Note: In case you see a '.' immediately followed by a word without any
spacing, it's really three dots. I'm not sure why this happens.
Chapter 5: Discharge
Four days later, I was sent for an evaluation. I had become the model patient. I didn't whine. I didn't complain. I treated everybody respectfully. Etc. The evaluation was held inside my ward.
"Well, Jake, you're fit to go, but I think you should come back after a week for a check-up," Sam said. He had, by then, unwrapped the bandages to inspect the scar tissue on my back.
"Right. Is my armor ready?"
"Yes. It's with the rest of your personal items on the desk." The desk held my armor, clothes, weapons, ammunition, etc. I put on everything after shedding the hospital garb.
I left the ward.
On to the rest of my life.
Deborah was waiting for me. She had a smile on.
"Ready to go back to the world?"
"Yes."
"Mind if I follow you?"
"If you please."
We left the hospital together. We passed by the patients, nurses, all seemingly preoccupied with something to acknowledge us.
"So... Jake, what are you working as?"
"You can say I'm an odd-job guy specializing in certain fields."
"I see... "
We spoke again at the parking lot.
"Say... mind if I invite you for dinner?"
"Oh? Whatever for?"
"... Er... "
"...Ah. Sure. When?"
"Um... next week after my shift?" I knew hers ended at 1800 hrs. No, no, it's 6.00 PM now. You're a civilian.
"All right."
"Meet me in the lobby?"
"Fine with me."
"So... it's a date?"
"Yep."
"Okay. See you then." We were outside my vehicle.
That was when several men drove to the front of the hospital and jumped out. One of them was holding a blood-spattered teenager in his hands. All were armed with Uzis except for the child. The weapons were smoking, and they all looked like they had come out from a war.
"INCOMING WOUNDED!" I shouted. And raced to my medical supplies.
Deborah turned.
"No... it's not-"
"What?"
"It's Michael Farrington, the mayor's son. He was trying to force the gangsters to leave... I have to go!"
"Go! Prep the ER!" Forcing gangsters to leave, eh? He could come in handy. I grabbed a pair of stimpaks.
I raced to the BGs.
"You know how to apply stims?" I asked of the lead BG.
"Who are you? I do, if you must know."
"A friend. And a stranger. Name's Smith, Jake."
I passed him the stims and got to my Hummer before driving off. The BG applied the stims before the ER team took over.
Chapter 5: Base of Operations
I needed a secure location to place my gear...and a base of operations.
There was a hotel a couple of hundred meters away from the city. It was called California Star. It was a decent-looking place, with cheerful yellow as its color scheme. It appeared to be untouched by the rot within the city. It was good enough.
I drove to its parking lot. I got out, weapons ready. One never takes any chances in the Wasteland unless it is absolutely necessary.
I opened the front door, walked in, and headed to the receptionist. The 'lobby' was just a void with a desk and a person manning it. There was a flight of stairs at the back of a corridor that connected the stairs to the lobby.
"Good day ma'am. I wish to book a room..."
The receptionist was a tired-looking woman in her forties. She had a cotton shirt on, obviously pre-war. There were patches here and there. Her trousers were made of brahmin hide.
A smile from her made her look twenty years younger.
"Yes sir. What kind of room are you looking for?"
"I need one normal single-bed room. However, I'm here in advance of a certain company. I need five additional rooms, all next to and/or opposite each other. Is that fine ma'am?" She checked her records.
"Oh yes. We've got plenty of rooms. And don't call me 'ma'am'. Everybody calls me Jaime."
"Okay Jaime."
"Here're the keys." She passed me the keys.
"Thank you."
"Say... you sound awfully polite. Are you from around here?"
"Well, I was raised to be polite to everybody." By the instructors of the USM.
"Why're you here?"
"Er... I think it's better if you don't know."
"You a hitman?"
"No! No. I used to battle it out with criminals like them."
"Really? You have the look of all the gunfighters I had seen in the past."
"Remember Crazy Dog?"
"Of course!" Daniel 'Crazy Dog' (surname unknown) was responsible for a crime wave of rapes, robberies, gunfights, and so on that swept California, lower Nevada and parts of Mexico two years ago. He was finally gunned down in a two-hour gunfight in his hideout in an old raider encampment (that was swept clean of criminal elements several decades ago by a party of adventurers) that was several miles south of Vault City in Northern California last year.
"I was on the task force that went after him. My burst killed him." My eyes told her the truth. I didn't tell her what happened after the gunfight.
"I see... so, what do you do?"
"Odd jobs. Nothing illegal."
"That's what all those criminals say."
"Jaime, I plan to cleanse the city of evil if you must know.
"Really? About time someone did something about that devil's city."
"I'd sure appreciate it if you 'forgot' to record my existence here, and pretend that I don't exist. It'll save a lot of trouble."
"Sure thing."
"See ya."
I transferred my stuff into my room. As it turns out, it was a modest apartment. There was a cupboard at one end, and a table with a chair at the end. The bathroom was adequately furnished with toilet bowl and shower (the Sewerage Company, established 2321, helped to re-establish the sewerage system, which was mostly untouched by the Bombs). A bed was the centerpiece of the room. That was all. I had slept in worse.
I sat at the table, took out several pieces of paper, a pencil, and began to write. Following that, I drew a couple of plans. I let the ideas swim around in my head. It was 1900 before I left for a meal.
Upon my return, I showered, and carried on. It was 0000 before I turned in.
Chapter 6: Michael Farrington
It took three days before I decided to pay Farrington a visit.
I went to Hope Hospital, and approached the receptionist.
"Excuse me."
The receptionist looked up.
