The Wanderer: Chapter 10
- Joules Prescott -
The wagon shuddered and rocked as it jolted its way over the ragged roadway of the western trade route. The Brahmin pulled it steadily onward, oblivious to the rugged terrain.
Joules, however, was not so oblivious to the rough ride. Wolfgang and the girl had insisted he ride in the cart on their trek from the ball field to Megaton. This, of course, had earned him the usual look of scorn from Derek. As much as he wanted to refuse, the vault dweller knew he wasn't completely healed yet, so he didn't put up much of an argument. Besides, the bumps and jolts of the wagon ride caused him enough discomfort as it was.
On the positive side, Crazy Wolfgang had loaned Joules a book to read. Tales of a Junktown Jerky Vendor was a combination history lesson of the trade industry and a how-to manual on bartering. According to the book, trading hubs were generally run by merchant guilds. Each guild elected council members to establish local laws and trade regulations. Usually a Mayor presided over the council and a Sheriff enforced the council laws. The system seemed to make the merchants who led the guilds very rich and powerful people.
Joules was just happy to have something to read again other than his Grognak comic. Acquiring knowledge made him feel closer to the Universal Truth, which in turn made him feel closer to those he left behind in the vault. Despite the hardships he had endured, Joules thought that Thetan Cruz would be very proud of all the knowledge the boy had acquired about the Wasteland and about himself over the past five days.
"Tell me about Canterbury Commons," Joules asked his travel companions after he had finished the trader's book.
"Well, the Commons, as most people call it, is just about the biggest city in the Capital Waste," Wolfgang replied. He seemed happy for the opportunity to be talking again. "Its size in population is only rivaled by Rivet City, but per capita it produces far more goods and services."
"Canterbury Commons is better than that Rivet City rust bucket in every way." Derek chimed in; the boy's tone was a mixture of political sales pitch and home-town pride. "The Commons is the mixing bowl of every race, creed, and culture that the Capital Wasteland has to offer. Art, education, industrialization – you can find it all there. Canterbury Commons is the hub of the Capital Waste. It is the seed from which we will cultivate a new society!"
"What did I tell you, vault boy," Machete added, "Derek here is the future Mayor of Canterbury Commons."
"Well I'd vote for him," Joules replied with a smile. "Is your father the Mayor now?" he asked the teenager. Joules thought maybe he should make an attempt to win Derek over if he was going to be traveling with these people.
"My Uncle," Derek replied. The light in his eyes dimmed again as his face resumed some of its usual sullen expression. "My parents were killed by raiders."
"I'm sorry..." Joules replied, not knowing what else to say. He could certainly relate to being an orphan, but he wasn't ready to share such intimate information with his new acquaintances quite yet – especially Derek.
"How many raiders are there?" Joules asked, thinking about his sore body.
"Raiders are everywhere, son," Crazy Wolfgang replied. "I been all over the Wasteland and they pop up wherever you go."
"They are lawless, ruthless anarchists who only look out for themselves," Machete added. "The only things worse than the raider scum are the Muties."
"Muties?" Joules inquired.
"You know," Derek replied, "ten foot tall, greenish-yellow, wide as the Potomac and taller than Tenpenny Tower."
Joules could see that he was going to have to read a lot more books. He had no idea what these people were talking about…
"Super Mutants," Wolfgang interjected, trying to explain things a little slower for the vault dweller. "What were once regular folks like you and me somehow get mutated into massive, muscular monstrosities!"
"Like Buffout?" Joules asked
"Like a Buffout atom bomb!" Machete replied.
"And no one knows how it happens?" Joules couldn't let go of the subject. The thought of genetically altered humanoids was both intriguing and terrifying all at the same time. It sounded like something that would have fascinated his father.
"All I know," Machete said sadly, "Is that the Muties will come and capture you and take you away to be turned into one of them…"
"Aw, that's just a story to scare children," Derek refuted, though he didn't seem to put much conviction into the assertion.
"No, it's true." Machete replied. "It happens all the time at Big Town. That's why Mungos hide their children away at Little Lamplight – to keep kids out of the hands of slavers and Muties!"
