(+)11

2075 ROBCO(R)

LOADER V1. 1

EXEC VERSION 41.10

32K RAM SYSTEM

12102 BYTES FREE

HOLLOWTAPE LOADED: "THE-STORM."

INITIALISING…

SUCCESS!

STATUS

Battery Level: 9%

Wireless Signal: (?)

Operating Temperature: 93F

HEALTH

BP: 120/90

SPO2: 100%

Temp: 98.5F

RR: 15

HR: 70

TIME

Day: 28 SEP. 2279

Time: 16:11

CLIMATE

Current Temperature: 64F

Atmospheric Pressure: 512 mm (WARNING! SEVERE WEATHER ALERT!)

Background Radiation: 0.151 RAD

"Gram Hoplite! You've got a lot of nerve, showing yourself here."

Oh, great, I thought. Of course Gram did something horrible here. Literally the friendliest place I'd ever been, and he'd been a dick.

"Wouldn't have stopped here if I could avoid it. But, the Long 15 is closed, and I ain't about to go the Novac way," replied Gram, crossing his arms. For her part, Trudy crossed hers right back at him.

"I don't wanna hear it. Your ungodly tab here has cost Goodsprings more than anything else in twenty years," said Trudy, motioning towards the faded red saloon with the light-up neon sign. Gram took off his hat, and did his best to look hurt. I wasn't sure if he was acting or not, but if I didn't know any better, I'd be totally convinced.

"Listen, Trudy, we've been through a lotta shit in the last couple of days- half of us are only still alive because of the new guy here. If you let us wait out the storm, I won't buy a thing and we'll leave as soon as we can," he said, bowing his head solemnly. Trudy looked around at all of us with a really scary look, then stopped and looked back at Gram. She did an angry sigh.

"Fine. But, for the record, I'm only doing this because your friends here have never done anything wrong in this town. They don't deserve to get caught in a storm like that because you can't pay for your whiskey."

"Thanks, madame. You're too kind." Gram and Savanna exchanged some sort of look that might have been gratitude. "Anyways, if it's all the same, I'll just go-"

"Oh, no you don't! At the very least, you owe me a story or two- it's been years since I've heard anything from you! Come on, let's go down to the bar," said Trudy, effectively grabbing onto and restraining Gram in every way except for physically. He made a little gesture that suggested that he wanted to tie a rope around his neck until he suffocated, and then reluctantly followed Trudy back to the bar. That left Tandi, Savanna and I alone with the shorter, younger woman who'd been standing behind Trudy, holding an old varmint-rifle. She looked vaguely familiar.

"Well, I guess that means that you guys can come in, long as you don't cause any trouble- not that I'd expect you to…" she said, gesturing towards the cute little town with her rifle. Tandi laughed underneath her helmet.

"Not on your life, Sunny. What've you been up to?"

"Not a lot, Goodsprings has been a pretty quiet place since the Khans left us alone. How about you?"

"Well, I fought some deathclaws back at Sloan. Oh, and I got my first Gecko bite- you were right, those things hurt like hell!"

"I told you! Deathclaws and mutants are scary, but there's something about Gecko bites…" Said Sunny, trailing off as she looked at me. I would have looked away, but I was fixated too much on her face, trying to match it with the name. Sunny? Wasn't what the one brother in The Godfather was called? I couldn't associate that name with anyone else.

"Huh- I was about to ask you your name, but you look kinda familiar. Have we met?" asked 'Sunny.' I shrugged.

"My name is Isaac- Isaac Saller. I visited here once as a kid." After a few seconds of silence, I noticed that I was clutching my hands together nervously. That visit had been during a… troubling time in my youth. I wanted to be understood, but I couldn't speak with words yet, so I was usually just a little ball of anger and frustration. The trip to Goodsprings had been no exception.

"Wait- hold on- yeah, I do remember you! Your Lucas's son, right?"

Oh, not this shit again! Grimacing on the inside, I nodded stiffly and tried to smile. If Sunny noticed my pain, she didn't show it. "You know, as soon as I saw your face, I thought, "I know those freckles from somewhere!" Guess I was right, huh?"

I nodded again. Katherine- that's what she'd called herself when I met her. Of course, she'd only been about eleven years old at the time, so I was kind of surprised that she remembered me. Most people aren't blessed with that kind of memory.

"Man, your dad is an awesome guy. I don't know if you were here when he came by to help us recover from our big run-in with the Great-Khans-"

"I was."

"Yeah- well, anyways, he and his friends worked day and night to make sure that every single person who was wounded would survive, both Great Khans and our guys. Releasing the wounded Khans back to their tribe ended up keeping the peace between us until… well, until now, I guess, because we haven't had a real fight since then."

I remembered this. Father had made me watch while he put in the jugular IVs, in case I ever needed to do one of those. He also tried to get me to watch a tracheotomy, but I'd screamed and hadn't been able to sleep for three days after that. As it turns out, I wasn't born immune to nausea.

"Yeah, my father was… pretty great. Never hurt anyone outside of a medical context," I said, kicking at some little red-and-white pebbles by my feet. Of course, if he hadn't been so anti-violent, he might not have died. God, what I wouldn't give to see that drunk courier lying against a wall with his head shot off...

