Fun for all the Family!
Sarah moved through the marketplace like a breeze, flowing around its occupants as she clutched a brown paper bag to her chest. The raiders and traders barely noticed her, and those that did wrinkled their noses in disgust and turned away. She ignored them and continued, remembering Mackenzie's advice: "Don't give them an excuse."
The hard, bulky bag dug into Sarah's ribs, a most precious reward. Mr. Corbett had given it to her, murmuring she'd done a dangerous job well. Sarah clung to the bag like her life depended on it, weaving to her destination. Finally, she settled down next to an old fence and crossed her legs, breathless with excitement.
Buttercup the brahmin raised her heads weakly, and shuffled forward, pressing her noses against the mesh so Sarah could pet them. Buttercup's scabbed skin was a pleasant mix of soft and rough. Buttercup felt like her. Sarah grinned and held up the bag.
"I got you a present," she whispered, before opening it and sticking her hand inside. She pulled out a Dandy Boy Apple, perched on a splintered, rotting stick. It was a brilliant red and slightly cracked, its stickiness subdued by a thin layer of dust, the preserved apple lurking underneath. Sarah balanced the treat in her outstretched palm, and Buttercup's heads bounced against each other, fighting to eat it first. Sarah giggled as the noses snuffled against her skin, and smiled at the crunching that followed.
She fed Buttercup the entire bag, and then sat petting her until the doors to the marketplace swung open. The boss lady was back, only this time she wasn't alone. At her heels was a man. Sarah recognised him instantly and scowled. The one-eyed raider with the peeling, yellow-painted armour. She gripped at the metal collar around her neck, a great wave of hatred washing over her.
"Collar her, Gage."
The big raider had said that. The one in the loud metal armour. And when the one-eyed man started to argue, the big raider punched him. She found out later his name was Gage, and was warned not to cross him for any reason.
Now the big raider was dead and Mackenzie said Gage had helped kill him. The others tried to explain why to her and she thought she understood. The other gang leaders blamed Gage for the big raider's laziness. That he tricked them into working together. Sarah wondered what the 'trick' could be, or why it was Gage's fault, but she didn't really care. He'd put the collar on her. Sarah hoped he was worried.
She watched as the new boss and Gage walked around the market, selecting things and buying them. Everyone behaved themselves. Even Mr. Corbett didn't speak bad to Gage like normal, but kept his head down.
The marketplace breathed a collective sigh when they eventually left.
Mr. Corbett marched over looking very angry and shoved a piece of paper into her hands, before stomping off again. It was a list of chores.
Rearrange the goods: check. Carry tools for Mr. Morse: check. Bring in the new stock of chems for Maddox: check.
Sarah grimaced as she reached the next item on Mr. Corbett's list. He wanted her to clean up the raider vomit by the stalls, writing "SCARING OFF CUSTOMERS" in big, underlined letters next to this order. She sat down next to Buttercup's pen again, staring glumly at the wall nearest to her. Mr. Corbett had been very happy to learn she could read, and she remembered how Deirdre and Wiseman took turns to teach her, between selling off all the Slog's excess tarberries.
Sarah wished she was back there. It had been hard, but it had been home. She missed Wiseman. She missed her father. She missed them all. It had only been about six months since she'd left, but it felt like years.
Sarah drew her knees to her chest, trying not to cry. She focused on a peeling park poster, blinking back the tears and biting her lip. Then she realised what she was looking at, and stared at it, her eyes widening. Mr. Glass had promised her a land of toys. Maybe he'd been right all along.
She glanced down at Mr. Corbett's note, scowled, and then crumpled it up and tossed it carelessly into Buttercup's pen. The brahmin bent down one of her heads and sniffed. She ate it.
"Thanks," Sarah whispered, kissing her fingertips and reaching through the fence to press them to Buttercup's other nose. Then, clambering to her feet, she flitted through the market like a shadow and out of sight.
