Note: Since the people who've been reading the story will likely never visit the first page again, I'll be adding little notes like this one on new chapters that I write. First off, sorry to those who've been reading this for taking such a while to write. I've got a lot of stuff on my plate. Second, please comment! Whether it's bad or good, I'd deeply appreciate it. = ) Thanks a lot guys. Enjoy.
Mojave Wasteland
September 7th 12:26 AM.
2264
When it was time, the townsfolk who'd been well acquainted with Rem all convened where he was going to leave, which was from Joey's stables. Jasmine and Mike were there, and so was Barbara and Maggy. Brandon had come, too, and Joey was in the process of bringing Louise out of the stall while everyone was helping him with preparations. Rem was knelt down on the floor, packing his father's armor into a bag while Maggy stared at him from the background, not really doing anything. Nothing aside from thinking, at least. When Joey brought the horse out and tied her to a post, he approached the others. "Well kid, the town's helpin' ya out with supplies. Food enough for five days an' water enough for . . . who knows? Hopefully almost a week, since Louise is gonna have tah get a drink every once in a while, too. We also packed some apples, peanuts, hay, and some of them sugar cubes Jasmine makes. Should be enough. Yew can let her eat some grasses along the way if yew see any."
As Rem finished packing, he stood up and nodded a few times. "Awright." After that, he carried his bag towards the horse and, with Joey's help, tied it on. Brandon brought up the second bag, the one with the food supplies, and tied it on as well. "Got something else for you," Rem heard. It was Michael. When he glanced at the adult man who'd been so helpful to him during his stay, he was holding out a gun. It was the same beat up Beretta M9 he'd seen Mike working on earlier that day. "It's got fifteen shots in the clip. Use them wisely, or not at all." Rem glanced up at him and even though he felt a bit of shame in taking it, he couldn't help but do it. He took it into his hand and holstered it on his hip, because he'd put on the belt strap with the holster even though he didn't have a gun. It fit well enough. "Thanks Mike. Sure gonna feel easier with this." Mike nodded and patted his head, ruffling his hair a bit before glancing in the direction that Rem's eyes trailed off to. Barbara had her hands crossed under her breasts and Maggy was just standing there, beside her, just watching.
With a breath, he began walking towards the two of them. "Well, I guess this is goodbye, ma'am. Thanks for everythang." As he spoke, he looked from one to the other. When his eyes settled on Maggy, he smiled, "Yew too, Maggeh. Thanks." He began leaning in, almost hesitantly, like he was worried she might reject him for leaving so suddenly, but she leaned in as well and the two of them hugged. She wanted to kiss him, but her mother's presence suppressed the impulse. It was such a bittersweet sensation when his arms unfurled from her, and she watched him as he went and hugged her mother, too. Barbara squeezed him tightly and gave him some advice, "Come back if it gets bad out there. Just make sure safety is your first priority." He didn't answer, so she let go and looked down at his face. "Okay?" Rem's blue eyes stared up at her and he nodded after a while, "Yes ma'am."
Turning away, he began walking towards the horse, and his stay suddenly felt short lived. Well, perhaps not short lived, but like there were still things he should have done before leaving. Before the feeling could be allowed to fester and grow into something he didn't need, he thought about the task at hand and vanquished everything else by doing so. Joey's eyes were angled down at him, "Yew ready, kid?" Rem nodded assertively and turned around again, speaking with a high tone of voice so everyone could hear him. "Thanks everyone, I really appreciate everythang ya'll done fer me." Michael answered, "Come back and see us sometime, alright?" When Maggy heard that, she felt a pang of warmth in her chest, glad that someone had said what she'd wanted to say the entire time. "I will," Rem answered. Of course he'd be back some time, if at least to see his father's grave. Then he turned around, untied the highwayman's hitch that Joey had worked into the pole to keep the horse there, and mounted. Louise paced a bit and turned to her right as he seated himself comfortably. "Wish me luck, everyone." His eyes drifted from one of them to the rest of them. "Good luck, kid," said Michael. Joey nodded his head once, Brandon smiled, and so did Barbara and Maggie.