"Mungos?" Joules repeated.
"Grown-ups, adults, anyone over the age of sixteen has to leave Little Lamplight and live with the Mungos in Big Town – or where ever…" Machete replied. She seemed unsettled by the course the conversation had taken.
"No matter what," Crazy Wolfgang added, trying to diffuse the tension that was building, "if you see a Mutie, make sure he doesn't see you…"
A sullen silence fell over the group for a while. Joules mulled over all that had been said. Just when he thought the Wasteland couldn't get any weirder he learned more disturbing information. Towns full of children. People dragged off by mutated monsters. He wondered if it was possible that his mother would seek out a place such as Canterbury Commons. It was just as likely she had been dragged off by Super Mutants, eaten by cannibals, or shredded by rabid dogs! The Capital Waste was far more dangerous than he had ever imagined; who knows what catastrophe might have befallen her…
"Look there!" Wolfgang shouted, pointing off into the distance.
Joules wasn't sure how long he had been lost in his thoughts, but as he followed the merchant's finger he saw a glistening structure on the horizon.
"Welcome to Megaton, vault boy." Machete spoke his thoughts aloud. "Jewel of the South West."
As the caravan crested a dusty hill and began their final descent toward Megaton, Joules couldn't take his eyes off the sparkling structure. The late afternoon sun gleamed off the massive city walls that appeared to be fashioned from an amalgamation of aluminum, steel, and a variety of other random metallic materials. Staring up at those towering patch-work walls filled the former vault dweller with a sense of awe combined with that familiar twinge of vertigo.
Hunks of oddly shaped metal jutted above the walls at random angles supporting a series of catwalks connecting several guard towers. A figure suddenly appeared on the central tower above the city's intricate gate.
"That you, Wolfgang?"
Squinting up into the afternoon sun, Joules could just make out the silhouette of a man wearing a head wrap and goggles. The glint of a riffle barrel sparked just beneath the platform railing.
"Sure is Stockholm," Crazy Wolfgang shouted back. "You still got the sharpest eyes in the west, I see."
"I suppose so," the sniper replied, "and you still got the sharpest tongue, I suspect…"
"Everybody's got to choose their own weapon," the master trader chuckled, "and I was always best at talkin'em to death."
"Well, I'm sure the town can use some tall tales and trade goods. Let'em in Deputy Weld!" Stockholm ordered, disappearing back over the rim of the sniper tower.
High above the gate an engine roared to life as two gigantic overlapping sections that blocked the entrance began to uncross themselves, slowly rising above the city entrance with a groan of gears and hiss of hydraulics. Joules thought that the gateway doors might once have been the wings of a B-52 bomber. He also thought he had recognized other portions of what appeared to be scavenged aircraft parts as well, causing him to wonder if the town was built from the ruins of an airport.
Those thoughts, however, all disappeared as the town's "deputy" clanked into view. The ancient robotic relic that stood before the gateway to Megaton had completely captivated the vault dweller's attention. As a maintenance technician in the vault, Joules was no stranger to robotic machinery. Actually, maintaining the automatons for Stanley was his primary job description. Stanly had always told Joules that he had a real knack with robotics – a fact Joules had proven when he took the General Occupational Aptitude Test in school. The GOAT had basically sealed his fate as a robot repair man – although that seemed like a lifetime ago now that Joules stood before a functioning, century-old protectron model.
"Welcome to Megaton. Have yourself a nice visit, partner." The thickly synthesized voice emitted from a small glass dome atop the deputy's antique head.
As Crazy Wolfgang led his caravan through the gate, Joules' attention was torn between staring back at the deputy and looking ahead at the incredible town that expanded before him.
The main gate led down into the base of a steep-walled crater that encased the two-level town. Entering from the upper rim gave Joules a pretty good vantage point over the vast array of fascinating establishments – each one more uniquely crafted than the next. To his right, the aft end of an airplane sat atop an upper level house. To his left, what appeared to be portions of a blue bus were cobbled together to form a lower-level home. There was so much to look at Joules could barely absorb it all; but, the most disturbing artifact in Megaton was the atomic bomb that protruded from the center of the crater!
