Scene 2: The Paired Statue

Tom

2281, October

Tom reached for the worn-down door, nudging it outward as the warm winds bellowed inward into the old gas-store n' shop that had been abandoned some time ago from how decrepit everything had been. Moving beyond the dead radscorpions he passed through the main road leading west and east from the south where he walked past Primm. Their mayor situation now handled, he was back on his primary path, the strange man in the checkered suit and the Khans with him who had killed Tom four days ago, their tracks still not entirely having gone cold just yet.

Slowly, the road before him grew more hospitable beyond the fire ants below him down the freeway, past the Powder Ganger raids and the raider grounds that had holed up deputy stations and prison complexes past. Before him, he saw traders then, brahmin laden with goods and pairs of gunmen at least for each packing that moved slowly down the afternoon desert road. To their east was an endless expanse of sand ending somewhere near Nipton by a mile off east from where the road would wind and turn to Novac.

For now, Tom turned right, going west as the Mojave Outpost and its strange statues of two men shaking hands that had been a smudge in the scenery now showed itself as tall and enormous. The road rising before him as he passed a few broken-down automobiles and trucks with half raided crates beyond the slow patrol he found as a Khaki draped man move up to him, the gigantic boots of the pair behind the tall, dark-skinned man. A pedestal before the monument where a set of lines had been etched in, no doubt was commemorating some event of the past.

"Hey, it's you." he said, recognizing the youth before him, "Moving south already?" A man wielding a gun and a military cap came up; the bear was tall and older than himself, a slight smile as he inquired about the familiar man who had just arrived. Tom came closer to Sgt. Killborn, remembering the man from the bar stools a few days back when he had passed through from here.

"Looking for Ranger Jackson actually, Primm's cleared out the convicts from the old casino, the places safe now, plus the overpass with the critters, cleared them out too."

"Primm's back into the fold, huh?" he smiled, "You should talk to the Ranger, you'll find him in HQ; down the road and take a left, then a right, you can't miss it."

Tom nodded to Killborn, moving past the few stragglers who stood or sat around the iron mesh that walled around the two buildings to his left. His eyes falling on a pale woman wearing a ranger hat, he saw her turn to him pointedly, her gaze through darkened shades, her rifle coming up behind her as he saw that face smile at him. Tom nodded back, moving through the latched gate and past right to the HQ building.

As he rounded a few sandbags and pushed the double door inwards, a sudden cool took over him; the nearby cooler was humming steadily to his right as he walked up and found another officer of the Bear stood behind the large counter. Tom approached the fellow; he had only come into the Barracks the last time he'd been here, now, however, things had changed.

But still, Tom knew the Major from his down hours as well, he appeared before the young officer, he spoke first, "Ah, the courier is back." he said with a smile, "Never made it to Vegas, did'ya?" He asked, Tom, smiling as he rested his palms over the counter edge.

"Change of planes, Quarry road is blocked off, apparently."

"Just like I told ya" he smiled, then somewhat more seriously as he went on, "A few days ago I could have told you to catch the road east but" he trailed off. "Talk to Ranger Jackson, he'll fill you in. Something happened in Nipton, we had a few boys out there on their off day, they still haven't reported in…"

Tom nodded slowly, remembering the small trail of a darkened plum rising over the town east from where they were. Walking past the counter he found the door that led to a hallway behind the main cubicle ridden room, finding the Ranger soon enough as the imposing figure with holster straps over a gray vest appeared out the kitchen room, a steaming cup in his hand as he paused before Tom who had his eyes planted on him.

"Yes?" The man asked, a long mustache running around his mouth and dark shades similar to the pale woman spotting eastward from above the Barracks, no doubt wary of Nipton. The Ranger and Tom had not met yet, hence introductions were given promptly. The Ranger took a sip of the warm drink, which was not strange for the afternoon as he had found, the desert grew deathly cold in the dark, as opposite as it could get from during sun-up, Tom mused.

