Chapter 05: Man's Best Friend

The Gates

Edden trudged, oblivious to the fact that she and Ron were being watched. Every move, every turn was being scrutinized by unseen figures. There was an odd feeling in the air, but it wasn't enough to divert her attention or his. The duo was focused, and whatever it was, they felt they could deal with it in time given the chance.

They came towards the gates, which were open, as if inviting the strangers to enter it's dark and fantastic realm. Some ice patches remained in the pot holes in the parking lot. It was a dreary place, a dead husk of a lot.

The checkpoint house was vacant. Her eyes scanned the through the glass and saw no one, alive or dead. Clearing the ice particles and snow flakes with her hand. It was dark inside, but nothing stirred. Across the great lot were dead trees and some scattered remains of human bodies.

"Ron," When she spoke, it sounded like her voice sounded horse from silence. "Go on the east end and check out the generator area. I am gonna see the other guard house and truck depot. Maybe I can get us in."

She didn't wait for Ron to reply, she began to walk towards the west are where the cola trucks and other guard houses were found. Ron, going on the east end would find some guard houses and the generator.

Ron finds a door... locked with a deadbolt. Inside of the room is the generator. Ron kicks the door open commando style, having done this several times before; the cold had long degraded the hinges of the power room and the door came free easily. Upon entering, the generator room was illuminated by the pale morning sky and as Ron's eye's adjusted to the darkness, he could hear a distinct sound of something chewing and crunching. It was the sound of teeth working on some particular tough and tasty meal. Upon further investigation and his knife drawn, Ron got a glimpse of the room's single living occupant and sees a puffy furred cocker spaniel eating a rat. He had to wonder How long had the poor thing been in there? It was a skinny thing with dull brown eyes and a short tail.

And how'd it get there?

The answer came suddenly with the smell of carrion The body in the corner had gone unnoticed until now. He walked over to it, and saw there was a note. He took it.

"They are coming. The mutants in the black lands-- I have seen them. They are coming... I have no food... plenty of water dripping in. The dog can catch rats, but it wont share em wit me. Bitch."

The cocker spaniel barked at Ron and started growling--as if on cue. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of deer jerky, and the dog went insane. It jumped up on its hind legs and snapped the jerky out of his hand, wolfing it down.

Ron chuckled and saw that it was nearly emaciated--to the point that its collar had slipped off. He picked it up.

MAGGIE. FEP-906667

He realized that this must have come from a lab somewhere. He pulled out another piece of jerky, he had quite a few. He fed the dog a few more and then walked back to where he and Edden had split up. The cocker spaniel followed him.

As she took the bend near the alley, shotgun in hand, she saw some dead bodies. They were badly charred, others were burnt beyond recognition, and some were sliced as if cut in two by a buzz saw. The cold weather had preserved the bodies enough, and Edden could guess it was heavy energy weapons that had done this.

By the look in the faces frozen in pain, she supposed the death that came upon them was an unkind one. She checked the bodies with little remorse or care for the dead; they were after all dead, and wouldn't need their earthly belongings in the after life. She patted down the pockets and sleeve compartments, luckily this man had been wearing Nomex clothing, which was fire retardant, so hopefully the contents of the pocket were intact. All she ended up with was some coins and two plastic card keys. She looked into the face of the dead man and noticed the eyes had been long eaten away by wasteland carrion eaters. Only hardened flesh and bones remained.

She had no pity for the dead, none the least. To her, death seemed like a vague notion, something that she was aware that could come upon her anytime, but didn't seem to care if it did at all.What did concern wasn't the afterlife, but the color of the cards, which were: Red and yellowish green. Opening her jacket pocket, she inserted them in. Turning her neck to the left she saw some of the old Nuka-Cola trucks, one of the back shutters were open. Jumping aboard, she checked the crates and saw most of the contents were missing, and some, one crate of twenty four bottles remained, now chilled and icy to the touch, but probably a lot fresher since the war.

"Jackpot." Grabbing a bottle which felt very cool due to being exposed to the elements. Popping the cap, she quenched her hungry thirst for the brown liquid. But her greedy gulp had turned into a sharp pain to her head and she felt a surging head ache. It was what they had called 'brain-freeze'. Apart from her temporary agony, the liquid stung her tongue and made her throat fell as if it burned. She loved that sensation.

