Chapter 50: Regrets
They came without warning. Black-clad demons from the very darkness the Divide permeated with. Were it not for his companion's warning, he would not have survived the first volley. Now, however, he found himself trapped in Hopeville, with his new enemies approaching from all sides.
The morning had begun with his companion finding evidence of a commotion within the dead city. Marked men and Tunnelers alike were both sprawled along the grounds either plugged full of holes or cut down with a blade. Before, he had only known one man capable of doling out this much punishment towards these beasts. As he surveyed the carnage, instinct came to him just in time. He hit the floor, his companion following him just as the rounds ricocheted off the pavement.
Looking up, he saw a man perched on top of a bent streetlight, sword unsheathed as he looked down at the wastelander and nightkin. He was slim, of roughly average height, and completely bald except for a long, thin beard. A smirk rested upon his face, either from amusement or respect.
"Our sources were true, it would seem. The legendary Frumentarii. I've heard rumors of your exploits in the east. You are a resourceful and dangerous individual. From one warrior to another, I bow to you," he said, tipping his neck slightly.
"What business do you have in the Divide? These few you slaughtered are but a fraction of what awaits within the ruins. Should we sit idly by and exchange pleasantries, we will be overrun."
The man laughed. "Prudence is the essence of wisdom. It is not you I seek an audience with, but the man who tamed you. Who brought you to heel like the animal that you are. Who ascended to greatness while you were left to guard the gates of the damned."
The wastelander furrowed his brow, looking suspiciously up at the stranger. "Exactly what lay in the Divide that you would not find in the city?"
The man laughed once again. "Perhaps there is a… bargaining chip that my master seeks to make your better more… malleable," the man theorized. "Something that you yourself may have had access to quite recently?"
By now the wastelander was well and truly angry. Whatever his opinions of the courier had been, by now he was a man who had well and truly earned his peace from this dreadful place. This individual and his "master" had no place in this new world, and the wastelander would make sure that they remained buried in this wretched tomb.
"…You will find no hellfire in these silos, stranger. I suggest you remove yourself from this place before the damned find you… or before I lose my patience," the wastelander growled.
The stranger atop the light post stopped smiling. "As expected, I had informed my master that locating such weaponry was an unlikely gamble. Still, this venture need not be a total waste of time, seeing as someone with such intimate knowledge of such a figure is a rare find these days," the stranger said as he flipped a switch on the side of his sword, activating the circuits that sparked his blade to life.
"I do not seek to leave this place until I am dead," the wastelander growled as he slung his sub-machinegun from his hip.
"Then I need only settle for making you wish you did," the stranger retorted, before leaping towards the wastelander as several black-clad figures decloaked and joined the melee.
As his companion tore into the black-clad assailants, the wastelander danced with the stranger. The stranger moved with nearly inhuman speed, the kind he knew was all but impossible to achieve naturally except through the most intensive training. When his magazine ran dry, the wastelander ditched his weapon as he pulled Old Glory from his back and engaged the man personally. He felt the heat from the blade permeate through his staff, though thankfully not the charge. For such a slim man, there was a tremendous amount of strength behind his frame. The wastelander had to kick him in the stomach and slam his head against the stranger to break the stalemate, and even that only seemed to stun him. Behind him he heard his companion howl as several of the assailants impaled him with their blades, only to be knocked aside and smacked down by the raging beast.
Then, the wastelander's nascent fears came to life. Shots rang out from the rooftops of the near collapsed buildings, Howls or rage and pain had surrounded the fighters whilst their own melee had distracted them. Marked men. The angry near dead who knew nothing but violence had found them. He watched as bullets bring down several of the black-clad assailants, and turned in time to see the stranger cut down an axe-wielding former legionary. Even as he engaged the blood-colored ghouls, the wastelander made peace with the notion of running out of time…
Hidden Valley
"So what we are looking at is… ten thousand?"
"We haven't discounted the breakaway regiment, but it looks like the remaining force is currently camped at Bullhead, so its safe to assume that eight thousand is what we'll be dealing with."
"A mechanized battle division. If Oliver hadn't spent all his time playing grabass, that's all the force he would've needed to conquer the Mojave, with or without his Majesty," one of the rangers from before could be heard saying.
"So that leaves us with roughly four hundred rangers to counterattack, in addition to… how many paladins do you have?"