They talked a bit more, Tom explaining to him how he had taken care of the Fire Ants, the man was impressed, and thankfully Tom had a few vials of the nectar as proof. He was more surprised to find him receiving the rifle, a 556 of the standard variety; something mundane and common, perfect for most situations, "A Courier you say? Well, the road south is open if you wanna head back, You operate out of the Hub, I'm guessing?"

Tom nodded, but then spoke on, "That smoke, east over Nipton." He saw the Ranger's expression darken; he walked around, the kitchen door opening as he went in, Tom following, once alone and inside the man turned, and taking a sip before he spoke.

"Something bad's turned up, kid," he looked over the squared tiles below, "I'm guessing raiders but you never find anything more organized than a dozen. Nipton is a large town, you know." Tom looked on, the silent town appeared somewhat empty from the polished lenses he had gazed through, a dark fire that had burnt without fail since yesterday apparently.

"You want me to check it out?" Tom asked plainly.

"It would be a help, son. We're spread out thin as it is," he paused, considering, "Talk to Ranger Ghost, she's over the Barracks, you won't miss her"

Tom nodded, a few more words later and he was out in the evening glowing again, the orange hue over the small mountain passage over the southern valley road. He turned the HQ and found the array of table benches where khakis rested and conversed merrily, no doubt the units here saw little action, mostly patrols out in the Mojave most days.

He walked into the Barracks, stepping down the smooth decline that led him to the crates beside the Barracks building. He still saw the dozens of soldiers reclining around the clearing, moving left past the sandbags he found the blue barracks door, turning the handle, and moving in.

It was a quiet, smoky room; dark and hushed with a low tune of Sinatra playing over the radio hung by the liquor stand behind the red vested barkeep woman.

It was when he turned to his left he saw her, stepping around the counter and coming over to the cowboy hat that turned up slowly at him, a husky voice speaking up at him, "Looking for trouble?"

Tom raised a hand, then shrugging "Just minding my own business."

"Your business huh?" Now there's a store worth tending." She smiled, taking a sip of the whiskey below her, "You run along now… Judging from that pilot light expression of yours, I'd say business ain't really booming, huh?" She eyed him softly then for a second, her clear blue eyes staring him down as Tom came closer.

"Let me buy you a drink." He said.

"A? How about two?" She circled the glass rim down below her with one finger, Tom noticing her lightly lacquered nails as he went back to the girl, nodding quickly and taking a seat. The capped barkeep came close and poured them both a drink, Tom reaching for it and raising it to her, she took her own glass and clinked it to his, taking a gulp and finishing the spirited drink at once, Tom took a sip and did his best not to lose his face to a crease, the woman knowingly eyeing him from beside him.

A few minutes passed, Tom, giving his name and telling her some about California, keeping the events of the last few days to him, for now. He only had to probe once, Cass's words came tumbling afterward, "Name's Rose of Sharon Cassidy, of Cassidy Caravans, sounds kind of grand, I know," she took a sip, "or was ." She shook her head, "Jackson, that prick has the whole 188 locked down, some critter threat apparently" she huffed, finishing the refill as Tom looked on, his own glass not even half a way through. He took a sip reluctantly, his face a battle to keep plain and unaffected.

He hadn't realized she was watching him quietly by then, "You old enough to drink, kid?" She smiled, turning more fully, "If you start puking over the place and I don't know you, 'kay." She joked, lightening somewhat.

"Don't worry about it." He breathed out the heat, soon feeling the afternoon chill creep into the Barracks. He went on after, telling her about the fire ants down the broken overpass, Cass seemed somewhat lightening up, making a face and slowly nodding.

"Oh, you cleared out the road?" She perked up, then falling back somewhat, "Well, that's good at least. This place was getting too crowded anyways." she trailed off, reaching for the next bottle he had paid for.

"And what about you?" Tom asked, the glass now almost finishing, his tongue adjusting to the feel of the liquid swirling in his mouth, or, instead of dropping it down his gullet which seemed the better strategy, Tom figured he could keep up like this.

