Damnation
1
In the distance, in front of rocky mountains with sharp points, the top of a church roof grazed Ryder's vision, this is where his thoughts relentlessly took him for the weeks spent inside the Lucky 38, alone, with Yes Man as synthetic companionship.
Today seemed normal enough for the post-apocalypse. He'd either sit in this casino, or go out and drink in the Vegas sights. He'd stay up late and sleep in, with only Securitron's to hold conversation with. They said nothing but stock responses. He wanted to tell himself it was better than nothing, but didn't believe it really was.
The sound of a rolling wheel behind him. He didn't turn. "Something come up, Yes Man?"
"I'm afraid so. It requires… human input. And uh… well, you should just hear for yourself."
Yes Man's claw came around into view. In its grip was his pip-boy. Ryder gave Yes Man a look before taking it. On the little screen was a list of radio signals (the Sierra Madre one had disappeared) the only one worth looking into was one labelled:
Happy Trails Expedition Broadcast
Ryder looked at Yes Man. "So?"
"Just have a listen, Ryder, I'll tell you after."
Ryder complied and played the signal.
"Howdy. My name is Jed Masterson, and I'm a caravan boss for the Happy Trails Caravan Company. If you're hearing this, I have a job offer for you…"
The man's friendly voice trailed on. He was looking for guards, prospectors, couriers and the like. Ryder didn't find the message too interesting, until the man said the following.
"Happy Trails is organising an expedition north into Utah, where we will set up shop in the province of New Canaan. Everyone needs a buddy to watch their backs, so bring a partner and find me, Jed Masterson, at the Northern Passage if you're interested. Luck to you."
"I take it you don't want me to go on a holiday," Ryder said once the voice went silent.
"We're running low on the old food supply, and one of our trade routes north has been destroyed by a pack of what I presume to be Deathclaws. If we want to last longer than a few months, we'll need supply from the north."
"I'll think about it, okay Man?"
"Sure thing," said Yes Man.
If Ryder's luck was anything to look back to, he would no doubt meet his father if he took this caravan to Utah. Ryder did not want to meet his father, not after all this time. But there were other things that made him consider the trip. Things his mind would never admit.
Bring a partner and find me…
There was only one other 'partner' he'd trust to watch his back. And that someone had (physically) gone away. (But not mentally)
He supposed he could use a bit of fresh, wasteland air, which contained two hundred year old fumes, radiation, shit and piss and death. But hey, it was home, in some deep, disgusting way.
Sure, Utah wasn't very appealing to him. But if he got out, and Grace would come with…
He had to take that chance.
"Wait, Yes Man."
"I haven't even made it to the door yet, Ryder! What is it?"
"Where's my armour?"
"Deciding to go?"
"Yeah. I'll need to make sure you'll be fine on your own."
They went to the main screen were House's face used to be. From there, Ryder took a few minutes to tweak a few of Yes Man's systems and modifications to suit his needs. Ryder estimated to be gone for a few weeks out there, maybe more, so Yes Man had to take things into his own 'hands' so to say.
"Benny put my programming into such a loose state, that I had to obey any command I was given. Plus, I had to give suggestions just in case something wasn't obvious enough!" Yes Man told him. "So, you wanna narrow that list of flexibility to just… say, one?"
"Make it two. Just in case Grace comes back, she deserves this as much as I do."
"Alright! Ryder and Grace and Yes Man, three peas in a pod! Oh! Do take in mind that with your current friends, taking out the Purifiers and winning is about… thirty percent likely to succeed! So maybe, while you're up in Utah, you can bring back some more support? I'm just saying!"
"I'll try."
"Great! That's all we can do, right? Anywho, you better get going. Good luck out there, and come back real soon!"
Ryder went to the bathroom, and replaced his suit with his armour. He admitted he hadn't felt as comfortable in years, but he also hadn't felt as lonely in just as long – even though he was surrounded by men and women, but it was just as Grace had said: they were all snobs.
He decided to leave Red Lucy's shotgun behind, and instead took the anti-material rifle and the six shooter from the Sierra Madre – he tossed Maria into the top drawer and forgot its existence entirely.
He bid Yes Man farewell and left the Lucky 38, left The Strip, and left Freeside. He gave one last look over his shoulder at the big city lights, before crossing into the wastes, and towards Home.
Around half the day passed until he reached Home. The burnt church was already well into repairs – looked like the Deathclaws really could use hammers after all. Some blotches of the exterior were charred, but it looked habitable and Ryder felt glad the Deathclaws didn't have to find a new home.
A few pairs of said Deathclaws were wondering around those great windows of art, they waved and greeted him with clear joy. He also greeted them, and asked where Grace was.
He wasn't surprised by the answer.
He didn't enter Home, and he didn't try to find Brooks or the Four. Instead, he made his way down to the lake, which was looked over by that great fortress across the water. The Legion's Home. With a bit of hope they wouldn't spy Home, but that was a long shot.
Down there, near Tater's plant, was her. He made his footsteps easy to hear and she twisted to face him. He stopped a few feet behind her.
"Ryder? What're you doing here?"
"Well, there's this caravan…"
2
"Thirty percent?" Grace asked. "Is that good?"
"Not really," Ryder replied. "Seth and Bess are a lot more dangerous than just a handful of hired guns."
"Any idea who hired them?"
"House wanted to find that out, according to Yes Man. But before he could… well, you know why he never did."
"… So?"
"… So, what?"
"So why am I going to Tah-you?"
"U-tah," Ryder corrected. "We might find some help up there, increase our chances and such."
"Okay. But I asked you why I was going. I'm not a good talker."
