There were many things in the wastes waiting to kill the unwary traveler. Raiders, Super Mutants, Yao Guai just to name a few. All of them hunters, all of them waiting to kill and eat whatever they came across. And not necessarily in that order. Some Raiders liked their meals still moving. Or took off hunks while it was cooking.
But of all the threats and dangers that anyone could encounter out in the wasteland, the wasteland itself was the harshest and most dangerous of all. Radiation, starvation, dehydration, heat stroke were just a few of them that could be named. But the wasteland had many more threats to offer than just those obstacles. Those everyday facts. The wind, which could sometimes be a warm breeze that cooled the collected sweat on a person's forehead could easily become a windstorm. And it was more than just moving air in these storms. Dust and small pieces of debris constantly threatened to blind a traveler, or to leave lacerations that the smallest of which could easily nick something vital.
This was a lesson firmly round into Clover and the Wanderer as they continued to press north. At first, the woman had thought her master would find somewhere for them to la low, to wait out the storm. Another small piece of metal scraped across the hand she was holding protectively in front of her face as she forced her feet forward. It was as if the stinging pain in her hand was punishment for thinking she could predict her master's plans and thoughts. She frowned at the erroneous thought and quickly pushed it aside. She glanced up at the ever forward moving form of her master, listening to his own curses. She enviously looked at the full suit that covered his arms. Her own were going to be battered hunks of meat at this rate.
She almost wished they'd stopped at that power station a little ways behind them. Even if it had only provided a little bit of cover, it still would have been cover. The woman ground her teeth together as another piece of debris flew at her, slicing open her forearm. It was only with a soft hiss of pain that she bore the laceration and kept trudging forward behind her Master. Confusion rolled over her as surely as the wind when she felt the iron grip of his fingers encase the hand that wasn't providing a poor shield against the elements. The strong tug that brought her along as he changed direction baffled her even more. She wanted more than anything else to call up to him, just to hear his voice, but life in the wasteland had taught her that would be a very poor idea indeed. If something small enough and sharp enough managed to make it into her mouth it would likely cut the insides of her throat to shreds and she'd be no better than dead.
"I would never leave you behind while you still breathe."
She struggled to keep up with the almost frantic pace that her master set for them, doggedly forcing her feet to continue moving forward by his will and not her own.
Soon enough though, Clover felt relief flood through her at the sight of a pylon tower just ahead and what appeared to be walls around the base. She fought back the grin that threatened to come to her features. They weren't in the last leg of the race just yet, but the shelter would be a welcome relief. Only a few more moments of slugging through the whipping wind and they were at last in the makeshift shelter, which really only consisted of three walls of dubious construct and fastening, a shelf against one of the walls, a pair of beds, and a table. Clover didn't fail to notice the old, dark blood stains on one of the rattling walls. She glanced over at her master as he dropped on one of the beds and ripped off his helmet with labored pants.
Dropping at his side, she moved to rest on his shoulder armor as she patted his back while he coughed. It didn't matter how much the bare skin of her palm hurt each time she slapped against the hard armored plates. It was her job to take care of him and any of his needs. A ghost of a smile pulled at the corners of her lips as she remembered that she wouldn't receive any unwanted attention after helping him through his coughing fit. She didn't fail to notice the excess of dust inside of the mask as she glanced down at it. Had he really been forcing them forward with all of that choking him?
"Get some rest," her Master wheezed after a few more wracking coughs. "We're moving out in two hours, regardless of the storm. And make sure you clean up your arms and that wound on your head. You'll be useless if you take septic." He pulled a bottle of purified water from one of the pouches on his belt and took a mouthful, only to swirl it around and spit it out. She stared at him when he presented the water towards her and nodded. She poured some of the water across the slices on her arms and attempted to scrub at them with amateur fingers when her master sighed at her side.