"How may I help you? Hey... you look familiar... "
"I understand that you have a patient here by the name of Michael Farrington."
"Are you a friend of his?"
"My name is Jake Smith."
"Jake... !"
"Yes."
"He's in Ward 10."
"Thank you."
I went into the ward. Once again, only one bed was occupied. Four men were guarding the teenager in the bed. The aforementioned teenager was dressed in bandages. The other BGs were in business suits.
"Who are you?"
"Jake Smith."
"Jake Smith!" the BG exclaimed. It was the same man I passed the stimpaks to.
"Yeah."
"Well! The docs said that you saved his life! The stimpaks stopped the bleeding. Thanks a lot, man."
"Don't mention it."
"So, why are you here?"
"I want to discuss a few things with Mr. Farrington."
"Sure thing."
I went over the M. Farrington.
"Mr. Farrington?"
"Call me Mike," he replied.
"Okay, Mike. I've heard that you're trying to push out these gangsters."
"Yes. But I can't do anything right now. I only have my bodyguards to do my fighting."
"Excellent. It seems that we have the same goal."
"Really?"
"Yes. I used to be in the United States Militiamen."
"Really? My brother's in it. He's Dave. Heard of him?"
"Dave Farrington? He's the new Quartermaster." After the last one died.
"Good. Good."
"Back to my proposal. I pro-"
"Accepted. I've got a network of snitches that have all the information that you need. I've got three hundred grand in my bank account in the New Sacramento First Bank. Use it." He told me the account number and how to contact the snitches.
"Thank you. Why did you-"
"You are well-regarded as a trustworthy person. I'm sure you'll stick to your word."
"Thank you. If you don't mind, I'll do my part."
"Wait."
"Yes?"
"Show those bs no mercy."
"Don't worry. I won't."
"Good."
I left, and bumped into Sam.
"Well, Jake, it isn't time for your check-up yet."
"It isn't. I wanted to check up on Michael Farrington."
"Ah, yes. He's a piece of work. He trains every day in everything from marksmanship to CQB (close quarters battle). You saved his life. I was the chief surgeon for this operation. The stims helped to prep him for an immediate knife and stopped the bleeding."
"Thanks. Hmm... Say, if I ask you to join me to do something for the common good, will you join, even if it is technically illegal? Payment-"
"Sir, in for a penny, in for a pound, going to heaven, going to hell, I'm along for the ride. Once the team's been assembled, tell me where to go, and I'll be there. And stuff the money."
"Thank you, Sam."
"You're welcome. Debbie says hi."
He left.
I went to the lobby, just in time to see Debbie.
"Hi Jake," she greeted before giving me one of those smiles she was famed for.
"Hello Deb."
"Our date's still on?"
"Of course."
"Are you here for Mike?"
"Yes. Tell me, is he really anti-gangster?"
"Yes."
"Hmm... All right...
"Bye."
"Bye."
We left. I had somewhere to go.
Chapter 7: Ammo, Cash and Info
My first stop was the local gun store. It was a single floor structure built of brick. The store was called New Sacramento Arms.
I walked in. The owner was a lean man dressed in a green bush jacket and brown pants.
"Howdy. Name's Chris. I'm from Texas. How can I help you?"
"I'm looking to buy a lot of ammo. .45, 9 mil, 7.62 Russian, .308 Winchester, and 12 gauge.
"You looking for ball or hollowpoint?"
"Both."
"Okay..."
I went through his ammo lists before selecting what I wanted. I purchased two thousand 7.62 and .308 bullets, two hundred .45 and 9 mm bullets (half of them was JHP), a hundred 12 gauge shells of double ought buckshot, a hundred shells of slugs, and a hundred shells of flechettes. Total cost was two thousand dollars.
"Say, you lookin' for a gun?"
"No, I'm not."
"Really? I've got this 14 mm pistol... "
"No. I've got more than enough."
"Fine with me... you going to war or somethin'?"
"Something like that."
"Not my business anyway. Take care now."
"You too."
I left, and headed to the bank. There, I withdrew the money, and prepared to go to the snitches.
Eight hours later, I had the info I needed, and went back to my apartment.
Chapter 8: Declaration of War
I calculated, and recalculated, and noted how much time I would need. I scouted various sniping spots as covertly as I could, and so on and so forth. I filed my notes properly. It took four days before I was ready. I went to Hope Hospital.
"So, Jake, how goes your preparations?" Sam asked, when we were alone.
"Fine. I'll round up the others. I've booked a room in the..." I told him about his room.
"Yes sir. My weapons are ready."
"Sam...buy a lot of ammo."
"Yes sir!"
"Good. Now, let's get back to my back."
After the inspection, I was pronounced fit. I walked out to the lobby. It was 1800.
Debbie walked over. She had changed out of her uniform into a white jacket, white shirt, and white trousers. She had another of her world- famous smiles. Once, I overheard someone saying that she was an 'angel in white'. Now, I understood.
Her resemblance to Pam was uncanny. I nearly called out her name before I remembered that she was dead.
"Shall we go?"
"Milady's carriage awaits."
We walked out of the hospital, attracting stares from everybody.
"Just ignore them."
"I always do."
"Excellent."
We reached my vehicle. After we went in, I started driving.
"So...where're we going now?" I asked.
"There's a diner at..." she gave me the directions.
"Off we go."
After some time, she spoke up.
"You know...you're kinda ...different from everybody else."
"Oh? How so?"
"You have this perpetual air of a weary man: tired-looking, a little sad, your eyes reflecting experiences that are like you've walked through hell. Not even the battle-hardened mobsters have your look."
"I have walked through hell."