But, that was the kind of thought that I liked to avoid- and besides, that was no way to speak to someone like Sunny! I distinctly remembered that she'd been really nice to me, even when I couldn't talk. So, I left it at that- on a positive note, but in the past tense, because he was dead. A couple of years ago and I probably would have gone into graphic detail about how dad died, but I'd started to figure out what kind of things upset people by then.

"So I heard." Sunny eyed the rest of the group- mostly Tandi, and then slung her rifle over her shoulder. "Anyways, you all seem a bit restless. How would you like to do some target shooting? I know it's not exactly a great day for it, but I've got some empty sarsaparilla bottles and a pretty decent range set up."

"Say no more. Savanna, you got your glass?"

"Duh," said Savanna, reaching into the satchell at her hip and drawing her matte black binoculars. Tandi unslung her rifle and checked the chamber.

"Fuckin-A! You glass it, I'll fire- it'll be good to get some practice with this wind." They set off after Sunny. Well, Tandi did- Savanna looked at me like she was expecting me to come with them, or at least that's the impression I got. The wind was blowing her hair in her face, so it was really hard to figure out what she wanted.

"You can go on. I don't like loud noises," I said, nodding towards Tandi and Sunny. Savanna looked at them, then back at me. She didn't budge.

"That's okay- Tandi's got a spare set of military headphones in the cart. You'd be surprised how quiet it is, that way."

"Savanna, listen. I can't- I just can't…" I started. But, then I stopped because I didn't really know how to continue that sentence. Why exactly didn't I want to be around irons again? The noise, mostly, which she just gave me a solution to. I mean, one had killed my father, but that was kind of a flimsy excuse. Like, this one girl was really mean to me when I was younger, but that doesn't give me an excuse to go around hating women. Why would barking-irons be any different?

This was shitty reasoning, of course. But, then again, I didn't understand Post Traumatic Stress yet, so I was only working with what I had. Also, I didn't want to look like a complete pussy in front of Savanna. I didn't get why at the time, but I was finding myself oddly influenced by her opinion of me- imagined or not.

"Fine. Grab the earmuffs."

I was making a mistake, and I knew it. Me and irons, they didn't go well together. But then again, neither did me and adventure, and yet here I was, defying the odds, spending my time with dangerous people. Maybe it was time for me to start acting like it.

-Break-

Despite the magical noise-cancelling effects of the headphones, I could still feel the sound of the sniper rifle as it vibrated through my whole body. Somewhere in the distance, a Sarsaparilla bottle full of dirty water exploded into a million pieces.

"Boom! Headshot! Hostile neutralized!" cried Tandi, cackling maniacally and drawing back the bolt on her rifle. A big, shiny cylinder kicked out the side, and fell at my feet. Savanna lowered her binoculars.

"Only because I was spotting. You'd have whizzed to the left if I hadn't corrected you at the end there, said Savanna, clearing her calculator and switching the tabs on my pip-boy. Tandi laughed. I marveled at how well I could hear the voices, even though everything else was muted.

"Oh, ain't you a delicious part of this complete breakfast? If I weren't here, the bullet wouldn't have been fired."

"Would you be willing to bet on it? 20 caps says that I could get Sunny to hit one of those bottles at 150 meters!"

"I ain't takin that bet. I've been helping Sunny with her aim since she was a little girl- Ain't that right, Sunny?"

"It's true! You've been a good teacher, too- I've never met anyone else who has the same…"

"Kinesthetic sense?" offered Savanna. Sunny shrugged.

"Maybe. She's got an instinct for bullets. I guess I've probably picked up a little of that, because I almost never miss these days." Tandi was still wearing her helmet, but I could feel the pride emanating off of her. If I didn't know better, I'd think she was flattered.

"Well, alright. I guess that rules out Sunny. But, I think I've got a better idea-" Savanna looked at me, and I shook my head. Whatever it was, I didn't want to be involved.

"I bet you 50 caps that I can get Isaac to hit one of those bottles at 150 meters!"

Oh.

Oh, no.

Oh, HELL no!

"Say that again? I must have gone deaf," said Tandi, cocking her helmeted head at Savanna. Savanna stood firm.

"I bet you 50 caps that I can get Isaac to hit one of those bottles that you were shooting at."

Tandi laughed. "Oh, that's funny. Fifty caps? You will pay me, FIFTY caps, if you can't get this kid to hit a shot at that range." Savanna nodded earnestly. "Alright. Easy deal- here you go, doc, rifle's yours!"

"But- but, I haven't fired an iron since I was nine!" I protested, taking the massive thing into my hands. I reeled a little bit as it was handed off to me, because it was friggin' heavy, and also nearly as tall as me. I was left wondering how Tandi even carried it without getting some serious back-pain as Savanna adjusted her binoculars and motioned for me to get down. It was all happening so fast, like some sort of bad dream...

"Alright, first step is to lay down on your belly. If you try to shoulder fire this thing, you will hurt yourself," she said, patting my shoulder. Meekly, I sank down to my knees, and then onto my belly, still holding the weird green rifle at an arm's length. I wasn't even really sure where to hold it, so I just did what felt natural and stuck my fingers into the trigger hole and rested my hand against the comfy-looking grip that had been carved out of the stock.

