Mouse
"Have you heard the radio?"
Sarah looked up at Mr. Glass's kindly face. She returned his smile, and then glanced back down to the feral ghoul eating the remains of her breakfast. It snuffled and snorted as it smeared food everywhere. Sarah giggled.
Mr. Glass cleared his throat. She jumped and snapped her eyes back to him, feeling guilty, but he simply continued to smile, and she settled. Mr. Glass had always been nice to her. He didn't get mad when she got distracted.
He tapped the horse toy he'd made for her on the nose and said, "Bella Buttercup knows how to listen. Why don't you follow her example?"
Sarah giggled again. She liked it when Mr. Glass used Bella's name, and he knew it.
He grinned, sitting back in his seat, and said, "Have you heard the radio?" When Sarah shook her head vigorously, he continued, telling her about a place with toys. She stopped listening, imagining a vast world of trinkets, with lifesize Giddy-Up Buttercups big enough to ride. She would gallop all around the world, Bella by her side, and—
"Sarah?"
Sarah came back to earth with a bump, blinking innocently at Mr. Glass. He rolled his eyes, but repeated his explanation, and this time she listened. His face was serious as he finished. "How do you feel about that?"
"I just want to be with you, Mr. Glass," Sarah said with a shrug, looking at the feral ghouls, who were now crawling together into a big pile by the nearby metro train. "You'll look after me."
Mr. Glass gave a little sigh. "I'll do my best, Sarah. I'll do my best."
"Have you heard the radio? RedEye says there's a new overboss!"
Gentle hands shook Sarah awake, people muttering all around her head. Mutterings about the radio. She flinched and shied away, the metal around her neck uncomfortable and sweaty. She blinked, rubbing her eyes, and looked up to see Mackenzie. A tanned lady with shoulder-length, light brown hair and a kind face, Mackenzie was one of the few people Sarah liked in her new home. Maybe it was because she was a doctor and tried to help people—or maybe it was because she always took the time to check Sarah was okay, and never hesitated before touching her, despite her being a ghoul.
"Aaron has your morning chores," Mackenzie said, tucking her fingers under Sarah's chin and giving a small smile. "Sorry to bring the bad news."
"It's okay," Sarah mumbled, rubbing her eyes and getting unsteadily to her feet.
"Take your time," Mackenzie replied, getting to her feet and tugging distractedly on her own metal slave collar. "I'll try and keep Aaron occupied for a little while. Maybe if you're quick, he'll find someone else to do his dirty work."
Sarah grinned and the corners of Mackenzie's mouth twitched before she turned and headed back outside. Sarah remained where she was, yawning and rubbing her eyes again as the chatter about the radio and the overboss continued just beyond the rundown shack she slept in. She pulled herself up, shaking her legs to get some feeling back into them, and poked her head outside.
Something gripped her by the scruff of the neck and dragged her forward. She gasped, her welcome to Nuka World flashing through her mind, before she managed to turn and see the scowling face of Mr. Corbett.
He was a pale, stocky man with greying hair, his forehead and eyes etched with wrinkles. They were the kind of wrinkles adults got when they frowned a lot, Sarah thought. Mackenzie didn't have those frowny wrinkles. Neither did Wiseman or Mr. Glass. Her dad had, though. It felt like years since she'd seen him.
Mr. Corbett's lip curling with disgust as his thick, doughy fingers dug into her skin, before launching her out of the door and into the marketplace.
Sarah hated the marketplace. It reeked of sweat and urine, the ground a mix of stinking puddles and dry, hot dirt. There was an old brahmin panting in the corner, too weak to pace around its cramped pen. A cloud of flies hovered permanently over its scabbed molting heads, almost as nasty as the rancid smell clinging to its pitted hide.
Sarah called her Buttercup.
Mr. Corbett let go of Sarah as they moved into the open, but before he could turn around, she took Mackenzie's advice and threw herself into the crowd, out of his sight. Even in the morning, the marketplace was always packed. Wiseman once said the key to hiding from someone was to use other people. She wasn't entirely sure what that meant, but pushing into big groups to get away from trouble had worked so far, and she wasn't about to stop.
Hopefully by the time Mr. Corbett found her, he'd have forgotten why he wanted her.
Sarah slipped through the masses, holding her breath every time she passed a raider, until she made it over to Buttercup. Sarah reached through the pen gate and patted Buttercup on one of her noses, before glancing up at her keeper. The trader in charge of Buttercup winked and turned her attention back to her customer.