Too dumbstruck to ask questions, Joules merely followed behind Wolfgang as the trader tied his Brahmin to a hitching post and took a hard right up a platform to the second-level housing area.
"I've got some business to discuss with Sheriff Simms." Derek stated as they passed the home adorned with the tail end of a bomber. "I'll catch up with you this evening at Moriarty's Saloon."
Wolfgang nodded, continuing around a water-processing plant and making his way down to another magnificent structure. The establishment they now approached had a modest square base topped with the front end of a bomber. Scrawled across the nose of the plane were the words "Craterside Supply" and welded to its top were the letters S-U-P-P-L-Y like an enormous Mohawk.
"Wow," Joules whispered to Wolfgang, "That's pretty impressive."
"Thanks, son." Wolfgang replied proudly. "I scrounged those letters up for Moira myself."
"Free of charge, too," Machete noted. "And Wolfgang doesn't give those kind'a deals to just anybody…" she added with a wink.
"Well, we traders gotta stick together," the master trader responded sheepishly.
"Especially when those traders are as cute as Moira." Machete teased, she was obviously enjoying watching the merchant squirm. And, for once, the eccentric man didn't have a clever comeback. In fact, Joules thought he saw a little color reach the master trader's rugged cheeks.
Fortunately for Wolfgang, they had reached the door and he quickly entered the shop before Machete could embarrass him further.
Stepping through the door, the group was immediately bombarded by the bubbly young shop owner. The red haired, green eyed girl was a whirlwind of activity and conversation. She threw her arms around Wolfgang, causing the trader to turn even redder under the circumstances. She gave Machete a hug as well, but settled for a handshake and introduction when she came to Joules.
"Name's Moira Brown," the energetic girl exclaimed in an accent the vault dweller had never encountered before. "Inventor, author, and Wasteland entrepreneur!"
"That's quite a resume," Joules replied as he shook the girl's hand. Her excitement was certainly infectious and he could see what Crazy Wolfgang liked about her right away. She appeared to be around the same age as Joules, taller than Machete, though not as tall as the vault dweller. She wore a light blue jumpsuit with the word RobCo written across the back. The apparel made her look more like an inventor than a shop owner, but she certainly had the gift of gab.
"Well, you look fresh out of the vault, don't 'cha?" Moira exclaimed, eying Joules' Pip-Boy as she shook his hand.
The statement startled the vault dweller. Crazy Wolfgang had made him swap out his bloody Vault 101 jumpsuit for a bedraggled Wasteland outfit in an attempt to make the boy blend in and minimize questions. Yet, even though he wore long sleeves, it was hard to hide the Pip-Boy.
"Is it that obvious?" Joules asked.
"Is if you know what to look for," Moira replied, "and I've seen a few dwellers in my day don't 'cha know. Not to mention a few Pip-Boys."
Although she sounded worldly, Joules had the impression that the girl tended to over-emphasize her experience. Never-the-less, his Pip-Boy did need fixing, and he was certainly interested in any contact she had with other vault dwellers. Joules decided appealing to her ego was the best tactic.
"My Pip-Boy has been acting up now that you mention it. I sure would appreciate an expert opinion." Joules hinted. From the corner of his eye the vault dweller noticed Crazy Wolfgang give him a wink of approval. It seemed the Jerky Vendor manual had paid off.
"Well, bring it over to my workbench and let's take a look." The girl stated, excited to have a project to work on.
As Moira fidgeted with his Pip-Boy, Joules took the opportunity to gaze around her shop. He noticed a quiet man standing in the corner who appeared to be a security guard. Other than the man and the workbench, the shop was mostly cluttered with a milieu of miscellaneous items. The collection was pretty eclectic, but it was the item hanging on the wall behind the counter that caught the boy's full attention.
"That looks like a Vault 101 Jumpsuit… sort of…" Joules exclaimed, trying to point at the unusual article.
"Hold still," Moira scolded. She was delicately removing an access panel from the Pip-Boy with several tiny instruments. The jeweler's loupe she wore magnified her right eye, making her appear quite comical as she looked up from her work to see what had gotten the vault dweller so excited.