"Oh. Heard of Akira Watanabe before? He killed my fiancé."
"Him? He's dead."
"Thank you."
"For killing people?"
"...Since you put it so bluntly, yes."
"Don't thank me."
"I see. Why are you an ex-militiaman?"
"One year ago, my team and I were tasked with eliminating a raider base in Northern California. After that op, we located evidence that one of our generals had defected to the enemy and was planning an assault on USM HQ. We caught up with him after a day, and killed him and enough raiders to force a strategic retreat by the enemy.
"When we returned, the top brass thought that it was an unauthorized action, so we were dismissed after a mock trial. They said that the general was undercover. If he were, he didn't say so. It doesn't matter now."
"Why?"
"It's over. The only thing to look forward to is the hope of a better future."
"I see ...and I presume you're going to kill the gangsters?"
"I won't answer that."
We drove on. In the downtown area, I noticed a car behind me, and another one in front of me, had driven into my line of sight. Something's wrong...
"Debbie, get down, and don't lift your head until I say it's okay."
"How come?"
"I think we're being followed. You've got a gun?"
"Yes. A Browning High Power and two magazines. Total of 39 bullets."
"Good. Take it out of your holster, and get ready for a battle. Keep it low and out of sight, but not in a pocket. Shoot for heads or chests. Just in case." Both cars slowed down.
"Oh s!" Both cars had turned and stopped, blocking off the road.
I swerved to the left just in time to avoid a burst of automatic fire from the front car's rear occupants. The car at the back received some bullets. I guessed that the rifles were H & K G3s from the sound. The rear car's fire was more accurate, and the bullets impacted into the doors. I drew my pistols.
"STAY DOWN!
"Maximum efficiency."
"Huh?" her voice was very clear.
"Stay down."
I opened the door, and got out. I aimed at the front car's back occupants. They were armed with G3s, like I had guessed. They reloaded. I raised my pistols and pulled the triggers. The spent casings flew out of the ejection ports a millisecond after the shots. I turned towards the other occupant and pulled the triggers. I heard the muted shots, and saw the bullets fly. The bullets entered their heads, flattened, and blew their brains out.
I fired a double-tap into the driver's head, and spun around. I was surprised at the lack of sound from the other vehicle. I looked at the rear occupants.
"S!"
They had taken rocket launchers into the fray. The warheads were filled with some sort of flammable liquid. This was called an incendiary warhead by Nebula Enterprises, which built the warheads. The fuse was exposed at the tip. I could use that to my advantage. I aimed at one of the rocket's warhead instead, and fired at its fuse. Four shots later, the fuse detonated the liquid. The flame quickly spread throughout the back seats. The other warhead blew up. The driver tried to get away, even though he was still on fire. Two .45 bullets crashed through the passenger's window and exploded his head, scattering blood, brains, and bone all over the place. The occupants screamed for a few seconds, and died as the flames consumed them.
The last of the cartridge casings fell to the floor. I reloaded.
"Stand down."
I ran back to the Hummer.
"You all right?"
"Yes, yes."
"Good. Let's get outta here."
"Are you okay?"
"I'm not scathed."
"What about them?"
"They're dead."
"What did you do to the back car?"
"I detonated the warhead of one of the rocket launchers there by shooting the fuse. The fuse is really a pressure-sensitive switch that blows an explosive block that lights the warhead's payload."
"Great thinking."
"Thank you."
"No, thank you."
"For killing people?"
"No. For saving our lives."
"You're welcome. They've just declared war. I'm gonna do something about that."
"Like?"
"...You don't need to know."
"What are we going to say to the sheriff?"
"You weren't here, and I won't have to."
"Why?"
"I'm leaving town to do some business."
"I see ...was that the only option you had?"
"Killing them? No. I could have just rammed through the front vehicle and break the roadblock. However, I wanted to send the gangs a message: don't mess with me."
We drove the remaining distance to the diner in silence. I parked the car opposite it. I turned to look at it. A man was sitting at a table directly next to the windows. A woman crossed the street. A boy was walking down the street. Everything seemed normal. Or so I thought. A woman walked in front of us. Some more civilians appeared on the scene.
I barely had time to register more details before I saw a flash. The flash was accompanied by a wave of sound and energy that almost tipped the Hummer over. The man disappeared. The kid was blown to his left by several feet. The woman crossing the street was blown back when she was within range of the flying glass. The person in front of me was knocked back by the blast. Same thing went for the people. Flying glass and debris impacted against the vehicle. The whole diner had gone up in a bomb blast. The dead and dying filled the streets. The only reason why we were not in worse shape was probably because we were in my armored Hummer.
We blinked several times while trying to hear amidst the ringing in our ears. Then, we reacted.
"No..."
I turned to Deborah Peterson. She was still in shock.
"Deborah, you're a nurse. Help me!"
She blinked, and got into action. She exited the vehicle while I headed for the medical supplies in their bunker.
I broke out the first-aid kits, doctor's bags, stimpaks, and got to work.
"Deborah!"
"Yes?"
"Is there a radio station in the hospital?"
"Yes."
"Okay. Wait a second."
I took out a Watts Model-G (the latest model) radio, which can be used for civilian and military use, thanks to its built-in encrypter.
"What's the hospital's freq?"
"123.56!"
"Got it." I changed the frequency, and pushed the transmit button.
"This is an emergency! A bomb has gone off outside the Star Diner in the downtown area. I count at least twelve dead and fifteen wounded. Get your entire fleet of ambulances here, over!"
"Roger that. Who are you, over?"
"I'm Jake Smith."
"Jake...Yessir! We're on it!" He started to sound like a nervous soldier who was eager to please.
