Chapter 6

Andale Animosity

The next few days consisted only of aimless travel.

Sandra got more and more frustrated as they wandered aimlessly throughout the wasteland, hoping to stumble across Vault 112 just by chance, but they had no such luck. Instead, they ran into giant ants and super mutants, and Sandra, Charon, Bryan, and Thrash spent most of their time killing everything in their path.

During the nights, Charon was getting progressively more rest, but Sandra could've sworn that she heard him grumbling and turning whenever he slept. He'd stopped taking jet completely, and now, even though he seemed to be sleeping like a normal person, his withdrawals hadn't completely gone away, and he was enduring the occasional nightmare.

Three days after their visit to Tenpenny Tower, they were all camped at an unknown location in the middle of the wasteland. Sandra had located an overturned water tower that was completely empty on the inside. It looked like a long, tubular cave made of metal.

She and her friends sought shelter inside of this structure whenever it began to rain the previous night. They all lie comfortably in their makeshift beds, using their jackets as blankets and their backpacks as pillows.

Sandra woke up earlier than everyone else, before the sun rose and while the rain was still pouring. Outside of the gaping opening, she was still able to see the storm.

"Inngh..." Charon jerked in his sleep.

Sandra sat up and watched him.

Charon lie across from her beside the wall, and since he didn't have a jacket, he was using his arms to cover himself best he could, hugging his torso and trying to keep warm, his expression restless and disturbed.

"'Nother nightmare," Sandra murmured with a sigh.

Upon closer inspection, she noticed he was shaking. So, she slipped her leather jacket off and gently draped it over him.

"Ahh!"

Charon jumped awake. He stared up at her in shock, and she returned his gaze with equal surprise.

"Sorry," Sandra said softly, her hands gently raised. "You're fine… everything's fine. I was just covering you up. That's all."

Charon let out a deep breath. "You don't need to. I'm fine."

"You're shaking," Sandra told him. "You need something to cover up with."

"No. I don't."

"Yes you do."

"It's the withdrawal, Mistress. That's all. I'm not cold."

"Yes you are."

"No I'm—"

"I'm freezing," Sandra shivered. "I know you're cold, because I'm cold. It's freezing out here. You know what? Let's just..."

Then, Sandra lifted up part of her leather jacket and snuggled herself close to Charon's side, covering them both and lying on one of his arms, scooting even closer to him.

Charon released a raspy groan, and they both fell asleep for a couple more hours, curled close together and lost to a warm, peaceful comfort.

When the day began, Bryan woke up and spotted them sleeping beside one another, snoozing in a close embrace, and he perked his brow at them curiously.

Later on, once everyone was awake, they all packed their belongings and ate a few snacks as they began their journey once again.

Afternoon would hit before they reached any form of civilization.

"Is that a town?" Bryan pointed to a small neighborhood of intact houses. "Let's see if they have a place to rest. I'm tired of walking."

"Might as well. Not like we're gonna find the vault anytime soon..." Sandra sighed.

They all approached the town and strolled down the street.

Two children were chasing each other around in one of the yards, and in front of the nearest house, a man stood in front of a grill, flipping patties of meat and smiling at the newcomers.

"Hello there!" the man said. "Welcome to Andale. How are you, weary travelers? Are you hungry? We've got plenty to go around."

Sandra's stomach gave a hungry gurgle when the scent of burgers met her nostrils. "Ohhhh, what's cooking? That smells awesome!"

"Finest meat we have, stranger. My name's Willy Wilson, but everyone calls me Bill." the blond in the sweater vest replied, flipping another burger. "We hit a stroke of luck here recently, got more meat than we know what to do with. You all look hungry. Would you care for a bite?"

"Yes please!" Sandra exclaimed.

She and Bryan approached the grill, their mouths practically watering.

Charon crossed his arms and didn't move. He merely glared at Bill Wilson and remained silent.

"Here we go." Bill placed one of the patties on a bun and handed it to Sandra.