"Ah yes," she said proudly as she returned to working on the Pip-Boy. "That is an armored Vault 101 jumpsuit! I made it myself for a lady from the vault about 15 years ago, but she never returned to pick it up…"
Her words ran through him like an electrical current! Joules nearly leapt to his feet, but somehow managed to control himself to prevent disturbing Moira's work. He couldn't suppress a shudder of exhilaration, however, which earned him another scowl from the shop owner for not holding still.
The statement was too good to be true. Less than a week out of the vault and he had found someone who actually knew his mother. Proof that she had not only survived, but actually made it to Megaton, was hanging right behind Moira's counter! For a moment, Joules couldn't organize his thoughts into a coherent question.
"Did she say where she was going..?" he finally asked, his voice was barely above a whisper.
"Hmmm," Moira considered his question as she skillfully worked her way down into the electrical innards of the Pip-Boy. "She didn't mention anything to me. She was renting a room at Moriarty's as I recall – maybe he would remem – "
She stopped suddenly, leaning so close to the Pip-Boy that her monocle nearly touched the outer casing. She delicately extracted a small object from among the device's circuitry and placed it on the workbench.
"What is that?" Wolfgang asked, leaning over Moira's shoulder to get a better look.
"That little rascal is the fly in the ointment, eh?" the girl replied.
"The what?" Joules was suddenly interested in his Pip-Boy problem once again.
"You know, a monkey wrench," she answered. "It's a micro-transponder. Somehow it worked its way down to your circuit board and created a short. Must'a taken a pretty good jarring to work it down that far."
"Better question is how it got in there in the first place." Machete stated, peering around Joules to get a better look.
"And who's on the other end of the signal?" Wolfgang added.
These questions and more flooded Joules' brain threatening to short out his own circuitry. There was just too much to consider, and he didn't know where to start or what to ask anymore.
"Well," Moira said after she put the Pip-Boy back together and examined the object more closely, "no one is on the other end of the signal at the moment. Its transmitter seems to have been damaged."
They all jumped as the quiet mercenary in the corner suddenly brought the end of his rifle down hard on the workbench, smashing the transponder to dust.
"Let's keep it that way," he muttered. "Don't want any unwelcome visitors here at the shop…"
An awkward silence hung in the air for a moment until Moira finally recovered.
"Don't mind him," she grinned as the man receded back into the shadows of the store. "He's always been a little over protective."
"Well, I sure appreciate your help." Joules tentatively rose to his feet. His nerves were frazzled and his mind was still swimming in uncertainties. He reached out a shaky hand to thank Moira. "I'm afraid I don't have much to repay your kindness."
"Actually," she replied as she shook his hand, "you could do something for me." She scurried over to the counter and came back with an ugly looking stick. "I'm working on a book and could use a little help with Chapter Two, eh?"
"Uh, what kind of book..?" Joules wasn't sure how he could possibly help this girl, but he wasn't about to lose the only real link he had to his mother.
"It's a Wasteland Survival Guide. Everything a survivor in the Wasteland needs to know! It's gonna be chock full'a useful information."
"And you need my help..?" Joules still couldn't figure how he factored in to this project.
"Well, most of the pearls of wisdom are provided by yours truly," Moira responded – somehow managing not to sound conceited, "but I did want to include a section about life in a vault. If you could help me write that section and maybe help test out a few of my inventions we could call it even. Heck, I'll even throw in the armored jumpsuit too."
"I'd steer clear of that girl's crazy experiments…" the shop guard muttered from the corner.
Joules tended to agree with him, but the vault suit was a connection to his mother and he would love to have it. Besides, the baggy garb he currently wore was fine in town, but once he started wandering the Wasteland again he was going to need some kind of protective gear.
"What kind of inventions..?"
"Well, I need someone to test out my Mole Rat Repellant. Keepin' those buggers away could really make a survivor's life much easier, don't'cha know?" She held out the stick, her green eyes filled with expectation and excitement.