A bang cut through the bustle, the doors to the market bursting open and hitting the walls. All fell silent. The traders ducked behind their stands, covering their heads. Sarah had already withdrawn her hand from the pen and scurried to the wall, flattening herself against it. Loud noises meant trouble, and not the kind of trouble you could lose easily. Only the raiders remained standing.
A solitary figure walked into the frozen arena, and every head turned to look at her. Whispers rose from the silence like a swarm of bloodbugs, hissing the same word over and over again: Overboss.
The new overboss surveyed their kingdom, a small smile on her gaunt face. Sarah's mouth fell open. The new boss was like her. She was a ghoul.
Sarah was old enough to know ghouls weren't liked. She'd been very young when the change happened, but she remembered enough to know the difference. Where once people had hugged and held her, they now recoiled in disgust. People like her mother.
Sarah couldn't blame them. She was a monster.
The radiation that swept through her little town claimed many lives, but the survivors crawled from the ruins, their skin flaking away. In time, they lost their hair, their ears, their noses…in the end, they were barely recognisable as human.
Her dad told her over and over how bad ghouls were, that they were both outcasts, that they had to live with other ghouls to be safe. Even Wiseman, who always stood his ground, tried to avoid conflict with humans; keeping out of their way.
This woman—whoever she was—didn't care. She didn't flinch away from the scowls of the raiders, or the grimaces the traders were giving her—like there was a bad taste in their mouths. She continued to smile, showing crooked, yellowed teeth, but her eyes never rested, flicking back and forth across the gathering. They landed on Sarah for the briefest of moments, and Sarah's insides froze.
Then the boss turned away and strode across the marketplace to the nearest stall. Every head followed. She talked with each trader in turn, apparently oblivious to her audience. Some traders were quiet, even respectful. Mr. Corbett tried to sneer, until the boss leaned forward and quietly said something. His face paled, and he didn't speak again.
The boss patted his shoulder, leaving her hand clamped there long enough to dig her fingers in, and then let go, stepping back. She glanced around the room, her smile fading.
"You may carry on," she said, as if she'd ordered them all to stand and stare. Then she left, whistling tunelessly and leaving the door open behind her.
One of the raiders stormed over, slamming the door shut, before whipping around and snarling at the enslaved traders, "You heard her! Back to it!"
Noise erupted through the market once more, though to Sarah it felt forced. The raiders were muttering amongst themselves, casting dark glances to the exit, so engrossed in their conversation they weren't even bothering to bully the slaves.
Sarah tugged at her collar absentmindedly, staying pressed against the wall. The raiders picked on her a lot. Everyone picked on her a lot. Except the lady who owned Buttercup. She was nice. Sarah glanced over at Buttercup's owner, but the trader was haggling with a fat, red faced man. Wiseman once told her never to trust a fat person in the Wasteland.
"How do they have so much food while the rest of us starve?" he'd said as he'd picked at his daily bowl of tarberries. "No one ever got fat off rations, Sarah. They either got lucky, or took something from someone else."
Sarah's brow creased at the memory. She never liked it when Wiseman got upset, so she turned away from the trader and the fat, red-faced man, and stared at Buttercup instead. The old brahmin bobbed its heads in her direction, pushing its noses expectantly against the fence. Sarah grinned and edged towards her, stretching out her hand.
Fingers clamped down on her wrist, and Sarah let out a small cry of shock, before Mr. Corbett dragged her away, snarling into her ear like an angry yao guai, "Don't you run off from me again, girl."
They walked quickly to a stand at the back of the area, where all the slaves were huddled, casting wary looks at the gossiping raiders near the exit.
"Got her?" Mackenzie said as Mr. Corbett drew near. She glanced down when Mr. Corbett finally forced himself through the crowd, Sarah in tow, and smiled. Then Mackenzie frowned, her eyes flicking up to Mr. Corbett again. "Aaron, is there any need to grip her like that? Let go."
Mr. Corbett obeyed, mumbling an apology and staring at his feet, while Sarah rubbed at her wrist. She'd never heard Mackenzie sound so sharp before, and she hesitated as Mackenzie hitched her smile back into place. After a few seconds, Sarah relaxed. This was Mackenzie. She could trust Mackenzie, just like she could trust Mr. Glass.
Sarah felt a jolt in her chest at the thought of Mr. Glass, fragments of her dream bobbing to the surface of her memory. Her eyes began to sting, and she blinked quickly, forcing herself to focus on Mackenzie again.