"Hyah," he said, kicking the sides of the horse with his calves. Louise began trotting towards the opening of the gate and when he exited, he waved his hand around for everyone behind him to see. "Bye Remy!" Maggie yelled. As he rode into the distance, he smiled at the sound of her voice, and when he was a good ways away, Maggie looked at the others, realizing that they were all just kind of . . . dissipating. Brandon had gone his own way and so had Michael. Joey went on towards the stables and Barbara, eventually, pulled at her shoulders to come along as well. "I'll meet you at home, mom," she said. Barbara gave her a glance. That knowing glance. Maggie looked up at her and Barbara smiled. Her daughter had a crush, and while that was cute, she knew it was harmless, because they both just lived far, far too away from each other. She didn't have the heart to break it to her little sweetheart, however. "Okay," she answered, and started walking away in her own direction, thinking about how her daughter was growing up so fast.
Once everyone had just fanned out, Maggie walked up to the wooden pen and climbed up on it, sitting on the top pole, just glancing out towards Rem's back. She could still see him there in the distance, and her eyes didn't move away, didn't even blink, until he sunk beyond the reach of her eyes. She tried to look harder when it happened, but when she saw nothing, her lips curled downward into a frown. She set her elbows on her thighs and her chin on her hands then, just staring at the direction he'd disappeared to, thinking about how it felt like he was still within reach. Somehow, she even felt like she could talk to him and he'd be able to hear it. Could he? If she yelled at the top of her lungs, would he hear her? Probably. Before she worked up the stupidity to try, she got off the pen and started walking away, looking down towards the floor as she did. It was hard for her to think that just like that, he was gone.
As he traveled along, he kept remembering what it was like to travel with his father. He'd always been told that a trot and canter combination was perfectly fit for traveling, but he needed to go a long, long distance in one day and he needed for the horse to preserve energy, because if they ended up being chased by some wasteland predator, sustaining a gallop for a long way was important. No way he wanted to end up being crisped by a fire gecko. Or, in a worst case scenario, he didn't need to be stalked by a Deathclaw. He'd been told stories from Desert Rangers who'd encountered the large, lanky creatures about how they had all the patience in the world to slowly and deliberately stalk prey throughout fairly long distances, and from what he knew, a horse could only sustain a full gallop for around a mile and a half. His father had done it before. And a Deathclaw would just be . . . a horrible thing to encounter right about now. Or any time, rather, but worse now because he didn't have the know-how of his father to help him stay safe.
Somewhere along his path, however, he found just the right opportunity to momentarily forsake everything he was worried about and realize how much nicer traveling was when he was riding a horse. It hit him quite suddenly, too. His head tilted back ever so slightly and his eyes opened up a little wider as well. Then he just looked around at everything, glancing deeply in every direction and then watching closely in his immediate area, watching things pass him by. "Atta girl," he uttered. It came naturally so it wasn't until after that he realized it was something his father used to say to his horse as well. Back then he didn't pay it much mind but now that he was riding a horse through the wasteland himself, he understood it. He was building up his own customary habits of staying in control, of keeping her calm. It helped him stay calm, too.
The minutes turned to hours very quickly for him. When nightfall started to descend upon the Mojave wasteland, he began looking for places to set up camp. There were actually plenty of them to choose from but it wasn't as easy as simply picking one and going right on in. He had to do some scouting. He had to really stand by on the horse and survey a locale for a long few minutes as closely as possible to ascertain that there wasn't anybody already there, sleeping or . . . waiting. After he did that, he kicked the horse gently with his calves and spoke, "That place there looks fine, Louise." She began walking in the direction of one of the many pre war buildings that hadn't withstood the test of bombs and time, and as they grew closer, he drew his 9mm Beretta and kept ready to fire. Upon arrival, he did more scouting on horse back, and once it felt safe, he dismounted and tied Louise down to a sturdy pipe that was portruding from one of the walls. "I'll be back, Louise," he said, as he ventured into the establishment and did some further investigation.