Belching, she threw the bottle down and headed to the small guard house.

As she crossed the concrete patch, she met the closed door. It was like a small bunker, maybe a small arms station or something. Like the kind four people could fit in comfortably without reservation or complaint.

Prying the door open with an old crowbar, she heard the snap of metal and ice and then a horrid sight greeted her. It was in the form of two bodies, one with gun in hand, the other sprawled, face down, hands spread apart. The man with the gun was long spent, and they were fresh bodied too. Navigating past the dead, she spotted something that caught her eye; some green strong boxes were at each corner, the same kind that stored surplus ammo. Checking them, she realized they weren't locked. She snapped open the hinges and peered inside. Nothing. Just empty, barren.

In the distance, she could hear footsteps coming.

Ron

Ron entered behind Edden with Maggie panting at his heel. He tossed the dog the last piece of jerky, and she ate it hurriedly.

"All I found was Maggs and a body."

The scent of dog fur and carrion almost made her wretch. "Where did you dig up the mutt? In a fresh grave?" She looked at the dog named Maggs with utter indifference. She hated dogs. Something about them didn't seem right. Maybe it was the fact she had spent her early youth in fear of dogs, the desert hounds that stalked the desert in search of food.

"Okay," She grabbed some of her cards she found. "Well I found some key cards... and you found," She looked at the dog, "a dog with fleas and dead body odor." The last remark was pure sarcasm, one of Edden's most unlovable traits. The dog looked at her, not angrily, but with curiosity Edden couldn't quite discern. "Well, Maggs is cute, in a sort of skaggy way."

Ron crouches down next to Maggie. He scratches the dog behind her ear and she pants and licks his hand. He points to the dog's flea collar with the experimental number on it.

The Captain smiles.

"Maggie."

The dog turned her head.

"Knows her name, at least. She looks really smart. Anyway, what's in this place other than old Nuka-Cola?"

Rug scratched his chin, feeling chills run up his spine at the sight of the old abandoned Nuka-Cola factory. They were standing outside the gates, he and his grandson. Or, well, that's how the old man saw the young boy of maybe nine or ten. In reality, he didn't have any idea where he was from. But for as long as the man could remember, he had followed him around.

"Look scary. Gran'pa?"

The boy rarely said anything, what with the huge scar (Rug couldn't tell what it was that had made it, and he had never asked) disfiguring half of his face and making it hard for him to speak. "Grandpa" Rug looked down at him, a warm smile making every wrinkle in his weather-bitten face stand out. Almost as a complete opposite the young boy's pale, perfect, innocent face looked back. Rug had long ago stopped seeing the scar.

"Yes. It looks scary. But I don't think it's going to hurt us any longer."

He ruffled the young boy's hair, and then took his hand. It was unsure who was steadying who as they stepped through the gates. The couple walking over the courtyard was bizarre, the old man crouching in his heavy furs that had given him his name, and the young boy, hand in hand.

The sound of their footsteps echoed over the desolate area.

Edden held back her disgust in petting the dog Maggie, and though she feared getting bit, something, to her knowledge never happened, still some caution was maintained. Her hand stroked the damp fur and she held the shiver back.

The canine licked her hand, and smooth sigh of relief whistled from between her lips. Her fingers gave a gentle scratch behind the animal's ear. It was obviously happy, the stubby tail was wagging vigorously.

"Nice, dog. Smart too, eh? Well, I suppose Maggs has no objections to entering the factory... Though I honestly wonder if it is a factory at all." She gave a suspicious glance at the facility.

"Funny thing is I don't ever recall being here... Somehow, from what I was told, I had to come here for some answers. Deja vu, Ron, I think that is what it is called." Her eyes looked glazed and confused, since she didn't even understand her reasons for coming to a place that reeked of death.

"Yeah, I know the feeling," he gave the building a weary stare. The place looked haunted, looked alive and possibly deranged. But he felt he had to go in, face his fears and shut up the faces of the dead forever.

"Listen, Ron, I am not good at this sentimental stuff, so I am going to spit it out. Since this is my lost memories, I don't want you to get killed over shit that don't concern you; so if you leave, I won't hold it against you." Edden said, her back toward Ron, as she spoke from over her shoulder.

