And there it was; the signature and unmistakable form of Dinky the Dinosaur jutting up from its more rural, but still secluded surroundings. It towered above them, the faded green paint chipped away until it showed almost brown, and, all considered, it was surprisingly well kept. The dinosaur statue was in full view as the railroad connected to the highway and took them past the town of Novac.
The Courier couldn't help but admire the statue in its surviving state. For that fact, she was always a bit awestruck whenever she saw something pre-war that was still intact. Perhaps living in the Capital had conditioned her into thinking the whole world was in ruins, - which for the most part, it was - but traveling across the country, she had encountered a few surviving relics of the old world. Little things like Dinky the Dinosaur brought a touch of civility to the Wastes.
She found herself just as amused as the first time, when she glanced to the sign that hung just outside the main town; once reading, 'No vacancy', but due to the broken and missing letters, now read, 'Novac'.
They walked past Novac without stopping in and as they pasted Dinky, the daytime sniper, Manny, called out to the Courier from the mouth of the tall Dinosaur tower, which doubled as a sniper's nest. "Hey there!"
The Courier looked up to the towering dinosaur, squinting to see through the sun before catching sight of him through the glare, "Hi, Manny!" She engaged in the superficial conversation, but still let her feet carry her away. "What's up? How's Boone?"
"Same old, same old." Manny replied casually, "Boone left a while back. He didn't say why, just left."
The Courier felt a little twinge of worry, and hoped he was alright. Her mind drifted briefly back to ex-soldier and night-time sniper, Boone, saying he wouldn't stay in Novac for long. That he might even go out hunting Legion. She hoped he could find some resemblance of peace or closer in his travels. That guy had been through hell and he didn't deserve to have things get worse.
Manny continued, shouting down from the dinosaurs' mouth, "Hey, did you find that guy you were looking for?"
"No, no, I haven't found him yet. I'm getting there though." She waved as they continued away, "See you around!"
They trailed past Dinky and walked further down the road, before Carson asked, "You know the Novac snipers?"
"I stopped into Novac a few weeks ago and met them right off. Manny helped me out with something, and then I helped Boone with a… problem of his." She glanced to Carson fleetingly, "Do you know them?"
"Not personally, but I know who they are. Boone always seemed like the…" He trailed off, looking for the right words, "quiet and dangerous type. Guess that's what comes from being an ex-soldier. What'd you help him with?"
"Just… you know, marksmanship. I helped set up targets for him, stuff like that." She hesitated to explain that the targets were live.
A cold feeling of disgust creeping into her core as her mind darted back to Jeannie May Crawford. Out of all the people she could have suspected of being a revolting excuse for a human being, she never would have thought it was Jeannie May, the little old granny that ran the Dino Dee-lite Motel. She seemed so nice and friendly, which made it all the more dumbfounding when the Courier found that bill of sale.
The Courier had done some horrible things in her life, most of which she was not at all proud of, but she just couldn't grasp why someone would do something like Jeannie May did to Boone's wife. She could understand doing awful things that you'd prefer not to do, - sometimes that's just survival - but selling an innocent, pregnant woman into slavery? What's the point in that? What was so crucial to Jeannie May's survival, that she had to resort to that? It's… unfathomable!
Someone like that was too dangerous and, frankly, too sick to be kept alive. That's exactly why the Courier felt an overwhelming sense of justice when Jeannie May's head exploded into a mist of red and a flurry of brain-matter from Boone's shot. The Courier hoped she'd rot in hell.
"Mmm," Carson pondered, "I wouldn't be sure that he wouldn't take my head off."
"Actually, Manny was the one that seemed a bit slippery to me." She remembered back to Manny's countenance quickly morphing from a casual, nice guy to something that rang 'con artist' to her, as soon as he knew she needed his help. But he gave her the information she needed - after she did something for him, of course.
For once, she'd love to ask for something and not be answered with a 'Sure, but get this for me first' or 'Kill this guy for me, then I'll help you'. She always seemed to be someone's delivery-boy, and everything had a catch - which usually meant a danger to her health or well being.
Even her own father, after she spent weeks and weeks risking her life to find him, he barely gave her a, 'I'm glad to see you', then he was asking her to find something for him. All she wanted to do was hug him and say, 'Oh my God, I'm so happy you're not dead!', but was instead told that the greater good took precedence and that she had to help him. For once, she didn't want to help the greater good.
