Author's Note: Hey guys! I've re-written/edited some of the earlier chapters. Definitely worth a look. Anyways, this chapter did NOT turn out like I wanted. Sometimes I wonder if the characters have pens of their own. Thanks for reading guys. Reviews are greatly appreciated!
A few days later, Arria was practically skipping on her way to Nipton. After she had counted her caps, she had decided to take the woman's advice to ask for work, despite every fiber of her being screaming to continue on her way. It took hardly any time to take care of ranger Jackson's work and inform Meyers of his new position as sheriff. All that was needed from her now was to check out Nipton for Ghost, which was right where she was headed anyways.
The road was horribly cracked and littered with rusted shells of vehicles, scorched and empty like the Mojave. Instead of weaving around them like a drunk, she jumped the ones she could and climbed the others. She was in such high spirits that she didn't care that she was probably wasting valuable energy. It also kept her mind from wondering to more dangerous parts of her psyche. As she scrambled to the top of a bus, she glanced at her Pipboy. Still a way to go. She flipped off the roof and landed gracefully on her feet, grinning.
Everything physical was coming back to her quicker than her mental faculties. She was beginning to need only one shot with radscorpions, and her feet were more sure and confident. She didn't have to think about aiming anymore, and her lightness of foot surprised even Ghost. Even her eyesight became sharper. She just felt all around stronger.
However, as her physical capabilities flooded back, she became more and more convinced that she must have been in a profession more dangerous than a simple courier. She found herself subconsciously categorizing people by threat level whenever she walked into a room. Even when she was in discussion with someone, her senses would be taking stock of what everyone else was doing. She even started sensing people before they walked into a room, or having some sense of what someone was going to say before they opened their mouth. It was a bit unnerving. The only time it seemed to be considered void was when a memory forcibly took over her senses.
When she cleared the cars, she began to watch further out on the horizon. Some horrible thing was bound to take the place of the last batch of cleared out mutated insects on this stretch of road. Whether it was going to happen sooner rather than later was hard to guess. Better safe than sorry.
Sure enough, just as the sun cleared the distant mountains and she had to curve with the road, a sandstorm kicked up, and giant ants could be seen hulking around. She took care of any that came near without a change in direction or delay. She fought the urge to go further in and taking care of the rest, arguing only that she already had a mission.
The only time she did stop was to survey a group of Jackals that had camped out in a run-down building about half way to Nipton. The only viable option was to kill if they attacked. She didn't want to sneak by them on the way to Nipton then have to deal with them on her way back. So, she kept walking. Fifteen minutes later, she had looted their bodies and left them there to rot.
By the time Arria actually made it within view of Nipton, something inside her was screaming for her to turn around and forget it. Every step she took closer became a struggle. Her heart thumped so loudly in her chest she was sure who ever was in town could hear her coming. She balled up her fists and forced herself to move. She had a mission, goddamn it! Her stomach churned uneasily at the smell of burning flesh and rubber, in spite of her bravado.
As she came up to the entrance to the burning town, she stopped dead in her tracks. Crimson red flags adorned with rearing bulls flapped in the wind proclaiming, she could only assume, Legion. At least, that's what the people of Goodsprings had told her when she had asked for info. The flags seemed to slow down before her eyes and almost travel back in time. The edges of her vision turned yellow, almost the same color of a vintage picture.
Suddenly, someone grabbed her up and spun her around. "Yeah! WHO WON THE LOTTERY!? I DID!"
She struck his collar-bone hard enough to splinter it, and he let her go. The man was still smiling, though. She grabbed her 10mm and aimed for his right eye.
"Smell that air. Couldn't you just drink it like booze?" he exclaimed, giggling manically.
She narrowed her eyes. "Are you a little touched in the head? I could have killed you!" He stood in front of her, breathing deeply and looking around appreciatively. "Are you ok?"
"Are you kidding me? Never felt better!" She lowered her gun, eyeing him apprehensively. He wore the unmistakable garb of a Powder Ganger.
"What lottery did you win?" He looked at her as if she were an idiot. What was with people and looking at her weird?
"What lottery?" he repeated incredulously. "The lottery! Are you stupid? Only lottery that matters. Oh my God smell that air!"
She didn't know what he was talking about. The air hung with the smell of death, with a hint of carnage. He ran off to celebrate before she could say anything else. She lifted her gun again and aimed for the middle of his retreating back. Easy target, a voice hissed in her head. Take the shot. Her finger tightened on the trigger. He called you stupid. She shook her head, and holstered her gun. There was no use wasting her ammo. He'd get his.
She moved slowly forward, forcing one foot in front of the other. She stopped when she reached the first man hanging from a cross. Momentarily, he was replaced by a woman hanging limply. Her long brown hair flowed gently in the wind while blood and tears rolled slowly down her face; her lips cracked from dehydration. Arria blinked and the woman began to disappear. As the woman faded from her vision, it dawned on her that she didn't want to be on the ground anymore. Quickly she scrambled onto the roof of the closest buildings. She jumped from roof to roof until she was as close as she could get to the Town Hall. She pulled a pair of binoculars out from her pack and brought them slowly to her eyes, dreading what she would see.
Fires burned bright below, littered with bones and sizzling flesh. Two dogs fought over a femur, while men in red watched on. Another group centered around a man who wore the head of a dog and sunglasses. She focused on his face, drawn in by his high cheek bones and thin lips. Something familiar blossomed deep within her stomach, but she shook it off. He seemed to be giving a speech, the sound of his voice reaching her ears, just not the words. His men smirked with righteous pride. All around them was desolation. They sure knew how to ruin a town.
Suddenly, dog-headed-man raised his hands and all his men cheered. He looked over them, his lips quirked up in a devilish grin. He did a double take as he looked in her direction, and she hid quickly, her heart a drum in her chest. Her breaths came in quick succession until she grew dizzy. The most unsettling feeling of familiarity flooded through her again. She shook it off, not willing to deal with it yet. She fought the urge to take another look, her blood singing in her veins.
After a few minutes, she heard them stomp their way out of the town, jeering at the men hanging from posts. The sound of shattering windows and breaking wood were the last things she heard from the infamous legion. She didn't know how long she sat there before she picked up on the faintest sound of scratching. It seemed to be getting closer. Suddenly, dog ears appeared over the top of the ledge farthest from her. She stared in disbelief, and she quickly un-holstered her gun. Dog ears were followed by sunglasses until finally dog-headed-man stood before her.
He lowered his sunglasses as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. His clear, blue eyes swept over her, leaving her paralyzed. Confusing feelings swam inside her. They stared at each other until he kneeled down in front of her and held out a hand.
"I won't hurt you," he whispered, his voice a call to her primal side. His eyes softened, and he smiled at her. Her stomach tightened nervously, and her pulse picked up.
"Who are you?" she panted. Her vision glitched back to a previous time, momentarily giving her a glimpse of a younger version of him. Both images looked distraught. He quickly recovered himself, and stood back up. She inhaled quickly as pain surged through her head. Suddenly, she knew. Oh god did she know. "Vulpes," she gasped.
"What happened to you?" he asked, coming back down to her level. His hands reached for her face, turning it so he could see her bullet scar. His touch was soft and his skin so very warm. She jerked from his grasp and shot up to give herself some space. Was this what hyperventilating felt like? Was she going to pass out? She felt dizzy again. "Easy, Arria. Take it easy," he crooned, as he put his hands on her shoulders. She flinched under his touch.
"I can't do this," she whispered as she vaulted over the edge, running as soon as she hit the ground. Vaguely, she registered that he was calling her name, but she kept running.