"Thank you!" Sandra said gratefully, grabbing the burger and staring into it like she'd found a long lost friend. "God, I'm so hungry!"

"I wouldn't—" Charon uttered, but Sandra took her first bite, and before anyone knew it, she had inhaled her entire burger.

"I'm glad you like my husband's cooking." A woman wearing a pink prewar dress stepped toward them. "He really is a fantastic chef. He and Mr. Smith across the street do most of the hunting, and sometimes, if I'm lucky, they'll grill it for me so I don't have to cook. I'm Martha, by the way, Martha Wilson. Nice to meet you. Welcome to Andale, the greatest town in Virgina."

Martha extended her hand to.

Sandra wiped her hand off on her clothes before returning the handshake. Now, Sandra was wearing a slightly modified merc adventurer outfit, the dark red sleeves cut off halfway, the boots covering her ankles, the leather pants cut at the knees, and a belt stretched over her torso and holding her one-sided shoulder armor in place. Along with her black fingerless gloves and her sunglasses, she looked quite stylish, and slightly more combat ready than being in her cargo pants and her gothic tank top.

"I'm S... Sandra," Sandra told Martha, still chewing the last bits of her burger. "S-sorry... I'm Sandra. This is Bryan, and this is Charon. And the yao guai cub is Thrash."

"Thanks!" Bryan said when Bill handed him a fresh burger.

"Do you guys have anywhere we could sleep tonight?" Sandra asked. "Sorry to be so needy, but we've been walking a long way, and we're really far from home. We just need a place to crash for the night. We'll be out of your hair first thing in the morning."

"Well, what's the rush? Stay as long as you like," Bill said welcomingly. "Our houses are full of happy families, and I'm sorry to say that there's not enough room for anyone else to live here, but we do have a lot of guest beds in the old abandoned house a little further down the way. We don't typically let anyone move in there because it's not entirely clean or habitable, compared to our houses... but if you're only staying one night, then I suppose it doesn't matter much."

"Nah, we're used to hostile conditions. We'll be fine," Sandra said confidently. "Thanks a lot."

"You're quite welcome, stranger. Make yourself comfortable in that old house. And I tell you what, come on by later this evening for supper. I'll cook enough for all of you. Sound like a plan?" Bill offered.

"Yes!" Sandra and Bryan both answered.

Charon remained quiet.

"Thanks again! Come on, guys."

Sandra led her friends down the road and toward the broken down house at the end of the neighborhood.

Charon peeked over his shoulder as they walked, eyeing the locals behind him.

Bill Wilson and his wife and son all stood around the front porch, smiling and talking with one another like any ordinary American-dream family.

Of course, Charon knew better. Such a thing didn't exist in the wasteland—and stumbling across a community of overly polite families meant that something was certainly amiss.

When they stepped into the house, Sandra was surprised to find that it wasn't in bad shape at all. The kitchen was mostly empty, and the beds appeared to be clean. Hell, even the wallpaper was still intact.

"What the hell was that guy talking about? This house isn't falling apart. It's nice in here. Their standards must be ridiculous," Sandra grinned, plopping onto the couch and stretching all of her limbs. "Hey Charon, how come you didn't ask Bill for a burger? None of us have had a full meal all day. Aren't you hungry?"

"Not for what he's cooking. No," Charon grumbled. "And might I add... I really don't think we should spend the night in this town."

"Why not?" Sandra asked.

"Because it's a town full of happy-go-lucky fuck-all freaks living in the middle of a post-apocalyptic hellhole. That doesn't strike you as weird?" Charon griped. "Where do you think they get all that meat from? Do you think those spineless sweater vest-wearing dipshits go out hunting for yao guai? I don't."

"What the hell're you talking about?" Sandra rose from her seat. "You really can't accept it when people are being nice, can you?"

"What's that s'posed to mean?"

"You never think good things can happen. Why can't they just be a nice neighborhood full of nice people?"

