Price of Freedom

That blue picture that covered my vision was suddenly interrupted when my brain told me, "Stop staring. It's too bright."

The world hit me in an instant, and I sat myself up on whatever I was on and brought my arm up to shield from the light with my eyes shut.

As I winced at a slight pain in my shoulder, I noticed that it actually didn't hurt too bad. However, memories of my trances were too focused on a particular moment and I instantly shouted, "That was Utley! Not me!"

No reply and still blinded with eyes shut, I definitely felt those words leave my lips this time. Just then, I felt two soft and delicate hands pull my upper body back down and an angel's voice said, "Sorry, forgot to lower the shade."

My eyes were still tightly shut, and I slowly opened them to see I was shaded and moving. Immediately to my right was the tough and warm side of a brahmin, above me was a cloth covering two feet above my head, and to my left was that angel. As my eyes adjusted to the shade in this bright conscious world, I studied her. She wore a tan jumpsuit NCR uniform without the dust coat or armor, a tan baseball cap, blonde hair pinned up behind her head, and white arm bands with red crosses on them.

I must've looked like a creep as I stared at her. Clearly, the doc failed in fixing me up because that beautiful woman was living proof that I died. Despite my creepy stare, she turned to me, smiled, and said in the sweetest voice, "Just relax, Harton. You're still very weak and need to rest…"

I thought stupidly, "She knows my name. This is destiny." I continued to watch her as my mind planned out our wedding when she added, "You feeling any better?"

Without breaking sight, I said in a smooth and cliché way that wasn't normal for me, "Better now that you're here."

That made the beautiful medic's face turn red. She put a hand to my head and turned my face till I was looking up, and I let her. She whispered sweetly, "Rest up. You're still down a lot of blood."

She was right. I was still tired, and not really sure what was happening or where I was. I looked up at that cloth sun blocker, felt the "Bed?" I was on moving, and nudged the brahmin belly to my immediate right. Just then, I felt a tickle on my nose. Right arm caught between my torso and the brahmin's, I raised my left arm up to scratch it.

I couldn't. I can't believe it took me this long of being awake to realize that I didn't have a left hand or forearm anymore. About four inches below my elbow was a little bandaged nub where the rest of my arm and hand should've been.

Utter panic.

I kept my composure largely, but my heart thumped like it was about to burst. I raised my head to see the rest of my body, and there I saw it. My right leg was cut off just below the knee.

That's what the doctor was doing! That's what that strange feeling was! That's what that Gosh Darned Legion monster did! What about my leg though? The dog didn't get that? It was too busy chomping on my arm and shoulder. It was probably another dog, or one of those Legion maniacs that made off with my right leg while I was too busy getting eaten! Were my limbs amputated, or were they lost in the battle? I couldn't tell for sure and none of my memories were reliable at all. Although, deep in my heart, I knew the Legion was responsible regardless!

I never even knew I had a favorite leg, but the Legion took my absolute favorite leg away.

The doc's words from the coma echoed in my mind again, "Hope he doesn't jerk it lefty."

I didn't do that lefty, but Darn it if I didn't love that hand too! It was all too much. I felt my heart pounding, my thoughts scrambling, and my face heat up. My vision became clouded by the hot tears welling up and rage and sadness building.

"Don't do it. Don't cry in front of the beautiful medic." That was what my brain said, and what my body disregarded.

I cried.

The medic walked right alongside the brahmin my cot was strapped to, and noticed my quiet boo hooing. She immediately took to her angelic responsibilities and rested that hand on my face saying sweet things like, "It's alright, Harton. You're a brave, brave soldier. Everyone is proud of you."

I returned with blubbering nonsense as I vented and felt sorry for myself;

"But I loved walking with that leg!" And "I didn't even get to stomp on that Denver dog's puppies."

She knew just what to say, responding to my hysterical nonsense with "There theres" and "I know your pals gave them Heck."

I didn't even care about looking good in front of the angel medic at that point. The woman me or any other trooper at Forlorn Hope would try to get with morphed into the loving and caring mother I never truly had. I really did lose a lot of blood, more than most humans would survive losing, and that made me almost perpetually weak every second I was awake, and only exaggerated by my panic and sobbing over the loss of my limbs. I don't know how long it had been since I got the injuries or where I was going with the pretty medic, but I sobbed and vented myself to sleep.

I woke up hours later, saw my stump of a lower arm and leg, and saw it was almost dark out. The reason I awoke was because the angel medic shook me lightly, unlike the usual kick from a duty officer or my sergeant. I was still incredibly sad for the loss of my arm and leg, but after waking, I felt even worse about my conduct in front of the medic. I apologized to her as she brought spoons full of sustenance to my mouth on the move.

She said, "You have nothing to apologize for, Harton. It's not every day you wake up and learn you lost two limbs."

She was right; that didn't happen Every day. She really did know just what to say. I loved her.

Anyway, we chatted for a little while as the sky got darker. Talking made me forget that I was now forever crippled. She said the caravan would be stopping in a few, and that I should just sleep through the camp until moving out in the morning. I finally looked around to see more than just the woman and brahmin hide. I was in a train of about 15 brahmin, most of which had slim cots mounted on both sides, a person walking beside them with arm bands, one person was leading each beast, and the other few herd animals were loaded with supplies.

The sun was just about to disappear, and I asked where this caravan of injured was going. She said they were all headed back to Shady Sands. Those words echoed in my head again and again. No getting patched up and tossed back on the line for me. I was going back home, or back to NCR.

I thought again, "Good Ol Recovery Boys" and thought about what it took to be on this train. The price of doing my part and going back home was a literal arm and a leg… Though the price was steep, it was less than the cost for some.

The caravan gathered at a spot off the old world road to settle for the night, and I passed out again.