"Sure, I guess…" Joules took the rugged stick from her, unsure of what he was signing up for, but unable to say no to the energetic, self-styled inventor. "What do I do with it?"
"When you see a mole, just whack'em on the head." She demonstrated by whacking Wolfgang on the head with an invisible stick. "The repellent on the end of the stick should make'em run off squealing. Then, next time you're in Megaton just stop by the shop and we'll write it up in the guide book!"
Joules nodded. He wasn't sure there would be a next time, but he didn't want to disappoint the girl. He put the stick and the jumpsuit in his backpack and thanked her once again for all she had done.
For the remainder of the afternoon Wolfgang traded with the girl, Machete caught her up on all the Common's gossip, and Joules was forced to converse with an old man named Nathaniel Vargas, who had entered the shop to purchase some ammunition.
For a man in his sixties, Nathan was an animated old coot. He had a habit of flailing his arms about when he spoke, especially when he got onto a topic that excited him. And there seemed to be no topic more exciting to Nathaniel Vargas than an organization he called the Enclave.
Comprehending the old man's rantings and ravings about America, the Enclave, and the patriotic duties of all citizens who were lucky enough to live in this great nation was difficult for Joules. Being born "under America" had afforded the vault dweller little knowledge of what had become of the United States Government since The Purge.
As he listened to Nathan, Joules deduced that the Enclave was all that was left of the U.S. Government and its military forces. From what the boy was able to piece together, the President of the United States was currently running the country from an installation called Raven Rock somewhere to the North West. Joules had heard the President, Mr. John Henry Eden, giving a speech from one of the eyebots that roamed the Wasteland, so he at least knew this part of Nathan's tale to be true.
When the conversation turned to Nathan's son, Enrique, the old codger really got excited. Nathan considered it the civic duty of every member of our great nation to support the cause. As such, his son had apparently become a soldier for the Enclave several years ago, and old man Vargas couldn't have been more proud.
Despite the good information, Joules was glad when Nathan finally paid for his ammo and left the shop. The old man seemed so crazy that he made Wolfgang look like a scholar. Besides, Joules needed time to think about the implications of the bug Moira found in his Pip-Boy.
His thoughts ran rampant with all that he had discovered since receiving his mother's strange message. These last few weeks had left him feeling unsure of just about every aspect of his life. There was so much mystery surrounding his parents that it left him untethered and adrift. He felt like he couldn't rely on his instincts, his memories, or even his feelings towards Amata…
He knew all the uncertainties were making him paranoid, but it was Amata who had suggested he get his Pip-Boy serviced before escaping the vault. And she was, after all, the daughter of the man his mother told him never to trust! But she was also the oldest and dearest friend he had in the vault. Could she really betray him? Could he possibly believe that…?
Joules spent the rest of the afternoon in a sullen, pensive funk. He stayed out of the way, sitting in a corner while Wolfgang and Moira bargained with one another. The vault dweller felt detached from this strange world, adrift on his own sea of sorrow, and utterly alone…
By the time the travelers finally left Craterside Supply and headed up toward Moriarty's Saloon, Joules was emotionally and physically exhausted. The sprawling, scruffy metal establishment sat regally at the highest point of the whole Megaton crater. The trek was tiring, but the thought of eating a proper meal and sleeping in a warm bed kept the vault dweller going.
Derek was still off making the rounds with the local merchants and the people that "mattered" in Megaton. Wolfgang told the vault dweller not to worry; once Derek started politicking it was hard to get him to stop. The master trader assured Joules that Derek would eventually find his way to the saloon. Moriarty was definitely a person who mattered in Megaton, and Derek would make a point of showing him the proper political courtesies. Besides, Moriarty's had the nicest beds in town.
The vault dweller wasn't sure what he was expecting, but as they entered the dimly-lit bar it had the feel of one of the seedy dives he had occasioned in the Pleasure District. Small tables hugged the shadowy edges of the saloon, giving it the sense of a place where people went to hide from their troubles – or perhaps to cause some. Either way, the vault dweller found it strangely comforting to discover that bars weren't any different above ground than they were below.