Foot steps were heard in the distance. "Get back to me on that Ron." She began to pace towards the outer area of the parking lot and found two curious figures. An old man and a young boy with an ugly scar.

"We have visitors." Ron stated.

Maggie wagged the little nub of a tail that she had and looked up at Ron, as if expecting another treat or a response to Edden's comments.

Ron followed Edden out of the guard house and stood with his arms crossed over his chest, seemingly out of boredom, but really just to get closer to his best knives sheathed on each shoulder.

He hadn't replied to Edden.

When Rug saw the woman in the black leather jacket exit the guard shack, he froze in his tracks. A gust of wind caught the snow on the black pavement, making it swirl and dance in intricate patterns between the two by the shack, and the two on the yard.

Which couple was the odder was hard to tell.

Instinctively hiding the boy in his capes, Rug squinted through the icing winds. The two, the man in the quasi-military outfit and the woman, didn't make a move. For a while, both just stood there, looking at each other, trying to gauge the others intent.

And then, after much deliberating, Rug boldly stepped forward, and began moving towards the two. He still held the boy very close, shielding him from the cold and from the eyes of the strangers. On his face was a look of determination.

"Hello folks. Haven't seen you around in Moscow before. Here touristin'?" He said in a mid western accent.

Ron just watches the man in the wolf hides carefully. He respected the old more than anyone else. With age, power and speed almost always decrease--but experience makes up for it. His hands closed on the hafts of his knives, just in case, though. Ron had met his fair share of crazies and the wastelands were full of them. But he had seen the man open the cloak of wolf hide for a second... he didn't think there'd be trouble. He had noticed the soft outline of a child. No weapons, no tricks.

Tourists? Edden thought, taken a back by the comment. "No, we're not tourist, old man. I am a traveler and well... My friend here can speak for himself. All strangers look alike, may have missed me." She motioned towards Ron Spears. Edden had an arrogance about her that made her appears elfish, which to a degree she was. But when you got to know her, well, you'd understand.

He chuckled at this, "Very true. Many strangers pass through Moscow. Not many come here though," He pointed towards the looming brick and steel building.

The gust touched her flesh and she felt the goose bumps rise like yeast, making little spots all around her skin.

In the distance, the decadent Old Moscow was looming in the distance, broken building standing like citadels to a long forgotten time, a forgotten era; much like her memory - forgotten - in the hands of unknown figures of the abyss.

Little did any of them know, two men were watching them in the safety of distance, beyond detection and the sight of man. Even a sniper would have had hard a time finding them.

Edden grabbed some meat stripes from her pocket and gave them to the hungry dog. It sniffed the red stripes of brahmin flesh and had no qualms of wolfing it down its gullet. Hunger did that people and did that to natures finest.

In the distance

The two men watched, Gog and Magog exchanging nods and glances as more people seem to get entangled with the Red Violin and the intrigue that surrounded her. Whatever their master was planning it had to be big to have taken into account so many factors.

"We will proceed with the plan as soon as they reach the inner sanctum of the facility." Gog instructed his brother.

"Do you think she remembers?"

"No. Not likely. But if she does, we have our orders." Gog looked in the distance, he could see the facility and was well aware of what awaited them inside. Of course, they'd see what was inside, but they wouldn't leave to tell anyone.

Obviously they're not tourists. Stupid. Stupid. Hasn't been such a thing as tourists for...ages.

Rug didn't know where he got these odd notions. Sometimes he thought he might be a bit mad. But madmen didn't really know that they were insane, did they?

"Well, then, travelers, Nice to meet you." He affected a bow, a bit old, as he bowed, his cap of furs seemed to drag him down. "I go by the name of Rug." He said it as naturally as if his name had been Joe Smith, and with a curt nod at both of them. He still held the child hidden in his capes, although a small patch of hair stuck up and a single eye with red scar tissue running up around its right side. Rug didn't seem to notice.

"So what're you folks doing up here? Not exactly the best place to...wander..."

Rug trailed off, his eyes plastered on the rather intimidating building, standing alone in the large concrete field while wind-whipped snow flakes as sharp as needles whistled through the dark sky.Bad idea to come here. Bad idea. Always listen to the boy you dumb old man, you damn well know he's smarter than you. The kid can read the ancient letters, you can barely count.