Mackenzie beamed at her, crouching down to Sarah's level. "Sarah, I need you to do something for us. Something important." But then she paused and turned her eyes up to Mr. Corbett, who was looming behind Sarah. "Aaron...are you sure one of us can't…? She's only a kid."
Mr. Corbett sniffed loudly. Sarah glanced over her shoulder and saw he had folded his arms, frowning. "Exactly. We all have jobs, but she can use the excuse of passing on a message. She's small, hard to notice, and knows how to disappear. We were only in the damn marketplace, and yet she got away from me."
"Maybe you're just easy to get away from," a man to Sarah's right interrupted. He was a little taller than Mr. Corbett, thin as a rake, with slicked back grey hair and an even greyer beard. Sarah thought his name might be Chip Morse. He was always wandering around, tinkering and fixing things up whenever the raiders got too rowdy. She'd never seen him frown before, but now Chip was glaring fiercely at Mr. Corbett. "This could get her killed." He directed his gaze to Mackenzie. "I thought you were better than this."
Mackenzie bit her lip.
"We need to know what this woman is like," Mr. Corbett shot back. "The girl's our best option."
"At least use her name if you're going to force her into the firing line!"
The two men glowered at each other, but Sarah only had eyes for Mackenzie. The doctor stared back, still biting her lip, and eventually said, "We want…" Her head briefly turned towards Chip. "I need someone to follow the Overboss through Nuka Town. Find out what she's about. She's already threatened Aaron, but that might be because he was being...difficult."
The unknown man snorted with laughter. Mr. Corbett huffed but didn't say anything.
"If you don't want to do it, I won't make you," Mackenzie continued. "None of us will. But if you can help..."
All eyes fell on Sarah. She felt the weight of their collective gaze pushing her into the ground, and suddenly a horrible memory clawed its way to the forefront of Sarah's mind. A dark night, not long after her dad went missing. Super mutants descending on the Slog, baying for blood. A Brotherhood Paladin, telling her to get back, to run away, to hide. He hadn't let her help.
Fear pounded through her chest, but she was determined to do her part. Sarah stood up straight and gave a short, sharp nod. "Okay. I'll do it."
Chip made a noise of disgust and walked away, while Mackenzie shut her eyes, as if in pain. But then Mr. Corbett moved over to her, placing a hand on Mackenzie's shoulder, and she opened them again. Mackenzie smiled widely, but stared at a point somewhere over Sarah's head.
"Good girl," said Mr. Corbett, and Sarah was shocked to see him smiling too. He cast another quick glance in the direction of the raiders, but when Sarah looked at them, they were still talking in a huddled group. Then Mr. Corbett kneeled down next to Mackenzie, a grim expression on his face. "Now listen closely…"
It was almost an hour before Sarah managed to catch up to the overboss. Nuka Town was big, and yet the streets were still packed. She picked her way around puddles of muck and blood in the pitted pathways of the park, and melted into the shadows of crumbling buildings whenever the raiders turned their attention towards her. It was difficult, but no one knew how to keep out of the way like a ghoul, and Wiseman had been a good teacher.
The Operators and the Pack were muttering amongst themselves when Sarah finally spotted the overboss strolling down the sidewalk like she'd lived in Nuka Town all her life. The Disciples were glaring fiercely at the boss, but the other gangs looked...curious. Sarah bit her lip. Mr. Corbett said the new boss would probably be meeting with the gang leaders as soon as possible. It seemed Sarah had missed a meeting already. Hoping Mr. Corbett wouldn't be too mad, Sarah followed the boss at a distance. With any luck, she'd catch the next one instead.
Sarah stopped in her tracks when the boss walked straight towards Fizztop Mountain, the lair of the Disciples. Sarah's heart began to race, cold shivers rippling through her. She'd heard stories about the Disciples, none of them good. She'd seen things too, but only the aftermath, when Mackenzie patched up what was left of the slaves who'd managed to escape the Disciples' clutches. A missing finger here, a nose there...sometimes entire chunks of flesh just gone, or even large sections of skin. Most of the slaves that made it back didn't survive, even with Mackenzie's care, and those that pulled through refused to speak about what had happened to them. Sarah was glad for this. She didn't want to know.
What did they do with the bits they took? Sarah wondered if they ate them. It would make sense...sort of. Though why anyone would want to eat another person, she didn't know. Hopefully they didn't like the taste of ghoul. But then again, maybe they'd never had the chance to try it—and going in there would as good as asking them to eat her.