"Prep your ER and alert every surgeon!"
"Yessir!"
"How long before ambulances arrive?"
"About five minutes, sir!"
"Right. Smith out." I turned to Deborah.
"C'mon, let's go!"
"You have medical training?"
"Yes. Catch!"
I tossed her a pair of first-aid kits, a pair of doctor's bags, and a pair of trauma packs. I took the same load.
"Deborah, I'm gonna leave the med supplies here. If you need more, come here and take some more!"
"Got it!"
We ran towards ground zero.
The last time this had happened was in Kansas City, when the STF was called up to assist the city, as well as the Brotherhood of Steel, against a group of terrorists. After a hectic weeklong campaign, we finally put down the terrorists...who actually had good cause to rebel against the mayor. They were treated like third-class citizens because they were African- Americans.
I headed to the closest area I could each. Whoever's the closest to ground zero needs medical emergency immediately, and medical need decreased the further one got from ground zero.
I reached my first patient, the man eating at the window. He was a mess. The blast had seared off the skin on the left side of his face, just stopping at the eye. His left arm was dangling on by a few strips of skin and bone. His left hand was on the ground a few feet from him. Blood was spilling from his chest and wounds. He looked like he had been blown out of the window. He was, incredibly, still conscious. He appeared to be very fit. That helped. He was also probably some distance from the bomb.
"Uh ..." he moaned.
"Shh ...I'm a friend. Stay still, it won't hurt any more."
The standard trauma pack was a container filled with very powerful chemicals (based on the stimpak's chems) attached to an injection unit. I just had to push a button and the injector would fall off to give way to a new one, so I could reuse it.
The pack was very simple to use: insert injector into blood vessel, push chemical release button, hold for ten seconds, and the procedure is done.
I injected the patient with a dose of chemical. Immediately his wounds started to seal and the bleeding stopped. This was because the chemicals forced the body's natural healing process to speed up tremendously. His skin started to regrow. His left arm had to be reattached by surgery, and the same went for his left hand. While the trauma pack caused a lot of damage to the body after some time, the patient will still survive, and the hospital can do the rest. I pushed the eject button, and the injector fell out. A new one took its place.
"Thanks, man. Doesn't hurt so bad now."
"You're welcome. Stay here. Not all the damage has been repaired. The surgeons at Hope Hospital can do the rest."
I injected the hand with a stimpak and placed the former on his left. The chemicals will help to seal the blood vessels and preserve the tissue, so reattachment can be done.
I ran to another victim. She was on the street. She had received a helping of glass all over her body, and she was face-up, and bleeding to death. She was not so lucky. A glass shard had punctured her left eye, and several narrowly missed her right. Several shards had penetrated the leather jacket she was wearing. Apparently, she had been facing the window on the street before the blast. She was blown several inches back. The only thing I could do was to help stop the bleeding. Only qualified surgeons with the right equipment can take out the shards, since they help the plug the wounds. She was screaming; shock had given way to pain.
"Don't worry, ma'am. If you're still alive, you gonna walk away from this." I took out a pair of stimpaks.
"Really? Oh f!"
"Yes. I've seen men bounce back after taking worse injuries. I should know; I used to be a militiaman."
"You're the expert...F, it hurts..." I prepared to insert to inject the chemicals.
"Okay, only qualified surgeons can remove the shards safely, since they are plugging up the wounds. So, I'll just stop the bleeding, and repair any internal damage."
I inserted the stims into two major blood vessels. A few minutes from now, the exposed area of the wounds would be healed, and stop the bleeding.
"I'll have to attend to other people. I'm going now."
I ran to another victim. He was a child, all of ten years old. F them! I couldn't care less if I was the target, but if they killed children and civilians, I get serious. I decided mentally to kill them all.
He had his right arm blown off. That was all, fortunately. He was still suffering from shock. I think he was blown out of the window, judging by his position on the ground.
"You all right, son?"
"Uh...yeah, yeah."
"Good. I'll stop the bleeding, and the docs can fix the rest. Okay?"
He didn't respond. He had slipped into shock.
I took out a super stimpak and an ordinary one, and injected them into him. The blood vessels sealed themselves. I injected a stimpak into his right arm to repair the damage to it and placed it on his right. Deborah was tending to the ones on the street.
I ran to another victim. She was the one in front of me before the blast. Fortunately, she was just thrown to the pavement. She appeared to have a mild concussion though. There was nothing I could do except to inject a stimpak into her.
I suddenly heard the crescendo of sirens in the distance. The ambulances were on site. Shillington was also on the site. I headed for the medics, who were exiting their vehicles.
"There're still a few more casualties on the ground. We did the best we could. Use your judgment and load those who need immediate medical attention first into your vehicles!"
"Yessir!" they shouted, before getting their kits out. I went over to Shillington.
"You know who did this?"
"Probably Puzo. This is Yakuza territory, and they're fighting a war right now. I'm not gonna do anything about it," was the reply in a devil- may-care tone.
"Listen, Shillington! Tell your bosses that I'm not gonna stand this s! Tell 'em that I'm coming for them!" I headed for the Hummer.
"Who the h are you to talk to me like that?!" he yelled.
I had driven off by then. My mind was stone cold. I initiated my plan in advance. I got on the radio.
"This is Smith again."
"Yessir?"
"Tell Nurse Deborah Peterson that Jake Smith sends his apologies, but must leave town immediately to do something of great importance. I'll be back within a fortnight. I'll visit her in the hospital when I return. Tell Mike Farrington that war has been declared, and the armies are gathering. Got that?"
"Yessir!"
"Good. Out."
