Chapter 25 – The Hunt for Robert MacCready

Max sat on the edge of their camp, staring off into the direction that Courier and Zac had gone. She was still weak from blood loss and the deep wound still hurt despite the stimpaks and time that had passed. The deepest hurt though, was the thought that RJ was gone and in peril.

She stood up and continued wearily on with her task. They were looting each of the bodies that lay scattered around the vast plain that they had camped on. Their ammo was all but gone and salvage was their only option to resupply. They methodically searched each carcass, stripping them of everything they had and sorting it into piles of stuff they needed, stuff they wanted and stuff that was a waste of time. When done they would go over their inventory and load up their packs accordingly.

Max wandered over to the body of the guy that stopped the torrent of attacking tribals with the simple act of dying. The headless corpse of their leader was lying across Cades bedroll. She tipped it over and looked hard at the leftover bits of him before bending to start the grisly task of looting.

Boone came up to her side. He had ignored Cades protests and had insisted on getting up the moment he'd opened his eyes and had been searching the bodies with the rest of them. Cade had watched him worriedly for a while but seemed content as long as he didn't attempt anything too strenuous.

"Found some .308." He informed her softly, looking down at the cadaver. "This guy is Legion." He grunted before walking some distance, stooping to pick up a plumed helmet and then walking back to her.

"A few of them have strips of red fabric on them." She mentioned, taking the helmet from him and turning it over in her hands.

"And tattoos of the bull." He mumbled. "Heard stories they'd come this far. This must be one of the tribes they conquered… didn't finish the job by the looks." He observed as he toed the cloak of fur and skins wrapped around the leaders body.

"Hate to say it, but this looks like dog fur." Max said with a grimace, her nose screwed up at the thought of Dogmeat being worn by one of these men.

Boone took her by the shoulders suddenly and turned her towards him. "You ran off alone during the fight…. Don't do it again." He stared into her eyes for a moment before releasing her and walking away.

It was a gentle admonishment. But she heeded it.

The Courier and Zac Hobson had no trouble following the trail of the tribals. They had run with no thought of hiding their tracks and the fact that they simply followed the road, made life even more easy. After about five miles of jogging they came to the remains of a town with several intact enough buildings for the rest of the team to hole up in. Courier radioed the location back to Maxson and they kept on running.

Courier and Zac were thinking as they ran. Theirs minds as busy as their feet and eyes. This was a long way to travel in force to attack a small group of nobodies. Courier put the thought out there after they travelled another five miles and stopped for a breather.

"Current theory is nomadic hunting party." Zac said. "Previous theories included; they were after the raiders we got earlier… maybe clearing the road for the caravans, or they were sent to kill the High Elders party. Or we were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Hunting party most likely." Courier mused, "Not good for MacCready if they were after us for food. Looked like they subsided on dog though, thought Denver would have been the most likely hunting ground if that were the case."

"MacCready wouldn't be a big meal… and he'd be a bit gamey" Zac said, hitching his temporary gun over his shoulder. He'd found a sub machine gun that wasn't in too bad shape and there were heaps of 9mm rounds on the bodies.

"I don't know… slow cook him… it'd be fine." Courier replied with no trace of a smile, before setting off at his long legged lope.

The thought of MacCready turning on a spit quickened their pace.

It was almost twenty miles from the spot that they had sent the rest of their crew that they finally reached their destination. They slowed as the saw the potential settlement ahead and proceeded forwards at a crouch. The area around them was flat as a pancake and line of sight was an issue, anyone on watch at the settlement would see for miles. The two of them didn't need to discuss tactics. They would have to wait for nightfall and use the cover of darkness to approach. The run had been tiring anyway and the rest would do them good. They noted briefly that MacCreadys radio signal didn't come up on their pipboys. It didn't mean he wasn't there, his pipboy might be damaged or he was no longer wearing it… there had been no other path to follow and no path branched from the one that lead them here.

They hid out in a small scrubby bank of dead trees and took turns to nap and compare methods. Zac was used to either working alone or in the company of the Brotherhood and the Courier was more used to NCR or being with a partner. They streamlined their non verbal communication for the hopefully brief campaign ahead.

At sundown they moved out approaching the settlement from the east and scaled an old chain link fence.

The settlement was housed in an old speedway track and the people were a curious mix of tribal and legion. Like the Legion had made their indelible mark but then abandoned them without preamble and they were now making their way in a bastardised version of what they once knew and what they'd had forced on them. Dog skins and fur was the predominant feature of the tribals. That and their dyed skin and tattoos. Here and there, there were flashes of Legion Crimson. An armband. A belt. But the unmistakeable bull emblazoned flag that flew over the buildings said it all. These people were agents of Caesars.