In the far corner of the cavernous saloon Joules noticed a man who seemed oddly out of place. He wore a faded brown pinstripe suit, a stylish fedora, and shaded tortoiseshell glasses despite the dingy surroundings and lack of ambient light. For some reason Joules' instincts told him that the stranger was someone to be avoided, and the boy quickly looked away, allowing his eyes to roam the rest of the establishment.
A man seated in the dark corner opposite the odd, fedora-clad stranger didn't look much friendlier. It was hard to tell in the half light, but judging from the gray hair in his beard Joules thought this man looked to be in his mid-sixties. He was clothed in worn leather armor, and a series of scars adorned his bald head and bearded face. Despite his age, he still appeared rugged and strong, and there was something very intimidating about the way he smoked his cigarette and stared out at the patrons with a wary mixture of caution and contempt.
Wolfgang and Machete were headed toward the bar near the center of the vast room. Joules followed closely, doing his best not to appear "fresh out of the vault" as Moira had accused him of earlier. He kept his hands in his pockets and hoped the baggy Wasteland garb would conceal his Pip-Boy.
"Well look what the wind blew in..!" a red-headed girl exclaimed as she rushed over and wrapped her arms around Crazy Wolfgang in a warm embrace. The master trader sure seemed to have a way with the ladies, although Joules was guessing that most guys could have their way with this girl for the right price.
"And who might this be?" the girl asked, brushing past Machete as she noticed Joules standing slightly behind the others.
"Joules Prescott," he replied shyly, reaching out to shake the girl's hand.
"Well Joules Prescott," she said, placing her fingers delicately in his hand instead of shaking it, "you may call me Nova."
Joules held her hand for a moment, uncertain what to do with it. The girl was attractive, with freckles that matched her red hair and eyes that glistened with the hint of possibility (and perhaps a little Jet). She looked to be about Joules' age, but she seemed to possess the soul of someone much older.
Finally he shook her hand awkwardly by the fingers saying, "It's a pleasure, Nova."
"It certainly could be…" she winked. Her tone was thick with innuendo.
Machete rolled her eyes and snorted as she continued toward the bar, but Wolfgang hung back recognizing that Joules was in need of rescue.
The merchant handed her a handful of caps and kissed her gently on the cheek. "Take it easy on the boy, Super Nova," he grinned, using a nickname he had given the girl years ago. "The boy had a run-in with some Raiders and needs his rest."
"Too bad," she purred, "I could teach him some stuff he'd never forget..."
"I know darlin', that's what I'm afraid of. I need him ready to travel tomorrow."
"Well what about you, Wolfie. I think I could still teach you a trick or two…?"
"I don't doubt that, sweetheart," the master trader replied with a hearty chuckle, "but I need to be ready to travel tomorrow too!"
That actually got a laugh out of the girl as she faded off into the gloomy bar. Her laugh was as pretty as she was, and Joules felt a pang of regret as he watched her drift away. He had never been with anyone but Amata, and he had never felt as lonely as he had today…
"Come on, son," Wolfgang smirked as he slapped Joules on the back and propelled them toward the bar. "You get a Brahmin steak and a beer in you and you'll feel like a new man."
The merchant's charm was compelling, and Joules was just starting to believe him as they met up with Machete at the bar. But what the vault dweller saw behind the bar made his appetite vanish in an instant!
At the far end of the counter, banging vehemently on an ancient transistor radio, stood the most freakish human being Joules had ever seen.
The creature looked like a zombie out of one of the vault dweller's Hubris Comic books! Its gooey flesh was a mass of fissures and decay. Its cracked skin was flaking off in large patches leaving raw and discolored exposures. In some places Joules could openly see meat and muscle.
"Gob! Quit bangin' on that fuckin' radio!" the leather-clad man with the scars growled from his corner table. "You know it don't work."
Mumbling a response under its breath, the creature ceased its assault on the radio and turned back toward the bar. It seemed to notice new customers at the counter and began making its way toward them with a hunched, decrepit shuffle.
The beast's face was the most grotesque thing Joules had ever witnessed. Although a thin patch of hair still clung to its hideous head, its lips and eyelids had melted into mush. Its nose and ears had rotted off as well, leaving few features to cover its skeletal face.