"Well you didn't say no back at Home. So why did you come with?"
"Because I… You didn't answer my question."
Ryder grinned a fake grin. "It could be fun."
Grace scoffed at him. "Fun?" she laughed. "Nothing out here is ever fun."
Ryder changed topic. "You still keen on coming with?" Grace frowned and slowed her steps. For the second half of the day they had been walking towards the Northern Passage. Her eyes dropped, seemingly in tiredness, but they looked exactly like the sun did – as it slunk behind the distant horizon.
"Did I… Did I say something wrong, Grace?"
After a moment she replied, "… No. No its just I… Are we almost there?"
He gestured to up ahead of them to a set of high hills. "Just up in that cave mouth, yeah. Oh! You left this behind in the suite, I put a few extra things in there, just in case you get bored."
Grace mumbled something while taking the old mailbag.
"Sorry?" he asked.
"Nothing," she replied. She slung the strong strap over her right shoulder and positioned the bag on her left hip. "Let's go have fun." She smiled.
"Let's," Ryder agreed.
And up the small dirt path that lead up the hills they went.
3
Jed Masterson had lost contact with New Canaan a while back, and while his company still had plenty of business going through northern NCR, New Canaan was a rare jewel – the Mormons there had a lot to trade and as of now, no other caravan had gotten their hands on them yet.
He didn't expect many of the right types to come wandering into the passage. Probably some city-folk looking for action, carrying old BB guns and wearing suits that they'd hate to get stained. But he was greeted by a young lad with an odd tattoo on one eye and a bandage over the other. Young, yes, but he looked the right type. He was the right type. Plus he had one of them big rifles on his back and a revolver on his belt. He looked a lot older than his age. A lot more dangerous.
"Howdy, friend." he greeted, offering a hand that was taken and shook. "Heard my little broadcast did you?"
The young man released his hand and nodded. "I'm not sure if I was clear enough, but I did say you'd need a buddy to watch your back on the road to Utah…"
"I brought someone, she's just waiting outside." the kid replied.
"Well I hope there's no wrangling between the two of you, the road's dangerous."
The kid flustered slightly and shifted his feet. The three other Happy Trails members behind Jed got the kids attention. "Is this everyone?" he asked.
Jed nodded. "Gotta keep it small, I reckon you'll be the last pair to join us. So tell your lady friend to get in here and we can get going."
The kid lowered his voice so only Jed can hear. "She's a bit… well, not exactly a human…"
"Ghoul, huh?" Jed chuckled. "Don't worry, everyone's welcome here."
"Well, not exactly a Ghoul either…"
When Jed blanked, he said with clear impatience, "Out with it already."
"I… You know what? She can tell you herself. I can't speak for her." He turned around and called out. "Grace!"
4
"-tell you herself. I can't speak for her. Grace!"
Grace was thunderstruck. She had been listening in the entire time to the side of the cave mouth entry. She heard all four of the humans murmuring to each other, she could smell there sunburnt skin and venomous odours. She could also smell food: beef and some of that stuff Ryder called coffee. Her stomach grumbled. Not the best look, is it? A hungry Deathclaw in a tight cave, uninvited with a face of pure dismay.
She crept around the corner, she made sure her footsteps were nice and loud; announcing her presence in a hope of not scaring the shit out of everyone. But all that did was make her clicking talon-ridden feet sound more menacing.
She put the corners of her mouth up, and formed her chops into a toothy smile.
None of the Happy Trails party had moved. The back of the passage – a few feet behind Ryder and this 'Jed' man – there sat three people, two women and a man, around a small fire. One of the women was wearing a dark drown duster with a laser rifle on her side, with her hair tied back into a lone braid. The other woman was wearing prospector attire with a wide-brimmed hat concealing her pale face. The last man was wearing a bright blue skin tight suit, with the number 22 stitched onto the back in yellow.
They were watching her with interest, fear, and anger, all mixed into one terribly awkward state for Grace.
She shot Ryder a frantic, furious look: What are you doing to me? Ryder looked back blankly, and folded his arms.
Her anger faded, replaced by terror. Jed arched a brow, in his eyes she saw worry and curiosity. The cave wormed up further and further into darkness behind the human party. She tried to avoid the glares and peer into the distant dark.
What the hell am I supposed to say?
Better say something, said Ryder's look. We're waiting.
"… I… I'm sorry for startling you all," she said. "My name is Grace."
She laughed at herself. She sounded like the biggest idiot. She hadn't spoken to a crowd like this since first entering Home. She hadn't improved since then. She thought her singing might've helped, but most of the audience were either drunk or 'high', and Ryder did most of the talking. "I-I'm… glad to meet you all?" she asked, more to herself then them.
"A talking Deathjaw!" said the blue-suited man, she noticed he was wearing sunglasses. "I've seen hundreds of em'! Keep your distance, lady-lizard!"
Jed was expecting a lot of possible candidates walking through that cave. A Deathclaw was not one of them. For well over many years, Jed had been truly surprised at that moment. He wanted to speak, but he simply hung his jaw and scratched his head for the moment.
The woman with the laser rifle – who would later tell her name was Stella – said, "You're with him?" She had pointed to Ryder.
"Unfortunately," she mumbled, but no one heard her.
The woman with the wide hat shrunk into a crack in the rocky wall, saying nothing.
The sunglasses-wearing man stood up – a small SMG on his hip – and approached Grace briskly. She need only glare at him for him to divert his course and find that the wall was what he was going for.
"So… its… and… you and… well, I…" Jed said, gaining everyone's attention. He was thinking quite hard about the advantages of having the extra protection, among other things, and during that time Grace stared into Ryder's soul, but Ryder ignored her.
