Chapter 3 - Abdication
Clyde's hands continued to shake as he took down the ragged backpack in his room. He filled the pack with the half-drunk bottle of water purchased from Vernon just hours before his horrific murder. To think he would be Vernon's last customer. The headache that plagued Clyde in the morning had all but disappeared. Perhaps the cultists scared it out of him, he thought. Perhaps they used their magical powers to cure him.
He was still in shock by the events that took place before his very eyes. Did he really witness a bolt of plasma shoot from the hands of a cultist? That couldn't have happened, there must have been some secret device hidden under his cloak. After all, he had plenty of technology hidden under those massive robes. The man's flat, unnerving face was still stuck in Clyde's mind. For much of his life, he was the one who struck fear into others. Now he was rattling at the thought of Silver City burning to the ground if he wasn't able to complete this task.
"Take the rest of the cigarettes, I'll make due without them." Eli spoke to him with his calming, cool voice. Clyde always appreciated Eli, he was truly one of the kindest souls that had kept the unforgiving Wasteland from taking over his mind. Eli tossed the pack of cigarettes to Clyde, who fumbled to catch them. It was obvious how much was going through his mind.
"You'll have plenty of time to calm those nerves on the journey. I don't like the idea of answering to bullies. You best tell that girl our situation and see if she can help us. I'd rather fight back or even leave than give that punk what he wants." Eli said. Clyde let out a few deep breaths to try and fix his head. "I just hope she's still there." Clyde responded.
All of the worst situations that could happen ran through Clyde's mind. What if the information was outdated and Voline was long gone. What if Voline didn't trust Clyde and just shot him dead without warning, it wouldn't be the first time a wastelander shot first and spoke later. Hell, what if there's a pack of deathclaws halfway between Silver City and Voline's home and Clyde gets ripped to shreds without ever seeing his destination.
"I'll give you some of the weaponsmithing tools too, keep yourself ready." Eli spoke, he was still doing his best to help. "And unless you think you can march there before sundown, you probably want to bring a bedroll with you. Don't rush yourself, we can hold our own here."
Clyde held his face in his hands and gave himself one last moment to let the despair creep in before forcing himself out of it. He needed to fix himself right away or else he would never be able to even survive the journey to Vilone's home.
"Thanks Eli, I really appreciate it. I can't tell you how much this means to me. You saved me. You're still saving me." Clyde spoke to Eli with a genuine sense of relief. As they worked together to pack tools into the backpack, Clyde continued to hear the crying and talking of townspeople outside the garage.
"I don't know why that man decided you had to do this, maybe your Pip-boy. Either way you drew the short straw. The least I can do is help out." Eli said in his ignorance. Clyde couldn't help but feel guilty. Clyde wondered, what if the cultists came into town looking for him? What if they knew where he was and wanted to use him? After all, it wasn't like Balthazar's gang had disappeared. There were still many people who would know of his existance. He shook it off, they must have had business further west or else they would have turned back around the way they came afterwards. He reasoned to himself as best as he could. He hoped that Eli didn't feel any guilt for being unable to tag along.
Clyde knew that Eli would offer to join him if he could, but the old man was just too slow for the inhospitable lands outside of town. Clyde felt as prepared as he could be. After all, only humans would put on a show like that before chopping someone in half. At least if he runs into the many creatures out in the wastes he would be attacked right away. No games, no weird theatrics.
"You've always been there for me Eli. I'll make sure this gets done." Clyde said with a sense of determination. He tried to look at the positives. He's killed wastelanders before, this would be just another one. Or maybe this Voline figure really would listen to reason and come send support into town, that could be enough to scare off any cultist attack. At the very least it would give the innocents time to evacuate before a massive fight took place.
"I'm gonna go around and see if I can find some other supplies before I leave. I don't have too high hopes, I can't blame anyone if it's not their priority to spare some of their valuables after all of this." Clyde said. His backpack only contained half a bottle of water, some weaponsmithing tools, and a pack of cigarettes. His leather armor and 10mm pistol were in good condition, but he didn't have more ammo than what was in the clip. He knew he should check but it felt like bad luck, as long as he didn't look inside it could be full for all he knew.