The rifle was oddly unadorned, considering how this was The Scourge of Kiev's legendary service rifle. Supposedly, she'd had it since the battle of Kiev, when special forces from all around the world gathered to put down a Russian cult that threatened to awaken an old superweapon. During the battle, she had, again, supposedly been awestruck by our own Desert Rangers, and decided to leave her regiment to fight for the New California Republic. Lots of exaggerations, probably, but I was pretty certain that she'd been using this rifle for longer than I'd been alive. It was iconic.

Not that mom read me her comics, or anything. Or that I felt kind of special to be holding her personal killing-machine.

"Alright, now, move your finger away from the trigger- you don't want to fire early," said Savanna, kneeling down beside me.

"Honestly, I'd really rather not fire at all," I admitted. My hands were shaking as I found my way around the weapon. It was all oddly natural, considering my usual aversion to weapons. I felt powerful when I held the rifle- a feeling that I didn't like.

"Alright, now, sight down the scope. Your target is going to be the second sarsaparilla to the left of that big rock- let's call that rock, uh, Grover. You see Grover?" I nodded. I could, in fact, see Grover! The scope was kind of blurry, but I knew how to adjust that. I scrolled the wheel where the two parts of the scope connected, and brought the image into focus.

"What are you doing?" asked Savanna. I pointed to the variable-zoom.

"Zeroing. I used to use a scope that was a lot like this one as a telescope." I checked the faded white numbers and lines on the side of the scope. "I'm zoomed in at about… five-point-seven? Let's just say five point five…"

"Which is it? I need exacts here," said Savanna, typing madly into her calculator. There wasn't a sheet of paper in sight, which means that Savanna must have been pulling the necessary equations right out of her head. I found that both impressive and kind of scary. How many shots had she made with Tandi?

"Five point seven. I was just going with point-five because I thought it'd be simpler."

"Mhm."

Some time passed as Savanna did her calculations. To pass the time, I tried to line up the top-chevron on my optic with Grover, then with the target off in the distance. There was a whole stack of chevrons that I could have lined up, and also some indicators on either side of the chevrons, but I was pretty sure that you were supposed to use the top one for aiming.

"Okay. Now, I want you to line up that top-triangle with the target- let's call that one Sally. Have you got that?" asked Savanna. I nodded.

"Already done. Um, should I take my glasses off first?" I asked. Savanna shook her head.

"Nope. But, when you fire, move your head back a little- the thing kicks, and you don't want it smashing your glasses." I cringed as I imagined the broken glass flying inwards with all the force of rifle-kick, probably too quickly for my eyelids to close. I definitely did not want that. "Anyways, here comes the hard part. The wind speed is a pretty constant 15.3 kilometers an hour, per the anemometer over there, so I've been doing all my calculations based on that. Based on the distance that I measured for the last bottle, the target is roughly 150 meters away- if there's an issue, it's gonna be because that's wrong. So, we're going to aim a little high." I waited while Savanna sighted down her binoculars. Every once and awhile, she'd put two of her fingers in front of the lenses, then move them out, then back. She made a, 'hmm,' sound. "...Okay, so, now that you've got the top sight on, uh, 'Sally,' you're going to move it so that the fourth faint little line to the left- so, the one right next to the first bold line on the left- is right on top of Sally. Got that?"

"Okay, quick question- isn't the scope zeroed so that I can reliably hit stuff at this range by lining it up with one of the chevrons?" I asked, turning my head away from the scope. Savanna nodded.

"Well, yeah, but it's super windy today, so we've gotta take that into account. Plus, there's a tiny bit of bullet drop at this range and no mirage to set it off, so we're going to go for about the height of the second chevron's tip. But, not yet."

I shrugged. "Alright." It took me a few seconds to get it right, but soon I had Sally right where Savanna wanted her. "Okay, I got Sally right under the fourth line to the left. What now?"

"Now you're going to raise the barrel just a tiny bit, so that the bottom of Sally is lined up with the top of the second triangle. Can you do that?"

"Yeah, give me a second…" At first I moved it too much, then too little, and then I completely threw myself off by moving it to the side. Quickly recalling where Savanna had told me to put my sights, I remedied the issue and got the bottle where she wanted it. At this point, no point of it was touching any part of the optic. I was starting to wonder what the point of the damn thing was.

"Okay, have you got it there?" she asked. I nodded. "Good. Execute."

I was confused for a moment. Then, I realized that she was telling me to shoot it.

"Oh. Alright, firing it…" I depressed the trigger slowly, unsure of exactly how much weight I'd need to put on it. It was starting to give me anxiety. "Jesus, how heavy is this thing? I'm pressing it, but it just ain't-!"

The shockwave traveled through my entire body. At first, the flash and the smoke clouded my view, but I lifted my head up just in time to see the vapor trail of the bullet fading as it tore through the air.

Oh, that's never gonna hit, I thought in the split second before the bullet hit home. Savanna had been right about the left-right stuff, but I definitely shot way high.

I was right. The massive .338 round passed ineffectually above the bottle, making a massive plume of sand in the distance. Feeling oddly shameful, I slid the bolt back, and kicked out the old casing. It fell harmlessly behind me, making a little clinking noise as it hit the pebbles.

Damn, that hurt!