After a few awkward and silent moments, to which only staring was the contender, Jed said, "Can… Can you hoof it for a while, Deathclaw? Hoof it in tough… canyons and such? Tight spaces?"
"Sure."
"Y-Yeah, okay. Uh, well. I think we should… We should get going right away! Yeah, everyone pack it up and lets go."
"Huh? What, now?" said the sunglass-wearer, who would call himself Ricky. "My pit-boy's having a little trouble and-"
"Our friend here has one." Jed said, nodding to Ryder. "So he… and you," He looked at Grace. "Will lead with the maps."
"I'd rather not have a Deathclaw at my back." said Stella, standing up. "It better not kill me in my sleep. But Jed, if you really wanna move now…"
"I do. Pack up your things, everyone. We move in five."
The wide hat woman still shrunk away, Ricky, Stella and Jed moved to several large duffle bags stacked near the fire – arguing over who carries what. But before Ryder could join them, Grace had tugged his arm back with a bit too much force intended, and brought his face right up to hers. She gripped his shoulder's hard and gave off a low hiss.
"You did fine, Grace."
"No thanks to you." she snapped. Her tail, which had been quite spindly a since there last encounter in Vegas, had grown thicker and sharper and was flat against her backward-angled legs. "Why did you put me in that position?"
Ryder considered this, and looked at her as if the answer was obvious. "I'm sorry if I didn't want to be your goddamn mouthpiece." he spat. "You want me to talk for you from now on?"
"What the hell's wrong with you?" she asked.
"What the hell's wrong with YOU?" he countered. "If I were you I'd be grateful that I got to speak for myself."
"I am grateful, but-"
"So what is the damn problem? You're not gonna say that fucking 'I don't belong here' bullshit are you?"
Grace held back a snarl but failed. "I don't have to take that from you."
"And you don't have to come," he said. Anger was coming to him, but before he could dig a hole between them, he let his voice calm, and when he went to say something-
His words pierced her like knives. She tightened her grip on his shoulders, fury boiling inside of her. She hadn't felt this kind of hate towards him since… well, she hadn't really hated him in any way up until this point. There had to be a reason why he was doing this. Why she was here. She would find out… but she was just too damn confused at this moment.
"Let go of me," he said, which sounded more like an order. She had not realised that her claws might have dug into his skin, it was fortunate that he had the armour protecting him.
She released him. Huffed, then made her way past the humans towards the tunnel, tugging her bag to her side as she did so. She passed the group and swiped up two duffle bags onto her free shoulder. Jed was giving Ryder a confused look.
"Nothing," Ryder assured, and picked up one duffle bag, it was excruciatingly heavy, and everyone else held one each as well. With Ryder in the front, they walked down the tunnel, where Grace was waiting, but when they joined her, she wouldn't speak for five days.
5
They winded themselves through crevices, canyons, ravines and rock trenches for five days straight. Grace sometimes got stuck in a few narrow passes, and she would neither ask for help nor thank the humans for helping her out. The group eventually came around to getting used to Grace – they tried starting up conversations, but she would not reply and they were fine with that. She could carry double the load the humans could, and to Jed that was just fantastic.
They asked Ryder how they met and he told them the Story. Changing a few names here and there, twisting a few events and details, but he knew they didn't believe him. Grace didn't interfere. She would separate herself from the nightly campfires, but whether to give the humans space or just to keep distance from Ryder, no one knew.
It was only on the fifth day did she speak up again. They had emerged into a clearing between two canyons, and had gotten low on supply for dinner. This however, was solved by Jed, who had given tasks to Ricky, Stella and the other woman who called herself Suze to find something edible. However Suze (who was acting as a sort of mother to Ricky, who was a Psycho addict) split open her calf on a cactus and couldn't walk. This was left up to Grace, who Jed asked to…
"Deathclaw… I mean, Grace, can you go find some broc flower?"
She nodded.
"You know what that is? Little orange-"
"I know," she insisted.
"Alright," he said, and turned to Ryder. "You know how to make healing powder?"
"Yeah."
"Good, good. Meet up back here, and don't take too long."
Jed left, leaving Grace and Ryder in the clearing. Suze was there, though she had crawled to the furthest possible distance away, slinking into a rock wall like a scared cricket.
"Ryder?" Grace asked after some time had passed.
"Yes?"
"What's a brook flower?"
He was about to correct her, but held that back. He picked through a duffle bag and pulled out a piece of flint and a steel rod and two small brown empty bags. "Come on," he said, and walked up a small dune blanketed in short tufts of dead grass.
Grace followed.
A few minutes later, and Ryder hunkered next to a crowd of crude orange flowers. He took out his knife and cut off three stems. He then pulled out two thick roots out of the ground, they had green stalks protruding from a ring of raised dirt.
He put the plants aside into two piles. "Broc." he said, pointing to the flower. "Xander." he said, pointing to the flower. He took out the flint and steel and struck it over a small clump of dry, shredded grass, muttering words as he did: "Bless my camp with fire, it is what I most… desire?"
"What's that?" she asked.
"Some nonsense from my childhood," he said. And he thought it funny how some childhood words were left behind, while others clamped on tight and rode for his whole life, though not forever, it seemed.
From there, he showed her how to make powder with nothing but a fire, roots, and flowers. She took his instructions silently, and when he finished she made her own. Hers was just as good if not better than his own.
After they filled the bags with the powder, he handed her the flint and rod. He nodded when she took them – You might need it someday – and stored them away.
He went to say something. "I…" and she knew what he was going to say, so she shook her head and said, "Let's get back," and they did.
