Chapter 6: Static On A Distant Signal
Zimmerman's Department Store- Housewares
Fred swiveled his head as he heard a scuttling sound in the distance, his thankfully recovered pistol in hand.
What on Earth is that?
Right on cue, a cockroach the size of a house cat leapt out of the shadows, prompting Fred to let out a distinctly unmanly scream as he fired wildly at it, some of his rounds managing to hit the creature's vital organs.
Please let it die please let it die please let i-
Just as the gun let out the familiar CLICK! of a dry fire, the insect collapsed, hemolymph oozing out through the bullet holes as it went through its final death spasms. Once it had finally stopped moving, Fred let out a sigh of relief and wiped the sweat from his brow.
Well, at least that's ov-
"Who the **** goes there?!" a feminine voice cried out.
Fred began sweating bullets once more as a young-looking woman with blond pigtails and wearing a dark green ensemble rounded a corner, a pump-action shotgun in her hands.
"Um, hello th-"
Just then, the shotgun discharged, the pellets narrowly missing their target. For his part, Fred promptly ducked behind a nearby shelf.
Too well groomed for a raider-
The shotgun fired again.
"And too well fed to be an average scavver!" Fred blurted out.
"Are you calling me fat?!"
"I didn't mean it like that! Now, can you please stop trying to blow my head off?!"
"Only if you tell me who the **** sent you!"
"Thorn- er, Sally did!"
The blond walked around the corner, coming face-to-face with Fred.
"Why didn't you say so to begin with? Would've saved me a couple shells."
"Um, since you're not trying to kill me-"
"Yeah, I'm Dusk. Used to just be my stage name, but in this day and age- well, it pays to have a kickass nom de plume. Or nom de guerre. But if we're being honest, there isn't really a difference anymore."
Fred vigorously nodded.
"So, what's a scavver like you doing here? If it's jewelry you want-"
"Actually, I'm here for some candles- need them to pay for some auto repairs in Mockingbird."
"Lemme guess- you want the scented kind."
"How'd you know?"
"Just a hunch."
Gooseman's Saloon- Mockingbird
"Whadda want from me this time, Cinnamon?" a man in an old-fashioned cowboy outfit asked, his voice carrying a deep, throaty rasp.
"W e're going out to investigate some mysterious transmissions out from where Scrapheap used to be, and we need an extra gun."
"Who's the 'we' you're talking about?"
Daphne and Velma stepped out from their booth, and the man in the cowboy outfit turned around. As he did so, he gave two a good look at the severe burn scars that dominated the right side of his face.
"Oh God…" Daphne said as her face took on a greenish hue.
"Y'know, if I had a nickel for every time I heard someone say that about me-"
"Just who are you?" Velma asked.
"Name's Jonah Hex. You and your friend?"
"Velma Dinkley and Daphne Blake, Mystery Incorporated. Perhaps you've heard of us."
" I think I have, but I can't seem to put a pin in it."
"We're those traveling detectives-"
"Ah, now I remember who you guys are. So, the head honchos've got you contracted to check out some town that got wiped off the map because they're spooked about some messages on the radio, is that it?"
"That's about the size of it." Velma replied.
The scarred gunslinger let out a hoarse chuckle.
"Jonah, if there're still people alive in Scrapheap-" Cinnamon began.
"I didn't say I wouldn't take the job. After all, it's been God knows how long since I got to play the white hat."
" …and now we've probably got enough to cover whatever you need these suckers for." Dusk said as she put a jarred candle with the label "Sage & Citrus" into a blood-stained messenger's bag.
"So, where'd you-" Fred began.
"The bag? One of the local lunatics went to town on a passing courier and presented this thing to Thorn as an offering."
Fred nervously nodded at the tale, only for an errant thought to suddenly cross his mind.
"Out of curiosity, where's, um-"
"Luna? She's probably out in the parking lot, sitting in her place at the 'shrine' those bozos set up-"
"What shrine?"
" Our old tour bus."
Just then, something clicked in Fred's head.
"Your bus- does it take ethanol?"
"Yeah, it does. Why do you ask?"
"Thorn asked me to scrounge some up so, and I quote, 'we can finally blow this pop stand'."
A smirk began to form on Dusk's face.
"There's a hardware store on the other side of the parking lot. I'll bet you dollars to donuts that they've got some."
"So, how exactly are we going to get to Scrapheap?" Daphne asked as she, Velma, Cinnamon, and Jonah left the saloon.
Cinnamon cracked a smile.
"Ever been a road warrior's guest?"
Outside Mockingbird town limits- a few minutes later
A souped-up muscle car with a pale-gray paint job and a sheriff's star decal on the driver's door raced across the landscape. Inside the vehicle, Cinnamon's joyous cries and screams echoed across the passenger compartment.
"How 'bout a little driving music, compadres?" she asked.
"What've you got?" Velma replied.
Cinnamon reached into the cupholder, pulled out a cassette tape, and popped it into the stereo. A few moments later, a guitar riff begin to fill the air.
"Get your motor running/head out on the highway! Lookin' for adventure/and whatever comes our way!" the stereo blared.
Lee's Hardware- across the parking lot from Zimmerman's Department Store
"So, how exactly did you gals even get a cult?" Fred asked as he and Dusk scanned the shelves.
"It was Thorn's fault."
"Come again?"
"We were passing through this neck of the woods about 3, 4 years ago when we got jumped by raiders- and given their…predilections towards captured women, we thought we were in for a world of pain. And we probably would've been had their leader not got himself bitten by a snake."
"So how'd that save you?"
"Thorn saved the guy's life by making some kinda poultice. And since most raiders aren't exactly known for their intellect, our timely save and presence on a nearby billboard somehow convinced them we were some kind of benevolent witches, followed by them taking our music as some sort of holy text."
Dusk paused.
"I mean, it was fun having a cult for the first few months, but then it just got annoying."
Scrapheap- a few hours' drive from Mockingbird
"I found something!" Daphne exclaimed into her walkie-talkie as she clambered up to the crest of a heap of rubble.
"What is it?" Cinnamon replied.
"Looks like a body."
"Raider?"
"Don't think so- outfit's too coherent."
"What's the outfit look like?"
"Gray combat uniform, black hat, and leather boots."
"…son of a bitch."
"What's so-"
"Ever hear of General Wade Eiling?"
"Vaguely, back before the bombs."
"Well, since then, he's appointed himself the last bastion of the US government- and he's built himself an army to back it up. If you find any other signs of those guys, let me know. Cinnamon out."
A moment after the transmission ended, the walkie-talkie went off again, the screen reading "VELMA" this time.
"Hello?"
"Daph, Jonah and I've found something near the radio tower."
"What sort of something?"
"Looks like some kind of hatch. Jonah's calling up Cinnamon now to see if we should open it up."