Clyde cautiously stepped out of the garage to look back at the scene in town. The injured guards were receiving treatment, some people had moved Vernon out of the road, a massive pile of blood still stained the concrete. Clyde witnessed as people cried and tried to shake off the anxiety of having dirt bikes fly around them and watching helplessly as one of their own was murdered. Eli followed behind Clyde and began to speak with the two guards that stood near them.
"That leader of theirs is forcing Clyde to go out and assassinate some poor wastelander. I've told him that he should try and get her support and see if she can't help protect the town. She must be doing something right, if they have to send poor engineers after her." Eli explained to the guards. Clyde let out a half-hearted smile, as if to confirm that the story the guards were just told wasn't some sort of prank or scam. It wouldn't be like Eli to con someone anyways. Eli continued. "They threatened his life if he didn't get the job done. If there's anything you can spare, it would be extremely useful."
The guards looked concerned. Clyde knew that there couldn't have been much they would be able to give. The dozen or so town guards were only given enough rations to survive, not nearly the amount that would be needed to furnish someone else's journey.
"Is that true?" Asked the female guard who was joking with Clyde just before this attack. Her voice seemed to indicate the idea that this was just too insane to believe. "I saw that he was messing with you quite a bit, I didn't realize." The guard seemed genuinely upset for Clyde.
"It's true. I should be able to get to her tomorrow morning. I'm not sure what I'll do." Clyde responded. He really didn't know. As much as he thought Eli had thought of a good alternative plan, he wondered if it would be easier just to assassinate her and be done with it. Nobody would blame him for taking the easy way out, especially if it saved Silver City.
"Well…" The guard started. "I don't want to be morbid but does the shop owner have any immediate family here? You could look through his things."
Why did that thought make Clyde feel sick to his stomach? For years of his life, his entire career was taking things from others, dead and alive. Why did the idea of looting through Vernon's shop make him feel uneasy?
"He came into town alone. Nobody really knew him all too well." Eli said solemnly. With the tacit approval of Eli, it almost felt like the decision had been made.
"Guess I'll start there." Clyde hesitated to immediately rob the remains of the shop. He knew if it wasn't him, someone else would have to eventually.
With his old backpack wrapped around him, Clyde gave the group a nod and turned to Vernon's shop. Walking down the same path he took that morning, under very different circumstances, made Clyde feel uneasy. He was reimagining his stroll to get food for himself and Eli, not knowing how much would change right after. He looked at townspeople trying to return to their normal routine. He knew that many of them would probably still be hungover from the night before. That probably added to the sense of danger, knowing that if the cultists decided to attack there was little the town would be able to do to stop them.
He looked at the bloody spot where Vernon was executed, he winced at the bits of remaining insides that had leaked out of his mangled corpse. Thank god someone moved the body, or else Clyde may have puked. Clyde couldn't believe how quickly the execution had happened. One moment, the town was being promised they would walk away unharmed. Moments later, they were forced to watch as one of their own was chopped clean in half by a monster.
Clyde reached the shop and turned his head inside, seeing if there were any townspeople already looking through his goods. The shop seemed empty, so he walked in. The shop appeared almost the exact same, save for some tables that had been knocked over in the struggle.
It was awful, in Clyde's eyes, to see the merciless nature of the killing. Watching Vernon kick and scream while his captors quietly and calmly took his life.
Clyde shook his head and hopped over the counter, darting his eyes around to see if there was anything that could help him. He begrudgingly took back the caps he left for Vernon's breakfast.
When Clyde walked into the back he found a room of atom-shaped art and bomb worship. There was no chance he would have been able to hide it all from the cultists. Pictures and statues of atoms, written material littered the floor and walls. Clyde picked up one of the many papers and read nonsensical texts about how splitting atoms makes new worlds. Clyde could barely get past the first few lines before he dropped it and continued looking for something useful.
He found a glass case full of geckos but his stomach felt ill just watching them squirm. Some were dead, others were alive, clawing around the dead bodies and attempting to get out. The geckos mindlessly stomped on each other's heads and bodies as they tried to jump, only to slide down the side of the glass. Clyde couldn't help but watch the strange sight. It reminded him of humans. Clawing and bringing each other down in their goals to stay on top. He wondered if the wasteland was really like that after all. If the dead geckos at the bottom were wastelanders with no place to stay, no way to survive. The others were the leaders, the takers, the ones who lived in some sense of comfort. But at the end of the day everyone was stuck in the Wasteland. There was never any escaping from that reality.