"Well I'll be," said Jed, who took the powder and sprinkled it over Suze's leg. "Deathclaw-made powder, thanks a bunch. I'm glad you came along."
Grace certainly wasn't, and she knew it would only get worse from here on out. It was an intuitive thing, and she would be right.
But tomorrow they would see trees. The first since Vegas. And it would be good. After they had dinner, the dark held them as they drifted into sleep. Beyond the circle of the dying fire the wind moaned, bringing a faint sweet smell of rain. Grace was the last to fall asleep, as she tilted her head back and watched the clock of the stars turn, her dreams were filled with horrible visions of fire smothered by rain, it didn't feel right today, some evil thing was watching over there weekly trip, waiting to pounce.
And tomorrow was living proof of her worries.
6
On the seventh day of travel, after pushing through the final slim paths through walls that were seemingly on the brink of closing in around them, they made a series of final drops into a large opening, and were finally able to drink in the fresh open air.
And they were greeted by Zion Canyon, a place spared from the horrors of the Great War. Ryder stood on the cliff to the right of where they emerged, scanning the breathtaking landscape of rivers, and the paths bending around grand rocky mountains, all of them littered with trees. Actual trees! The whole of Zion illuminated by the bright sun peaking over them all in the morning light.
There were several thumps behind him. The drug addict, Ricky, was bent over into a nearby bush, no doubt hiding his stash of drugs for the walk back. Suze was with him, mumbling something about it, while Stella and Jed called them all over into a group, dumping the now light duffle bags next to a heap of rocks.
Grace nudged his shoulder, he turned and smiled. "Beautiful, isn't it?"
He was glad he hadn't completely killed off her joy. She smiled and nodded. "The others are waiting."
"All right people," said Jed, when they all made a circle around him. "Been a long week, but here we are. Zion."
He held out a handful of caps to Ryder, Ryder pocketed them. Jed did the same for all, including Grace, whilst saying: "I know you're tired. I know your feet hurt. But I need everyone's mind on the trail ahead."
Stella shook her head. "Aint the trail ahead that worries me, Jed. Those descents we made, through that slot canyon back up there? No way we're getting back out the way we come. And then what?"
"Goddammit Stella, heard you the first time… and the fifteenth too. The New Canaanites will know a way. And if they don't, well… enough lollygagging, get moving and keep an eye out for tribal's!"
Jed took the lead, Stella on his right, and Ricky, Suze, Ryder and Grace behind them. There was a thin trail that lead down past a set of trees towards the nearby cliff, where Ryder just caught a glimpse of a bridge. Their feet planted onto real grass, thick and green and soft. They also passed sunset-orange flowers on their left, where they grew all the way up to more rock edges up twenty feet above them.
"How come this place didn't get hit by any A-bombs?" asked Ricky to no one in particular.
"The Sorrows tribe says the 'Father of the Cave's' watches over this place," answered Jed. "Pretty nice sights, hey?"
"Nothing special." Ricky scoffed.
"Wait." ordered Grace. And everyone stopped.
"What?" asked Jed, not turning.
"There's someone on the cliff up ahead."
Ryder squinted, and found who she was talking about. Just behind a rock, he could vaguely spot a pale man with his hair curled into dreadlocks.
"I don't see nothing," said Jed. "We should… wait… I heard something."
What he heard was actually the tinkling sound of a grenade rolling down the bright brown rocks to the left of them. Before anyone could call out, it detonated and sent chunks of rock flying and raining down upon them. Suze was the closest, and was sent backwards a good distance. She fell backward, feet up to heaven, and landed upside down with her boots on the trail.
"Auntie!" Ricky cried, taking out his (he called it an 11mm submachine gun) and bolted across the trail, shooting wildly and furiously. He'd die in ten seconds.
Ryder and Grace dove right, behind a slim rock that jut out of the ground like a big knuckle. Jed and Stella hid behind the twin trees ahead of them, baring there pistol and rifle respectively.
Two waves of tribal's crested the sloping path head. Three each, Ryder counted, plus one on the cliff, but as he looked up he spotted one more with grenades all over his chest, about fifty feet up on an outcropping of rock on the left. The shooting began, so did the tribal screams and the cries of Jed and Stella.
The tribal with the grenades took a red and yellow ball from his belt strap, and flung his right hand behind his shoulder. A great shot that reverberated all ears and rang out far over the hills sounded off. A chunk of the grenade-throwing tribal's throat flung off, and the man tumbled back and out of sight, doomed to become nothing but a great red mess once his grenade set off.
Ryder pulled back the bolt on his massive rifle, a shell of a bullet tumbling to the ground as he did so.
The second tribal on the cliff ahead of them was wielding a very familiar gun. In a few seconds, a huge wave of bullets swooped over the rock Ryder and Grace were hidden behind. Grace tried to stand up, claws ready, but she was hastily ducking once with bullets flung by her head.
Ryder aimed over the top of the rock, spied the tribal on the high ground, and fired once.
The tribal rolled to the side, and tumbled off the cliff to belly flop onto the ground behind the remaining tribal's.
"Jed! Stella! Your right!" Ryder shouted.
Stella spun to face two pale men wielding clubs flanking there cover. She fired a careful and precise volley of red beams into the closest charging one. The tribal imploded, and his face screwed up before death took him and sent him slumping over a rock, painting it from brown to red. She had no chance on getting the other. The tribal brought his gauntlet which was exactly like a mantis foreleg, down on her like an axeman to a log. Her arm tore free from her and landed palm-up behind her.