"I'm stuck here" she sighed, "My caravan? It got hit, some kind of attack up north, they didn't even take the goods, guns, and caps found on site." Her words disappearing behind her glass, the liquor vanishing this time at once, Tom watching in some amount of awe, "So, Jackson has my papers and he won't let me leave because I'm registered under a trader." she smiled to herself, wiping her eyes off sleep than anything else, "Fucking NCR, am I right?" She asked, looking his way.

Tom shrugged, Cass, frowning at the younger man's way, "Oh? You like bears, kid?"

"I'm from California," he said in a patient tone, her face morphing into understanding.

"Right, 'course", she nodded, speaking no more. Tom reached for the bottle, Cass watching on wordlessly as he poured himself a drink and felt his belly warm up slowly, hands over the counter as he felt his pains slacken. Cass turned to him after a while, "you trip on something? She asked, looking his way by the empty glass by her side. Tom reached for the long scar down his face; a distinctly visible line that Doctor Mitchell had said would soon disappear once the tissue healed.

"Something like that," he said, finishing the drink, at once this time. Feeling something fighting back down his chest, he tensed and relaxed as he gasped, smelling the ethanol on his breath. Tom was quiet then, remembering suddenly what the Ranger above them had told him, "Something's not right. I want eyes over there, report back at once. Do not engage." Tom recalled her orders.

Tom spoke, asking about Nipton and the road that led to Vegas and north going east, "Dunno, the smoke started yesterday I think," She shrugged, then reaching for her own older bottle from before, "Jackson wants you on that crap, too?" She merely asked, not looking his way while she poured.

"Ranger Ghost wanted me to check it out, actually."

"That girl's a quiet one, she talked to you?" She probed, more interested than usual, he could tell.

Tom only shrugged, "I guess so…"

The time flew by then, Cass sharing some of her own liquor with him, his light protests falling on deaf ears as glass-full came one after the other. All the while Cass talked about her place back West, her father and the mundane outpost she was stuck in, the statute not helping its case before her eyes, she replied slowly once Tom explained the statues to her "Oh, I always mixed up those hat-wearing bastards, they could be shaking their dicks for all I care, don't change a thing." she ended in that cold voice of hers that somehow bubbled up to the surface. Tom only wondered if the woman always spoke her mind that freely.

An hour had gone by since he had arrived, the khaki draped soldiers all receding to their quarters and cots behind the main bar room, the room soon returning to the silence belonging to the two and the barkeep.

"So, where'ya headed then?" She asked finally, his own journey had been put out of his mind on the whole; it was strange how vividly he remembered his last moments, or well, perceived last moments. He tried not to dwell on them, being alive now was lucky enough

"Vegas." He answered, turning to her.

"Oh," she dragged it along, "fancy. I'd wanna see the Strip someday."

"You haven't been?"

"No…Furthest I got was till Freeside," she took a sip, shaking her head, "doesn't really compare," Cass replied, a few moments passing before she asked about his own journeys in the valley soon after, surprised to find out that he was seeing all this for the first time.

"Ah, new one here aren't ya?" she turned, squinting hard for a second as Tom frowned back, she asked slowly then, "Weren't you the guy at Primm?"

Tom looked on for a second without a reply, and then nodded; his mind getting foggy by the second. He recalled some of his actions, mostly too slurred as his vision fogged and her actions slowed, or were it him? She smiled, calling over the barkeep from the other end, "Get the kid a room, he's too drunk to even sit, Lace'"

"I ain't carrying him…" the woman named Lace behind the counter said, "not if he's already out cold." she chuckled, "50 caps a night, I'll dock him tomorrow, you give me 25 now and I'll get him to the room."

Tom heard their voices through a layer of viscosity between his senses and reality. He rose slowly, "I'll be fine." he forced out. Walking slowly towards the cot hallways, turning to the barkeep once more, she spoke up, pointing to the right.

"Second door, the first bet should be empty." She said, folding her arms, Cass was turned around, watching bemused.

"Right," Tom said back to the barkeep, balancing himself as he walked towards the door to his bed, the memory of the events after mostly lost to him thereafter.