"Alright, so we went a little high. Ready for shot two?" Asked Savanna. Both me and Tandi looked at her like she was crazy.

"Um, honey, you missed your shot. Give me my goddamn money," said Tandi, extending her hand. Savanna shook her head.

"I never specified the first shot! Just that I could get Isaac to hit it," she said, grinning and punching some new numbers into her calculator. Tandi yanked her helmet off- she was scowling.

"Why, you sneaky- you wouldn't have given me more than one shot! Why's he get to try again!?" She shouted, glaring at me like I was some sort of roach. I threw my hands into the air.

"Hey, I'm just an interchangeable variable! Let's not do anything terrible to me!"

"How about we don't do anything terrible to anyone- and give Isaac the rest of the magazine, to account for the open-ended terms," suggested Sunny, stepping in between the three of us. Tandi's eyes didn't get any less cold. "That's, what- 8 bullets now? How's that sound to you?"

"One shot," spat Tandi, turning away. Savanna gave me a sneaky thumbs-up as Tandi put her helmet back on. "One shot, that's all you're getting. He still ain't gonna hit it, so it don't matter."

"Hear that Isaac? Let's go again- The wind's the same, so all we're going to change is the-"

"Hold on," I said, rubbing my aching arm, "That kinda fucking hurt! Is there some way I can fire this thing without it trying to tear my arm off?"

"Yeah, actually- lemme show you," said Tandi kneeling down beside me. Savanna rolled her eyes.

"Oh, lord," she muttered. I looked around suspiciously.

"Um, what are you gonna do? Is this like a-"

"There's a trick that I always like to use. Can you see my hand up here?"

It's a trap! mouthed savanna, but I nodded anyways. "Um, yes?"

"It's very simple. All you've gotta do is hold the rifle just like you were- yeah, just like that, and then-"

BAM! Before I could process it, Tandi had brought her palm directly into my forehead, causing my head to snap back as my glasses flew up past my eyes, and onto my forehead. My helmet fell off my head, and the loose chinstrap pulled on my throat.

Immediately, I could feel my nose flooding with the visceral, overwhelming smell of being hit. I don't know exactly what she did to me, but I was left completely stunned. Not hurting much, but unable to move or think.

"And then, you man the hell up! Pain is good, feel the goodness!"

Savanna and Sunny exchanged a look, and Sunny backed up. With her out of the way, Savanna stalked up to Tandi, clenching her fists and coming uncomfortably close to her. Tandi crossed her arms defiantly. Despite Tandi's imposing height and Savanna's obvious frustration, neither woman flinched.

"I'm sorry Tandi, but that's not okay. Do something like that again, and you've lost yourself a friend." She let that sink in for a second, then backed up, still scowling at the older woman. I looked away in embarrassment, because I always felt bad when I caused arguments, but I could hear her footsteps coming closer until she stopped and kneeled down beside me. She placed a hand on my face before I could look away.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, course. Just scared me a little," I said. I pulled my helmet back on by the strap, and felt under my nose. "I don't even think I'm bleeding."

"Hell no you ain't- if I wanted to make you bleed, you'd be lying in a pool of it," said Tandi, unsheathing her knife and tossing it into the air. As usual, she caught it with practiced ease, and twirled it around a little to remind me that she could. Savanna shook her head.

"He isn't a soldier, Tandi! You can't reasonably expect him to be anything like you!"

"I ain't asking him to be like me- just telling him to show some spine!"

"Hey, just because a man doesn't shoot things all the time doesn't mean he's spineless. His dad saved this whole town without firing a shot, and I'd say he's a braver person than me."

As much as I loved being compared to my father all the time, I decided that I was done with this argument. In a roundabout way, I'd started it, so I decided to end it.

"Everyone, quit talking- you're givin' me a headache. Are we doing the bet or not?" I asked, pressing my fingers against my temples to sell the effect. A couple seconds of nonverbal communication flew right over my head, then Savanna sighed.

"If you're still up for it. Let me check the numbers…" A little while longer passed in uncomfortable silence as Savanna checked the pip boy and put some things into her calculator. Sunny kept looking at me funny while I eased into a comfortable shooting position, shifting my weight away from the little rocks and pebbles that bit into my side and angling my face away from the little flecks of sand that the wind blew into my skin. Thankfully, my fire-helmet blocked most of it, and I was able to focus on the beer bottle in the scope. I positioned the middle of the bottle right at the tip of the topmost red chevron.

"Okay… So, do you remember where we had it last time? Do that, but make it so that the neck of the bottle is tucked into the crook of the top triangle, then move it over to the fourth line. Tell me when you've got it."

My hands were steadier this time, and it didn't take me long to get the bottle positioned just like Savanna asked in the scope. I held my breath.

"Got it," I said, finger hovering over the trigger. It wasn't a big adjustment, but I was pretty sure that she got it right. I started to depress the trigger.

"Alright. Execute!"

I didn't even hear the rifle this time, or feel the kick as it vibrated through my body- you never do, when a shot hits home. I just gasped a little as the top of the bottle exploded, leaving behind a jagged brown stump that spilled out dirty brown water like a little tiny waterfall. Despite the poor visibility through the scope, and my less-than-stellar vision, I could see it like I was standing right there. I felt that bottle break.