"Stella!" Jed cried, firing two shots and killing two tribal's on the trail. He spun and fired his remaining rounds into the one who severed Stella's arm. Three holes tore into the pale man's chest, killing him instantly. Jed leant over Stella's prone form, staring horridly into her confused and dying face.
"Don't you die on me…" Was his last words before a bullet found the back of his head, and he was sent sprawling over Stella's soon-to-be-dead corpse.
Grace vaulted over the rock and charged towards the two remaining tribal's. One was in the midst of reloading its pistol, while the other clutched a bolt rifle and aimed it to the closing Deathclaw. She was ducked low and all four of her limbs were but a blur. It only took her a few moments to close the wide gap, and the tribal with the rifle only fired off one shot before Grace mauled him.
Ryder killed the last one quickly, one last thunderous sensation, that when died out in the distance, filled the valley with sudden silence. Ryder reloaded, the smoking barrel of his rifle momentarily pointing to the sky. Beyond him, Grace was wiping her claws on the grass.
He got up and went to her. Passing the corpses of Suze, Jed, Stella, and finally (he hadn't noticed) Ricky – a fire axe imbedded into his dome, his blue suit painted crimson.
Grace picked up the machine the tribal on the cliff had been wielding, and held it up to him. "Didn't you used to have one of these?"
In her grip was a .45 auto rifle, with a drum mag no less. It looked a lot more pristine than his old one, as if recently made. He nodded. She dropped the gun and silently scanned what used to be Happy Trails.
"Do you think you can use guns?" he asked. She looked at him with a brow raised and presented her claws.
"Not with these things," she replied. He noted she sounded slightly disappointed, and pained? He approached and asked what was wrong.
"Nothing," she lied, and turned away. That's when he spotted the one rifle shot had scraped her hip. Ryder slung his rifle onto his back and moved to the pile of duffle bags, searching… searching… then finding a handful of stim's.
He moved down the trail, and saw Grace sitting by the bridge, gently prodding her wound and hissing lowly as she did so.
"Stim's? Or Powder?" he asked, holding up the two objects.
"It'll heal on its own."
"Stim's it is, then."
"Don't touch me."
"… Alright."
"…"
"…"
FT!
"OW! You bastard!"
"Feeling better already, isn't it Grace? I think- Oof!"
She had punched him in the gut. Hard. He fell on his rear end and clutched his stomach, dropping the empty stim aside.
"Can't… breathe."
"Now, we are even."
"That was… too much," he gasped, getting to one knee. He caught his breath back after a moment. "We should… skedaddle out of here."
He could tell she was quite excited. As she crossed the thin wooden bridge, he noticed a good spring in her step. He wondered what was going through her head.
He grabbed a few essentials from the caravan bags. He'd return later if he needed to. He didn't know these people for very long, and had minimal reason to mourn. But still, he went to close the eyelids of them, but found that Grace had already done so.
7
Fifteen minutes later, they passed a low rock studded slope on the left of their path that led down to the river. There was one rock shaped like a knife, slanted up to the heavens, and a perfect spot to perch. Grace moved halfway up the rock, and scanned the water.
Ryder came up behind her, then suddenly pointed into the water. "Look! Look!"
"What?!" she said, leaning in that direction.
"Head up the rock a bit, you can get a good view of it."
She took three steps up the slope. Scanning. The deep blue waters showed no features to her eyes.
"A bit higher." he said. "You'll definitely see it then."
A few more slow steps later, and she reached the peak, she half squatted and looked down into the steady currents. Eyes darting left and right, tail swishing in excitement.
"I still don't see anything, what's-"
A small bump from Ryder encouraged her body to tumble into the air, hold for a moment, then… sploosh! Into the lake she went, lacking grace.
She took a moment to stay where she was, submerged into the quiet depths of the water, then emerged her head and shoulders, she looked frantically left and right, then upwards. Where over the top of the rock, was one little eye filled with glee.
"Is the water lovely?" Ryder asked.
"I had my bag on me and- oh I'm gonna kill you…"
From his left hand, the handbag dangled from the strap on one of his fingers. "Now we're even." he smirked.
She looked at him with the most purest state of hatred. "I'll show you 'even'..."
She did a back flip and submerged into the depths. Ryder spied her flowing through the lake, just below the surface, with her tail and body swishing left and right in an almost natural rhythm. Ryder sat up on the rock, letting his legs dangle down, and looked around the surrounding area. It all was simply nature in its reserved prime. He wondered distantly on how such a place existed, when only the last week was nothing but dying brush, and Vegas was only a desert. There was a nip in the air, something hard to come by in today's world, and it wasn't in the least unpleasant. The air just felt breathable, as if the Mojave was filled with poison.
"What now, Ryder?" Grace asked. She had surfaced nearby, and was doing a faint impression of treading water. He sure did get into the weirdest situations, didn't he? He was talking to a swimming Deathclaw that he had pushed into the lake, and he was still breathing!
"We could go back, if you don't mind boosting me up all those narrow canyons." He tipped a Mentat into his palm, and tossed another to Grace. She caught it in her chops quickly. "Or we could go to Canaan, see if it's really as good as Jed had described it."
"Is that all you want to do up there? See it?"
"Guess so."
"Is that it?"
"Yes."
But it's not, is it? she thought, but what she said was, "Have you ever seen humans as pale as those tribal's who attacked us?"
"Nope." he replied. "Mustn't get a lot of sun, I guess."
She had quite a few questions. Why did they? Who are they? But who'd answer them? They hadn't encountered anyone else, and the solitude was both scary and welcoming. It wasn't everyday she got to have a good swim in a clean body of water, without all the raiders, like the ones sometimes on Home's beaches.