This wasn't the first time he'd gone into a place like this. He'd gone into many with his father, and the one thing he was always told to worry about was traps. So when he tread inside, not only did he hold his Beretta in his hand at the ready, he kept himself low, quieted his footsteps, and looked at the ground and ceiling very, very closely. Everything seemed safe enough as he looked through the rooms one by one, closing doors half way behind him just as an obstruction for anything that might follow him inside. It looked like whatever had been here, of worth at least, had already been looted, and nobody had left anything else behind. When he arrived at the final room to survey he closed in carefully and as he looked closely, he saw something very thin spanning the length of the door frame. "Shit," he whispered, as he lowered down to take a closer look. It was a trip wire, through and through, and it was actually very surprising. Probably because usually, it was his father who located them, and he just stayed on the sidelines, but this time, it was his problem and his problem alone.
SIlently, he asked himself what it was connected to. In times before, it'd been many things. Grenade bouqets and even swinging support beams but this time, he found that it was a fire extinguisher. He'd seen this before many times, and just like all those times, he was sure the tank was filled with something more explosive than originaly intended by its pre war fabricators. The next action came instinctively because he'd seen his father do it so many times before, but he was still terrified. The line needed to be cut without putting pressure on it. Without pulling at whatever it was rigged to, but all he had was a knife. So . . . he was going to have to cut the line, back and forth, very delicately, until the wire fell apart, and he started doing just that. With one hand, he grabbed the wire to keep it in place and with the other, he began pushing the blade back and forth, careful not to get greedy about how much he cut with each stroke. Yew can cut back and forth a thousand times if ya have to, Rem, he told himself. Then suddenly, the rope broke into two, and he listened ever so intently, eyes moving from one side to the other. Nothing.
When he stood up and holstered his knife just beside his right ankle, under his pants, he wondered . . . Wait a minute, why didn't I just leave it be? The reason why people trapped rooms like this was usually because there was loot to be had. So with that, he stepped right in, still careful, fully aware that there could still be mines. The cabinets and the desk that were out to be seen immediately wasn't what he was looking for, no. He was looking for something hidden under the desk, tucked behind the cabinets, something of that nature, and eventually, he found what any seasoned scavenger would be looking for. There was a foot locker tucked behind two cabinets. After examining carefully for traps, he pushed one out of the way and dragged the foot locker out with a loud, metallic drag. "What ya got?" he whispered as he undid the fasteners and pushed it open. "Woah . . . " he said in utter bewilderment. What lay in front of him was a lever action rifle, of all things. The iron from which it was made was black. Light didn't reflect off of it enough to cause problems out in the field, and the dark walnut stock it'd been outfitted with didn't betray the stealthy intent of its fabrication. Immediately, he sat himself down with his legs crossed and began examining the weapon.
First, he was interested in the types of bullets it fired, and that much was easy to find out because there was a buttstock cartridge holder slung over the walnut stock, loaded. The rounds were enormous. Bigger than the 44 magnum that his father's Marlin fired, and they were flat nosed. He didn't even want to think about what a round like that could do to a person's head. The next hing he tested was the lever action, and whether or not it was smooth. It wasn't, by any means, likely because it'd been here for a long, long time. The next thing he checked was the barrel itself, and how clean it was. Looked like there were a ton of debris in there that needed purging. Furthermore, it was a little difficult to push bullets into the loading chamber. "Piece o' shit," he uttered. "Wonder why they'd go through so much to hide this thang." He came close to just dropping it back into the foot locker when he hesitated, thinking about what his father would have done. He would have taken it with him and fixed it, so he decided to do the same.