I drove out of town and into the cold night. Next stop: Dante Town, CA.
Chapter 5: Discharge
Four days later, I was sent for an evaluation. I had become the model patient. I didn't whine. I didn't complain. I treated everybody respectfully. Etc. The evaluation was held inside my ward.
"Well, Jake, you're fit to go, but I think you should come back after a week for a check-up," Sam said. He had, by then, unwrapped the bandages to inspect the scar tissue on my back.
"Right. Is my armor ready?"
"Yes. It's with the rest of your personal items on the desk." The desk held my armor, clothes, weapons, ammunition, etc. I put on everything after shedding the hospital garb.
I left the ward.
On to the rest of my life.
Deborah was waiting for me. She had a smile on.
"Ready to go back to the world?"
"Yes."
"Mind if I follow you?"
"If you please."
We left the hospital together. We passed by the patients, nurses, all seemingly preoccupied with something to acknowledge us.
"So... Jake, what are you working as?"
"You can say I'm an odd-job guy specializing in certain fields."
"I see... "
We spoke again at the parking lot.
"Say... mind if I invite you for dinner?"
"Oh? Whatever for?"
"... Er... "
"...Ah. Sure. When?"
"Um... next week after my shift?" I knew hers ended at 1800 hrs. No, no, it's 6.00 PM now. You're a civilian.
"All right."
"Meet me in the lobby?"
"Fine with me."
"So... it's a date?"
"Yep."
"Okay. See you then." We were outside my vehicle.
That was when several men drove to the front of the hospital and jumped out. One of them was holding a blood-spattered teenager in his hands. All were armed with Uzis except for the child. The weapons were smoking, and they all looked like they had come out from a war.
"INCOMING WOUNDED!" I shouted. And raced to my medical supplies.
Deborah turned.
"No... it's not-"
"What?"
"It's Michael Farrington, the mayor's son. He was trying to force the gangsters to leave... I have to go!"
"Go! Prep the ER!" Forcing gangsters to leave, eh? He could come in handy. I grabbed a pair of stimpaks.
I raced to the BGs.
"You know how to apply stims?" I asked of the lead BG.
"Who are you? I do, if you must know."
"A friend. And a stranger. Name's Smith, Jake."
I passed him the stims and got to my Hummer before driving off. The BG applied the stims before the ER team took over.
Chapter 5: Base of Operations
I needed a secure location to place my gear...and a base of operations.
There was a hotel a couple of hundred meters away from the city. It was called California Star. It was a decent-looking place, with cheerful yellow as its color scheme. It appeared to be untouched by the rot within the city. It was good enough.
I drove to its parking lot. I got out, weapons ready. One never takes any chances in the Wasteland unless it is absolutely necessary.
I opened the front door, walked in, and headed to the receptionist. The 'lobby' was just a void with a desk and a person manning it. There was a flight of stairs at the back of a corridor that connected the stairs to the lobby.
"Good day ma'am. I wish to book a room..."
The receptionist was a tired-looking woman in her forties. She had a cotton shirt on, obviously pre-war. There were patches here and there. Her trousers were made of brahmin hide.
A smile from her made her look twenty years younger.
"Yes sir. What kind of room are you looking for?"
"I need one normal single-bed room. However, I'm here in advance of a certain company. I need five additional rooms, all next to and/or opposite each other. Is that fine ma'am?" She checked her records.
"Oh yes. We've got plenty of rooms. And don't call me 'ma'am'. Everybody calls me Jaime."
"Okay Jaime."
"Here're the keys." She passed me the keys.
"Thank you."
"Say... you sound awfully polite. Are you from around here?"
"Well, I was raised to be polite to everybody." By the instructors of the USM.
"Why're you here?"
"Er... I think it's better if you don't know."
"You a hitman?"
"No! No. I used to battle it out with criminals like them."
"Really? You have the look of all the gunfighters I had seen in the past."
"Remember Crazy Dog?"
"Of course!" Daniel 'Crazy Dog' (surname unknown) was responsible for a crime wave of rapes, robberies, gunfights, and so on that swept California, lower Nevada and parts of Mexico two years ago. He was finally gunned down in a two-hour gunfight in his hideout in an old raider encampment (that was swept clean of criminal elements several decades ago by a party of adventurers) that was several miles south of Vault City in Northern California last year.
"I was on the task force that went after him. My burst killed him." My eyes told her the truth. I didn't tell her what happened after the gunfight.
"I see... so, what do you do?"
"Odd jobs. Nothing illegal."
"That's what all those criminals say."
"Jaime, I plan to cleanse the city of evil if you must know.
"Really? About time someone did something about that devil's city."
"I'd sure appreciate it if you 'forgot' to record my existence here, and pretend that I don't exist. It'll save a lot of trouble."
"Sure thing."
"See ya."
I transferred my stuff into my room. As it turns out, it was a modest apartment. There was a cupboard at one end, and a table with a chair at the end. The bathroom was adequately furnished with toilet bowl and shower (the Sewerage Company, established 2321, helped to re-establish the sewerage system, which was mostly untouched by the Bombs). A bed was the centerpiece of the room. That was all. I had slept in worse.
I sat at the table, took out several pieces of paper, a pencil, and began to write. Following that, I drew a couple of plans. I let the ideas swim around in my head. It was 1900 before I left for a meal.
Upon my return, I showered, and carried on. It was 0000 before I turned in.
Chapter 6: Michael Farrington
It took three days before I decided to pay Farrington a visit.
I went to Hope Hospital, and approached the receptionist.
"Excuse me."
The receptionist looked up.
"How may I help you? Hey... you look familiar... "
"I understand that you have a patient here by the name of Michael Farrington."
