The clinic is where Arthur spends most of his days. There are many things that are lacking in the world these days, like common human decency and clean water.. but one thing the wastes arent short on is casualties. As he looks at the latest victim of life in the wastes, he cant imagine how he is still able to breathe. The wasteland truly breeds some tough men.
Chance, his daughter said. This was this man's name. As soon as Jule said that he saved her life, Arthur knew that he would do whatever he could to make sure this Chance would survive. Examining the body, he counted three bullet wounds in his abdomen. One was perilously close to a lung, but was off by a fraction of an inch. Jule had removed the other two bullets out on the field, and she did a good job, though the flesh around the wounds have grown puss-filled and stank of mortification. She didnt risk removing the third bullet, as it was too close to the lung. A combat knife would have done more harm than good in that situation.
This man's injuries were not solely on his abdomen, though. Both of his arms were shot, but those were only fleshwounds. His daugher had taken care of those injuries. The biggest danger is from the infection caused by the bullet holes in his gut.
He took his surgical knife and started on his work.
This man, he thought. This man has been through a lot. He could see it from the scars that covered his body. Slashes, bullet wounds, punctures and lacerations. This man has had many close encounters with death, yet he always managed to survive. And judging from the amount of ordinance he packed, Arthur removed a rifle, two different kinds of pistols, a small, sawed-off shot gun, and a sub machine gun from his body, he was well prepared for life out there in the wastes. he would have to get the whole story from his daughter as soon as he was finished with this.
A while later, he wasnt sure how long.. was it an hour or two minutes? He put the .55 calibre bullet that was lodged in the man's body in a pan of water. It promptly turned the water red. He stitched up the wounds and injected him with antibiotics. Rare stuff, here in the wastes, but he felt that this man deserved it. He wanted him to survive. He wanted to talk.
Chance, this guy's name was. How fortuitous.
The modified cargo container that served as his operating room is as sterile as a room can get in the wasteland. But far from being germ-free, there was always a risk of infection. There was nothing else he could to but trust in the man's will to live. He wasnt really worried as he pushed aside the heavy plastic curtain with his shoulder and slid aside the screen door with his elbow. His hands were covered with blood.
He stepped out onto the sunlight, where his daugher was waiting.
There she stood, with her hands on her waist, smiling that sly little smile of hers, like she knows something you dont. Her Jet black hair tied in a pony tail down to her waist. Her skin, fairer than anybody's should be out here in the wastes. She was the spiting image of her mother. All he had contributed to her anatomy was her sharp green eyes and slightly flat nose. "How is he?" she asked as she followed him over to the wash area.
"We've both done all we can. The rest is up to him." He gives her a reassuring smile. "I think hell be fine though. I shot him full of antibiotics." He looks at his daughter in the eye then changes the subject.
"I imagine you have a story to tell." He walks into the open wash area. "can you get that for me?"
Jule turns on the faucet and water came flowing out. Plumbing had been Bart's obsession this year. He had scoured the yard with the twins, Dorkas and Browmer, collecting pipes, pumps, and other oddfangled accoutrements for his water pump. Before the plumbing, they got their water from an old water tower a few minutes walk away from the main building of the Detroid compund. They stored them in barrels and boiled them. It might not have been purified water, but it was good enough to live off of.
With Bart's innovation, the water came to them.. He had scattered four water stations across the compund, and now has it in his head to fit their outhouses with something called "flushing toilets." Some of his obsessions are more attainable than others.
"The two bastards who were supposed to get me to Rivet City and back decided to extend their stay in the rusty old tub." Jule said as her father washed his hands. She watched the red water go round and round and disappear into the drain. she would have to ask Bart where the water went. Later.
"They said they were'nt getting payed, so they might as well take it easy there. I nearly got kicked out of the boat by the guards because of the ruckus I caused when I heard that."
During her tirade, a young boy came up to her and told her about Mr. Rust. He said that if anybody could get her home, it would be him. "He's staying at our place, Mr. Rust is. It's the inn upstairs. He's probably sleeping. He likes his sleep. He looks really cool, for a wastelander. But not as cool as another guy I met a while back. He has a lot of guns though, and he tells me some scary stories from time to time."
The young boy brought her to Mr. Rust, who was sitting at a bar, asking a Mr. Handy robot to tell him a joke.
"Detroit?" he said as soon as she finished asking him for his help. "You mean to say that the miracle doctor's place is still standing? Last I heard, that place was raider bait."
"It's still around," she answered. "My father is the miracle doctor you are talking about. And it would be a huge favor if you could help me out, because we need these supplies pretty badly."
"I dont do favors," he had answered.
"He will pay you.. you will have to haggle with him for price, though. I dont have much caps with me. you can have what i do have though, consider it a down payment." She dumps the contents of her cap pouch in front of him. He counted less than fifty. "Please, help."
He scrunched up his face and looked from the pile of caps to the girl in front of her. Prettier than most, he thought. Not sure if she's worth dying for, though. He looked at the kid standing beside her. "What do you think, kid? Should I play the good samaritan?"
"Yeah! This is a cake walk compared to that time you were ambushed by talking deathclaws in the middle of the night! I wish I could come, but my cousin wont let me," the boy answered. Fine, he thought. Its about time I got moving anyway. He pushed some of the caps toward the Robot on the other side of the bar. "Get me and the pretty lady some drinks."