Clyde looked elsewhere, there were several bottles of old dirty water. He took out the bottle he already had and chugged it clean, making space for 3 full bottles in his backpack. He rested the pack down and looked for any sort of food he could take with him. The miscellaneous meat that Vernon kept was already going bad, thank god he didn't ask for that. Instead, he was able to cobble together two Pork N' Beans, a pack of Instamash, and some Potato crisps. Should at least be enough to get him there, Clyde thought, hopefully they'd be able to feed him before he left.
Clyde hated eating pre-war food. He wished he knew what the hell they put into it to make it last so many years. How long had it been since the bombs dropped? At this point, it must have been long enough to re-discover the secrets of making food last forever.
Clyde looked around for weapons, gear, anything that might be useful for his journey. It looked like Vernon had been using a combat knife to dice up the food, so he made sure to pack it away. He also found a sleeping bag on the floor nearby.
It was weirdly heartening to Clyde how uncomfortable he felt taking a dead man's sleeping bag. He thought about how many nights Vernon slept here, how last night he probably had no idea it would be his final snooze. He felt bad about taking it. But he felt good about feeling bad. At least he wasn't mindlessly raiding and stealing, too strung out on chems to care who was hurt.
He rolled up the sleeping bag but couldn't stuff it in his backpack. Clyde thought that Eli would have some rope or cable that he could use to wrap it around. Not wanting to dawdle in a dead man's shop and home, Clyde picked himself up and left.
On his way back to the garage, Clyde avoided looking at the townspeople. He needed to keep a level head and he knew that watching the effects of the cultist raid would put him back in a bad mood.
As he approached the garage, he could hear the banging that woke him up in the morning. Looks like Eli didn't forget about those caravaneers even after today's events.
"Hey Eli. Think you could find a way to hook this sleeping bag up to my backpack?" Clyde yelled over the noise. He didn't feel the need to tell Eli the contents of his search through Vernon's shop, no point in discussing the depressing looting that occurred.
"Yeah, I've got something I can hook it up with." Eli confirmed. He wasted no taking the sleeping bag and backpack from Clyde, wrapping a string of wire around the sleeping bag to keep it closed and attaching it to the top of the pack. It was honestly amazing to see how quickly Eli could fix a problem. There was a reason he became the town's much loved mechanic.
Clyde almost wished that Eli took longer, it would have bought him more time to linger around before setting off on this journey. He was nervous about how things would play out. With only one clip of ammunition and a single combat knife, too much danger could spell the end of his journey. He didn't exactly have the caps to purchase anymore weapons or supplies. That was when a strange voice came from the garage entrance.
"Clyde." A woman in old jean overalls was looking at him, her short, bright red hair standing out from the dirty outfit she had on. Jenny, the town's weapon salesman. Who better to jump in than her, he thought.
"Eli told me about what happened. I know your journey is gonna take you a bit aways from town. Here's a box of bullets, 10mm. He told me you might need them. Don't worry about paying me, if this town doesn't get burned to a crisp we'll consider that payment enough." She said in her deep voice. Clyde was thankful to have Eli speak for him in all honesty. Clyde himself couldn't convince anyone better than Eli could. Everyone in town knew that if Eli said it, it was serious business.
"Thanks Jenny. Let's hope I don't need it." He walked up and took the box from her, only 12 rounds but definitely better than nothing.
"Alright." Eli said as he finished working. "Your backpack is all good to go, son. Good luck out there." Eli handed him the backpack and looked Clyde in the eyes.
"Thanks Eli." Clyde paused to enjoy the last moment of comfort he may feel in quite some time. "Eli, Jenny. Hope to be back by sundown tomorrow, if not just give me a few days at least."
Clyde nodded to the two figures who had helped him out and started his journey. He walked out of the garage and started north out of Silver City.
It didn't seem right to wave goodbye or speak to anyone else, he was in a time crunch and knew that the sooner he got done the better. He walked at a quick pace as he left the city territory.
"Stay safe out there!" One guard yelled, already back at his post after being beaten by cultists.
Clyde waved but didn't respond, there was no illusion of safety in the Wasteland. No chance. At least he was technically in the territory of the Free-City of Ashe for the next few hours.
As Clyde hurried north he made good time. The wasteland was mostly flat and he knew that his perception was better than most of the creatures that might want him killed. Besides the occasional wild dog, he didn't spot anything that could be a threat. That is, until an hour into his journey.