"Are you a friend of his?"
"My name is Jake Smith."
"Jake... !"
"Yes."
"He's in Ward 10."
"Thank you."
I went into the ward. Once again, only one bed was occupied. Four men were guarding the teenager in the bed. The aforementioned teenager was dressed in bandages. The other BGs were in business suits.
"Who are you?"
"Jake Smith."
"Jake Smith!" the BG exclaimed. It was the same man I passed the stimpaks to.
"Yeah."
"Well! The docs said that you saved his life! The stimpaks stopped the bleeding. Thanks a lot, man."
"Don't mention it."
"So, why are you here?"
"I want to discuss a few things with Mr. Farrington."
"Sure thing."
I went over the M. Farrington.
"Mr. Farrington?"
"Call me Mike," he replied.
"Okay, Mike. I've heard that you're trying to push out these gangsters."
"Yes. But I can't do anything right now. I only have my bodyguards to do my fighting."
"Excellent. It seems that we have the same goal."
"Really?"
"Yes. I used to be in the United States Militiamen."
"Really? My brother's in it. He's Dave. Heard of him?"
"Dave Farrington? He's the new Quartermaster." After the last one died.
"Good. Good."
"Back to my proposal. I pro-"
"Accepted. I've got a network of snitches that have all the information that you need. I've got three hundred grand in my bank account in the New Sacramento First Bank. Use it." He told me the account number and how to contact the snitches.
"Thank you. Why did you-"
"You are well-regarded as a trustworthy person. I'm sure you'll stick to your word."
"Thank you. If you don't mind, I'll do my part."
"Wait."
"Yes?"
"Show those bs no mercy."
"Don't worry. I won't."
"Good."
I left, and bumped into Sam.
"Well, Jake, it isn't time for your check-up yet."
"It isn't. I wanted to check up on Michael Farrington."
"Ah, yes. He's a piece of work. He trains every day in everything from marksmanship to CQB (close quarters battle). You saved his life. I was the chief surgeon for this operation. The stims helped to prep him for an immediate knife and stopped the bleeding."
"Thanks. Hmm... Say, if I ask you to join me to do something for the common good, will you join, even if it is technically illegal? Payment-"
"Sir, in for a penny, in for a pound, going to heaven, going to hell, I'm along for the ride. Once the team's been assembled, tell me where to go, and I'll be there. And stuff the money."
"Thank you, Sam."
"You're welcome. Debbie says hi."
He left.
I went to the lobby, just in time to see Debbie.
"Hi Jake," she greeted before giving me one of those smiles she was famed for.
"Hello Deb."
"Our date's still on?"
"Of course."
"Are you here for Mike?"
"Yes. Tell me, is he really anti-gangster?"
"Yes."
"Hmm... All right...
"Bye."
"Bye."
We left. I had somewhere to go.
Chapter 7: Ammo, Cash and Info
My first stop was the local gun store. It was a single floor structure built of brick. The store was called New Sacramento Arms.
I walked in. The owner was a lean man dressed in a green bush jacket and brown pants.
"Howdy. Name's Chris. I'm from Texas. How can I help you?"
"I'm looking to buy a lot of ammo. .45, 9 mil, 7.62 Russian, .308 Winchester, and 12 gauge.
"You looking for ball or hollowpoint?"
"Both."
"Okay..."
I went through his ammo lists before selecting what I wanted. I purchased two thousand 7.62 and .308 bullets, two hundred .45 and 9 mm bullets (half of them was JHP), a hundred 12 gauge shells of double ought buckshot, a hundred shells of slugs, and a hundred shells of flechettes. Total cost was two thousand dollars.
"Say, you lookin' for a gun?"
"No, I'm not."
"Really? I've got this 14 mm pistol... "
"No. I've got more than enough."
"Fine with me... you going to war or somethin'?"
"Something like that."
"Not my business anyway. Take care now."
"You too."
I left, and headed to the bank. There, I withdrew the money, and prepared to go to the snitches.
Eight hours later, I had the info I needed, and went back to my apartment.
Chapter 8: Declaration of War
I calculated, and recalculated, and noted how much time I would need. I scouted various sniping spots as covertly as I could, and so on and so forth. I filed my notes properly. It took four days before I was ready. I went to Hope Hospital.
"So, Jake, how goes your preparations?" Sam asked, when we were alone.
"Fine. I'll round up the others. I've booked a room in the..." I told him about his room.
"Yes sir. My weapons are ready."
"Sam...buy a lot of ammo."
"Yes sir!"
"Good. Now, let's get back to my back."
After the inspection, I was pronounced fit. I walked out to the lobby. It was 1800.
Debbie walked over. She had changed out of her uniform into a white jacket, white shirt, and white trousers. She had another of her world- famous smiles. Once, I overheard someone saying that she was an 'angel in white'. Now, I understood.
Her resemblance to Pam was uncanny. I nearly called out her name before I remembered that she was dead.
"Shall we go?"
"Milady's carriage awaits."
We walked out of the hospital, attracting stares from everybody.
"Just ignore them."
"I always do."
"Excellent."
We reached my vehicle. After we went in, I started driving.
"So...where're we going now?" I asked.
"There's a diner at..." she gave me the directions.
"Off we go."
After some time, she spoke up.
"You know...you're kinda ...different from everybody else."
"Oh? How so?"
"You have this perpetual air of a weary man: tired-looking, a little sad, your eyes reflecting experiences that are like you've walked through hell. Not even the battle-hardened mobsters have your look."
"I have walked through hell."
"Oh. Heard of Akira Watanabe before? He killed my fiancé."
