwards up the road.
"How're you going?" he asked a few minutes later.
It softly growled, maybe a 'yes'? If he had ever heard a cat purr, well, it would have been similar to that.
They passed underneath a great dead tree. No leaves, only skinny branches in the barest forms, spread out like crude blades. On the closest branch was perched a midnight coloured bird. It called out to them, its cursing voice irritated his ears.
Faawk-Faawk-Faaaawk
It was swearing at him, it sounded like.
He passed underneath it. Big mistake. The beast on his back reached one curious hand after another onto the nearest branch, and latched on.
He walked two steps, the Little One sliding off of him before he even realised. He spun around and grabbed its legs quickly with both hands.
"Don't! Hey!"
But the Deathclaw really wanted the bird, and he soon let its legs go, and was forced to watch it climb. The bird flapped its wings menacingly, but all it did was change its call to scare off the beast.
Fuuuck!-Fuuuck!
"I'd be saying the same thing if I were you, man."
The other Deathclaw's were slow to climb, he knew this in person, but perhaps the smaller ones were much more nimble, the Little One jumped and jumped, up and up each tree limb like it was designed to be climbed.
So quick, the bird had little time to react.
It swiped its right arm wildly, just scraping the birds side, drawing a line of blood that landed beside Ryder, who watched on with crossed arms, head tilted upwards.
The Little One snapped its jaws dangerously close to its prey, but it mattered little, the bird was already flying off south, flapping up and down, spewing out squirts of blood as it made distance. Soon it was but a black speck in the blue sky.
He shook his head, and was about to look back at the tree when the beast landed on his shoulder, almost making him topple over under the sudden weight.
He stared at it with scolding eyes, it stared right back, mouth wide.
"That… just, well, let's keep going."
They did. And the birds cusses grew ever distant, and soon it was gone.
Fuuuck!-Fuuuck!
3
The town of Goodsprings was quiet, had he not seen people wandering the one street and the dirt tracks, he would have thought it abandoned from a distance. The town was built into the edges of large mountains. Low buildings scattered around on the left of town, almost all there yards were filled with crops and Brahmin. A large water tank, brown with rust, and a tall water pump, its rotor spun slowly, almost still, dominated the centre of town on one side of the one and only road.
Two large buildings bustled with some activity on the other side of the curved road into town. One read 'Goodsprings General Store' in old style letters above its rusty roof, the other read 'PROSPECTOR SALOON' the word 'Saloon' had its last three letters designed with colourful flashing lights, like those used in Vegas itself, 'neon' or something.
Ryder stood before the saloon, its batwing doors flapped lazily on its porch, next to them was an old man wearing a wide straw hat, a stick of wheat hung out of his mouth as he chewed it.
"Howdy, what's that on your back there?" he said with arched brows when Ryder approached, feet planted on the two steps up the porch. The old timer's skin was so brown from the burning sun, that the hat probably didn't even work.
Like a Mole Rat out of its cove, the Deathclaw pokes its head above Ryder's, giving a weird call of greeting in the form of a short growllish yelp. "Mee!"
"Jumpin' jacks!" He almost toppled in his rocking chair. "What's a Deathclaw doin' on your back, son?"
He shrugs. "It followed me."
"But why's it on your back?"
Another shrug. "It got tired, huh, not enough to jump a tree and…"
"What tree? And tired? Are you taking some-"
"Relax Easy Pete, let him in."
The new voice was that of a woman's, she had her neat black haired head leaning out of the door frame, a smile on her face, and a friendlier tone then 'Easy Pete's'.
"You heard the lady, go on, but keep that thing on a short leash, you understand son?"
"Alright, old timer." Ryder quickly darted in before Pete could retaliate.
Through the batwing doors was the saloon, split in half by a thick wall, the right half was a dining area, the other half the bar, where the lady was walking. They followed her, well, he did.
A few booths of rotten cushioned chairs lined the wall and corner, all had barren wooden tables, with only one lamp to fill the space. They were all full, men and women sipping on drinks or stuffing down meats from all sorts of animals. The bar held about six stools, all were being used as well.
He stood next to the bar, looking back and forth between the used seats.
"Well, were are we gonna sit?" Ryder asked to the beast on his shoulder.
All the people on the stools got up and rushed out back into the safety of the outside. The Little One tilted its head in confusion in their direction, still perched on his shoulder like that bird had been on the tree.