"…Fifty…"
"…Well, we'll just have to hope the securitrons will be able to do most of the heavy lifting," the female Desert Ranger finally relented. "Maybe Lars can get the Boomers to provide some artillery, for all the good that'll do. After all, what can we expect the Families to do? Swindle them to death?" she joked.
The lead paladin felt no humor in the situation. "If they went through all this trouble to attack the Mojave, it would only seem logical that they would have something prepared to deal with the robotic security. An EMP, perhaps?"
"Not impossible. Even so, I think we need to figure out how to beat that damn artillery they brought with."
Ulysses eyes fluttered open. He saw that he was in some kind of…war room, where the lead paladin and ranger were in front of a screen, both assessing some images of what appeared to be a military occupation of a ghost city. All around him, Ulysses could see various scribes fulfilling their duties, even as several fully armed Desert Rangers milled around and patrolled the hallways of their recently conciliated enemies. Ulysses couldn't help but chuckle. Some people just had a gift.
The ranger looked back at him, having evidently dragged his unconscious body to the war room. Most likely to keep an eye on him.
"Well, look who decided to rejoin the world of the living," she joked.
Ulysses dragged himself to his feet. Stumbling towards the screen, he looked over the images of various camps, vehicles, and soldiers that took over the deserted town.
"Yeah, I can't see any of us bringing up any force that can match that army, blow for blow." Elder Hardin began, looking over the screen.
"…Maybe… we don't need to…" Ulysses murmured to himself.
"Have something to add to this discussion?" Deputy Chief Kenway asked.
"…Time, not energy… Scipio…" Ulysses muttered to himself.
Dusk wasn't his favorite time of day; the same reason mornings were everyone else's least favorite. These days, that meant marching out to Dinky, climbing up the stairs, and keeping watch for any raiders until sunup. It was a dull job, but today he was comfortable with that fact.
Manny had just left the dinosaur when he saw him storm out of his hotel room, livid as he bit back his tongue in an attempt not to continuously kindle the argument. As they were about to pass, Manny held out his arm to block his friend's path. Personal history was all that prevented him from being shoved away from his personal sulking time.
"Lady troubles?" Manny asked.
"Fuck off," he growled.
"I was wondering what that yelling was about," Manny asked, more concerned then amused.
"Nothing. Carla is just… she isn't happy with our current living situation," he explained. "She says she wishes we lived closer to the city. She doesn't trust the area or something," he added, scoffing.
"As opposed to what, California?" Manny asked.
"I don't… look, I'm not swimming with options here. The only way back to California is if I re-enlist, but if I do that, I risk leaving her alone. And considering we have a kid on the way… I just don't see what she expects me to do," he finally confessed.
Manny looked away, before bracing himself again to bring up another uncomfortable opinion. "Maybe… you rushed into this whole "relationship" thing…."
"No, no, no, don't you start," Boone interrupted. "I'm sick of having this conversation, Manny. I get that you and Carla can't bring yourselves to be best friends, but I've made my decision. I'm going to spend the rest of my life with that woman."
"Oh wonderful, so that argument is going to be a nightly thing, is it?" Manny joked.
He turned up his nose at his best friend, finally breaking away from him as he went to his sentry post. Everything was weighing down on him. The Legion was scaring away many of the caravans that Novac depended on. Fiends had been sighted to the north, while allegedly a large group of ghouls were spotted closer to the area. Tensions between him and many of the other Novac citizens were starting to thicken, and that didn't even begin to start with the whole baby issue. He felt like he was twenty-five going on sixty. Maybe that was what had started the initial argument in the first place?
"Hey, Craig!" Manny called out before he entered his room. He turned to look at his old shooter. "Whatever happens, just know that I'm still here for you. At the very least, I get to be an uncle, right?" Manny laughed. He cracked a smile for the first time that night. "Go to bed, Manny. I'll talk to you in the morning."
As Manny disappeared into the motel, he looked into his own little room to see that the light was still on. A part of him wanted to blow off his current shift, just get someone like Andy to do it while He went back and tried to patch things up with her. Least he could do was something that stopped Carla from going to bed angry.
He shook his head. His paycheck, minimal as it was, kept the both of them fed. Though Crawford seemed like the forgiving kind, but he didn't feel like testing his luck with her. Chances were that after they both had some time to mull this over, they'd both admit that they had said some things they didn't really mean, and then life would go on. Still, next time he saw her, he told himself, he'd do his best to make things right.