"Especially not considerin' all the things you've heard about this place. All the ghost stories. An' to be honest, I don't think they're all made up just to scare little children into mindin' their c'ores." He said chores without the 'h', a grammatical error easily forgiven by his missing teeth. "You wanna hear one particularly juicy one?"

Edden smiled at the old man. "I am drawn here, Mister Rug," She said almost blankly as she stared at the shuttered windows. "Like a magnet pullin' me towards it. Perhaps I'll find myself here. Not sure... But I have to go inside. Like something I have to do." Her voice sounded far, like her mind, wandering back to a place of screaming and eternal night. The golden eyed wanderer and a green eyed man who wielded an impressive sword were at her side.

Day returned and the darkness cleared from Edden's vision, her amber eyes dilating as her pulse slowed down. "Man, I hate flash backs." She muttered to herself so softly, only the dog could have heard her.

Rug nodded slowly. He was familiar with that, being drawn to places without really knowing why. It was like him being drawn here, but to what purpose, he still didn't know. Now, however, he felt his presence here was no longer needed. No-one could tell why, he just felt it.

"I see m'lass. Well, if you'll listen to an old man's advice, be mighty careful in there. I don't think this is just any old Nuka-Cola factory. Don't ask me why I say that, it's just a feeling I got within my bones. Some say the metal god resides within the depths of hell, and that he speaks in tongues and apt to drive a man mad with only his faith in the man Jesus to keep him sane. 'Course that be talk… and you know the talk of the land m'lass. But if you go, go with the Man Jesus in your heart, for if you at least die, you may go to paradise." With that, old Rug tipped his cap at both the lady and the man with the haunted eyes, and then turned around and walked away. For some reason, neither the Red Violin nor the Captain did anything before he was already gone in the snow whirl.

Edden thought on what Rug said and her skin shivered as a cold wind crept down her collar and touched her naked back. "Thank you, Rug. I have that same feeling this isn't just a Nuka-Cola factory either." She looked at the factory again. It seemed like a monster thinly disguised as a beverage company - so innocent, yet harbored a sinister secret.

"Safe journey old man. Perhaps we may meet again. If we survive this, that is." She said absently, her eyes blank and empty of emotion; just brown amber that seemed so cold and distant, she didn't realize she said 'we', actually including Ron and Maggie.

The captain's eyes glimmer softly, holding the secrets of his decimated mind. "Godspeed, old man." He looked to the dog and then back at Edden. "What now?"

"'What now'? Easy: We get in. We try the key cards, and if that fails, we find another way in. Maybe jog back to town and see if we can get any boom sticks of dyno-mite." She began to walk, her feet crunching the soft snow, than something made her halt in her tracks. She turned in her tracks and faced Ron. "Listen Spears, you have come a long way with me, and I don't wish you to see get hurt. So, go if you don't want to follow. It won't make you a coward; but what I fear I may find may destroy us both. I rather myself get burned then you do. So the choice is yours." Her indigo eyes seem so warm and humane, the cold and blood lustful glaze was gone, or at least the moment. Now in this form, she looked a lot younger then she was actually.

The dog sat in the snow, not caring it was cold or not, but it looked up at Ron and then watched Edden as she stared at Ron, waiting for what he had to say.

Ron matched her look. Her unusually warm eyes meet his tortured, broken ones. "Edden... for many years I've been looking for someone that made me feel like I was welcome. I'm going with you."

Maggie stands, panting, and walks over to Edden's side, looking up with her bottomless pools that some call eyes. She pants, giving the appearance that she's smiling. She wags her nub of a tail happily.

Edden smiled, warmth in the eyes held for a mere moment and then the old personality came back; amber eyes gaining a lustful edge that screamed for murder and sex. At the one moment Edden seemed lovable and amicable she went and returned to her old persona as the Red Violin.

"Fine. You're funeral… but you may have company in hell if this goes ill. Be sure to hold the door for me" Came her usual voice like the wisp of an executioner's song before he dropped the ax on the convicts head. "C'mon, flea bag lets go dance with fate."

Ron nods.

"Well, go ahead and try the door..."

The captain checked his two best knives--one with a straight, black blade and one with a heat-treated rainbow blade. Both were weighted to his hand and both extremely sharp.

"Time to knock and let ourselves in." Charlyn said as she held her breath and raised the card.