Ryder sat down on a stool, it creaked under his weight, he thought it might collapse, but it passed.
"Trudy." the woman said behind the bar. "New in town and your already causing a stir with Pete. Welcome to Goodsprings, and the Prospector Saloon."
"Good to meet you, I didn't mean to be causin' trouble."
"Don't worry about it. Some folks, especially the old'ns, see anything not human as a threat, but my town welcomes all, humans or not."
The Deathclaw took the seat next to Ryder, and looked cutely up to Trudy with some big teddy bear eyes… Cutely?
"Besides, Its kinda cute." she added.
"Yeah, I suppose it is."
"May I?"
"What?-"
He got no other word in, the Deathclaw had literally jumped up and into Trudy's outstretched arms, she cradled it, like you would a baby.
The mid-aged woman was smiling, rocking the beast back in forth in her arms, her whole body in a swinging motion. She wore grey clothes that would (ironically) suit an old mother.
"You seem very… fond, of it, quite weirdly so." Ryder said.
"Weird? You're the one with it on your back."
Now the Deathclaw was really smiling, it's eyes were full of brightness now, it reminded him how an actual baby would react to this type of care and attention. It nuzzled into her arms, its talons attempting to hug Trudy back.
He pondered on this for a second. "Yeah, your right."
"So? What's his name? Or hers? Which one is it?"
"I dunno. Haven't you know, checked, or anything. Can I get something to eat? Please? Steak or something."
"Oh, where are my manners? Sure, let me give you your friend back and I'll get on it."
She hands it back over the counter top, and Ryder was forced to take it in the same style Trudy was holding it. The Little One was all the more happier, it hugged itself tighter against his chest, still caring not to scratch at him with its young and deadly claws, despite him wearing armour.
Trudy smacked down a plate – cutlery as well – on the counter in front of him, a big red steak was there, ready for his growling stomach.
"Fifty, none of that NCR money either."
Like reaching for a concealed sidearm, he places a hand into the left side of his armour behind the cloak. His right side was where his rifle was, the .45 had now been replaced with the shotgun Lucy gave him.
His gear had nothing if not a whole bunch of small pockets everywhere. He removes a small bag, filled with caps of bottles, and places it down on the bar.
Like the curious child it was, the Deathclaw rummaged around in his cloak the same time he did, and pulled out a small thin box. It started chewing on it.
"Oi! You..." he grabs it out of its mouth – with a bit of resistance – but managed.
The box had the word 'MENTATS' on the flappable lid on the top.
Ryder removed his helmet which he failed to notice until now, and clipped it on the belt on his hip. From the lack of hands, the Deathclaw sat on his lap without support, looking up at his face for the first time.
"You got any tats?" he asked her.
"Sure, got one left back here somewhere." Trudy said, beginning to rummage below the bar.
When she appeared again, a box of Mentats in her hand, she couldn't help but stiffer a laugh.
The Deathclaw was nuzzling its face against Ryder's jet black hair, he had a look of plain neutrality on his face, each nuzzle made his head move, but he didn't seem to react otherwise.
He was trying to ignore it. Trying was the key.
"Keep the change."
"Pffft… OK…" she said with a grin.
Ryder dug in. Gratefully accepting the thick juicy steak into his body. The Little One continued to rub his silky soft hair without end. He'd keep saying 'Get out of it.' every few moments, but those words fell on deaf ears, if the thing has ears.
They talked a while, about how he found it, and how long it had been since. Trudy told him she was the mayor, and that she was glad a new face was here, and brought interesting company with it.
"When was the last time someone else passed through?"
"Not in a while, most just stay clear, heading off to Vegas or the towns south of here. We enjoy the quiet, as you might've seen from the others."
True, no one else (except the old coot out front, with the wheat out of mouth like a cigar) had spoken to him yet.
"Where do you come from, Ryder?"
"Grew up with Vees Knees, walking the caravan my whole life, 'till now that is."
"I heard a thing or two about the VK's, where are the others?"
"We all just… moved on. Not many of us left anymore."
"You have my sympathies, its hard living on the roads, trust me I know. That's why I founded this town, travelling your whole life is too hard on anyone, even someone as young as you."
"Your right but… Never mind. Thanks for the-"
The saloons doors were kicked open with a booted foot. Three figures, wearing that same armour of the ones back where he found the dead Brahmin, stood outside, the sun's rays directly behind them, hiding their faces, their outlines a haze.