It made it all the more ironic when she was nearly killed, while being an actual delivery-boy. She could almost laugh at the insanity of it. Some things never change.
"Well, in you're case, I suppose. He looked like kind of a 'player' to me." Carson shrugged, "Perspective, I guess."
The Courier turned on New Vegas Radio as soon as it was in range. Listening to the dull music that gained volume and clarity the closer they got to its source; New Vegas. Carson didn't seem to mind, and even seemed to like it. At least, that's what she assumed when he paced his steps to fall with the tempo of the music. She had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes.
Helen Forrest's voice quieted on the radio waves and Mr. New Vegas' harsh, yet suave tone spoke.
The Courier's ears perked up when she heard him speak of a particular news report, "A package courier found shot in the head near Goodsprings has reportedly regained consciousness and has made a full recovery. Now that is a delivery service you can count on."
She couldn't refrain from letting a half smile form over her lips. Carson looked to her with amusement in his eyes and his lips forming a question, but before his words could escape, Mr. New Vegas continued with another news broadcast, "A hostage crisis between the NCR and the Great Khans was resolved peacefully when a third party negotiator successfully secured the hostages' release."
Her face must have read 'guilty' because Carson looked to her, asking without saying a word.
Her smile widened guiltily. "Yeah, that was me."
The lights of New Vegas showed in the distance, lighting up the surrounding Wastes in the darkness. The Lucky 38 casino towering high and proud, illuminated in a collection of various colors, making it even easier to spot for miles around. A sort of pinnacle in the Mohave Wasteland.
They walked until the sun was nearly gone from the sky and set up camp a few hundred yards up the road from the 188 Trading Post, next to a Hoover Dam billboard. She thought the billboard would be good cover, also, their camp wouldn't be too noticeable and it'd be a good wind blocker.
Carson built a fire quickly; using an Energy Cell, some brush, wood, and a knife; while she settled onto the ground, using the billboard for support. The fire was flickering hot and bright and she glanced over to Carson to see him positioning an Iguana on a stick over the fire.
Suddenly, an eating, sick feeling, which was previously ignored, gnawed a little more intensely in her stomach as her hunger demanded attention. She glanced to her bag, which had been laid in the dirt next to her and she knew she couldn't ignore the sick feeling and the minor lightheadedness any longer.
She reached into her bag and pulled out her last Crunchy Mutfruit, looking at it momentarily before she took a bite and savored the taste and the relief of it. Eating it quickly, she began to notice the colors of the fire, and everything else, were starting to look a little brighter and a bit clearer, and the voice of Dean Martin, singing of his love life, sounded a little nicer.
Feeling her senses returning to their full capacity, she found her curiosity budding inside her, "How long have you been in the Mohave?"
"All my life." Carson replied, without looking from what he was doing, "I haven't had any reason to leave. The Mohave has always had plenty to keep me busy."
Mr. New Vegas sounded loudly over the radio as the song ended, "Several unidentified aircraft were spotted flying over the REPCONN Test Site by a local crackpot. He spoke to a toy bear near one of our microphones." A harsh, elderly sounding voice started over the radio, ""It's ghouls, I tell you. Religious ghouls in rockets, looking for a land to call their own. Don't you laugh at me! I know a spell that'll make you show your true form! A cave rat taught it to me.""
Carson sighed a laugh and shook his head. "Cave rats... Careful everyone, we're dealing with a bad-ass here. Don't startle him, he might put a hex on a teddy bear." He joked. Seeming content with the Iguana's place over the fire, he leaned back before continuing, "You never get bored around here."
"Well," She wondered if she should say anything at all, "normally, I'd agree that the guy's a nut job, - which he probably is in every other case - but he's actually right this time."
Her worries were confirmed when he looked at her like she was crazy, "What?"
Great. He thought she was a nut job.
"Those 'religious ghouls' are real, and they did fly three rockets out of the REPCONN Test Site."
"You know this, how?" He asked hesitantly.
"I was there. I actually helped them launch their rockets. Now, I'm not on board with their little, 'search for the land of milk and honey' expedition, but that's what they wanted, so whatever." She shrugged.
He looked at her oddly, with his eyebrows furrowed and hesitant confusion in his eyes. "Why'd you help them?"