"Whoa! Nice shot!" said Sunny, placing a hand over her brow to block out the sun. I shuddered.

"Oh, yeah. That was really something." I stood up, and handed the rifle off to Tandi, who stood completely rigid as I gave her back her weapon. As soon as her fingers touched it, she pulled it back greedily, tearing it out of my hands and holding it close to her chest. I nodded again. "Yeah."

I felt sick. I don't know if it was because we'd given it a name and projected life on it, or if the target exploding brought up old memories. But, something about it was making my skin crawl, and I wanted to forget about it as soon as I could.

"Thanks, Isaac. Sorry about Tandi," said Savanna, putting her hand on my arm. I nodded.

"Mhm."

Then there was a flash of lightning, and a clap of thunder. Up above, the sky opened up, and the rain started pouring straight down. I suppressed the urge to scream as it soaked through my coat, and began to touch my skin.

"I have to go," I said, brushing Savanna's arm away. She didn't stop smiling.

"Alright. I'm gonna practice shooting in the rain with Sunny and Tandi for a little while, but I'll come inside as soon as we're done." Sunny raised her hand.

"Actually, I'm going to go hunt some geckos- they come out in droves whenever it rains. Cheyenne's sick, so if one of you wants to watch my back…"

"We'll keep an eye out for trouble," offered Tandi, tapping on the scope of her rifle. Sunny nodded.

"Good! I'll see you guys soon, I hope."

"See you!" Said Tandi.

"Yeah- and be careful, geckos are mean!" Said Savanna, waving to Sunny as she stolled off into the rain. Then she turned back to me, probably because I was starting to look restless. "Anyways, I guess I'll see you then. Have fun with Trudy!"

I put on a fake, tortured smile, and then turned tail and sprinted towards the saloon, ripping off my comtacs and tucking them into my coat to keep them from getting damaged. I wasn't even really thinking about the fact that they were under my helmet, just that the rain is evil and it destroys nice things. I hated the way it felt as it soaked into my clothes, made them all heavy and sticky. I hated the way it got in my face, and gathered on my lenses, and touched my skin like a thousand cold little knives.

On my way to the saloon, I tripped and tumbled over and hit my helmet on a rock, but I didn't even process it- I just scrambled back up and kept running. By the time I realized that my head kind of hurt and my coat was covered in wet sand, I was already on the porch of the saloon, where the old, dark skinned man who I vaguely remembered as, "Pete," sat in a rocking chair, seemingly in a world of his own. He nodded at me as I passed by.

"Hi mister Pete," I struggled out, hunching over and sucking in as much air as I could with each labored breath. I wiped some of the rain and sweat off my forehead, then looked up at the door. Even under the roof of the porch, I could still feel the mist from the heavy rain blowing against my skin.

"You took a bad fall back there. You alright?" Asked Pete. I nodded.

"Yeah. Door ain't locked, right?"

"Nope."

I smiled graciously, and opened up the door. Inside, the light was warm, and the windows were shuttered. I could hear Gram saying something really loud, and Trudy laughing. So, I walked in, closed the door, and peeked around the corner.

"… and that shark- well, it was less of a shark, more of a megalodon! Big around as a, as a submarine, or jet-plane! Anyways, we couldn't believe we pulled that bastard in with just a harpoon, and so no one had any idea what to do with it." Gram paused, and took a shot of some orange colored stuff in a glass. Whiskey, probably. "So… well, lemme think. God, it's all so distant now…" He looked up at the ceiling fan for a moment. Trudy hung on his every word, leaning over the bar and putting her chin in her hands. After some apparent thinking, Gram continued.

"Well, as I remember it, we tried to ask the captain what to do, but he was sleeping- didn't hear a word, even when we tried to radio him. And, this shark thing, it was flopping around a bunch now, and gettin' dangerously close to takin off someone's arm, or leg or something. Like… that!" He snapped his hand at me from atop his bar stool, and I yelped, jumping backwards and slipping forwards as the rain on the bottom of my shoes slid between me and the floor. Before I could fall face first onto the floor, though, I caught on to the top of the bar, and steadied myself. Trudy burst into laughter, and Gram just kept smirking. I rubbed my forehead.

"Howdy Gram. Glad to see you too," I said, and carefully climbed atop one of the annoyingly tall bar stools. I'd fallen off one of those as a child, cracking my skull and bleeding all over the floor. The incident would remain with me for the rest of my life; I would never fall off one of the damn things again.

Beside me, Gram was gulping down some more whiskey. He drank steady and slow, but the amount of fluid he consumed was, nonetheless, absolutely incredible- based on the amount of empty cups at the table, he'd probably drank at least 2 small handles of the stuff by now. Even Mom would have been near-unconscious at this point, and she could hold her liquor. Did Gram's weird biology do something with that?

"So, y'know, there's this big friggin beast on the ship, tearing itself up on the deck polish, thrashing like a madman. And, we were thinking about just putting it back, until suddenly some friend ah' mine- uh, Quinn, I think, pulls out his carbine and just starts firing into the thing- don't even warn us, just starts shootin! We all cover our ears and go running the other direction. Now, it's windy, and its raining, and the gun is really goddamn loud, so some of us slip and fall in the rain, on that rough metal-polish stuff!" Gram stops and runs his hand against the bar, grimacing as the skin of a dozen sailors is peeled from their legs by the rough deck of the battleship. Both Trudy and I waited silently for him to continue.