When she looked questioningly over to him, he shook his head and moved to her side. She stared at him in confusion as he took the task of cleaning her wounds on himself. Why was he taking care of her? It was her job to take care of him, not the other way around. The woman however bit her lower lip gently to keep herself from questioning him. He didn't want his property to be too damaged after all, she reasoned and she was no medic. Her medical knowledge was infantile in comparison to his from what she'd seen. She knew that stimpaks healed and caused wounds to seal after some time, and med-x made physical and emotional pain go away for a time. And she had to admit, a small part of herself enjoyed the attention he was giving her immensely. It was as his hands moved to the wound on her head, checking the bandages he'd wrapped around the grazing bullet wound and changing them that she managed to look into his icy blue eyes.
A shudder trailed up her spine as those glacial pits shifted from looking at her wounds to meet her gaze. With shaking hands she reached up to gently begin trailing her fingers along his scalp.
"You saved me," she said softly and she fought back a sniffle that threatened to make itself known. Pressure built behind her eyes and tears that would not fall burned, causing her to look through a watery haze at her master. His expression, as always, was as blank and unreadable as a river stone. "Twice... You could have just killed Tenpenny and Burke, but you saved me instead. And then pushed me out of the way when-"
"Enough."
Her mouth snapped shut with an audible click of teeth and she quickly looked away. Shame burned inside of her throat. She was being weak, she was being weak and making her master angry. Her eyes did not lift to look at him as he continued taking care of the bandage on her head, and no more words passed between them. After he was finished she continued to stare at his feet, and breathed her thanks in a soft voice. As he sat on the bed next to her and took what remained of the purified water to split between them, Clover frowned as he began to speak.
"Do you want to know what one of my first lessons was when I... came topside?" he asked slowly, not looking at her. She trailed her eyes to his hands as he began measuring out the water between two bottles. He never spoke to her of that time. All of their conversations were focused on whatever present situation they found themselves in, or what they were about to go into. But speaking of the past...? This was... different. At her questioning acknowledgement, he continued and handed her one of the bottles of water. "It was this; if you want to live, you have to fight. When you have something you want to keep you have to fight for it. When there is something you want, you have to fight for it. If you're not willing to fight, you will have nothing and die."
"But-" she stopped suddenly, realizing she was about to question him. He simply motioned for her to go on, and she mentally berated herself for again confusing her current master with her former. "But what if you lose when you fight?"
"You will die," he said without hesitation and locked his icy stare on her, a slight lift to his brow. "But if you never fight, you will never win. If you never win, you will always lose. If you always lose, you will not live. But if you fight and win, you will live." He shrugged softly and took a small sip from his own water before patting her on the head and bade her to go to sleep. After a moment more of staring in question at the man, she took her own sip and did as he ordered, quickly slipping off to oblivion.
The Wanderer rested his chin against his fist as he watched Clover's breathing even out. They had both learned to sleep in the combat armor they wore some time ago, and he was finally beginning to learn to live with the cramping that followed in the morning. The Wanderer took a long breath through his scratchy throat and stared down at the mask. After this little venture was over, he was going to have to figure out how to set up some sort of filtration system on that damn thing. He should probably make her something as well in events like this.
His thoughts trailed off at that, and he began to think about the slave. What she had said was... troublesome. He had risked his own life over her twice in less than as many hours. And what for? What purpose did she truly serve?
She can take a bullet for you, came that hiss in the back of his mind. A deep frown crossed the Wanderer's face as the thought crossed his mind. He didn't like the prospect of being without Clover and it was surprising when he actually devoted some thought to it. The thought was displeasing. If she were to die, he'd be... alone again. His frown deepened and he lay back on the bed as the realization blossomed fully in his mind. He'd grown accustomed to her. Just like Dogmeat before her. The knowledge offered him no comfort and as much as he felt discontent over the understanding... he wasn't willing to cut her loose. With a gentle sigh he set an alarm on his PIPboy and lay back on the bed next to Clover. He cast one last gaze at the back of her head before letting his eyes slide closed, one of his pistols gripped in hand.
What a charmed life it is up here, dad.