"Long story, but basically I needed to clear REPCONN of all the feral ghouls. So instead of going on a killing spree, I just made a deal with the head ghoul, Jason Bright," She chuckled internally as she remember the irony of the 'Glowing One's' last name being 'Bright', "that he'd take care of the feral ghouls, if I cleared out the Nightkins and helped set up the rockets. He did his part, so I helped launch them."
He looked at her oddly, before shaking his head and looked back to the fire. She thought she heard him whisper a patronizing, "Okay", under his breath. Changing the subject, Carson asked, "You said you were new in town. Where're you from?"
"The Capital Wasteland." She felt a bit like Three-Dog the way she said it, "Washington DC."
"All the way over on the east coast?" He seemed intrigued, "Wow, you're a long way from home. How did you get clear over here?"
"Decided I needed some new scenery. So I took up job, and when that one was done, I took up another, and so on. Pretty soon, I had traveled clear to the Mohave." She explained, "My most recent one was at the Mohave Express. They offered me a job as a courier, for a good deal of caps. So I took it."
"And that led to your little confrontation, in… Goodsprings, was it?"
"Yeah."
He tipped his head, "Not your best career choice."
She nodded bitterly, "I'd agree with that."
"So, I have to ask. How does the Mohave compare to the Capital?"
She thought for a moment, "Well, it's a toss up. The Capital's climate is nicer, but the air is cleaner here; there are more natural supplies here, but the Capital has more shelter. And the people seemed nicer in the Capital."
"Well, the people in the city are pretty devious, but most of these country towns are nice enough. A couple of the drifters aren't bad either."
She smiled. "The thing I miss most about DC, would be the radio. I'd love to hear a little bit of Galaxy News Radio again."
"Why's that?"
"Well, first off, the music was great - Mr. New Vegas isn't bad either, but he's only a substitute against GNR. And also, the host, Three Dog, was a good guy. He helped me out a lot."
"So you're always this popular?"
"Well, I wasn't as anonymous when Three Dog talked about me." She laughed, "I always seem to attract a strange array of nicknames. In the Capital, I was called The Lone Wanderer, or 101, or The Kid. Now, here, I'm mostly The Courier."
"The Lone Wanderer..." he mused, "That sounds pretty smooth." She simply nodded. After a moment of silence, he spoke up again, "So, Lone, what's the story with the guy who shot you?"
She smiled and sighed a chuckle at the mention of her former name. Strangely, it made her feel more at home. "I don't know, honestly. But I'm going to find out."
"Is that why you're going to New Vegas?"
"Yep. After I left Goodsprings, I headed to Primm and asked around, then I went to Novac - which is where I met Manny and Boone - and from there, I went to Boulder City - where I helped the NCR release the hostages - and they directed me to New Vegas."
"So then how did you end up in the middle of no where?"
"I couldn't pass the credit check in New Vegas and I could afford a counterfeit passport." And the Securitrons were too strong. Standing in front of the gates of New Vegas, she actually took a second to size up all the robots guarding it, but decided that there was too many. "So I asked around, got a job - which, let's just say, wasn't good for my health or limbs - for about 300 caps. It still wasn't enough, but it was a start. So, lucky for me, there was this lady in some rundown store, who was impressed by my survive ethic, and she hired me for a job. Problem is, she gave me an incomplete map, which failed to mention a serious Radscorpion hotspot."
"Scorpion Gulch?" He asked, knowingly.
"Yep."
Carson shook his head and chuckled bitterly, "Been there. I didn't think it was possible for so many to be in one place."
"Yeah, and then you don't even know how many there are, or what the place is, until you're half way through. And by then, you can't turn back, because there's too many right behind you."
"Exactly. But Flamethrowers work well for those kind of occasions."
She scoffed, "At a distance, maybe."
He raised an eyebrow and looked at her oddly out of the corner of his eye, but didn't say anything else.
Lone starred out across the Wastes. The lights of New Vegas shining in the distance, a small fire burning and crackling in front of her, and Bing Crosby singing faintly. Benny wasn't far away now, and she knew the peace wouldn't last for long.
DISCLAIMER: I own everything except the characters and story-lines found in the Fallout universe.
A/N: The chapter title is This Ain't My First Rodeo by Vern Gosdin. Again, the only relation it has to this chapter is the title and maybe the chorus.
Lots of dialogue and a bit of back-story here. I hope the timeline makes more sense now.