"Him? He's dead."
"Thank you."
"For killing people?"
"...Since you put it so bluntly, yes."
"Don't thank me."
"I see. Why are you an ex-militiaman?"
"One year ago, my team and I were tasked with eliminating a raider base in Northern California. After that op, we located evidence that one of our generals had defected to the enemy and was planning an assault on USM HQ. We caught up with him after a day, and killed him and enough raiders to force a strategic retreat by the enemy.
"When we returned, the top brass thought that it was an unauthorized action, so we were dismissed after a mock trial. They said that the general was undercover. If he were, he didn't say so. It doesn't matter now."
"Why?"
"It's over. The only thing to look forward to is the hope of a better future."
"I see ...and I presume you're going to kill the gangsters?"
"I won't answer that."
We drove on. In the downtown area, I noticed a car behind me, and another one in front of me, had driven into my line of sight. Something's wrong...
"Debbie, get down, and don't lift your head until I say it's okay."
"How come?"
"I think we're being followed. You've got a gun?"
"Yes. A Browning High Power and two magazines. Total of 39 bullets."
"Good. Take it out of your holster, and get ready for a battle. Keep it low and out of sight, but not in a pocket. Shoot for heads or chests. Just in case." Both cars slowed down.
"Oh s!" Both cars had turned and stopped, blocking off the road.
I swerved to the left just in time to avoid a burst of automatic fire from the front car's rear occupants. The car at the back received some bullets. I guessed that the rifles were H & K G3s from the sound. The rear car's fire was more accurate, and the bullets impacted into the doors. I drew my pistols.
"STAY DOWN!
"Maximum efficiency."
"Huh?" her voice was very clear.
"Stay down."
I opened the door, and got out. I aimed at the front car's back occupants. They were armed with G3s, like I had guessed. They reloaded. I raised my pistols and pulled the triggers. The spent casings flew out of the ejection ports a millisecond after the shots. I turned towards the other occupant and pulled the triggers. I heard the muted shots, and saw the bullets fly. The bullets entered their heads, flattened, and blew their brains out.
I fired a double-tap into the driver's head, and spun around. I was surprised at the lack of sound from the other vehicle. I looked at the rear occupants.
"S!"
They had taken rocket launchers into the fray. The warheads were filled with some sort of flammable liquid. This was called an incendiary warhead by Nebula Enterprises, which built the warheads. The fuse was exposed at the tip. I could use that to my advantage. I aimed at one of the rocket's warhead instead, and fired at its fuse. Four shots later, the fuse detonated the liquid. The flame quickly spread throughout the back seats. The other warhead blew up. The driver tried to get away, even though he was still on fire. Two .45 bullets crashed through the passenger's window and exploded his head, scattering blood, brains, and bone all over the place. The occupants screamed for a few seconds, and died as the flames consumed them.
The last of the cartridge casings fell to the floor. I reloaded.
"Stand down."
I ran back to the Hummer.
"You all right?"
"Yes, yes."
"Good. Let's get outta here."
"Are you okay?"
"I'm not scathed."
"What about them?"
"They're dead."
"What did you do to the back car?"
"I detonated the warhead of one of the rocket launchers there by shooting the fuse. The fuse is really a pressure-sensitive switch that blows an explosive block that lights the warhead's payload."
"Great thinking."
"Thank you."
"No, thank you."
"For killing people?"
"No. For saving our lives."
"You're welcome. They've just declared war. I'm gonna do something about that."
"Like?"
"...You don't need to know."
"What are we going to say to the sheriff?"
"You weren't here, and I won't have to."
"Why?"
"I'm leaving town to do some business."
"I see ...was that the only option you had?"
"Killing them? No. I could have just rammed through the front vehicle and break the roadblock. However, I wanted to send the gangs a message: don't mess with me."
We drove the remaining distance to the diner in silence. I parked the car opposite it. I turned to look at it. A man was sitting at a table directly next to the windows. A woman crossed the street. A boy was walking down the street. Everything seemed normal. Or so I thought. A woman walked in front of us. Some more civilians appeared on the scene.
I barely had time to register more details before I saw a flash. The flash was accompanied by a wave of sound and energy that almost tipped the Hummer over. The man disappeared. The kid was blown to his left by several feet. The woman crossing the street was blown back when she was within range of the flying glass. The person in front of me was knocked back by the blast. Same thing went for the people. Flying glass and debris impacted against the vehicle. The whole diner had gone up in a bomb blast. The dead and dying filled the streets. The only reason why we were not in worse shape was probably because we were in my armored Hummer.
We blinked several times while trying to hear amidst the ringing in our ears. Then, we reacted.
"No..."
I turned to Deborah Peterson. She was still in shock.
"Deborah, you're a nurse. Help me!"
She blinked, and got into action. She exited the vehicle while I headed for the medical supplies in their bunker.
I broke out the first-aid kits, doctor's bags, stimpaks, and got to work.
"Deborah!"
"Yes?"
"Is there a radio station in the hospital?"
"Yes."
"Okay. Wait a second."
I took out a Watts Model-G (the latest model) radio, which can be used for civilian and military use, thanks to its built-in encrypter.
"What's the hospital's freq?"
"123.56!"
"Got it." I changed the frequency, and pushed the transmit button.
"This is an emergency! A bomb has gone off outside the Star Diner in the downtown area. I count at least twelve dead and fifteen wounded. Get your entire fleet of ambulances here, over!"
"Roger that. Who are you, over?"
"I'm Jake Smith."
"Jake...Yessir! We're on it!" He started to sound like a nervous soldier who was eager to please.
"Prep your ER and alert every surgeon!"
