The ride was what one could consider expected. Roland found himself sitting next to Hudson, boxing them into the seat against the window as he sat with his uzi square in-between his legs as he busied himself between eyeing the Raiders a few seats ahead of him and the book Hudson was reading over their shoulder.
Two hours, he'd been on a train for two hours. For two hours, no one had tried to shoot, rob, stab, eat, maim, or a thousand other wonderful and various crimes against humanity, mutants, and everything in-between - And honestly, it was a little weird. Roland had grown accustomed to the slew of hastily thrown together mercenary camps that dotted Nevada and everything south of Bullhead.
The NCR had all but abandoned their most sacred of holdings in the region, tied up in the hellscape that was the pact with the SAEZ - Dealing with a thousand other problems while they sent mercenaries to hold down their interests, who inevitably get tangled up in the same problems that the NCR had. The entire Colorado River region could be described as a loose collection of raiders, slavers, prospectors, mercenaries, and the odd spattering of Republicans and Brotherhood hiding in their forts and mountains. It was all one proxy war as the powers that be still heal from Hoover.
Regardless, Roland could relax, knowing that he was leaving that entire slew of problems behind for at least the next twelve hours - Able to relax trapped in this metal coffin, listening to the dulcet tones of Tiedrich's snoring and the whispers of returning tourists.
The silence got to Roland, snapping as he rolled his head toward Hudson who seemed to almost shrink away into the crack between the wall and the seat as he did so. Breaking the silence in the car, he finally let out "That book, what's it about? I keep getting only every few words."
Hudson's eyes darted to Roland, a momentary silence before they returned, "It's uh, it's about Texas, out beyond Legion territory. It's a collection of an anthropologist's essays about a local group of tribes called the 'Dustmen' and their relation to the Brotherhood and Legion."
Roland scoffed, "I didn't know NCR were even allowed to think about the Followers."
"I didn't say Foll-"
"Anthropologist. The NCR isn't really into the business of shaking hands and learning the local language - You sing the song of bulldozing Bullhead and pretending the bones are a lot older, even when there's meat on them."
Hudson stammered and galked, trying to pick a string of words only for himself to look as if he were having a fit, Roland simply patting the soldier's shoulder.
"Don't worry about it, I'm not saying you. Just, there isn't the best track record with anyone different than California."
"...right."
Roland kept quiet for a moment, closing his eyes as he sucked in a breath. He cast a glance back to Hudson, "What's it called? The book."
"Oh! Um, 'Of Oil, Steel, and Uranium'. Why?"
The merc rolled his shoulders, patting his lap as he struggled in the confines of the seat, laughing a little, "It sounds interesting and I need something on the train back."
Silence fell back between them as Roland closed his eyes, thinking of the steak he'll have in Shady Sands, of the nice soft bed in a Californian hotel - Of not wondering if your boots will be stolen in the morning. It seemed calm for another few hours, just outside of Nevada, before it felt like the entire train was struck by lightning - His teeth rattling as his eyes snapped open, a hand shooting for his uzi as the other shot in front Hudson, keeping them from slamming into the bench in front of them.
The screeching of the train's brakes kicked in, shearing and squealing against the railing as Roland tried to block it out, trying to get a glance out the window. His eyes were peeled, scanning for the first little bit of movement before he spotted it - There!
One, three, six, seven, seven riders on horseback. All armed by the look of it. He shouted it out to Davis, who returned that he saw four more on the other side of the train. Roland knew what this was plain as day - Mercenaries.
"I thought this was supposed to be a nice easy milk run, what's with the army?" Roland barked out, taking cover behind a bench as he motioned for Hudson to ball up.
"Word about this must have - Must have slipped through the cracks." Davis returned, pulling out his smg that had been thrown across the cabin before covering the front door as he motioned for Tiedrich to take the back, still dizzy from the explosion.
Roland shot a glance back out the window, grimacing at what he saw - Just barely making out the engine a few cars ahead laying on its side and tilted back, lying in the grit.
"I don't think this train'll be moving anytime soon!"
Davis cursed, biting his lip as he hollered back over the cries and whimpers of the other confused passengers, "If we can make it a few cars up ahead, there's a radio."
"Well, where the hell are we anyways?"
"Seventy miles out of the Hub, it'll be an hour before the army can get out here at least."
"Then we're holding them off!" Roland scoffed.
Even when he tried to leave the Mojave, its problems all came right back at him just to hit him in the knees and bring him down to the ground like he was nothing. How in the hell are they supposed to deal with this? Their messenger was balled up, they had three men holding down a train car from eleven armed mercs, and an hour from any help with likely no one knowing what's going on. Roland kicked himself for the first thought being just what the hell was in those holotapes.