Sarah clenched her fists, now trembling where she stood. The boss had gone in. That meant Sarah had to go in too. Mackenzie asked her to follow, was counting on her. Sarah's breath came out in short, sharp bursts, her eyes pricking with tears as the boss went through the door into Fizztop Mountain and out of sight.
She could do this. She had to do this.
Wiping her face impatiently, Sarah moved around the side of the huge, crumbling structure, avoiding the unseeing eyes of the patrolling Disciples. She needed a gap, a break, anything. The buildings in this place were old, just like everything else in the wasteland. And she was small. The two made a good combination, as she found out when she first came to Nuka World. As Mr. Glass found out, too.
Sarah swallowed, her throat tight, and pushed away the thoughts of Mr. Glass. He always told her to focus, and now was the time to pay attention. Like Wiseman said, old buildings were her friends. Sure enough, within minutes Sarah found a loose panel on the surrounding fencing, and she ducked through to a maze of junk between her and raider base. Smiling to herself, Sarah crouched and began to crawl, weaving through the mess with ease.
The mountain itself had a sizeable crack in the artificial rock. It was far smaller than the gap in the fence, but nothing she couldn't handle. Sarah clambered inside the tunnel and pushed on, her arms pressed tight against her body, her legs only able to help her by the tips of her toes. Her breath sounded muffled in this tight space, but Sarah liked it. She always liked the cracks in buildings. No one could catch a mouse when it hid in the walls.
Sarah smelled the other side long before she reached it. The thick scent of metal and rotten meat filled her nose cavity, making her gag. She coughed and retched, fighting to control herself before she went any further. If she made a noise, she'd be caught. And if she was caught…
Eventually, the gagging subsided, and Sarah pressed on, taking deep breaths to let the stink flow through her. The sooner she got used to it, the sooner it wouldn't be a problem.
By the time Sarah pulled herself out into the open, she was saturated by the smell. Trying not to think how long it would cling to her, she let her eyes adjust to her new surroundings, the interior of the mountain only slightly brighter than the darkness of the tunnel. There were dark splatters everywhere, and it looked like raw meat had been nailed to some of the walls. The stories of the Disciples resurfaced again, and as her heart raced she realised she'd found her answer for where the pieces the Disciples stole ended up.
Sarah slowly got to her feet, her shoes sticking to one of the dark patches on the floor, and crept towards an open space where two people were talking. The rest of the mountain was quiet, and as Sarah squinted through the gloom, she saw figures standing sentinel around the edges, watching the conversation in the middle.
Sarah watched too.
The boss was smiling as she talked to the leader of the Disciples—Nisha, Sarah thought she was called—and her tone was calm and collected. And yet despite this, Sarah couldn't help but feel tense. There was the taste of threat in the air, mingled with the blood.
Nisha seemed to sense it too. While her helmet covered most of her face and her lip was curled into a sneer, there was a hint of confusion in Nisha' responses, though the words were too distant for Sarah to pick out clearly. Then with a slight bow, the boss turned on her heel and left, still whistling merrily to herself.
Sarah crept closer. She had nothing to give Mr. Corbett, nothing to bring back for Mackenzie. She needed something.
There was a long silence, only broken when the boss exited through the main door.
"So what we gonna do?" drawled the other woman, her voice strangely light and cheerful. "Can I…?"
"No, Dixie," Nisha shot back, and Dixie stiffened. "I don't know what the hell Gage is playing at bringing in a ghoul, but we do what we have always done. We wait. We play things smart. And then, when the moment is right, we skin them."
Dixie giggled and stretched her arms as she bounced on the balls of her feet. "You think this is going to end bad?"
"I know it will. The question is when. But if we act now, we risk open conflict with the rest of the meat here. We'd win, of course, but if we want the region, we can't just start a war."
"Oh I can wait," said Dixie in a low voice that quivered with anticipation. "You know I can wait."
Night was starting to fall. Soon the streets would run with blood, the harvest of accidents and deaths plentiful. Witnesses were temporarily blind and deaf, participants unable to account for actions or name assailants. It was an unspoken rule of Nuka World—in twilight, grudges were settled.
Sarah held her breath as sounds of pain and parried words choked the air, hoping she would remain unnoticed. she sidled into a back alley and saw a figure in the gloom, whistling merrily, apparently unfazed by the dark. Sarah crouched down, watching the boss from afar.
The boss stopped, stretching out her arms with a slight groan, and then pulled out her sword, holding it over her shoulder. She stood in the abandoned alley, tapping her fingers on her leg, but no longer whistling. Almost like she was waiting for something.