The land beyond Nuka Town felt as wild as the wastes, and yet still held hints of its orderly, structured origins. Sarah couldn't express these feelings in words, but instead saw the smooth, stained white paving stones choked by dead weeds and packed earth, the trees lined neatly against nature's intentions. In the distance were oddly shaped buildings unlike anything she'd ever seen before, the area between them wide and empty. So much space dedicated to nothing in particular.
Sarah liked the way her shoes tapped against the surviving footpath, reminding her of the tiles around the pool in the Slog. She squinted at her surroundings, trying to remember the map of the park, and which way to turn next. It all looked so different, a landscape warped by fire and centuries of ruin, and she wasn't sure if her destination was still standing. But she had to try.
As she turned her head from side to side, she saw two figures not too far away, and recognised one of them as Mrs. Bossanova. Despite herself, a grin slipped onto Sarah's face. She liked the new boss, though she couldn't say why. Maybe because Mrs. Bossanova smiled at her the same way Wiseman used to.
Sarah started to walk towards Mrs. Bossanova, when a noise caught her attention. It sounded like a choked whimper, maybe a wounded animal. Wondering if something was hurt and needed her help, Sarah turned back, edging towards an area secluded by bushes. Carefully, she pushed her way through them, and was greeted by the strangest thing she'd ever seen.
A Disciple with long, dirty blonde hair was sitting on a bench, her helmet next to her. The lower half of her clothes were pulled down, her legs open and resting on the shoulders of a man whose head was between her thighs. Sarah had no idea what he was doing, but judging by his dress, he was part of the Pack. Feeling revolted, Sarah glanced around, and saw the bodies of two other Pack members, covered in blood and deep slashes in their faces and necks. Another Disciple member stood next to the dead, watching the surviving Pack and her companion.
The man kept flicking his eyes up towards the woman he was with, desperation in them, as if frantic to please. The woman paid him no attention, gripping his hair and pulling if he paused, all the while staring into the eyes of the other Disciple as her chest heaved. The Pack member's fingers dug into her legs and her head lolled back, until finally she cried out, her back arching as she spasmed against him.
The man moved into a kneeling position, not quite meeting the eye of the taller Disciple as she faced him. She turned to the woman on the bench.
"Finished?"
She nodded, groping for her helmet and grinning wickedly at the Pack member. He continued to stare ahead, waiting.
The taller Disciple regarded him for a moment. "Look at me."
He obeyed, tilting his head up and exposing his throat.
She pounced, slashing with something pointed and dirty in her hand. He gurgled in shock as blood sprayed out from his neck, but she continued to stab until he fell still, and then more some.
Her companion got to her feet and dressed herself, watching with a thin smile until the taller disciple stopped. Then she reached out, and massaged the back of her neck, her partner twitching under her touch. "Dominating the dogs is satisfying."
"Killing them is even better," the taller woman replied, her voice breathy. She stood up, pulling her own helmet off, and pushed the other against a nearby tree, kissing her.
Sarah had no idea what was going on anymore. She'd heard about adults doing...stuff to each other. But she'd never seen it. Was this normal? Sarah felt sick— uncomfortable —and started to move away. As she did, she stepped on an old branch.
Crack.
Sarah ran, not waiting to see if they followed. The dripping meat and flayed flesh of the Disciples' lair flashed before her eyes, and terror clawed at her heels. They would cut her. They would peel her.
They were gaining on her.
She could hear them, their yells and mocking laughter growing louder, but she didn't dare turn around. Sarah sprinted through brush and river, soaking her shoes as brittle vegetation snagged on her skin. She imagined knives tracing circles on her neck.
Her pounding feet matching the rhythm of her heart. The thuds of their pursuit drew closer, their hissed promises of pain slicing her ears. Sarah pushed on, not knowing or caring where she was going. She ran through the first gate she found, not looking to see where it led.
Her breath was thinning, her lungs protesting as her legs wobbled. Sarah wanted to scream, to give up and let it happen. But Mr. Glass told her to run. Sarah was a good girl. She did as she was told. Did as she was told. Did as she was told.