Finding MacCready had not been hard. Right outside of the front doors that led into the main structure, there was a large wooden cross and mounted on it, for the whole settlement to see, was Robert MacCready. His head was not hanging low as one might expect from a man crucified. He was looking around him, meeting the eyes of the tribals who made their way before him. Dried blood painted one side of his face and scoured its way down his throat and neck. His hat was missing, his pipboy gone and he was very dirty. He, quite frankly, looked pissed off, so he hadn't been up there too long.

Zac and Courier hung back in the shadows of the tents and pavilions that littered the open area out front of the buildings. There was a large open square in front of them with a raging bonfire at it's center. There was a long spit set over the fire and hanging over the flames was the carcass of what was unmistakably a dog and what was unmistakably a couple of human legs. MacCready a la Barbeque was not on the menu tonight at least. It looked like they had enough to go around for now without breaking out the newest produce.

It looked like the huge group that they had encountered was a long range hunting party, like the type that had gone out in the prehistoric times to hunt Mammoths. Zac had read about them once. The seven tasty looking humans sleeping soundly under the stars must have been a temping offer. The death of the one that had to be their clan leader may have soured the thought of fresh meat for most and by the looks of their base camp they had found plenty anyway.

There were tribal women, scantily clad in their furs and strips of red cloth, crying onto their butcher blocks as they processed the kills that had come so dearly to the tribe. Men, survivors of the massacre by the east coast group, drank deeply of their cups as they recounted their versions of the events to their peers who had stayed behind to keep the home fires burning. No doubt in their stories, there had been many more than seven of them and they probably had trained deathclaws with them and vertibird fire support.

Courier and Zac exchanged looks. Silently communicating their next course of action. Once again they were well out numbered and most of these people were fresh and rested. MacCready wasn't going anywhere for now and he seemed to be coping with his confinement. They retreated away from the settlement and talked quietly about what they would do. Courier was all for walking into the camp and killing everyone and just taking MacCready and walking away. Zac frowned a little at that and thought maybe they could be a little more covert about it all.

Zac suggested he run back into radio range of the rest of the group and calling them for support. Maxson and Cade were still good and by now Boone and Max would be on their feet and though weakened, could offer fire support if needed. Courier was confident he could get MacCready down without being noticed for a while and make his way back a little more slowly and they could all meet up and shoot their way to relative freedom.

Zac would still be in radio contact if something went wrong here, he could even act as a relay to the rest of the group if needs be. They locked down their plan and Zac took off back down the road. Keeping a close eye on his pipboy for the signals from his friends. He didn't want leave Courier alone too long. He needed to get the back-up on their way and then head back again. He ran ten miles in an hour once… he was a little younger and he wasn't carrying quite so much stuff and there was a trio of tireless deathclaws after him at the time; But he was sure he could make it in about the same time again. Surely.

He was gassed by the time Maxsons frequency came up on his pipboy. He flicked on the radio and gasped into the microphone.

Maxson stood out on the road outside the ancient post office that the Courier had sent them to. Behind him, within the building, he could hear Max arguing with Cade about her actions… again. So far she had been told off by Boone and Maxson for charging off alone in the middle of the fight. Now Cade was laying into her too.

Maxson had wanted to shake her like a ragdoll and rage at her for her callousness, but he had not. He had calmly told her it was a terrible course of action and that she should seriously reconsider her actions in future engagements. He was quite proud of himself for his restraint.

Cade had just called her a bloody fool… things went downhill from there.

Boone sat atop the roof of the post office and scanned the land around them. He had taken up MacCreadys discarded rifle to use the night vision, he would need to add the feature to his own rifle when he got the chance, maybe a suppressor too. He also kept checking his pipboy hoping to see the Couriers frequency suddenly pop up. He absently listened to the argument going on within and smirked to himself at some of the comments and accusations that were being thrown about. Cade was quite the orator when he wanted to be… and very inventive with the insults. Max fell invariably back on curse words.

After a few minutes a strange sound drew his eye down to Maxson who was positioned on the road… it sounded like someone was breathing heavily. Maxson raised his pipboy and stared at it in surprise.

"Zac? is that you?" he asked.

There was gulping and gasping in reply. "Fuck." Came Zacs voice fuzzily though the pipboy accompanied by more huffing and puffing. "We…. gasp… needyouguys…puff puff… running sucks…"

Boone was already moving. Coming down from his nest and gathering an angry looking Max and a fuming Cade as he went. He pulled the two of them out onto the road and up to Maxson to catch the end of the conversation.

"…going back to help, we'll meet you on the road." Zacs voice was signing off.

Maxson turned to them as he clicked off the radio.

"Couriers sneaking him out of their camp and running for it… might not make it so we're going now to help… The settlement is almost nineteen miles away. We won't make it all the way but we can meet them, hopefully not too late to help." Maxson filled them in quickly. "Will you two make it?" he asked Max and Boone, the recently injured.

"We'll make it." Boone said, hitching MacCreadys rifle onto his shoulder.

"Maybe not as quickly as we'd like…" Max added.

They picked up their weapons and their pilfered supply of ammo and set off towards the next fight.