"So, at the end of it, the shark's deader-than-dead, and pretty much everyone's got a big bloody scrape somewhere, from slipping all over the deck. One guy, who's name is escapin' me right now, had a bunch of his nose peeled off- we searched all over the deck, couldn't find it anywhere- water must've washed it over the edge. Poor guy ended up looking like me for the rest of his life."

At this point, I was completely absorbed, trying desperately to figure out what had led up to this point in the story. The way that Gram was talking- not just with his mouth, but with his whole body- I could see it. It was like he was telling the story for himself and no one else, flinging his arms about and shaking his legs and leaning forward and backward with every motion in the (probably tall)-tale; a wild dance, without a care in the world for anyone else in the room.

In fact, I was so completely immersed that when he described his fallen buddy, I didn't even care about the horrendous medical inaccuracy, because the grimace that he delivered it with, and the way he touched his own un-nose, made it real for me. It wasn't hard for me to accept this new model of reality.

I guess I could start to see why Trudy kept letting him come back, even with his enormous tab. The man knew how to tell a tale.

"What did you do with the body?" Asked Trudy, leaning over the bar even further. Her eyes were open wide like a child's. Gram seemed surprised at first, then broke into a wide grin.

"Oh, you mean the shark? Well, whaddya think we did? We cut the fin off, made some soup out of it, and chopped the rest up to mix in with the other meats. Our cook was top class, could make a good hot meal outta anything," he recalled, swirling around the alcohol that was left in his cup. While he let that insanity sink in, he drank it all down in one long, measured gulp. "Y'know, now that I think of it, that shark had some weird shit in its stomach. No people, but no fish, neither- just a buncha junk that'd been floatin on the surface, and a tarnished silver watch. Since all of us marines were dirt poor, we fought over that by doing five-finger-fillet until everyone had stabbed themselves, x'cept one guy-"

"Was that you?" interrupted Trudy, "Did you get the watch?"

"Check my wrist," said Gram. He pulled up his sleeve. He was wearing a massive, gold-plated watch.

"Is that it?" asked Trudy, mystified. Gram chuckled.

"Oh, hell no. I stabbed myself on round two- maybe three. I was already way too liquored to win that one. I nicked this one off the corpse of some idiot gambler." When both of us looked curious at that, Gram just waved us away. "But that, friends, is a story for another day- or, at least, another hour. You got any more whiskey?"

Trudy checked behind the bar. "No, I don't think so. Gosh, I'm not used to you actually paying for drinks! I would've cut you off ages ago if all you were paying with was your war stories," she said, opening the cash register and accepting Gram's latest cap-payment. He grinned.

"Oh, I think they make great currency. I've got more of em than I care to remember, and everyone wants to hear em!" he replied, kicking his feet up on the bar and taking a cigar out of his jacket. He tried to light it, but it just wasn't catching. "Anyways, like I promised, I'll pay off the whole tab- all two thousand caps of it- once I get paid. Believe it or not, you ain't the only person who I've been shorting all these years. I'll be making a lot of payments by mail. Might need some reliable people to help guard those shipments." Gram gave me a look that I didn't like, and then kept trying to light his cigar, to no avail.

"Well, I appreciate your effort to tie up all your loose ends before you retire. Most people would probably take those hundred-thousand caps and run," said Trudy, polishing out one of the empty glasses with a dirty red towel. There was a little smudge that wouldn't come out, the crusty kind that you could wipe at for hours without getting rid of. I wondered how many times she'd tried to get rid of it. "Hell, I probably would've just hired myself a couple of guards and kicked back in the hub. Vegas is a risky choice."

"Right, which is why I'm settling all my debts before I get there. I've heard too-many stories about some rich old timer in a big city, getting bumped off by some asshole from the past who he owed money to. Hell, I was looking to retire to Old-Vegas before the war, so when I heard that they were bringing it back, I knew I had to get myself there- started planning for this shipment, or a shipment like this, for a while. The one that would let me tie all those dangerous loose ends…" Finally, Gram's cigar caught, and he immediately took a long, deep drag. It smelled like a pool-table mixed with a wood fireplace.

"Sounds like a solid plan to me. I'll have to call you up sometime, see how you're doing- you hear that they're planning on putting those old telephone lines to use again? I can't imagine how nice it'll be to not have to send a letter every time I want to talk with folks from out of town," said Trudy, staring at the dusty blue dial-up telephone that laid on the back counter, right next to the cracked red cup with the Six-gun in it. Based on the size of Goodsprings, I doubted that the phone was functional even within the town. Rigging those things could take a really long time, unless you had a good engineer around.

"I did- and, uh, speaking of talking with other people- why don't you check to see if Chet's got some whiskey? Haven't had any in ages, I'd pay double your normal price for a few handles of the stuff," said Gram, a tad desperately. Trudy shrugged.

"I don't see why not. Can I trust your friend here to keep an eye on you while you're in my bar?" she asked, regarding me with mock suspicion. I gave her a smile that I was just sure was reassuring.