Louise neighed calmly when he emerged from the establishment. Looked like nothing was wrong, so he began gathering materials for a fire, which he wasn't all too keen on doing. Where there's a fire, there's smoke, and smoke could lead problems straight to you. But then again, horses, though not typically used for detection, were actually very useful in that sense. They got uneasy when something was approaching. So he decided to go through with it, and started a fire eventually. Once the fire was burning and once Louise was eating some hay, he began setting his bed up next to the fire, because the desert could be very, very cold once the sun went down. While he ate, he glanced up to the sky and took a good, long look at it. There were few stars, here and there, which he'd been taught to use to navigate. His eyes dragged down from the sky to the direction he was headed, glancing at the stars, and continued chewing. I'll git home soon, mah, he assured himself, and threw what was left of his food away to lie down and try to get some sleep. Surprisingly, sleep came in and swept him off into the land of dreams quicker than he'd expected it to. Traveling was tiring.
While he was asleep, he heard some alien shifting that eventually caused him to wake up. A large pair of lips flapped as Louise raspberried, and then she paced to one side and then the next. Rem's eyes opened slowly, calmly, "What is it, Louise?" he asked with a groggy voice, hoisting himself up from his sleeping bag. He paced towards her and as he did, he looked outward into the distance. It was still dark and the moon was hanging in the skies to the east, shining its pale luminescence onto the Mojave. "Nothin's there," he comforted, glancing at Louise's face as he rubbed the side of her cheek. Then he turned back to look and every muscle in his body froze. A chill crawled up his spine and caused him to shudder. There in the distance, on top of a sand hill with the moon in the backdrop, stood a jostling figure shadowed over by the moonshine. It was tall, hunched forward, and it had long, long arms with fingers tipped by an impressive quintet of claws. He responded to it in utter silence, with thoughts, with dread, and no words at all as he inwardly scrambled over what he should do.
It moved after a while, but much to his surprise, it wasn't in his direction. It moved away from him, back down the sand hill on the other side, and he stood absolutely stupified for a moment before he heard his father's voice yelling in his head. Move it! He turned away and jogged to the fire and began picking up some of his belongings. Among them, the rifle, and he hastily threw the stuff into the larger bags that Louise had tied onto her body. After that, he threw his foot over the stirrup and hoisted himself up, throwing his leg over Louise's back. When he was firmly sitting, he grabbed the reins and tugged to his right gently, kicking Louise's sides to get her to hurry without making a sound. After that, he whipped the reins and kicked her sides, and she immediately began moving. The sounds of her horseshoes caused him to wince and look back to the sand hill. For a few moments, there was nothing, but then he heard some scratching. The scratching started to sound like thuds in the sand, but when that enormous creature erupted from behind that sand hill with its arms held out to its sides, with its claws open wide, and its horns pointed right at them, his eyes widened and he yelled, now aware that it had been the sound of its feet carrying it in his direction. "Hyah!" He kicked Louise's sides roughly and she erupted into a gallop while he lifted his rear off the saddle. Louise picked up speed while Rem's perception slowed, and the idea that he had never gone into a full gallop didn't even register.
We're too slow, he realized. There was no way they'd be at full speed quickly enough to get away so without a second thought, his right hand reached down to his side and wrapped around the gun, fitting his fingers over it and yanking it out straight to the Deathclaw getting closer, and pulled the trigger recklessly. He paid little mind to the way the gun flared red in the darkness of night, but noticed, in full clarity, how little those bullets achieved. They pierced the outer hide from what he could tell, but were entirely suffocated by the sheer thickness, the sheer toughness, of the Deathclaw's muscle underneath, and it wasn't stopping. That was when he started yelling loudly in fear. "Run Louise! Go! Go!" All the while, he kept pulling the trigger, barely managing to aim during Louise's gallop when suddenly, the rhythm with which she rose and lowered aligned the barrel with the Deathclaw's mouth. Rem pulled the trigger at just that moment and he heard the Deathclaw release a loud, ferocious growl of pain. His eyes flinched but when they reopened, he watched as the creature slowed. Louise continued running and as the distance between them grew, he lowered the gun and turned to look straight ahead. His mouth was open as he breathed and his eyes were just as wide. I got away. Holy shit, I got away. He turned back to see and when the Deathclaw was still in the distance, no longer running, he felt great relief.