Then Sarah saw it from the corner of her eye: someone moving silently as a shadow, a dagger gripped in their hands—a raider. Sarah felt a shout rise up her throat, before managing to cut it off just in time. If she stayed quiet and hidden, then it didn't matter who won the fight. She would be safe.
The masked figure raised the dagger, and the new boss whipped around, her sword slashing out towards the raider's neck. The raider hit the ground with two distinct thuds.
The boss simply stood where she was, breathing hard. Her legs buckled and she fell to her knees, gripping her sword to her chest, odd snuffling noises disrupting the silence. It took Sarah a moment to realise the boss was crying.
"Nicky," she mumbled, her head bowed as she rocked herself on the spot. "Nicky...I can't…" The boss gulped down her tears. "What do I do?" She raised her head to the sky, still tainted with fading light. "What do I do?"
Sarah decided she'd stayed here long enough. Time to go. But as Sarah inched back, the boss's head snapped in her direction. Sarah froze.
"Come out," the boss said. "I see you."
Sarah didn't move, her limbs locked into place. She'd been seen. Mr. Glass' face flashed before her eyes, along with Wiseman's, and even her father's, pushing Mr. Corbett's cover story out of her mind. She was going to die.
"Now," repeated the boss, harsher this time.
Hot tears flowed down Sarah's cheeks as she got to her feet and walked forward, trembling so badly she stumbled several times. As Sarah drew close, the boss's expression shifted from a scowl to surprise, and she wiped her sword on the dead raider's clothes and sheathed it.
"What's your name?" she rasped.
Sarah tried to speak, but no words came out.
The boss frowned, but didn't stand, remaining at Sarah's head height. "I'm Mrs. Bossanova. Nice to meet you." She held out her hand.
Sarah stared at it for a moment, and then shook. Her skin was dry and crinkly, like her own, but her grip was warm and firm. Sarah sniffed a little, and wiped at her eyes. "Are you going to kill me?"
"No."
Sarah glanced up at Mrs. Bossanova to see she was smiling. Not the smile she had given Nisha, a thinly veiled threat, but kind and small. Sarah felt confused. Was this the same woman? There weren't any other ghouls in Nuka Town. Not that she'd spotted anyway.
"I'm sorry you saw that," Mrs. Bossanova said, gesturing to the raider's body.
"I've seen people die before," Sarah replied, seeing the old lady remained kneeling and deciding to sit on the ground with her. If she was going to talk with this woman, she might as well get comfy. Mrs. Bossanova copied her. "I've seen lots of people die before."
The overboss frowned. "How old are you?"
Sarah shrugged. "Dunno. Ten, I think?"
Mrs. Bossanova regarded her carefully, her frown deepening. "Just because you've seen lots of people die before doesn't mean you should. Does that make sense?"
Sarah shrugged again. It didn't, but she wasn't going to argue with her.
The old woman laughed and shook her head, muttering something that sounded like, "Kids." Then she met Sarah's eye again and asked, "How much did you see?"
"I saw you crying, if that's what you're asking," Sarah replied. There didn't seem much point in lying. Besides, Mrs. Bossanova said she wouldn't kill her. Sarah trusted her on her word. "And talking to someone called 'Nicky.'" Sarah paused, wondering how much to push things, before deciding just to ask. "Who's Nicky?"
Mrs. Bossanova blinked at the question. She considered Sarah a moment, and then said, "A friend of mine before the bombs fell. I made it. He didn't."
They sat in silence for a few seconds, before Sarah said, "My name is Sarah."
"Well, Sarah, can you keep a secret?"
Sarah nodded. "I won't tell anyone I saw you crying. Or...about Nicky."
Mrs. Bossanova beamed at her. "If you want to tell people about this…" she waved her hand at the raider again, "or anything else you saw today, I don't mind. I have a feeling you aren't here of your own accord. But everything after the attack...tears are dangerous, and I'm still learning who to trust. I want to trust you, though."
Sarah nodded. "You can trust me."
Mrs. Bossanova smiled. "We'll see. For now, head on home. I need to clean up."
Sarah knew she'd been dismissed. She got to her feet and slunk away without another word. Mrs. Bossanova was a strange lady, and Sarah wasn't quite sure yet if she was a kind one. But she hadn't tried to hurt Sarah, which was more than any other raider had done so far.
Sarah kept her word when she returned to the marketplace. No one else would know Bossanova could cry.