How was he supposed to know that that night, Jeannie May Crawford would allow a Legion raid party into Novac behind his back? How was he supposed to know that they would sneak her out while nearly everyone else slept? How was he supposed to know that the last thing he would ever say to her was, "Whatever, I don't have time for your shit," before he stormed out of his room. How was he supposed to know that the last time he'd ever see her was down the scope of his weapon, with a single bullet to spare?
Lucky 38
"…There had to be hundreds of them. They were buying up women and kids. I had to watch them for hours until I finally caught a glimpse of her," Boone deadpanned as he sat on the floor, leaning on the wall by the elevator. "Those… animals… must've ripped her out of her dress. She just had some sackcloth on her. Just enough to show her… show her stomach. She had to have been six months along…"
In the darkness, he could make out Natalie's shape against the opposite wall. She hadn't moved so much of an inch since he began. After he'd calmed down about the elevator, he broke down, finally pouring out what had been weighing him down all this time.
"I only had enough time to make one shot. So I did," he finally finished. As he did, the full weight of silence came crashing down on him. Natalie hadn't spoken as much as a word since he began his story. In the dark, he not could see the expression of her face. Boone panicked. Did he finally say it? Something so disgusting that she would want nothing more to do with him? Was she angry?
"…I sorry, Craig," came a soft whisper from the other wall. "I'm so, so sorry."
"Wasn't your fault," Boone answered absentmindedly. "There wasn't anything anyone could've done."
"…Why hide it? Didn't you tell anyone else?"
"I did. Lars. I couldn't trust anyone around Novac after that. Lars… gave me an outlet for my… pain…"
"As his attack dog," Natalie growled, furious at the thought of him exploiting someone so…
"No," Boone responded, quickly. "It took me weeks to fill him in on the whole situation, too. I only confided in him after he brought me some measure of peace. He earned that much. And for a while, things seemed to be looking up. New job, new friends, no reason to dig into old wounds. I finally felt like I was turning back into the person I was before I fired that shot. And then something happened, something I could never have expected to happen. Something that's leaving me more confused and scared then I've ever been in a long time."
Natalie didn't say anything. She didn't need to.
"I met you."
The emergency lights flickered to life. Natalie then found herself staring into the eyes of a face too young to be that haggard. It became abundantly apparent what Boone was so scared of. Why he was so willing to go so far out of his way to look after her. And it pained her to see him like this.
"Boone," she shook her head through her tears. "I can't… I can't replace her…"
"I'm not asking you to," Boone said. "And I would never ask you to. But if I ever find myself in… a position like that again… I don't know what I'd do…"
Natalie closed the gap between them, throwing her arms around his neck as she kissed him one more time. "You won't be. We'll be partners. We'll watch each other's backs. Whatever is coming for us, we face it together… or we go down together."
Boone looked into her eyes, saw no false bravado or motivational lie in them, and embraced her as well. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt this warm and light. Whatever was coming for them, this was something no one could take away.
The elevator dinged a couple of minutes later. Sarah walked out holding a walkie-talkie to her ear. "King, status report, over."
"Babe, I just found Bishop in the lower levels. Said he managed to find the spark-box or something. I'm taking him back to the ground floor with Crocker. Any luck finding our other guests, over?"
Sarah looked down on the floor, seeing the two lovers enjoying their embrace, completely disregarding her presence or arrival. "Uh…guys?" Sarah started.
Natalie interrupted her with a finger, and then held up all five.
"…I'm… going to check the penthouse again, over," Sarah responded as she ducked into the elevator. Boone grinned as Natalie nestled her head against his chin, content for the first time he could remember.
When he finally came to, he was in a military hospital. Nothing unusual. Same thin cotton sheets. Same curved metallic walls. Same white drawn curtains. Same sterile environment. Least it was warm here.
Just then he realized that he wasn't actually alone. Turning, he could see a woman sitting at the side of his bed. On her own, she was cute enough, but add an officer's jacket and cap and, well….
She had her face buried in a textbook. She had never been one to squander her precious little free time. Just how long had she been sitting there anyway?
As he tried to sit up, the woman noticed him, quickly folding a page on her book before stopping him from moving too much.
"Easy soldier. Your wounds haven't healed that much. Just lay back and rest. That's an order."
"Coming from a… superior officer?" the gunnery sergeant winced.
The woman paused for a moment, turned to look at any nearby outlines along the curtains, and turned back the soldier, leaning down as she gave him a gentle yet passionate kiss.
"From someone who loves you," she said after breaking it off, smiling sweetly. The soldier grinned slightly, right before his damn memory caught up with him. About the charge on the hill. About the ambush his platoon ran into. About his men getting cut down.