He held the gallop on for over a mile, and even though he was able to see that Louise was not tired, he gently tugged back the reins and sat himself firmly into the saddle, "Woah woah, girl." His lowered energy caused her to come to a walking stop after a while. As Louise continued along, the boy turned over his shoulder and took a long glance backward, and again, there was nothing, but the encounter had left him with a paranoia that likely would not be leaving him any time soon. "Jeez . . . " he uttered, only realizing a second or two later why Louise was such a good name for a horse. "Jeez Louise," he added, shaking his head while his lips stretched into a smile. "That was close wudn't it?" Rem's hand reached out and patted one side of her neck. She neighed in return and continued pacing with her head held high. "But we're safe now," and again, he turned to look over his shoulder. "I don't think that thang will come lookin' fer us." He knew that in some cases, Deathclaws did, but he got the indication that after being shot in the mouth, it wouldn't have the enthusiasm for it.
"Louise," he said, looking around as they continued. Thoughts about how in this time of night they still needed to stop and get some sleep had already crept into his brain. "This time, no way we're stayin' in the outside. It ain't safe if it's just one person." He remembered when he and his father had a horse during their travels, they'd each switch up on guard duty. The first few nights he remembered being whacked in the face for almost falling asleep as well. It was harsh, but it taught him the importance of standing guard. "That looks like a good place," his face lifted and his chin gestured in the direction that he meant. Louise couldn't see the motion but that mattered very little to him. It was the companionship of it that did.
He managed to find a place that was acceptable after another hour of traveling, and it was a good thing because with the cold night air chewing at his cheeks and the tip of his nose, he grew less and less vigilant. However, when he got off of Louise and looked upon the establishment he'd found, he knew that regardless of how tired he was, he needed to make sure it was clear. "Okay Louise," he said, "You wait here." His voice was gentler than before, reflecting his fatigue with every word. He tied Louise to a thick, sturdy, wooden pole and thereafter, he drew out the Beretta and ventured into the establishment. The front door was made out of iron. It was withered, but it was still sturdy, and it took some strength to push it open. As it dragged open it made an annoying metallic noise that caused him to wince and stop, listening to see if it had alerted anything or anybody inside. While he waited, he considered that maybe sometimes, it was best not to use the front door. Especially when it was as noisy as this. Luckily enough, he heard nothing, and stepped inside.
It was dark. The only source of light was the moon outside, giving way in through a window and the door he'd just come through. Don't look like nobody's here, he thought, keeping the gun up and glancing around. Then, after a few moments, he came across a familiar contraption. A light switch connected to two wires that led to a fission battery, and a lamp. His slow, cautious steps led him to it and he flipped the switch. The bulb pulsed to life, brightening the room and showing him what there was. There was more than this room, but the hallway that led into the next area was enclosed by plywood. One of the windows also was covered by some pieces of wood, and otherwise, there were no unwanted openings. It was perfect.
Louise neighed nervously as she was led inside, but thankfully, she didn't lose control. "Easy Louise, easy," he comforted until she was inside. "It aint different from the stalls," he added, once he was tying her to a wooden post inside the wall, behind the broken drywall. After he closed the door behind them and locked it, he felt his paranoia slip fluidly away. "Now we can sleep." His eyes went small as he paced towards Louise and fed her water and hay. He didn't take anything for himself because at the time, he was much more interested in sleep than anything, and after he realized that he hadn't had the time to grab his sleeping bag when that Deathclaw caught them, he picked out a desk, laid his blanket on it, and lied down to sleep. The hard surface of the desk was bothersome but with the amount of fatigue he had, it didn't matter, because he fell asleep quicker than Louise finished eating her hay.