"Of course, ma'am. I'm very trustworthy," I said. I don't think she was impressed.

"Well, I'll take your word for it. You're Penny's son, right? You'll have to forgive my not remembering your name, but it's been a few years."

"Isaac," I replied. She smiled.

"Right- I knew it was something biblical! How's Penny doing?"

"Um," I said. How was I supposed to respond to that? I really didn't want Gram to know all that stuff, but I was also not a fantastic liar. All three of my functional brain-cells scrambled to find an acceptable answer.

"Um, she's doing… pretty great, I think." There was an awkward silence. "Yeah. I mean, she's been sort of lonely, lately, without father being around, but… you know."

Thankfully, Trudy seemed to know. She nodded sagely. "Of course- I heard about what happened with your father. I can't believe that those kinds of terrible people are still about, with all the NCR presence lately." She started walking towards the door, but looked back at me one last time before she left. "I hope they caught him."

"Yeah, me too," I said. But, secretly, I kind of hope they didn't. The Followers would probably forgive him, and the NCR would just put him in prison if he didn't have any Legion affiliations. I liked to imagine that Caesar's Legion got him on one of his deliveries, or maybe some of those Great Khans; I'd heard they could be pretty brutal. Of course, my biggest fantasy for that courier had always been that he'd go the same way as my dad: shot to death in some lonely place, but how unlikely would that be?

A little bit of time passed once Trudy left. Gram stared at his empty cup for a while, then at the silent radio on the counter, then suddenly he was staring at me. I looked away.

"So, how's she really doing?" Asked Gram, cigar firmly planted between the teeth in the corner of his mouth. I shrugged.

"Not great. Kinda sick, after all the stress she's been under lately…"

"Mhm," said Gram. He started counting the caps in his pouch. "Now, Isaac, I've been around a while. Not sure exactly how many years now, but I wasn't a young man even when the bombs fell. And, since then, I've met a lotta people- some of em have been liars." I nodded. The wasteland is full of bad people, after all. I'm sure that he'd seen plenty of liars.

Wait, was he…?

"And, y'know, I've gotten pretty good at sniffing 'em out. Salesmen, conmen, thieves, deserters…" He sucked in on his cigar, and then let some smoke out. The air was starting to get kind of thick with smoke.

"And then, of course, there are harmless little white-liars. People like yourself."

Oh shit.

"It's alright! I get it, we're all entitled to some privacy. And, I don't mean to snoop- god knows I've got some things that I don't want anyone knowing. But, when I employ people, I like to understand what's pushin' em. What's making 'em tick." He hunched over, so that his face was uncomfortably close to mine. I had to blink back tears and set my jaw, which he probably saw right through. I was notoriously hard to read, but I figured only Tandi had any chance of missing my tells by now. Savanna was too perceptive to not notice, and Gram… Well, I guess he'd probably already met people like me.

"Why's it matter? I mean, you're right, I was lying- my mom has cancer, so yeah, I'd say it's pretty bad. But unless you can help, I don't reckon that's any of your beeswax!" I said, staring at Gram's jacket and clenching my fists. It was a nice jacket- tweed, with a plaid pattern. Strangely clean, Just like everything that he wore.

"Because that is my business- I can help! That's what I do, Isaac, I solve people's problems, and make friends out of it. Some of my friends help me run caravans, like Cook or Tandi. Some of em do me favors every once and awhile, like old Cannibal Johnson letting me use his cave. It all depends on what they can offer me, and what their problem is."

I relaxed a little. I mean, I kind of doubted that he could help me directly, but it would be good for him to understand why I wanted what I did.

"Okay. Well, I joined the caravan so that I could get to the Followers, since mom can't go there to get therapy anymore. If you could make them give me medicine, that's all I need. I can mail it to her with the Mojave express, and travel back with another caravan. So, for all that you're concerned, I'm just along for the ride," I said, running over my fantasy for how I'd rescue my mother from the slavering jaws of death for the tenth time that day. Gram looked at me like I was retarded.

"But Isaac, that won't actually work. Do you really need me to explain all the holes in that solution?" I didn't. I mean, I hadn't actually planned any of this, I was just operating based on instinct. Since I wouldn't be in Vegas for at least a while still, I didn't really see it as being important just yet.

I remained silent.

"That's what I thought. You got connections there- hell, your aunt Julie runs the place, right? If the Followers could help your mom by sending stuff through the mail, they would. And, what makes you think that they even have the time and money to help her? They've been in a bad way these last couple years."

"What else can I do? I mean, I know there's lots of holes, but I gotta do something, and I don't see any better solutions!" I replied, my anger boiling over the edge. Was I really this powerless? Was there really nothing rational that I could do?

"I can find you a better solution! That's what I'm trying to tell you- I know some people, some very rich people, who could probably do more for you than the Followers ever could!"

"But why?" I asked, "Why would you help me? I can't shoot straight, or climb up mountains, or give you free stuff-"

"I'm retiring, Isaac. The kind of help that I need runs more along the lines of talent, and expertise- Both of which you've got by the ton." He took another puff of his cigar while he let that sink in. I was valuable to him. I don't know what exactly settled it, but I'd passed some sort of test, and now we were on trading terms. Favor for favor.

I didn't know how to feel.