Something brushed past her leg, and she snatched at it so quickly that Ryder jumped, he saved himself from falling, and asked her what she was doing.
She smiled and held up something that squirmed in her grasp. It was a long, thin thing covered in scales and pores, with two paired fins on its bottom side. Its head and mouth was one of the most mutated and vicious things that any creature would back away from. Grace was the exception. Ryder pulled his legs away when she brought it closer to him.
"What the hell is that?" he half-shouted, the thing flapped its spiky tail around, like a whip it tried to crack against Grace, but her grip was firm.
"You're not scared of it are you?" she asked, examining the critter intently.
"Look at its face!" he said. "It's so ugly!"
"Bit like yourself," she said. Ryder glared, Grace chuckled. She drifted a bit closer to the rock, the creature out front. Ryder stood up and backed a few steps.
"Come on!" she said, grinning. "Its harmless!"
The would-be-critter-of-hell hissed, writhed in the Deathclaws grip, and snapped its jaws up at him. At the speed of light, Ryder was off the bank and onto the trail, rocks kicking up behind his blurry feet.
She climbed the nearest rock and said, "Wanna take a dip? I promise not to let this little guy bite."
"I'm fine up here, on dry land. Away from… whatever that is."
"You're scared."
"No I'm not."
"Sure?"
"Yeah."
She tossed the aquatic demon in a flat arc in his direction. He made a noise that was both and Eep! and a Bah! that made him jump a few feet back. The thing from the lake flopped around in front of him, the primal snap! snap! snap! of its jaws filled the air, making Ryder's eardrums complain.
Grace made her way to the trail, went around the fish, and heartily laughed at him.
"Yeah, alright." he said. "I'm scared of a thing spawned from hell. Laugh away."
She whipped round to pick up the slimy animal, hitting Ryder's ribs with her tail as she did this action. She turned and grinned when she did so: Shouldn't have pushed me, is what he took from her features. She swung her arm and threw the animal back into the lake. Ryder swore it's black void-like eyes was staring right at him before it disappeared.
She came up to him, and like a wet dog, shook her body from the water. Ryder was soaked.
"Thanks," he said.
"No problem," she said happily, and knocked him with her elbow. The smile on her face was nothing short of cute. If only he had met someone like her sooner, maybe he wouldn't be this desperate for company.
"I'm glad you're here." he said. He felt a little bit of heat in his cheeks when she grinned and said, "Likewise."
Wishing to hide this burning sensation, Ryder turned his head slightly and looked up the trail. There was at first nothing but logs and trees and rocks, but as he peered for a few seconds…
"Hoi!" called a figure in a young, excited voice. Grace turned in that direction, at first ready for trouble, but the tribal ahead was dressed differently than the pale ones from before.
"Hoi?" Grace called, oblivious to her own smile.
"Hoi! Survivors! You look very nasty! … In a good way, of course!" called the man. "Who are you two lucky kinds?"
They closed the distance. The tribal was about the same age as Ryder, maybe older. He was at first sceptical of Grace, but then was quite excited when she introduced herself. He had never seen anything like her. He described her like one of those "Thunder lizards" only bigger. His name was Follows-Chalk, and he had heard the White Leg's shooting and had come to investigate. He was surprised to see survivors.
"White Legs raid, pillage, poach, kill, they are our enemies! You both from the outside, huh? Joshua will want to hear this."
They asked who Joshua was, and he said that Joshua was also from the civilised lands (where people don't forage to survive, he said, Ryder shook his head at this but said nothing) and would want to meet them.
After a good few miles of walking, Ryder asked Follows where they were heading. Follows replied by saying they were heading to the Dead Horses camp. Grace and Ryder exchanged a shrug, and decided to go on with all this, Follows-chalk seemed friendly enough.
They came upon the Dead horses camp after a good twenty minutes of walking along hilly passes and narrow canyons submerged in knee-deep water. But eventually, they spotted a cluster of huts surrounding some caves.
They followed Follows-chalk into the camp. On an outcrop above was a tribal standing guard, tomahawks at the ready.
"I will see Joshua," Follows-chalk said. "I will tell him of your arrival. Wait here." And at that, he moved into one of the far caves.
There are a few well-maintained huts, but from first glance, Ryder deduced that the caves are by far the more used option. The caves appeared clean and spacious. A few tribal's had steamed out to gawk, but none approached. The two of them walked further into the tiny camp, where no more than fifty people could live, and noticed a bunch of men and women gathered around a moderate fire. With silent agreement, Ryder and Grace went over to the gathered tribal's, where two women parted to make room for them to sit down.
The smells of charred wood and fruit were prominent. The tribal's passed around a meal of chunky meat in a fine wooden bowl. When a woman offered it to Ryder, he was glad he accepted. It was very filling. Ryder passed it to Grace and she smiled from the sweet glaze smell.
"What are you?" One woman asked, looking at the big Deathclaw like a child would a new toy. A few others sighed there agreements.
Grace passed the bowl along, and wiped her chin. She took a breath before saying, "I'm called a Deathclaw from where I come from."
"Deathclaw." the woman said, tasting the word. "Yao Guai: big and scary. You: big and scary, but sound very educated."
"Thank you," Grace smiled.
"Tell us of… New Gevas. That is where you're from, yes?"
It took Ryder a second to figure that she meant New Vegas, and he couldn't help but snort at this. Other tribal's looked at him, and he quickly sobered up.