The four of them sat there for what felt like hours, hearing the clattering of doors opening from both sides of them as the mercenaries made their way further and further down the line, boxing them in from both sides. Roland cast a glance out the window again, spotting their horses hitched close by, not too far. If they could make a break for it…
His thoughts were interrupted as the door to the front cabin open, the first man coming in having their head split open by Davis as they were sent tumbling to the ground. The next man rushed to the inside of the door, firing a shot blindly as Roland returned fire, watching Davis leap over a bench and crouching down.
"We just want the message!" The merc barked out, Roland watching as two more rushed up beside him.
Tiedrich responded to their demand by firing a burst down at them from the back of the cabin, whipping around to see a man armed with a combat knife charging him, knocking him down to the ground as the Raider and mercenary wrestled, another merc charging in behind them before being shot down by Roland.
It wasn't long before the cabin became a shooting gallery after the first man was shot dead.
A knife found its way dug into the neck of Tiedrich's attacker, the Raider firing at the next merc who took cover by door, firing a shot that hit the soldier in the thigh as they cried out, pulling themself between seats. Davis held off the front of the cabin, receiving a shot in the shoulder as he returned fire.
Roland's head was moving at a thousand miles, trying to figure out what to do as bullets flood overhead, filling the cabin with splinters of wood and zipping air. His attention finally snapped the window again.
Pressing against Hudson, the mercenary took the stock of his uzi, smashing it against the glass, once, twice before the glass shattered - Showering the two as Roland threw an arm over his eyes. He barked for Hudson to crawl out through the opening he had made, turning around to fire at the men from the back of the cabin while Davis continued to hold off on the front.
Over the fighting, Roland could hear the soldier fall, slamming into the desert ground as they rocked up. Good, good. His eyes darted over to Davis, putting a bullet through the glass behind him before he motioned for Tiedrich to get over to himself, trying to cover the Raider as he began pulling himself through his own window.
Before long, the wounded men had managed to get out of the train, falling to the ground as they clambered up, Roland's attention already on the horses, watching Hudson rush to them. Escape from this hellscape was close, within grasp - A few gunshots, but they could get to the Hub. Thirty yards, twenty, ten -
A shot rang out and Hudson laid face down in the dirt.
Roland paused in his step, eyes widening before he picked himself back up, darting to the horses. They were still, lifeless. Part of him expected Hudson to get up, stammer something, get to a horse. But his body acted on its own will, grabbing the reins and escaping as bullets whizzed by his head, Hudson laid still.
The three men rode for their lives, running their new horses ragged as Davis and Tiedrich held on, wounds bleeding profusely. They rode down out of the hills, down onto the roads, down towards all the civilization. The great monolithic stone of the Necropolis rose up, like fingers buried in the sand.
Safety lingered for a moment and the soldiers took it to pack their wounds, to stitch and bind as they limped and crawled to some oasis town that had sprung up along the miles between here and Vegas.
They had wandered into a town called "Hollow", a small town of probably less than fifty - Corn and peppers and beans sprung up from the ground, corralled into little pens in the town, little plots with names hammered in. The plots outnumbered the buildings three to one, but Roland managed to help Davis and Tiedrich collapse into the doctor's, sitting down in a chair beside a bed as his head fell into his hands.
The trio remained silent for what seemed like hours, Davis sat occupied staring into the beams of wood above him while Tiedrich tested his nerves by putting weight on his wounded leg. Roland, on the other hand, was a swirling mess inside.
"What the fuck was that?" Roland finally snapped, receiving silence from both. "Davis. We almost died, one of you did, what the hell were we carrying?"
The Raider sucked in a breath, their eyes remaining closed as they finally muttered "A fool's errand."
"Davis, I want this cut and dry, I want to know what the hell it is that the NCR had me carrying that warranted that."
His head rolled, looking over Roland. "Gold. Weapons. Brotherhood bunker they thought had been lost."
Roland recoiled, "What do you mean gold? The Brotherhood doesn't hold mines."
"When they sacked Redding, a group of Paladins apparently looted the place, taking a fortune in gold. We could never nail them down, always moving, taking the gold with them. When we had the Brotherhood on the run and they started scrambling the locations of bunkers, teams going silent, we thought that gold was lost forever…" Davis laughed, "The Brotherhood's discovered the location of the bunker that team holed itself up in - And we managed to pry that out of them. Brass wants that gold."