"Because that ain't how the world works."

"Oh, so it's impossible for people to be nice?"

"Ye'ap."

"Oh really? I bought your stupid contract because I wanted you away from Ahzrukhal! That counts as nice, dipshit!"

"Fuck… you're a naive little child."

Charon glared daggers at her, cocking his head and huffing out a breath.

"You did that trying to be a hero—but that's not how shit works in the real world. People aren't just nice for no reason! That's not reality! I wish you'd wake the fuck up already—!"

POP.

Charon found himself suddenly looking off to the side—just after Sandra slapped him hard across the face.

They all fell silent for a moment.

Charon's fleshy cheek stung a little. He hardly felt it, though it pained him… ached his pride…

Sandra turned and stormed outside before Charon or Bryan could see the tears forming in her eyes. She stormed off, crossing the entire town and swallowing her cries best she could the whole way.

"Well, now... what's the matter, little lady?"

Sandra approached Bill Wilson's house and wiped her eyes with her glove. "Sorry, just... out for a walk."

"Oh, you poor dear." Martha examined Sandra and made a sympathetic face. "You look positively drained. Here, come inside, I'll get you some water. Won't you stay for dinner? Mr. Smith and his daughter are coming over soon."

"Um... sure," Sandra agreed.

It didn't matter what Charon said.

The hurtful things Charon said didn't bother her so much; it was his refusing to accept kindness that cut her deeply. He honestly didn't believe that she cared about him. Charon didn't seem to believe in compassion at all, and it simply wounded her.

Sandra sat at the dinner table of the Wilson family.

Martha Wilson began talking about the home owner's association while Bill brought a fresh plate of burgers inside from the grill.

Still, Sandra was hardly hearing anything that Martha said, merely staring down at the dinner table in silence, unable to get her mind off of Charon at all...

"Stupid."

Charon flumped onto the largest bed in the abandoned house and crossed his arms.

"Um..." Bryan stood in the bedroom's doorway and leaned on the wooden frame. "Don't you think we should... I don't know... go after her, or something…?"

"Nah. You can go after her if you want, kid. I'm taking a nap." Charon rolled over and faced the wall.

There was a pause.

"What did you mean, you wouldn't eat what he was cooking?" Bryan asked. "Those burgers that guy was making... was there something wrong with them?"

Charon didn't reply right away, facing the wall silently for a bit longer.

"For fuck's sake." He suddenly shot upright and faced Bryan. "Yes, there's something wrong with 'em. I've smelled that stink before."

"What stink?" Bryan wondered.

Charon stared at him intently. "Human flesh. That's what human meat smells like on the fire."

"Have you eaten human flesh before?" Bryan asked, suddenly mortified.

"Not by choice," Charon said grimly. "I grew up in a slave pit, kid. The slavers killed off the weak slaves and fed 'em to the rest of us."

Bryan went pale.

"Place I grew up looked like a normal town up front. They kept the ugly shit away from the streets so the passersby wouldn't know to avoid the place... just looked like a normal town," Charon explained. "They'd lure people in, making them think it's just a normal town, then they'd capture 'em... turn 'em into slaves... or cook 'em and eat 'em."

"And you… you think the people in this town are doing that?"

"Nah. They ain't slavers. But they are cannibals... and they've gotta be getting the meat from somewhere..."

"From travelers. From people passing through town," Bryan said. "People like us."

"Yup," Charon sighed.

"Then we… we can't just stay here," Bryan knew, his tone rising with urgency. "Sandra just went out the door. She's alone right now."

Charon stared at him, the dark realization slowly overcoming him and deepening his stony grimace.

"God fucking dammit…"

Sandra gazed into her burger dazedly, leaning on her hands and slumping over the dinner table.

She couldn't get over what she'd done. She spent all this time chipping away at Charon, getting closer to him, getting him to open up… but now, after she'd smacked him across the face, she'd taken a massive step backwards. Now he'd never trust her enough to…

"So, where are your friends?" Martha Wilson asked, snapping her out of her thoughts. "I thought we were having you all for dinner."