"We don't have to talk about it now; I won't be able to do much for you until I've delivered this shipment. But, if you stick with me until then, and promise me some big favors for the future, then I can help you save her. I was thinking that I could bring you back to Sloan, too, so that you could help out that 'Tyrone' guy- seemed like that'd been bugging you."

I nodded. "That would be good," I said, which was an understatement. I couldn't quite understand the flood of emotions that I was feeling- I was happy and relieved and kind of scared, but I also wasn't even sure if I believed it. And, if he really could help, then I knew that I would do anything for it. If he could save my mom, it would be worth any favor.

"Thought you'd say so. I'm a helpful guy, just ask me!" He chuckled a little, and blew some smoke over the counter, and scratched his head with his nails. I drummed my fingers on the counter.

"And, um, thanks. If you save my mom, I'll do anything for you. I know you probably won't be running caravans any more, but whatever you need…"

"We'll talk about it later. I just wanted to let you know that you can stop worrying about your ma now- I'd hate to have the guy operatin' on me freaking out about his family while he's poking around my guts."

Just then, lightning flashed through the shuttered windows, and all of the lights went out.

As the thunder boomed in the distance, the front door creaked open, and someone stepped inside, slamming it behind them. Although the footsteps were muffled by the incredible noise of the storm outside, I could swear that they weren't the familiar high heels that Trudy had been wearing.

Grinning widely, Gram rolled his shoulders back, and put out his cigar on the counter. A little bit of smoke drifted up from the little spot of soot, which he swept off the counter with his sleeve.

"You got some whiskey, Chet?" He shouted, craning his neck to see around the corner. Then the back door opened, and he looked that way. He started moving his hand towards his coat.

"Hey, uh, who's that in the back?"

"That you, Savanna?" I asked, jumping off the stool. I started to walk around the corner, but then a long gun barrel poked around the edge, followed by a tall, burly man wearing thick leather armor. I backed right-the-hell-up.

"Where's the ranger?" came a voice from behind me. I whipped around, and saw a smaller, lankier man in a spring-green suit walking towards me with a little green pistol. I shrugged.

"I don't know who you're- I don't…" Now the bigger man was poking his gun-barrel against my chest, and the green-suited man was pointing his pistol at Gram. One by one, my senses went into overdrive, until I could feel every beat of my heart in my throat, and see every little drop of rain glistening on the gun barrel. An adrenaline surge that I was powerless to use.

I don't want to die. I don't want to die. I don't want to die.

"Where's the ranger!?" The man repeated. I just shook my head.

"I don't know," I croaked. I tried to put my hands in the air, but the big guy with the rifle shot a bullet into the ceiling and shouted something at me, so I stopped moving and held my breath. If I twitched, or shouted, or screamed, I knew he would put lots of little pieces of metal through every part of my body, and I would die. Gram was more relaxed than me, which made me angry and scared. I wanted to run over and make him stand still, but I also knew that I would die before I got there. So, I stood perfectly still, glaring at him and trying not to cry.

"Where is she!? Where is the Ranger?" Shouted the man in the green suit, waving his gun at Gram's head. Gram placed his hands on the bar table, and kept his head straight. He wouldn't look at any of them.

"Hunting Geckos, probably. God knows that the bitch ain't earnin her paycheck." The men didn't look convinced.

"Give us the key to that shipment, and we won't kill you. We'd really rather we didn't have a mess," said the large man. The smaller man grinned.

"Right. Maybe you didn't know who you were working for. Lots of people don't."

"There isn't a key! They told me that no one could open it until it was delivered!" shouted Gram, throwing his arms out in protest as the smaller man walked towards him and started pulling his coat off. The big guy poked me in the gut with his rifle.

"You, sit in that booth! Keep your hands on the table- if I see you reach for anything, you're dead."

Immediately, I scrambled to sit down in the booth, sliding to the end and positioning myself by the shuttered window. Together, the two men searched Gram, with the bigger guy watching guard and the smaller one searching pockets. Already, they'd found a big, ivory-handled six-gun, a derringer pistol, a flare gun…

It was so dark, I realized- I couldn't see well in the dark. Without thinking about why, I pulled on the string that opened up the shutters, and let the dull grey light flood in. No one seemed to notice.

"Not seeing shit. Let's kill em and search the bodies," said the shorter man, dropping Gram's coat on the floor and doing a chamber check on his pistol. My heart jumped up into my throat.

"You know why we can't do that, Ollie. Search the blonde kid."

'Ollie' groaned and walked over towards me. He was holding his pistol level with my head, which made me want to duck. He did a motion at me.

"Stand up."

"Um," I said, trying to stand up in the booth. I couldn't really fit.

"Get out of the booth!" he screamed, slamming his fist on the table. I did as I was told, keeping my hands as far in the air as I could put them. I wasn't crying yet, just shaking- uncontrollably, harder than I'd ever shaken in my life. How long until one of them shoots me?

'Ollie' started by tearing my coat open, popping off all of the buttons and making them clatter onto the wooden floor. He started to take my coat off, but then he stopped, and looked out the window, perplexed. He squinted.

"What… Hey, Werner, there's something shining out there." He kept squinting. "Yeah, I think they might be trying to send a-"

He never finished his sentence.

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