Leave him behind!
Misted water doused Sarah's skin, and she snapped back into the hunt. But before she could register where she was, her feet skidded on the wet floor, and she slid into a trash can, crumpling. Sarah lay there, the wind knocked out of her as her mouth gaped in vain, and then came to her senses. She tried to get up, her feet slipping on the slick paving slabs, her hands scrabbling to grab something to support her weight.
A low cackle made Sarah finally turn around, and she saw the raiders slow to a walk, stopping feet from her. Their helmets had been left behind, their dirty, blood-stained faces shining with anticipation, and yet wearing grins as hollow as their eyes. They advanced, the taller of the two licking her lips.
"Sarah," wheezed Mr. Glass, clutching his stomach. "You need to go." He reached down, and with a grunt of pain, dragged up the wire fencing so the hole was just big enough for her. "Go."
Sarah began to cry.
"God, what a fucking perfect day," the smaller raider said in a quivering voice. "Now we—"
A long, guttural screech filled the air.
The raiders glanced at each other, the smirks sliding off their faces instantly. They raised their blades, tensing.
Sarah heard it before she saw it. Scraping and shuffling, snarling and champing its teeth, a huge, hulking figure lurched out from a nearby building. The tall raider laughed and edged towards it. "Stupid, slow—"
It lunged with frightening speed, swinging a fist the size of a sledgehammer into her head. She bounced off the ruin it had emerged from, her skull cracking like an egg.
The other raider screamed with fury, leaping at the monstrous ghoul and slashing wildly. Multiple rasping howls replied, and within seconds, ghouls were swarming towards the raiders. Her shrieks changed from rage to agony as a wet tearing mingled with the outcry.
Sarah curled up into a ball, covering her ears and squeezing her eyes shut. She tried to sing the Giddyup Buttercup song, the one Mr. Glass taught her, but she couldn't hear it over the snapping of bones.
Something nudged her hand.
Sarah opened her eyes, and for a moment the sounds of the feast faded away. A feral ghoul sat in front of her, its face painted many colours. It sniffed her, licked her cheek, and then nudged her again with its head before crawling away. It paused, clearly waiting for her. Sarah didn't think twice. Without looking back, she stood up and limped after the ghoul.
Kiddie Kingdom. It really existed.
She followed Pansy—named after Pansy the Penguin, a book Wiseman gave her—her nausea slowly fading, replaced by wonder as they wove through the reality of her dreams. There were lollipops as tall as trees, which she quickly realised were plastic when she tried to eat one. Teacups the size of tables spun lazily in a circle, but when Sarah approached, Pansy made an odd noise and waited until Sarah returned to her side, before continuing on.
The place was covered in bright colours, dazzling and beautiful. Even the ghouls were painted to match! She smiled at them as she passed, and they crawled over, sniffing her clothes and licking her legs, before drifting away again. Some tried to stay, but Pansy made a low rumble, and they backed off, leaving Pansy to lead on.
Once or twice, Pansy growled when Sarah began to stray. She soon realised wires and traps were scattered everywhere, big guns pointed at doorways and bridges. Sarah shivered and returned to her new friend, deciding to stay close from now on.
Finally, they reached the bridge at the foot of a brilliant, white castle with an orange shingle roof and multi-coloured banners and baubles encrusting the battlements. Sarah's eyes pricked with tears—she'd never seen anything so wonderful.
A sign at the entrance read 'King Cola's Castle.' A little further inside was a courtyard, with a set of red, wooden doors. The word 'Theater' hung over them. Another ghoul was here, and unlike the others, Pansy did not chase him away. While Pansy was painted pink and purple, this ghoul was blue, with yellow polka dots. Sarah decided this one was a boy, and named him 'Petey' on the spot.
Pansy crawled over to Petey, sniffed him, and then rubbed her cheek against him. Petey responded in kind, and Sarah giggled. Petey must be Pansy's boyfriend. The two turned to look at her, and then shuffled up the steps to the doors. Sarah followed, and when they waited patiently for her, she reached out and opened it. They slithered inside, almost immediately engulfed by the deep darkness, leaving Sarah alone on the threshold. Sarah hesitated, biting her lip, and then edged her way into the black.