"Leah… what happened…"
"Shh… the stitches still need time to settle, not to mention the morphine is still in your system."
"My company… were there…"
Sadness spread through her features, where before it had just been contained to her eyes.
"The Reds ordered a saturation bombing right after Maxson's company pulled you from the battlefield. We haven't been able to identify everyone, but… all we are finding are pieces." She just came right out and said it. No trying to hide what had happened out of some misplaced sense of compassion. Smart girl. For all the good that did him.
Using his free hand, he covered his eyes, trying to remember the faces in his squad, let alone his platoon. Anchorage had cost far too many men. He wondered just how worth it that fucking pipeline was.
"…No one else survived?" he asked, desperately wishing that morphine came in those dispensaries those other painkillers came in.
The woman shook her head. "Benji… I don't want to sound callous or anything, but… you've made it! You're out of the service. By the time you're discharged from the hospital, your commitment to the marines expires. You'll be a free man!" she said as she slid her hand into his other, clasping their palms together.
He looked at her through the foggy haze that clouded his head. "You're saying that… I haven't been medically discharged?"
"No… thank God," she choked out. "I've seen some of the other soldiers in here. When the month is over, you'll have a clean bill of health."
"I see…" the marine said as he closed his eyes. "So we go home together, pop out some kids, grow old and get fat, and pretend that this never happened?"
2nd Lieutenant Leah Einhorn was taken aback by the comment. "Benji, what the hell? What are you saying?"
The marine winced, evidently flaring up some abdominal pain from that Dragoon sword. He should have taken a hint, but he couldn't stop himself. He continued, "Everyday, people are dying. We lost two hundred of America's finest taking that one hill alone. How many are we losing, 2nd lieutenant? In Alaska? In China? The Philippines? In Canada, of all places? Didn't we just pass one million a couple months ago?" Benji asked, turning over to the woman, not expecting an answer.
"Besides, if I go home now, I'll have the food riots and quarantines to look forward to. That sounds like fun."
"Benji… what are you saying?" Leah asked, her tone steady.
The marine looked over to her, stared into her eyes for a moment, and tried to find the right words to say. "Look, I'm not saying I have what it takes to win this war single handedly, but I also like to think that it can't be done without me."
Leah threw her hands up. "You're going back! You're going to re-enlist! You almost died! I thought you were dead! I was this close to mourning you!" she ranted, her previous professional demeanor all but gone.
"I'm not about to settle down while there is still a job left to do! I'm sorry, Leah, but I am not going to sit idly by while we pass this job off to a bunch of other unlucky saps just because I feel like I've had enough."
Leah looked down at him, and before his very eyes, her face began to harden. "No," she said. "Don't you dare give me that crap. I've heard the stories. You volunteered to go up that hill. Just like you volunteered to fight house to house in Juneau. Just like you joined the force at Edmonton to put down those resistance fighters." She looked away from him, playing with something on her finger. "You love this. Not this whole "honor and duty" crap, you love fighting. You don't light up quite that way with anything else. You want to keep fighting until something forces you to stop. So I…" she stopped, trying to reign her emotions back in before continuing. "I'm going to try. My tour ended yesterday. I'm going back to Harvard. Try to finish that degree I left behind. Benji… do you want to be with me?"
The marine thought long and hard. Leah Elnora Einhorn was the only human being he had ever loved. Many he liked, and quite a few he respected, but she was the only one he ever loved. And if there was anything he could give her, it was a world without war. If he brought the war to the close, all of the rest of the worlds problems could finally be solved at its own pace, and they'd have all the time to be together.
"More then anything… that's why I'm going back."
Lieutenant Einhorn placed his hand into hers, clasped it one final time, and then drew away, quietly picking up her book as she left. She shook her head, fought back the tears that threatened to escape, and walked away from the man she had hoped to spend the rest of her life with. As the marine turned his hand over, he saw the ring laying in the center of his palm.
"Please, Leah, don't leave," he muttered as she drew past the curtain. He watched helplessly as she walked behind the sheet, her dark silhouette vanishing into the halls. "Nora!" he called out, spitting up blood as the nurses rushed to attend him…
Vault 3
Gaunt had to bang on the vault door controls for quite a while before the slightest creaks of pained steel began to make their slow rotations. As the door prepared to move, the screams and laser fire alerted Gaunt to the fact that his quarry had found its own trouble long before he did. Before the door was even halfway open, a man in black combat armor squeezed through the crack, panting and huffing wildly as his eyes darted around everywhere as he attempted to make a break for it. Everywhere except the butt of Gaunt's hunting rifle, it would seem.