"Excuse me for a moment." Trudy said, almost lazily, and walked on over to the batwings. Ryder saw the leader, a dark skinned man with short hair, had his arms folded, and his brows arced in fierce anger.
As Trudy and the man conversed, Ryder placed a hand over the Mentat box.
He had kept these drugs hidden from his parents and family from the days on the road. No one but him knew of his addiction, though 'addiction' wasn't the right word he would use. These chalky red pills helped him more than anyone else had, it was the only reason he even got through that quarry in the first place, or was able to read, or know more about the world. His parents were too lazy, or too busy fighting, to teach him, but these things did, and he was glad for their existence.
Each pill made him better in every way, who were his parents to judge anyway? And it wasn't like what they would say: "Oh, drugs are bad, you'll be spewing it all out of your ass within the next day of injecting that shit into yourself! Don't even think about it!"
Sure, Jet and Psycho and all those other ones were a bit off, but Mentats? No, these were good.
He slips one red pill out of its socket in the box, examining it in the lights of the saloon. All those little bits and bobs, and it all made him better, better than anything ever.
The Little One matched his gaze, staring at the pill as well, they both looked (their heads were side by side) entranced by its little red glitter.
Ryder wondered…
Wondered for a while, not listening to the conversation between Trudy and the Powder Ganger.
His eyes drifted to the Deathclaw's, who mimicked him.
Eyes back on the pill.
Then the beast.
Then the pill.
Pill… Deathclaw… of course!
"Go on."
It took the pill in one hand, smacked its lips, and downed it in one go, no water needed.
Trudy clapped them both on the back as she passed them once more. He asked for some water, and she handed him a bottle of the good stuff, 'Good - Springs - Water' she called it.
The Little One opened its mouth, and he poured a bit in, and downed a good bit himself afterwards.
"So, what was that about?"
"Well, our little town got itself into the middle of something we don't want anything to do with. This trader, Ringo, comes into town awhile back, bad men after him, needs a place to hide. So I gave him a place to lie low, thinking he's in shock. Didn't expect anyone to come after him."
"No offense, but that was pretty, well, stupid."
"None taken." But Ryder knew in that tone, she seemed a little steamed at that, so he said nothing like that again.
"Who was that guy?"
"Joe Cobb, threatening the town, says he'll attack if we don't give Ringo up, told him to get lost, he usually sits down the road a bit, I figured you would've seen him on your way in."
"Hm, no I didn't. Thanks for the brunch, you got a place to fix some gear?"
"The general store next door, yeah. Do come back to say goodbye friend, I wish you both well. But here, let me refill that bottle."
Before Ryder stood up, the Deathclaw jumped to Trudy one last time, she cradled it… again. But not for as long, as it soon found itself on Ryder's shoulder again and they were out the door, Ryder waving Trudy goodbye as he pushed the batwings open.
He could just see Joe Cobb and his buddies walking off the road a bit.
A great idea went through his head. One so great he thought he was on Mentats, but he wasn't. He pulled out the box again and grabbed another two pills, holding them up to the light as before.
He 'knocks em' back' quickly, a bit of water to make sure he got them in. And the effects were almost instant.
The sugary pill melted the walls of his mouth, his tongue went sour then sweet. His mouth was but a coat of tasty syrup that had an endless flavour to it. His pupils dilated, and only a sliver of grey remained in his eyes, a great smile reached up his cheeks. He felt stronger, he felt tougher, he felt smarter. He felt like one of those superheroes in those pre-war comics, able to do any and all things, big or small, he could do them.
His back straightened, and he held his head high.
If the Deathclaw had eyebrows, one would be raised above the other as it stared at him with confusion written all over its face.
Ryder puffs out his chest, taking in one big breath of fresh, radiated air.
Behind him and unseen, Easy Pete shook his head.
"Oh lordy-lordy, your one of those people, are you?" he asked, rocking back and forth on his chair.
"Uh-huh!" Ryder replied, a bit too loudly.
The buzz had kicked in, and when the buzz filled his head with a small tingling sensation, he knew he could do anything.
With a skip in his step, Ryder carried onwards to Joe and his gang of near do wells.
"Oh Joe Coooooobb!" Ryder called out, sing-song fashion.