"Oh crap! You see that one's head fly?!?"

Matt had just shot another gecko.

"Yeah I saw it. But seriously though, when you shoot one you shoot em all"

That was me, a weak, scrawny kid in the world of the wastes. Me and Matt had been out doing anything we could for food and shelter from the damn acid rain. Gecko skinning was popular this season.

"Not for me! Blowing heads off o' various critters is the most fun I ever had!"

That was Matt. He's big, strong, and can bust-a-cap in a suckah like nobody's business. I'm glad he's hanging around, cuz I don't like being alone in this messed up place.

"Hey! We gonna shoot er you gonna sit there?"

"I'm comin', Matt."

We had managed to find some guns to protect ourselves in this place. It's a funny story, the way Matt got his. We were wandering out and about when we saw this radscorpion nest. We scouted it from afar so as to not attract them. I saw something shining faintly in the sun. It was a gun! And a nice one at that! So's me and Matt make up this plan to distract the scorpions and get the gun. My job was to throw rocks at them and get em all pissed off. Then when they came out, mad as hell, Matt would sneak in and grab the gun. It worked, till we found out the gun had no bullets. So we ran… and ran… and ran some more. Woulda laughed if we could see it on holo-disc.

So I stole some bullets for it. Stealin' and snoopin' are my forte'. After all, I gotta be good at something, don't I? So anyway, I stole these bullets that fit in the gun, luckily. Later on me and Matt learned it was a "Berry 9millowmeters", whatever that meant. All we cared about was that it was a gun and it was ours. It was the only gun we owned for a while. Sure we always took turns practicing, but I left most of the shootin up to Matt.

Later on I'd gotten a gun, too. Wasn't as fun as getting the Berry, though. If playing with fire is fun. We just saved up enough junk we'd found (or stole), and traded it to some chick with a wagon and a lotta ape-like men with some mean guns. I was glad they were decent, cuz they coulda easily taken our stuff and left us for dead. Nah, they just traded with us, fair and square. So I got one that was a "revolver", not like the Berry, which was an "automatic." That meant I had to put loose bullets into 6 separate holes, which would take a while. Matt just loaded in clips. But when we only had loose bullets and empty clips, he had to jam bullets into them. It's hell, believe me.

"JON! Hurry up!"

"Sorry, Matt. Inner monologue buggin' me again."

The hunt was good. We found a gecko runt to pick on. A few bullets-none wasted. I'd be the one to carry that one once we found another, since it was light. We saw a pack of geckos, too many too take. Plus we were only looking for one more, that was all we could carry. Then we saw a Goldie. I was scared. So was Matt.

We didn't think our fire power could take it out, not from what we had once seen. A Golden Gecko, oblivious to the bullet wounds it suffered, ravaged a group of trappers, charging and clawing them one by one. They had real automatic weapons- the kind that fired a lot if you held the trigger. We had "pea-shooters," as a few professional hunters had smirked. And a Berry and Pea-shooter didn't sound like powerful guns.

We held our breaths. The Goldie sniffed, looked around, and went on. I wasn't sure about Matt, but I was close to messing myself.

"Damn, that was too close," Matt said, sighing heavily. "We gotta be careful round those."

"Let's hurry up with the hunt, I don't want a Goldie on our asses or the carrion critters eating our other kill," I said, collapsing under my rubbery legs after that scare. I'm a coward, ok?

We caught a bigger gecko off guard. I made a few exit wounds through its gut and Matt finished it off with a square bullet between the eyes.

"Whoo! You see that'un, Jon?"

"Yeah, I it was a clean hit."

"Damn straight!" yelled Matt. "Let's get the kills and head back.'

So we went, guns holstered and geckos on our backs. It was an hour's distance from the hunting grounds to the couple of shacks one might call a town. And, for now, it was home.

"Howdy, boys!" shouted Stumpy-Joe, the one-legged gun merchant.

"Hey, Stumpy," me and Matt both said, almost in unison.

"Good hunt, I see. You jist come right back to ole' Stumpy-Joe with those gecko hides and I'll fix you up right an' proper with all yer gunnin' needs."

"Sure, we'll be back," Matt said.

The town was a mess. But it was better than nothing. Most people just pitched tarp tents outside, and it was home. The luckier, or wealthier, whichever you prefer, had shacks made of rusty metal and anything else they could find. We bought a cheap tarp just for the purpose of having a shelter to protect us from the elements. I was always fond of sleeping under the stars.

"Let's go to Happy's and get em skinned," declared Matt.

Happy was the name of a retired trapper. He'd seen plenty in his days, and could always offer us advice. Could skin a gecko in the blink of an eye, too.

"Yo, Hap! We need these skinned," Matt said as he burst through the door.

Happy whistled. "Coupla' beauties ye got yourselves, doncha?"

"Yeah, these were easy. But we saw a Goldie' out there." I said, quivering a little.

"Damn! You two were lucky it didn't spot you," Hap said. "You need to be really careful around those, k?"

"Yeah, and we know why," Matt said.

"Well, as long as your not dead you're still customers! So what can Happy do for you two strapping, young gentlemen today!" Happy said, turning on his businessman charm.

"We want these cleaned, skinned, and the meat back, please," I replied. Gecko meat was good eatin' if you knew how to prepare it. We poke sticks through it and let it fry on a spit, like an iguana. Yum!

"No problem, kids. Be back in an hour or so."

We went to our tent. It was a little cramped, so we had to crouch down. Inside were a couple of sacks filled with anything soft we could find, which served as pillows. Next to them was our precious, precious, stuff. This was an honest community that understood that we had to work together to survive, so me and Matt left our belongings in the tent. Anywhere else and it wouldn't have left my back… ever.

I was hungry. I grabbed a big chunk of gecko from my pack and started eating. It was good. My teeth could go through it easily - it wasn't tough, like brahmin jerky. I savored its juicy flavor. Someone told me it tastes like a pre-war domestic animal, known as a "chikkehn," I think.

Matt was fiddling with his gun. It was his most precious belonging, like my gun is to me. He set it down and fiddled through his pack. He pulled out a small shiny object. He flipped the lid on the top and struck down on one end. Sparks shot out, and fire emerged from the top!

"Damn! A fire bringer! Where the hell'd you find that?"

"Out in the wastes, duh. This'll come in handy."

"Yeah," I said. "Just make sure no one takes it."

"I'd blow their brains out." Matt grinned.

So we went back to Happy's shack. He had the pelt, shiny and glistening, and several big cuts of raw meat laid out.

"Thanks, Happy. We'd be lost without."

"It's no prob, kids. You just come here if you need anything, ya hear?"

"Yeah, thanks Hap," replied Matt.

"Ya'll come back now!"

ß MORE COMING SOON!à