Even flat on his ass, the Hispanic mercenary barely paid any heed to the goose egg on his forehead, trying to scramble up the ramp and away from whatever he was fleeing. Gaunt, in turn, grabbed him by the collar of his armor and slammed his back into the side of the wall. "What's going on here?" Gaunt snarled, aware of the added bonus his decaying skin gave to his intimidation.
"G-g-ghosts!" the man sputtered. "Everywhere! Earl and Todd are… Francis is holding them off… Jarrod is probably dead!"
The man was clearly in no condition to be any further a threat, though he still choked him out for good measure. Looking into the vault, Gaunt kept his weapon at the ready as he dove into the dark. As his tired eyes acclimated, he could see some dull red flashes coming from around the corner down the main hallway, as well as someone very scared screaming and someone else… moaning…
Gaunt snaked his back along the corner before peeking around to see something that he had never seen in his two hundred years in the wasteland. A large, green mutant was bracing his back against the hallway as unseen assailants attacked him. Judging from the look on his face, he was either in unbearable agony or having the time of his life. Two mercenaries, meanwhile, were firing around the mutant, evidently trying to vaporize their attackers. Gaunt noticed that one of the mercenaries was the very one who tried to attack him earlier that day. He then realized that there were two more mercenaries in the hallway, both of them decapitated. Suddenly, Gaunt's memory started to jog. "No…" he muttered to himself.
Looking up, he found out a way to prove his suspicions. Looking above himself, he saw a strand of wire running along the roof of the corridor. If memory served, it was a failsafe for the vault's fire-suppression system. Granted, these things were roughly a century past date, and could prove to be unresponsive should someone go so far as to light up a flamethrower in the mess hall, but if memory served, striking that wire directly should do the trick. Dropping his rifle to the side, he pulled out his service pistol, a gift he had held onto after his ultimate discharge from his favorite job ever. Pointing it at the wire, he fired. The shot caused sparks to fly, and the firefight a few yards from him came to a pause. Then the sprinklers finally started up.
Not a moment later, Gaunt saw the bubble standing just a few feet from him. The bubble raised its weapon, but Gaunt was just a hair quicker. He plugged two holes into the center of its mass, watching with amazement as the armor fizzled around its user as he dropped to the floor. Gaunt's eyes widened as he recognized the body that lay before him.
"DRAGOON!" he cried as another sword-wielding specter brought down another mercenary. The big merc slammed the butt of his laser rifle into the apparition, before bringing it around and sending a half dozen shots into the ghost. As the corpse turned to dust, Jarrod tried to flee up the corridor. "There's too fuckin' many!" he cried, right before his jaw collided with Gaunt's rifle stock.
"Where's your patriotism, boy!" Gaunt howled, his old bravado beginning to resurface after several long decades of apathy. "Mutie! Hold them still! I'm going to show you amateurs how we handled these bastards in the Corps!"
Profiles of Heroes: Gunnery Sergeant Benjamin Montgomery
As the battle lines in Alaska come down to a bloody crawl, exemplary individuals find ways to turn the tide of battle! One such American is none other then New York's own Benjamin Montgomery! A fifth generation soldier, Benjamin Montgomery has dedicated his heart, body, and soul to the United States Marine Corps. From the early onset of the Anchorage Invasion, Montgomery has fought through some of the very harshest of Red Chinese defenses and Canadian insurgent ambushes alike. His storied career culminated in helping to neutralize the Chinese artillery line, at tremendous cost to his allies and comrades. Ever the proud American, Montgomery has turned down opportunities to end his service early, expressing desires to fight on the Philippine front as soon as able. An example to inspire us all, we salute you, Gunnery Sergeant Benjamin Montgomery!
Note: Giving recruits an opportunity to fight alongside a war hero of his status could be the final touch the Anchorage Simulation needs. I'll just get him to sign a few documents to use his name and likeness we should be set. Creative liberties will be taken as necessary, as usual.
Gen. C. Chase.
Year two already? Well, I guess it's time to do something special. Instead of asking questions, how about I take story suggestions? Is there something you want to see? Please let me know! Minor, unofficial contest, done just for fun, with the best suggestion having a shot at being integrated into the story! If any of you have ever had an opinion, now is the time to voice it!