"They were tired. They wanted some rest," Sandra replied glumly. "Maybe I should go talk to them. I can talk them into coming over for dinner, I bet."

"That'd be lovely, dear." Martha smiled. "We'll have a few more plates prepared by the time you get back."

Sandra stood and marched out the front door of the home.

It only made sense to go and make up with Charon now. She didn't like leaving things on a bad note, and not to mention, it wasn't fair of her to eat dinner without him.

On her way down the street, she caught sight of a small shed in the Wilson's back yard.

For a moment, she simply stared, feeling a spark of temptation and wondering if she should risk it. She didn't want to steal from the people who were showing her so much kindness, but realistically, she and her friends had little to no food left on them now. That's how they ended up getting so hungry in the first place today. Perhaps the Wilson family wouldn't mind if she poked around for just a bit of stored food, a jar of preserves, or perhaps a can of meat, just something small to keep her and her friends going on the road…

Sandra crept through the backyard and picked the lock on the shed, hunching over it and carefully twisting her bobby pin. When she popped the lock open and stepped into the rickety metal building—a disgusting scent suddenly hit her full force.

The inside of the shed contained a variety of cutting boards, knives, rippers—and human remains scattered all over.

"Oh God..." Sandra uttered in shock, her heart leaping into her throat as the sudden urge to vomit overtook her.

"Oh, now… look here..." Bill Wilson approached her from behind, carrying a 12-gauge shotgun. "I see you've discovered our little family secret… and here I was enjoying your company. Why'd you have to go and spoil it by poking around and sticking your nose into our affairs?"

"Why do you have to go around killing and eating people?!" Sandra barked in disgusted awe. "Did you feed me human?"

"Yes, and you seemed to enjoy it. Why, if you never found out what it was, I think you'd be perfectly fine eating it day to day like we do," Bill said eerily. "Is it really such a crime to feed our families? Some people are sacrificed, yes, but my family comes first. They need to be fed… no matter what or who the cost. That's the way it works in Andale."

"Not anymore." Sandra reached for her holster.

BANG.

Bill fired off a shot before Sandra could draw her weapon.

The 12-gauge round shattered a massive hole in the shack, narrowly missing her by inches.

Before Bill could fire again—someone grabbed him from behind and plunged a large combat knife viciously into his neck.

Bill's eyes tore wide open.

Charon yanked him closer, gritting his teeth and dragging the blade ruthlessly across his throat. He dug it in and sliced the man open in a slow, torturous way, Bill sputtering and trembling, desperately trying to yell and gasp for more breath.

"What's the matter, eh?" Charon growled monstrously into his ear. "Can't stand the sight of your own blood?"

Then—he kicked Bill squarely in the back.

Bill fell to the ground, twitching and sputtering as his life drained out of him, his neck pouring blood and his body sprawled awkwardly in the dirt.

The Smiths, who were across the street and witnessing everything, charged at Charon from across the backyard.

Charon then he yanked out his shotgun and whipped around—opening fire on them at once. The Smith couple staggered and jerked halfway across the yard, 12-gauge rounds having blasted holes in their chests, and they both fell dead in the grass.

A small silence lingered in the air after the cannibals fell dead on the ground.

Sandra, who was visibly shaken by the encounter, gulped and stared at Charon until he turned to her.

"I'm s… I'm sorry," she sputtered. "I'm sorry…"

Her words trailed off, shaking her head, eyes filling with tears.

Charon let out a long, raspy sigh.

"You're gonna be disappointed if you think anybody else is gonna be half as decent as you."

Sandra blinked, sniffing and meeting his gaze.

Charon lowered his shotgun and sighed again.

He stepped forward, placed a hand on her back, and gently guided her out of the dark, bloody shack, hoping to get out of Andale before nightfall.