They were so entranced with the outside world, Grace offered to tell them of a few adventures. With eager faces, they surrounded her as she spoke of a city of dead called the Sierra Madre, and the terrible man who sought to control its ghosts. Also the fight between her kind and the dreadful Dark One's that wanted nothing but to exterminate all life. When she mentioned the Purifiers, some gasped and some shied away – they found the wider world quite dangerous but exciting. Her 'stage-fright' didn't exist here.
Whether they believed it or not, it didn't matter. They enjoyed it well enough to look wistfully at one another after Grace fell silent.
"What can you tell me of Joshua?" asked Ryder to all of them.
One tribal shrugged, two others laughed.
"He showed us the power of thunder, and fire." said a beefy male. "He bathed in the flames and was reborn as our saviour. The White Legs will crumble!"
He and another strong tribal high fived. The smack of their hands cut into the air.
"Excuse me for a second," said Grace. She got up and went back behind a rock wall, out of sight. (Number one, Ryder thought)
A small cup was passed to Ryder. He looked in and saw it was filled to the brim with thin red chillies. The woman next to him had three in her hand, and he took and ate one just to test it.
A second later the chilly propelled out of his mouth, the beefy man ducked just in time to avoid the spice fly by like a bullet.
"Too cold?" the woman beside him laughed, eating with a mouth full of the burning spice. Ryder ran a few feet, leant into a body of water, and drank up like his life depended on it. When the heat died down, he returned to the fire and sighed.
"Piss water." said the same woman.
"Huh?" Ryder said.
"Piss water!" she repeated, pointing to where he drank from.
"… You better be joking."
The tribal's roared laughter, and several hands clapped Ryder's back. But he never got his answer, it didn't taste like piss… but what does piss taste like?
Grace returned and hunkered beside Ryder. He wiped his mouth handed the cup of chillies to her.
"What's this?"
"Fruit stems," he replied quickly. "… Have a few, or else you won't taste it."
She grabbed a handful and lifted her hand to her mouth. At first he thought she wouldn't do it and grow suspicious, but she chomped them down. All of them. And swallowed with a grin.
She looked at Ryder's crazed and bewildered face, smiled and said, "What's wrong?"
"Well, aren't you just a bag full of surprises young man!" said the woman beside Ryder, clapping him on the back.
"He's a bag full of something, alright." Grace said. The tribal's roared again.
8
Follows-Chalk returned with company. Beside him was a tall, strongly built man with white bandages covering any skin that wasn't hidden behind his white collared shirt or his heavily patched blue jeans. He was wearing a bullet-proof vest with the letters SLCPD and SWAT etched into the chest area. He looked the dangerous type. His blue eyes filled with reserved fury. Yet his voice was calm, prophetic, and welcoming. He rested on the ground, opposite side of the fire where the Deathclaw and New Vegas-man sat. The tribal's wordlessly gave him room.
"I didn't expect anyone from the Mojave to come looking for us." said the burned, bandaged, but breathing body of Joshua. "And a talking Deathclaw no less. Not the one I was expecting, but I suppose he has nothing more to do with me."
"Another?" Grace asked. "Who?"
"There are a lot of people who know that I am alive. Caesar is but one. I've killed enough of his Frumentarii that have come looking. One of them, was different – like you. Maybe you'll see him one day. But now I must ask who you are. I am Joshua Graham, leader of the New Canaanites."
They gave their names. Joshua's eyes gleamed at Ryder's mention, but said nothing. Ryder then said, "We came with Happy Trails to make contact with the New Canaanites."
"Happy Trails." Joshua mused. "Good friends. I'm sorry but New Canaan was destroyed, all because of the White Legs. And Caesar, of course." He explained why. "The White Legs want to join the Legion. Caesar's rite of passage is the destruction of the New Canaanites, almost assuredly because of me. We have many maps of the region to help find your way back, but what with everything that's going on, we can't help you right now."
In other words, Ryder thought, help me and I'll help you.
"I'm more than willing to help out." Grace said.
"Same," said Ryder.
"It is good to know that even in dark times, there are still good friends to look to rather than the Lord. But I need to have a word with you, Ryder, in private."
"Oh, alright." Ryder said, and stood up to follow Joshua away from the crowd at the fire.
When they were alone in the nearby clearing by the shallow lake, Joshua tilted his head, and spoke lowly. "Do you share your father's name?"
"Uh, yeah. He's… alive?"
Joshua nodded. "I was not under the impression he had a son."
"Where is he?"
The man in the bandages pointed to a cave, it looked uninhabited from here. Ryder went anxious. It had been a long time, but it was comforting to know he hadn't died in New Canaan. No matter, a little chat couldn't hurt, right? He started towards the cave, but a burnt arm of Joshua's stopped him.
"Even someone like him has emotions, Ryder." Joshua said carefully. "Don't let yours blind you."
Ryder looked quizzically at Joshua for a moment, before turning and walking into the cave where is father was.
What he would not know until it was too late, was that by walking into that cave, he would suffer both emotionally and physically, that he would later prefer to have died than to see what was inside.
9
Stalactite's covered the floor and walls of the cave – the air gave off a warm, cosy feeling – yet hidden behind and in the shadows, a dark fate hid itself like a hungry predator.
Torches illuminated the way forward, the young man's handsome features went orange in there radiance, then into darkness as he passed in between two rocks, going deeper and deeper into the earth. A hundred thoughts came and went into his head, some nervous, some worried, some excited. What would he say? What would he say? What would he say? What would he say?
But in a few minutes, no more than a sentence would pass.
Up ahead, rocks cleared, and the low light was like a beacon, drawing him in. He put his palm on a rock, and peered into the clearing. He could faintly see the rising and falling of a sleeping body. He approached. He emerged. He stared.