"Yessir!"
"How long before ambulances arrive?"
"About five minutes, sir!"
"Right. Smith out." I turned to Deborah.
"C'mon, let's go!"
"You have medical training?"
"Yes. Catch!"
I tossed her a pair of first-aid kits, a pair of doctor's bags, and a pair of trauma packs. I took the same load.
"Deborah, I'm gonna leave the med supplies here. If you need more, come here and take some more!"
"Got it!"
We ran towards ground zero.
The last time this had happened was in Kansas City, when the STF was called up to assist the city, as well as the Brotherhood of Steel, against a group of terrorists. After a hectic weeklong campaign, we finally put down the terrorists...who actually had good cause to rebel against the mayor. They were treated like third-class citizens because they were African- Americans.
I headed to the closest area I could each. Whoever's the closest to ground zero needs medical emergency immediately, and medical need decreased the further one got from ground zero.
I reached my first patient, the man eating at the window. He was a mess. The blast had seared off the skin on the left side of his face, just stopping at the eye. His left arm was dangling on by a few strips of skin and bone. His left hand was on the ground a few feet from him. Blood was spilling from his chest and wounds. He looked like he had been blown out of the window. He was, incredibly, still conscious. He appeared to be very fit. That helped. He was also probably some distance from the bomb.
"Uh ..." he moaned.
"Shh ...I'm a friend. Stay still, it won't hurt any more."
The standard trauma pack was a container filled with very powerful chemicals (based on the stimpak's chems) attached to an injection unit. I just had to push a button and the injector would fall off to give way to a new one, so I could reuse it.
The pack was very simple to use: insert injector into blood vessel, push chemical release button, hold for ten seconds, and the procedure is done.
I injected the patient with a dose of chemical. Immediately his wounds started to seal and the bleeding stopped. This was because the chemicals forced the body's natural healing process to speed up tremendously. His skin started to regrow. His left arm had to be reattached by surgery, and the same went for his left hand. While the trauma pack caused a lot of damage to the body after some time, the patient will still survive, and the hospital can do the rest. I pushed the eject button, and the injector fell out. A new one took its place.
"Thanks, man. Doesn't hurt so bad now."
"You're welcome. Stay here. Not all the damage has been repaired. The surgeons at Hope Hospital can do the rest."
I injected the hand with a stimpak and placed the former on his left. The chemicals will help to seal the blood vessels and preserve the tissue, so reattachment can be done.
I ran to another victim. She was on the street. She had received a helping of glass all over her body, and she was face-up, and bleeding to death. She was not so lucky. A glass shard had punctured her left eye, and several narrowly missed her right. Several shards had penetrated the leather jacket she was wearing. Apparently, she had been facing the window on the street before the blast. She was blown several inches back. The only thing I could do was to help stop the bleeding. Only qualified surgeons with the right equipment can take out the shards, since they help the plug the wounds. She was screaming; shock had given way to pain.
"Don't worry, ma'am. If you're still alive, you gonna walk away from this." I took out a pair of stimpaks.
"Really? Oh f!"
"Yes. I've seen men bounce back after taking worse injuries. I should know; I used to be a militiaman."
"You're the expert...F, it hurts..." I prepared to insert to inject the chemicals.
"Okay, only qualified surgeons can remove the shards safely, since they are plugging up the wounds. So, I'll just stop the bleeding, and repair any internal damage."
I inserted the stims into two major blood vessels. A few minutes from now, the exposed area of the wounds would be healed, and stop the bleeding.
"I'll have to attend to other people. I'm going now."
I ran to another victim. He was a child, all of ten years old. F them! I couldn't care less if I was the target, but if they killed children and civilians, I get serious. I decided mentally to kill them all.
He had his right arm blown off. That was all, fortunately. He was still suffering from shock. I think he was blown out of the window, judging by his position on the ground.
"You all right, son?"
"Uh...yeah, yeah."
"Good. I'll stop the bleeding, and the docs can fix the rest. Okay?"
He didn't respond. He had slipped into shock.
I took out a super stimpak and an ordinary one, and injected them into him. The blood vessels sealed themselves. I injected a stimpak into his right arm to repair the damage to it and placed it on his right. Deborah was tending to the ones on the street.
I ran to another victim. She was the one in front of me before the blast. Fortunately, she was just thrown to the pavement. She appeared to have a mild concussion though. There was nothing I could do except to inject a stimpak into her.
I suddenly heard the crescendo of sirens in the distance. The ambulances were on site. Shillington was also on the site. I headed for the medics, who were exiting their vehicles.
"There're still a few more casualties on the ground. We did the best we could. Use your judgment and load those who need immediate medical attention first into your vehicles!"
"Yessir!" they shouted, before getting their kits out. I went over to Shillington.
"You know who did this?"
"Probably Puzo. This is Yakuza territory, and they're fighting a war right now. I'm not gonna do anything about it," was the reply in a devil- may-care tone.
"Listen, Shillington! Tell your bosses that I'm not gonna stand this s! Tell 'em that I'm coming for them!" I headed for the Hummer.
"Who the h are you to talk to me like that?!" he yelled.
I had driven off by then. My mind was stone cold. I initiated my plan in advance. I got on the radio.
"This is Smith again."
"Yessir?"
"Tell Nurse Deborah Peterson that Jake Smith sends his apologies, but must leave town immediately to do something of great importance. I'll be back within a fortnight. I'll visit her in the hospital when I return. Tell Mike Farrington that war has been declared, and the armies are gathering. Got that?"
"Yessir!"
"Good. Out."
I drove out of town and into the cold night. Next stop: Dante Town, CA.