Chapter 3: A cold welcome to hell...

The covered wagon bounced from side to side. I looked at the faces of the other recruits. Most of them were young boys, maybe even a few under 17. I knew why they were here. The NCR pays good, real good, and most of these kids probably have families to support. The others probably have to support a chem or drug addiction. Hell, maybe the rest are actually here to "fight the honest fight". Almost all were from California, which of course made damn good since. New California Republic, NCR. That made since. Anyway, the carts bouncing along the road. We're going to some prison in good springs. Because they needed troops added to their ranks daily, what would happen is they'd send guys like us on suicide missions like this. Anyone who came out alive, la-de-da, got to become an NCR grunt. We were all dressed in basic tan puffy armor, armed with assault rifles and 3 back up magazines of ammo, as well as a trench knife. I tied the helmet tightly onto my head and racked a round into my assault rifle. The others watched me, barely knowing how to load their gun. However, one tan guy across from me seemed to know what he was doing. He was wearing a chest plate and a white T shirt, his puffy shirt tied around his waist, and tan cargos. He also had a straw cow boy hat on his head which made him stand out. He was using a double barrel shotgun and had a 357. revolver on his hip, clearly he was not your regular recruit. "Hey, where you from?" I asked the man.

In a strong southern accent, he responded "I'm from L.A. partner, born and raised. This here's my daddies shot gun and his revolver, he was an NCR ranger. Got killed by Caesar himself. I reckon I might prove myself in his eyes... Given that he went to heaven, that is.."

"Should he of?" I asked.

"He did some things when he was my age he regrets 'n' since there ain't no priests he could get to, he had to carry the burden of what he'd done gotten himself into."

I nodded and leaned against the cart, my rifle in my lap. It was 5 minutes later when the man driving the caravan yelled "5 minutes 'till we arrive at the prison. Remember; some of them are political prisoners, try not to kill them. Also remember that some of Caesar's Legion are hold up in there and I do NOT even need to tell you how fucking vicious they are. Get ready men." I gripped my rifle tightly, waiting for the first gun shots. Through the holes in the cloth covering our wooden cart, I could see about 3 other caravans like ours, 10 men in each. This... Was going to get violent. Very quickly. I did hear the first gunshot, which happened to be our driver. The cart swerved side to side, one guy even tumbled out of the back and onto the dirt. I stood to go see if he was okay and I felt and heard an explosion. The cart flipped through the air 3 times and slammed against the ground. It rolled down a short hill and I could see everyone bouncing and slamming against each other and the walls. I was thrown against a metal bar before it stopped. I just laid there, hurting everywhere. People started to get up, my cowboy friend ordering them to move. He grabbed my vest and pulled me to my feet and pushed me out, him close behind.

The black night sky was exploding with red fire. The whole region had been turned into a war zone against these escaped convicts. I marched alongside the other 10 men, all of us shaken up and soar. The cow boy was running alongside me, shot gun in hand. "What's the plan?" I asked.

"We're going in through the main gate, the other two caravans should of already set up a defense line of sand bags for us."

"Quite frankly, the first time I saw sand bags and the NCR, it did-"

"Cut the chatter, we've got a job to do." he said, the prison coming into sight. There were spot lights giving the prison a glow. It was mainly one big building with a large fenced in quart yard. I slid behind the sand bags we had set up. Bullets were flying every which way and I could see one or two dead bodies. I peered over the sand bags and saw the entrance, 4 men firing assault rifles at us, meanwhile to our left were about 14 morons with batons and small arms pistols charging us. I popped from cover quickly and fired at the 4 men. I saw one get hit in the chest, causing him to throw his gun in the air and fall onto the ground. I went to aim at the other one until a bullet hit my chest plate. I flew against the dirt, making a loud "oof!". The cow boy, or by the dog tags I could read through my blurred vision Luke, grabbed my arm and pulled me back on my feet. "You can't spray and pray like that." he said, popping from cover, firing, and going back into cover. I saw the man on the farthest left fling against the barbed fences only to get tangled in it, a large shot gun sized hole in his stomach. Seizing the opportunity, I vaulted over my cover, the men next to me doing the same.

I screamed and barred my teeth as I charged the man, readying my rifle for a swing. The man clipped me in the shoulder but I had such an adrenalin rush I didn't even notice. Once in distance, I swung my assault rifle at him. The barrel hit him where the maulers are and as the rest of the gun followed to his cheek, I saw something white leave his mouth followed by a stream of goopy crimson blood. My rifle cracked as it left his head, the sound ringing through my ear like a ghost. He slammed against the NCR prison doors, making a loud COOOOOONG! as his legs gave way under him. The other two prisoners were dealt with by Luke and the guy who got up next to me during the charge. The baton and small arms men had reached our group of 8 at the sand bags and all I could see was swinging, punching, stabbing and shoot. Blood spurted onto the sandbags, slowly dripping down them. I turned and raised my gun to the hinges and fired, a metallic ring deafening my ears.