As it approached the three travelers, Joules subconsciously took a step back from the counter.
"What's the matter," the thing asked in a gravelly male's voice, "never saw a ghoul before?"
Just because he had grown up in a vault didn't mean that Joules was a stranger to human tragedy. He had seen all manner of industrial accidents. He had witnessed workers crushed by machinery, seen several severely burned by fire, even saw a person accidentally splashed in the face with acid. But all of those victims combined would not have looked as startling as the creature that stood before him now.
"Uh… n-not this close." The vault dweller stammered, unable to look the necrotic humanoid in its milky eyes.
"Gob," Wolfgang said, coming to the floundering boy's rescue once again, "meet Joules – my newest caravan member. I'm teaching him the ways of a master trader."
"N-nice to meet you, Gob," Joules added, trying to blend in as a Wastelander. The boy couldn't help thinking that blending would be a hell of a lot easier if his travel companions would warn him about things like this.
"Well now. That's a surprise!" the creature barked. Joules couldn't be certain, but he thought he saw the man-like thing attempt to form a smile with his lipless mouth. "I'm used to every asshole smoothskin in this town giving me shit just because I look like a corpse."
"How 'bout you bring us some beers and Brahmin steaks, Gob. We'll be sitting over there." Wolfgang said, pointing to a small, out-of-the-way booth. He was obviously growing uneasy with all the attention. "And ask Moriarty if he would join us for a bit."
"You sure?" Gob looked about nervously, then leaned in close over the bar counter. "Moriarty's been especially nasty lately…"
"Just tell him, Gob." Wolfgang replied, tossing a handful of caps on the counter and leading the group to their booth.
"Try not to look so terrified, vault boy," machete teased him as they took their seats. She had a wicked grin on her pixie face. "You look like you saw a ghost…"
"I think I just did." Joules whispered. "What the hell is that thing?"
"That thing," Wolfgang said, "is what happened to some of the folks that weren't lucky enough to be tucked into a vault before the whole damn world took a radiation bath."
Joules sensed he hit upon a touchy subject with the merchant. It was clear that Crazy Wolfgang was the type to embrace all the children of the world. Hell, the man had certainly saved the vault dweller more times than Joules could count. The boy was about to tell him as much when a big man approached carrying two fistfuls of beer mugs.
"Well I'll be damned, if it isn't the craziest of all possible Wolfgangs." The big man roared in a booming brogue. He was a tall, strapping man with a full head of shoulder-length light grey hair and a bushy goatee. He wore a short-sleeved white shirt and a sleeveless leather cut that reminded Joules of some of the gangs in the vault. The tattoos on his muscular arms bulged as he set the beer on the table and took a seat.
"Colin Moriarty, at your service!" The man reached out his left hand, forcing Joules to extend his left hand as well. The vault dweller was certain that Moriarty noticed his Pip-Boy as they shook hands, but the man didn't mention it. Instead he said, "Welcome to Moriarty's! My saloon, my home, my little slice of heaven in this backwoods burg."
"It's a marvelous place you have here, Mr. Moriarty." Joules responded awkwardly.
"Please, call me Colin." The handsome man's smile was reflected in his light blue eyes and made Joules feel like he was genuinely glad to meet him. In fact, Colin Moriarty was the first Wastelander Joules met that could out-charm Wolfgang. Yet, underneath all that friendly charisma, the boy could sense a dangerous undercurrent that threatened to drag you under if you weren't careful.
"Now," he said, turning back toward Wolfgang and taking a big swig from his beer mug, "to what do I owe this pleasure?"
"My companion here is on a bit of a quest." Wolfgang explained casually taking a pull from his own beer mug.
"I see." Colin tugged at his goatee as he sized up Joules. "Well he is a long way from the vault, so it must be quite a quest."
"I'm searching for my mother," Joules exclaimed. He didn't see any reason to play coy now that the cards were on the table. "I was told you may know where she was headed."
"I own a saloon, kid. Rumors are part and parcel."