The sun's light crept out of its hiding place and shined its light through small openings in the window that was covered with plywood. Eventually, one of those rays landed squarely on his face, and brought the sleeping boy to life. His eyes opened and with the light immediately pestering him, he sneered and turned away, sitting up to see Louise standing there, staring at him. "Mornin'," he said, turning his face to look around everywhere else. He yawned and stood up off the desk, savoring the warmth that he'd created in his blankets, and that was when he felt raspiness in his nose. He'd caught a cold, and it could only get worse from here. That's what happens when you don't make a fire, but in the position he was in, he thought the trade off of being safe for getting sick was worth it. After a morning breakfast for both he and Louise, they were off again, cantering into the distance, only thinking about what could have happened with that Deathclaw last night.
Rem's journey lasted three days and nights when at some point in time during that fateful early morning, he began thinking about his father and the fact that he was gone, and the fact that things were going to change. He wondered what his mother's reaction was going to be, and averted the thoughts when he pictured her sobbing. He took in a deep, painful breath and released it, coughing immediately afterwards, and when he looked ahead again, he saw it. He saw Ranger Center's gates slowly coming into focus, built like the outer gates of a prison. Inside of those gates, the Center itself sat, same as it had been when he last saw it. Its walls were constructed entirely of cement and the ground within the gates, also, was entirely made of the same thing. There were five towers lining the outer gates as well, each with a sentry on guard duty equipped with some variant of sniper rifle.
I'm here, momma, he thought to himself. After reaching a certain distance from the front gates, he saw a red laser lining the ground, following him along. That was the cue for him to reach into one of the bags as he tugged the reins, causing Louise to slow. When his fingers felt what he was looking for, they grasped and dragged it out, holding it high over his head right afterwards. The sniper used the scope to view the object and when he saw the Desert Ranger helmet, he lowered his gun. This boy was one of them. The front gates opened afterwards and Rem stared solemnly ahead as he was approached by a Desert Ranger in full armor. There was a revolver on his right hip. "You alone?" The male, mechanical voice resonated to him as Rem dismounted and turned to look up at the green visors squarely, "Yes sir. I was with mah father, Remington Peregrine. He was killed. My mother stays here in the Center." Instantly, the Desert Ranger reached an understanding of what the situation was, and was joined shortly after by others who weren't dressed in armor. All of them, however, were armed.
Questions ensued and afterwards, Louise was taken elsewhere to be watched over and as for Rem, one of the other Rangers who had approached led him to where his mother would be. He walked the cement ground all the way to Ranger Center, which looked much, much larger up close than it did when he first laid eyes upon it a few minutes ago. Inside, the walls were sleek and the ground was made out of tile. For those who lived there, it was customary, but everyone was always aware of the fact that there was no other place, that any Desert Ranger had seen at least, that had facilities that looked as flawless as the ones at Ranger Center. "She's in weapons development," the man commented. The Ranger wore a brown hat and the stubble on his light skin made him look rugged. His brown eyes were somehow indicative of his strength, and the shaven head only added to his intimidation value.
When their steps stopped, they were each standing in front of a large double door, and on the other side, they could each hear sounds. All of it was machinery, and the sound got louder when the man pushed the door open and looked inside. There were lots of workers there, all operating machineries, crafting rifles, shotguns, ammunition, all sorts of things that Desert Rangers used. Rem dragged his eyes around the area and just when he thought he was going to have to walk in to look for his mother, he saw a woman with cropped, short blonde hair and focused blue eyes. She was caught up with work when, by chance entirely, she took a glance to the entrance to the factory and saw her son. The fact that her husband wasn't standing beside him terrified her.
The glance that ensued between them was telling. Rem's eyes began to water and so did his mother's. The understanding of it dawned on her fluidly, affecting her eyes first and then causing her mouth to contort. Then her eyebrows did, too. It all happened just like Rem imagined it would. "Mah," he said. The distance between them was enough so that she could hear his voice. Barely, but she could hear it. "Dad's gone," he said, lamenting. The regret in his tone of voice was what finally caused her to break down. The rest of the people there took a glance, pausing as the woman walked to her son and enveloped him with her arms.