Clyde kept hustling at a good pace, wanting to reach Voline before he slept if possible. But from the horizon emerged several human figures. Clyde almost wished it was mutants, mole rats, or yao guai. At least he knew that he would shoot first and never talk. There was always an uneasy sense of mystery when it came to humans. Were they friendly? Violent? Just want to be left alone? He knew their paths would cross, and that they could likely see him too. Would it be suspicious if he suddenly ran off the path and hid? That could put an innocent group on alert.
Clyde decided to keep walking forward, as the figures didn't jump at him, and they didn't seem to be brandishing weapons either. He kept his hand on his 10mm but didn't unholster it.
As the figures got closer he became more disturbed. There were 6 figures in total, 3 of them with the textbook signs of involuntary slavery. Massive metal collars wrapped around their neck and solemn looks on their faces. Clyde paused his walk and kept his hand firmly grasped around his gun.
"Don't worry kid." Yelled a grisly old voice. Clyde couldn't tell who spoke but he didn't see any of the captured people open their mouths. "These are wanted criminals. We're bringing them to justice."
Clyde couldn't help but still feel unsure about the whole situation. He used that excuse more than a few times when taking home captured innocents. Clyde still refused to move, but removed his hand from his pistol and rested it on his side, afraid that leaving it on his weapon may result in them opening fire.
He kept his mouth shut as the group got closer. He could clearly see that the three enslaved people consisted of two young men and one woman in matching red outfits. Maybe they were being truthful then, it wasn't rare that raider gangs wore similar outfits to avoid friendly fire. They looked sad and didn't raise their heads to meet Clyde, which could have been due to the shame of being caught. The three men leading them were a rough-looking bunch. They all had on gray combat armor with a big purple FS painted on the right side of their chest. They carried weapons upon further inspection but had them put away. Clyde could make out a laser pistol in at least one of their holsters.
As the group got next to Clyde the same man that yelled at him talked to him further. "Where are you from boy? Wandering mercenary?"
"No, I'm from a city about an hour south. Silver City. You know about it?" Clyde talked with a stern voice, he didn't want to show any signs of fear or weakness.
The guard looked back at his two companions and they shook their heads. "No, is that in Ashe Territory? Or are you one of them cult members?"
Clyde could see that the two men behind their spokesman were injured, one of them walked with a limp and the other looked like his hand was nearly blown off. It must have been a rough fight.
"It's on the border of Ashe Territory, we're the furthest settlement in the southeast corner. If you need a place to stop, just keep following the road south and they'll get you straightened up." Clyde said as he pointed down the way he came.
The guard let out a small laugh and thanked Clyde. "That's kind of you, we're on a deadline though. If you would excuse us." The group walked past Clyde and kept up their journey into the south.
What existed past Ashe Territory? Clyde thought to himself. There were a few self-styled republics in the area but as far as he knew everything to the south of Silver City was either raider territory or inhabited by those mutants. Maybe things were changing, maybe people were coming together after all and rebuilding civilization. He decided to stay optimistic and kept heading north.
Outside of the occasional Bloatfly, Clyde didn't spot any threats. He managed to get another two hours north in isolation. It was quite peaceful, he thought. It's not often you get to travel the Wasteland without much attacking you. He walked past the random building and distant town, but there was no sense walking towards the danger for some loot when he had a mission to accomplish.
That was when Clyde found a gruesome scene. He realized that what he originally thought were rocks in the distance were actually the bodies of humans. This time he drew his gun without hesitation and inched closer.
He thought he spotted a man looting the corpse but instead found a mole rat, and one that was hungry. Clyde tried to ignore him but when he reached the bodies the mole rat let out a disgusting snarl and sprinted towards him.
BAM! BAM!
Two shots from his 10mm echoed throughout the land as Clyde quickly shot the creature in its face. Its body fell to the ground and slid right up to Clyde's feet. He didn't like shooting his gun when he didn't have to, could attract more creatures… or worse.
Clyde inspected the bodies and saw the familiar outfits of the group he encountered a few hours before. Four bodies of men and women in the red outfits, all wearing bright red scarves and bandanas around their heads. It looked like they had been long looted, their pockets turned inside out and no weapons in sight. Another figure in the gray combat armor from before was face down, a whole arm and leg blown off. He could see a small crater near the body that must have done the job.