Luke kicked the door down, it crashing to the floor, sending a ploom of tan dust into the air. The only light in the small building was swinging violently as we stepped cautiously inside, guns raised. A man lay in the wooden chair next to the door, a knife going through the cowboy hat on his head. I gripped his shoulder, feeling the odd coldness of him, and pushed him to the ground. He gave way and tumbled, clearly showing he was dead. I turned my attention to the two rooms ahead, one left, one right. I went to the left one, pressing my door against the concrete frame around it. Luke and the other soldier readied at the other door. I stomped twice and everything slowed down. I run in front of the door and shot my leg forward. When my foot hit the wooden door, a bolt of pain shot through my ankle to my calf. The door gave way, the top handle exploding into a bunch of little metal pieces. I had put a dented crack in the wooden door as well. It swung up, showing a man sitting at a desk, his 357 raised.

He began to speak, but I'd learned better then to let people have last words in the wasteland. I began shooting, fire spitting from my barrel like the devils mouth. A bullet hit him in the stomach, sending a gush of red blood flying across the room into the wall. This caused his chair to swivel, making him turn at a thirty five degree angle. My next shot hit him in the shoulder, showing me pink flesh and bone sticking from his skin. The chair flipped under him and he was sent into a roll on the floor, hitting the wall with a thud. He shot one leg in the air, the life draining from him at an alarming rate as blood stained the walls. He went limp, his leg still leaned against the wall, just as Luke tapped me on the shoulder and told me it was time to go.

The three of us ran out of the front door, seeing three rather tired NCR soldiers leaning against a rock. Corpses littered the ground, half the sand bag barricade toppled over by a dead man's corpse. They looked over at me as two men walked into the area, carrying a soldier by the arms and legs, blood splattered all over his face and chest. They moved him into the building as everyone began to look around. We were it. There were wounded out there, but few. We were all that was left, all those recruits, it was just us. This is what happens when you send children to fight a war. I stepped inside, grabbing a Sunset Sarsaparilla. I popped the cap on the table and took a swig, sitting down in chair and sticking my feet on the table across from where the cowboy with a knife in his head once sat. Still, through this battle, this fight, my heartache was the only thing on my mind.

The sun was beginning to rise as I'd been informed by Luke we'd held the fort for 6 hours without any more conflict. I was just wearing a white T shirt and cargos, still exhausted from the fight. We had only five injured, one of which died recently when we tried to extract a bullet from his gut. The injured lay in the main room, on make shift beds we found lying around. I leaned in the door way as I saw about twenty NCR marching down the road, a ranger leading them. The ranger approached me and saluted.

"Well done soldier, we've got it from here." he said casually as his soldiers began fortify the area and piling corpses up for either burial or burning. I just casually picked my gear up and started walking down the road to my camp. I walked along the old road, looking to my right and left. Mountains were off in the distance, a few cactus dotted around. I saw a dried lake, filled with god knows what waiting to kill me, and kept on walking. A tumbleweed bounced across the road as I finally arrived back at camp. I was greeted with clapping and salutes. Most of these guys were veterans, and proud of my accomplishment. I was greeted with hot food and enough Nuka-Cola to split my stomach open. I gorged myself until the point of near vomiting.

I did some hand to hand training, trying to burn off the food. An older well tanned man, mostly likely Hispanic, stepped into the human circle. We raised our fists and danced around. He threw a right hook to my head as I raised my forearm to meet his, blocking the punch. I punched him in the stomach twice, sending him back a foot as I wrapped my blocking hand around his shoulder. I slid my leg behind his and brought him to the ground. He laughed, letting his head fall into the dirt, sending a small ploom of dust into the air. I laughed as I got up, grabbing him by the shirt and helping him up. I dusted off his back and continued to beat up three others before going back to bed. Man was I tired...

The next morning, a man walked into my tent, shaking me awake. I groaned but got up, learning what happened to those who sleep in (a kick in the head and a blaring radio to your ear). I made my way over to the C.O.s office, who'd I learned that the rangers name was Col. Sanders, and walked into his office. I gave a stiff salute and saw him leaned over a map, studying it. He looked up and returned the salute. "Alright," he began "that victory over the prison sent the Powder Gangers on the run. They're corned up in Good Springs, holding the town up. I'm planning on sending about 20 men to put them down, you and that Luke kid included. Now, y'see, here's what we're going to do..."

He went on to show me a map of the town. We were taking a road in that lead through a few houses straight to the saloon and merchant shop. There was a gas station and a doctor's office, and judging by the slant of the hill there'll most likely be a sniper up in the docs office. Twenty men was a bit much, but it'll help against 30 powder gangers for sure. From Intel given, the NCR believes that the surviving hostages of the town- Who have been identified as Sunny Smiles, Doc Mitchell, and a man named Roy who just tended to the crops next to the saloon- are being kept in the saloon. Most of the Powder Gangers are spread out in the few houses around the saloon. Fresh water's already been cut off for them, and we're hoping to strike them when they were weak and thirsty. Our orders were strict; No survivors. Three days later, I was back with Luke again, a gun pointed at my head.