"She may have passed through here about fifteen years ago." Joules tried to keep his voice steady. The boy knew he wasn't negotiating very well; Wolfgang had already shot him a disappointed look. "Rumor is that she stayed here awhile..?"
Moriarty kept quiet, taking another deep drink of his beer as he considered the conversation. Like Wolfgang, Colin's father had been a master trader. And like his old man, Moriarty was a shrewd businessman in his own right. In the post-War world, everything had a price – especially information. The trick was in setting a price that was reasonable for both parties.
"Fifteen years is a long time ago." Colin finally stated as he stroked his beard again. "I'd have to pour through some of my old records to see if I could scrounge up anything. Could take a while…"
"Is there a way we could speed up the process?" Wolfgang asked. Joules knew the haggling had begun, and Wolfgang and Moriarty seemed like very formidable opponents.
"A couple hundred caps could probably jog my memory."
A couple hundred caps! Joules was struck by the casual nature in which the saloon owner made the proposition. Joules had found about forty caps under the caved-in overpass, and even if he hocked everything he owned he probably still could only come up with about a hundred caps – one fifty at most!
Wolfgang put a reassuring hand on the boys thigh in an attempt to keep him calm enough not to blow the whole negotiation. Bartering was more about body language than it was about words, and Joules was squirming like a rat in a trap.
"Hmm," Wolfgang mused, and for a moment it seemed as if he was actually considering paying the outrageous price. "That sounds like a lot of caps for a little clue. I was thinking fifty seemed like a fair price for you to point him in the right direction."
"Like I said, I'd be happy to dig around in the archives," Colin replied amiably. "For fifty caps I could probably have a destination for you in a couple days."
"How much for you to recollect the destination right here and now?" Wolfgang pressed. Joules sensed the two were narrowing in on an agreement, but it was going to cost the boy everything to buy the answer.
"Well, I do recall a lovely lady from Vault 101 pass through here a while back – probably was about fifteen years I'd guess." Moriarty was really laying it on thick now, but he was one hell of a convincing actor. "I could probably recall her itinerary for one hundred caps…"
Wolfgang glanced over toward Machete, then toward Joules as he considered the latest offer. Finally he looked back at Moriarty and held out his hand. "Throw in a room for the night and you've got a deal."
"Done!" The big man roared as he sealed the deal with a vigorous handshake.
Colin leaned forward, speaking in a hushed, conspiratorial voice as he honored his part of the bargain. "Your mom wasn't here too long, boy. She was real nervous and seemed to want to put a little more distance between her and that vault. She wasn't real keen on talking about herself. Never really said why she left the vault or why she needed to go – although I do remember her mentioning something about finding a place to continue some research or something…"
The large saloon owner paused for a moment as his mind seemed to drift back into the past. "She was friendly. Folks round here were fascinated by her – we don't get many vault dwellers, especially not from 101. I think all the attention made her even more nervous… Anyway, she heard a DJ named Three Dog come over Gob's radio back when it used to pick up the signal. He was always talking about fighting the good fight and shit like that. So one day she settled her tab with me and said goodbye. When I asked her where she was headed she said she had to meet the man on the radio. So, if you're determined to follow in her footsteps, I guess the place you're looking for is Galaxy News Radio…"
There was a long silence at the table once Moriarty had finished his tale. Finally the big man polished off his beer, then slapped his hands down loudly on the table as he rose. "Damn it was good doing business with you, Wolfgang. Folks round here just don't know how to haggle like they used to."
Joules watched the fascinating man stride back toward the bar a moment, then turned to Wolfgang. "That was a great deal you negotiated, but I can't come close to paying you back."
"Aw, take it easy, son." Wolfgang smiled slyly. "You know I like to acquire those rare and hard to find items. I really would like to add that bonafide, grade-A, antique Vault 101 BB gun to my Traveling Depot of Detritus. How about you give me the relic and we call it all even."
Joules smiled back at the man. Giving up the gun that his father had gifted him wouldn't be easy, but the vault dweller was extremely relieved to keep what little inventory he had acquired so far. Besides, if it meant finding his mother, it would be worth it!