There he was. Tucked on his side and sleeping peacefully, was Ryder's father – Ryder. Senior Ryder, the bigger, and better, apparently. A thought came – did he name me in his image, hoping I would never cross his word, and become him? – and went. The straw bed roll was two bodies wide, the tribal version of a king-sized bed.
At first Ryder (the younger one) didn't believe his eyes. It was an illusion – his mind playing tricks – but he couldn't deny the truth for long.
Ryder's father had his arms wrapped around a naked tribal woman. A smile on his cursed face.
For a long time Ryder simply stood there, his face was confused with what emotion it tried to display. Hate? Anger or Sadness? Maybe all of them? Distantly, a drop of water smacked the floor, adding to how lonely the world was right now.
His father's sixth sense – or perhaps it was Ryder's rapid breathing – made the two bare figures lying on the straw bedroll stir.
Ryder's father smacked his lips together as if this morning was no different from any other – as if he was used to waking up with a woman who speaks English poorly and has the body of a prime athlete. This only added to Ryder's confusion.
Slowly, his father opened his eyes, and it took only a second for their eyes to lock. Grey eyes of the younger filled with hate, but the blue ones of the elder presented only puzzlement.
It seemed that time had sped at that moment, and that it was hours before Ryder's father broke the deadly silence.
"What are you doing here?"
The one who brought him to this world said those five words in a way of unpleasant surprise. What am I doing here? Ryder thought angrily. What the fuck are YOU doing here?
But the old rule of Respecting your Elder's forced him to be silent. The woman who was sleeping with his dad woke up, stared at the younger man nearby, and turned to the man she was sleeping with for a few weeks now.
"Who is?" she asked. Who is this.
"… D-Dad?" Ryder whispered, he felt awkward, but he had to say something.
The tribal covered her breasts with her hands, and mumbled something to the father. But Ryder caught those words, his hearing had improved.
"You have son?" she had whispered.
And this was all it took for Ryder to wipe his eyes on the crook of his elbow, turn, and walk out of the cave.
Ryder ignored his father's calls to stop. Ryder ignored Grace's questions when he exited into the early night, and left the camp with reddening eyes.
10
Grace followed Ryder into the valley, there was enough light to find him sitting on the edge of a cliff, looking out over Zion. She had an odd sense of nostalgia as she approached. Is this what she had looked like, on the beach near home, with thoughts racing through her maturing mind?
No matter. Her friend needed her. She knew this, but didn't expect what she would hear. Not in a million years.
Ryder was breathing erratically. Not the way someone under panic would, but she noticed as she closed the distance, it wasn't breathing but sobbing.
She sat herself on his right. There was liquid dripping from his hands that covered his face. Not much, but enough.
"What happened?" she asked.
He sniffed, and inched his head in her direction. "Nothing."
She gave him a look that said Yeah, right. but she was on his literal blind side. However she needed not say anything, for he came around to his senses, and told her in a few words of clarity. She was confused when he was done.
"You didn't come this way just to have fun, did you Ryder?"
He gave one sad, lone chuckle. "You got me."
"Did you come to see your dad?"
"No."
"Then why?"
He refused to look at her. "Because I… It's…" Ryder trailed off. Seeing his father had made him someone else entirely.
Grace remembered a past conversation she and Ryder had had. The way he had talked about his father… There was a sort of reserved hatred, but also a deep respect. If he didn't come this way to see him, the question of why lingered. She would not get her answer today. Maybe not ever. But if she had, she wouldn't have been surprised.
"Look, Ryder, I know what it's like to-"
"No you don't!" he suddenly shouted. Fury boiled within him, it was let out in one, terrible set of words – all the painful and bottled-up memories of his parents. The caravan days ended with father striking son, that strike had travelled with him, and now came out in an insult to Grace. "You don't know what it's like! Your parents are dead! And I…
Grace looked like she had been struck. A wave of pain washed over her, and the young Deathclaw felt like shouting herself senseless. Slowly, she got to her feet.
"I... I'm leaving" she whispered, and walked away. But the hurt was not done with her. He replied with,
"You're good at that."
and she tightened her hands into fists. Her claws dug into her palms hard, and blood started to pour from them. If she weren't given the gift of consciousness like other primal beasts of her kind, she might have killed him then and there. Instead, she turned her head and said, "I'll be with the tribe, helping myself get home."
"Good."
"… Don't follow me."
"Fine."
11
Grace was gone. It only made the water pooling in his eyeless socket more irritating. But before he had seen that he was alone he mumbled, "Please… don't go… I'm sorry…" but no one would hear him.
When he finally opened his eye and saw nothing but shadows behind him, he wished something would curse him for his stupidity.
"God… DAMN IT!"
What the hell were you thinking, Ryder?
A nearby flock of birds flew off, determined to find a quieter spot. To be with you, he thought, You wouldn't leave me alone, after we took Vegas.
He had done so much pain to her.
He just had to remind both her and he of that, hadn't he?
It must've been hours, of him doing nothing but mope on his mistakes, until he heard heavy thumps behind him. Hope filled him, and his eye slowly turned to face behind him.
"Grace!" he said. "I-I'm so sorry, you can hate me all you want but I-"
The heavy blunt end of a club struck his dome, and he nearly went sprawling off the cliff to his death had not a set of arms grabbed him just in time. The world spun in his vision, and he felt like throwing up. Warm blood dripped past his eye, making him instinctively squint.
A large humanoid shape squatted next to him, rubbing his hair with its club-free hand. He saw black hair, and what looked like animal skulls on its head and shoulders.
"You'll be damned," it said. Ryder quickly went for his Sierra Madre pistol, but the club smacked him once more and the world went dark.