Jose tightened the bandanna covering the lower half of his face as he and his men moved out. The storm had finally lifted a bit and they were back in pursuit of their quarry. Ling was up ahead, moving with the easy grace of a predator while the rest of them moved at a steady jog. It had taken them a bit to pick up the trail, but once the twins found it- Jose was actually surprised at just how close they'd been to Fort Bannister and would mention to Jabsco about increasing security once this was over- Ling had begun to follow it like a dog who'd caught the scent of a bleeding molerat. He tightened his grip on his Chinese Assault rifle with a deep frown plastered across his features.
He was seriously beginning to re-evaluate the threat this supposed kid posed. From throwing Darius to creeping close enough to Bannister that he could have dropped several of their patrols...
The Latino shook his head quickly and frowned. No, I won't think like that. We have this bastard on the run, not the other way around. And I saw him when we ambushed him. He was thrown for a loop. We caught him off guard and when push came to shove, he ran away. Kid's a human just like the rest of us.
Pushing forward with his men, he stopped slowed down only long enough to retrieve his canteen from his side. The rest took up the same motion at the leaders movement. All of them, except Ling. Jose cocked a suspicious eye on the Asian man, who refused to slow his pace and continued pushing himself forward despite the sweltering sun that glared above them now and again through the blanket of dirt and dust devils. Mike and Mark were walking closer together than their usual pattern when hunting down a bounty. He hadn't gotten the twins evaluation on the situation but from the way the two were acting, it seemed as if they agreed with Darius; the kid was dangerous. Jose curled his lip behind his bandanna. These guys were too easily spooked! Everyone they hunted was dangerous. This kid just happened to have a little bit of luck on his side.
Fingers grabbed at the bandanna and pulled it down long enough to suck in a fresh breath of air before it went straight back over his mouth. He was not going to let this slow him down!
Ling suddenly stopping however, did cause Jose to miss a step. Making his way up to the side of their recon specialist, he followed the quiet man's unwavering gaze. Up ahead, there was a small shack built around the base of a pylon. He held up a hand to the rest of the group and shouldered his rifle, drawing careful sights on the single entryway. This would normally be the part where he sent Darius forward to make sure the small area was empty- or would be- with the sheer clearing power of his combat shotgun. He hesitated though. Darius, for all his bulk, had been walked right over by their target. After rolling his tongue around in his mouth for a moment, he said over the wind that was still blowing.
"Ling, you got this?" He could hardly believe the words even as they left his mouth. But before he could even begin to rethink his decision, the man was moving. Like some hellish creature he was up and over the wall making Jose shake his head.
"Wow, starting to finally let the man do his thing boss?" one of the twins said from Jose's right side. From his other side the speaker's brother scoffed.
"Or he just doesn't want to get in the way of him doing his thing."
Glaring to his left, he shook his head at the mischievously grinning member of his team before focusing back on the entrance. He didn't have to wait long for Ling to reemerge, shaking his head as he did so. He was clutching something in one hand however. Upon closer inspection when the man returned, it was bloody bandages. A frown graced Jose's face. He didn't recall hitting the guy... but he did remember Mark's shot grazing his broad.
"Looks like reports aren't entirely correct, boys," he finally said after a moment, watching as Ling began to look for the trail again. "I don't think that loopy slave he keeps with him is as expendable as everyone else seems to think. Our target has a confirmed knowledge of medicine and was likely treating her."
"So what you're saying," Mark began with a smile before Mike finished with a bemused expression.
"Is that he has a weakness?"
The Wanderer glanced over his shoulder as they walked, hand instinctively dropping to one of the pistols holstered at his side. He had a sudden sinking feeling as they continued making their way northward. A feeling he didn't like in the slightest. And it was a word that it took a dark whisper at the edge of his consciousness for him to realize.
We're being herded.
A deep frown covered his features from behind his mask, even as the sun beat down upon him. He shot a glance over at Clover who was uneasily handling his infiltrator rifle. He hoped she was a quick study... with their hunters- or shepherds it seemed- they couldn't afford any mistakes. Any late reactions.
A/N: And here we are, chapter 10. Feeling pretty good about the way this is going so far. Seems our beloved anti-heroes are becoming a little closer. Next chapter will FINALLY have them reach Fort Constantine and their trackers won't be too far behind. Love it, hate it, want to throw it in a shredder? Let me know and drop a review.