It must have been a terrifying firefight, Clyde thought to himself.
As he was inspecting the bodies, he spotted someone running towards him in his peripherals and quickly pointed his gun in the direction.
"Don't shoot!" A ghoul in basic rags shot his hands into the air and stopped in his tracks. He was extremely nervous, somehow seeming surprised that running up to someone in the Wasteland would result in having a gun pointed to his head.
"I'm not a threat! I don't even have a weapon! I was just going to tell you what happened." The ghoul announced, terrified.
Clyde didn't lower his gun, he still didn't trust this ghoul completely.
"What do you mean what happened? You saw this fight take place?" Clyde asked, not taking his eyes off of the figure in front of him.
"Yes! I did! Those slavers came through and ambushed the red scarves!" The ghoul kept his hands shot straight up above him.
"Slavers? You mean the guy in gray?" Clyde worried that what he saw earlier was more grim than he originally thought.
"Yes! He had three buddies with him. They were waiting to ambush the red scarves but it didn't exactly go according to plan. There was a huge fight, but they still got 3 of the members captured."
Clyde dropped his head and his gun, holstering it and realizing what he let get past him. Damn slavers.
"How did you know? You just watched the whole thing? You let those innocent people get captured?" Clyde asked with a disgusted tone.
"What else was I supposed to do? I don't have any weapons." The ghoul dropped his arms and stayed a good distance from Clyde. He appeared to be innocent, just someone who happened to be in the wrong place at the right time. After all, most wastelanders would rather keep their head down than try to enact any sort of justice.
Clyde considered running back and chasing after the men, but he knew that it would hurt his chances of making it to Voline before she left. There was no guarantee she would stick in her spot for very long.
"Well, thanks for the info. But I've got to keep going north." He said to the brittle looking ghoul. He didn't think it would be best to go through what happened to the three people caught by the slavers. He didn't want to think about it either.
That's when an idea popped into Clyde's head. "You know this place well ghoul?" Clyde asked him.
The ghoul thought about it for a moment before answering. "Well enough, I usually stay in the north but I was camping out here looking for some mole rats to hunt. I was going to ambush the guy you got and take his hide but.. I think it's pretty useless to me now."
"Perfect." Clyde responded. "I need to go to a town about 9 hours north of here and I could use some help. I could give you 10 caps now and 10 caps when we arrive."
The ghoul's eyes lit up, 20 caps could take someone far if they spent their money right.
"Absolutely! Where do you need to go?" The Ghoul walked over to Clyde, much calmer than before. He seemed excited more than anything.
Clyde worried that even speaking the name of his target may start to spread rumors. What if she found out I was heading towards her and left before I got there. What if invoking her name made this guy not want to associate with me anymore. Worth a shot, he supposed. "I need to find someone named Voline."
"Voline? The leader of the Red Scarves?" The Ghoul tilted his head when he asked like a dog.
Wait a moment, Clyde thought to himself, you mean to tell me these red outfitted soldiers belong to the woman he's meant to assassinate? If she's well protected enough to have guards this far south, there was little chance he'd get a shot at her. Maybe Eli's plan would work after all.
Without wanting to appear too ignorant, Clyde answered with a sure look. "That's right. I've got her location marked here on my Pip-Boy. I've got important information for her." He motioned to his arm and let the ghoul see the mark on his map.
"Boomington! I've been there a few times. Great place!" The ghoul happily bounced around as he answered. "My names Arthur by the way, I've lived here my whole life! Even before the bombs fell!"
Couldn't be a better guide than that, Clyde thought. "I'm Clyde, happy to meet you." He reached into his pocket and counted out 10 caps, handing them to the old ghoul who seemed overjoyed to help. Maybe he was just happy to have some level of protection for his journey home. Maybe that was the cynic in Clyde overthinking things.
"Let's move! I know a town about 4 hours north we can make it to before sundown!" The ghoul waved his arm and started to hurry down the road. Clyde took one last look at the mangled bodies below them, a reminder of the constant danger that existed in the Wasteland. He dropped his backpack and took a sip of dirty before getting it back on again. The ghoul waited, impatient as could be.
"Hurry up! You know the Wasteland is a dangerous place at night." The ghoul yelled. He was an odd figure, but one Clyde was happy to have around. Clyde started off the and pair continued the journey
"Boomington." Clyde said to himself. "Here I come."