Dust swirled around the shafts of light breaking down from the vaulted ceiling. Sarah looked up as she walked amongst the empty seats, expecting to see cracks leading to the outside, and gasped when she realised there were immense lights suspended in the air. She glanced back to the stage, which was occupied by an old table on the lower level, and a plush red chair and another flickering sign on the balcony above. This sign read, 'King Cola's Court.'
There was a crack, a puff of smoke, and Sarah screamed, falling over her own feet as she started up the balcony.
A ghoul in a top hat stepped from the mist, the bright glow of his skin giving his red and black suit a strange, green hue. He paused, toying with the bowtie at his neck, and then pointed down to her as he boomed, "You! Do you know who I am?"
Sarah's bottom lip trembled as she stammered, "K-king Cola?"
The man's mouth twitched as he made a funny little snorting noise, but he quickly forced his face to be serious again. "Wrong! I am…"
Crack.
Smoke filled the bottom stage in a great swirl, green light glowing within, before the man marched out with a violent sweep of his hand. "Oswald the Outrageous!"
Sarah burst into tears.
Oswald dropped his booming voice at once, rushing over to her. "Oh, hey, no. Kid! Don't cry! It's just a magic act, see!" His top hat fell off and rolled away as he kneeled down, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a yellow handkerchief. As he pulled, Sarah saw it was attached to a blue one, and a red one, and a green one, and…
She blinked through her tears, her eyes wide. "How long is that?"
Oswald caught her eye, winked, and kept drawing the impossibly long handkerchief out, until it curled at his feet like a pet snake. Finally, he reached the end, and when it came free from his pocket, there was a single, clean tissue attached, which he tugged free and offered her. Then he snapped his fingers, and the trail of handkerchief shot up his sleeve again in a flurry of colour, and out of sight.
Sarah dabbed her eyes and her nose cavity, and stared up at this strange, glowing man. For a moment, she saw an ugly, almost frightening expression on his face, and shied away from him. He reached out and touched the collar around her neck, and then moved his fingers to the various cuts and bruises littering her body.
"Who did this?" he asked in a low rasp.
Sarah shrugged, glancing at her hands for a moment. "Raiders."
Oswald's scowl deepened, until Pansy came padding over, his hat in her mouth. She butted his shoulder lightly, and he turned to her with a smile. "Thanks." He took the hat and put it back on.
Sarah reached out and patted Pansy on her head, and Pansy made a low, purring noise. She giggled. "Good Pansy."
"What did you call him?" Oswald asked, frowning.
Sarah looked up and bit her lip. "I thought she was...well." She felt her face begin to burn.
"Oh." Oswald tilted his head towards Pansy for a moment, blinked, and then quickly looked back, grinning. "Yeah, sorry, my mistake. You're right. He—I mean—she's...what did you call...uh, her?"
"Pansy."
"Good name. Great name." He shot Pansy a sly grin, but Pansy was sniffing the floor now and not paying attention.
"And that one is Petey." Sarah said, pointing to Petey. "They're boyfriend and girlfriend."
Oswald looked at Pansy, and muttered under his breath, "Well, can't say Steve never tried it on with Carol…" He coughed and bounced up to his feet without his hands touching the floor. "Little girl! Why don't I give you a tour of King Cola's Castle?"
Sarah's mouth fell open. "Really?"
Oswald offered out his hand with a wink. "Sure. What's your name?"
"Sarah," she replied, taking his hand. He felt warm and rough, like Buttercup, and as he pulled her to her feet, he glowed brighter for a moment. She felt a hot rush through her body, and all the aches and pains the raiders had given her over the last week disappeared.
She blinked at him. "How did you do that?"
"Magic, Sarah," whispered Oswald. He squeezed her hand and let go. "Magic."
Sarah believed.