I know when I start sending the first of these bottles out people 'll sell their shoes to get their hands on 'em. No one will be able to resist a whiskey done like they did pre-war. Might find a bottle or two in some rubble here and there but you mainly get the worst of it, all the good whiskey pre-war is mostly gone I suspect due to the desire for a fine drink in the moments before the bombs. Still run across a skeleton now and then just resting on a table with an empty bottle of their finest still in hand. I've my dad to thank for it all, teaching me from a young age the art. He never was a big thinker, keeping it between him and his friends, always told him he should sell it at the saloons. I suppose he was too busy drinking and surviving to think that far ahead. Now that there's some relative peace in these parts, if you could call it that, I think the time is right. I feel the people of these wasted lands need a fine drink. No, they deserve a fine drink.
A fair amount of my thought was thrown around in the hours that melted by, about the whiskey, the plans I had. We'd been walking all day now; our bearings were back about us, some of the way seeming more familiar. He seemed rather enthused with the idea and promised to set me up with some of his connections in New Vegas. Although I feigned appreciation I couldn't help but wonder whether his connections in New Vegas would be as thrilled to discuss business as he was.
The night was coming on and we needed a decent structure to put up in. Don't want to be caught in the open out here; all sorts of warped beast inhabit these foothills, the worst of them at night. There wasn't much in the area besides the occasional ruined structure, the frightening sounds of powder gangers and unknown bands coming from most of them filled the distance between us. Taken with drink and busy with whores they wouldn't notice us so far off, but I'd be a fool to get any closer. I couldn't help but wonder if my drink would end up as the fuel for the kind of parties these that could be heard this far off, I hope so.
In the distance we noticed an opening in the cliff side, a cave could make for a decent camp, out of the way, hidden, yet so often filled with vile inhabitants. We decided to take our chances and headed toward the opening. It was routine for anyone living in these parts, the stealth and recon required to check out the vital things like shelter. Tip-toeing through the entrance I poked my head around the corner, the heavy breathing and smell of fresh kill alerted me to the presence of some unknown beasts.
I decided it best to simply spook them out if possible, our kidnapper left us a pistol but I didn't find any spare ammo. Best we try and conserve the few bullets we have. I started a small fire just outside the entrance with my knife and some flint. David helped to gather some branches and dead vegetation in an attempt to craft a makeshift torch. It wasn't long before the torch was ready but night had fully fallen on us now, it was this or hitting the road in the pitch black. I turned to David and gave him a nod.
"Alright im gunna clear 'em out. Get ready to dodge some pissed of son's o' bitches."
"You got this man, aint nothin' to it. Show those bitches what's up."
David always seemed to have a way with words. I dashed into the cave firing a shot from the pistol while swinging the torch as wildly as I could. The torch lit up the cave revealing its inhabitants, a couple canines it would seem. Startled they dashed toward me, sticking the torch in their faces was enough to stop them in their tracks. A few singed whiskers seemed to be enough to turn their deep growls to howls, yelps, and whimpers. I thought it best to chase them around for a bit making sure they knew this was a place to fear.
David spoke up after a long bout of silence; he'd been hanging back through the ordeal, never much for a fighter. His talents were musical in nature, I didn't mind. I do the heavy lifting and he teaches me some tunes, nothin' like a sweet melody to bring in the ladies. That kind of instruction is priceless in these parts, especially from a legend like David.
We lit a fire in an empty barrel nearby, reveling in our victory. David threw me the harmonica, another trinket our pro kidnapper failed to find, always a treat to end the day with some tunes around the fire. It wasn't long before I was playing away at his instruction, wait 'till the ladies see me now!
