Ch.4 Out in the Wastes
They departed Megaton into the sweltering heat of high noon in the Wasteland. The road to Springvale shimmered ahead of them as though it may disappear at any moment, another victim of the heat. If the temperature bothered Simms he gave no sing of it, though Billy had been making "witty" remarks about the moment they had cleared the town. Even with the remarks they marched onward without complaint or pause, each eager to be started with the hunt.
Chris could tell the long periods of silence bothered Billy, who tried numerous times to bate either of them into conversation fruitlessly. Halfway to Springvale he gave up and joined them in bitter silence. Chris was almost disappointed by the loss of Billy's talkative nature, it was refreshing to have a voice traveling with him even if the owner of the voice annoyed him to no end. But he shrugged his shoulders and let the feeling pass. Too many things to worry about without adding useless problems to it.
It didn't take long to get back to Springvale, and even less time for Chris to point out the house in which he'd hidden his pack. It looked just like any of the other broken down houses that littered the ghost town but he had picked it for its proximity to the meeting place. Only two houses away lay the broken doorway he'd been thrown through only a day before. Simms and Billy waited outside the skeletal remains of the houses wooden fence, letting Chris enter alone.
The house creaked and groaned at Chris's entrance as it had the first time he'd come there. A long time ago Abby had told him that houses carried the memories of those who had lived in them. If it was true than there wasn't a house built before the war that wasn't full of bad memories and death. The mental image of Abby's sagely knowledgeable voice brought the whisper of a smile to his face for just a moment. Then it was gone and his naturally grim appearance returned, spurred by the realization that if he failed in his mission memories like that would be all that he'd ever have of Abby again.
He didn't stop again until he reached the master bedroom of the dusty old house. Unlike many houses left over from before the war this one didn't contain any skeletons, for which Chris was grateful. Still the wrinkled sheets and nearly dissolved headboard gave him pause. He wondered what where the one who'd slept there had been when the bombs dropped. Maybe he had been on his way home to this very bed, looking forward to rest and finding a very different type before he ever reached it.
Chris tore his eyes from the bed and went to one knee before it, grasping under the decrepit frame until he found what he was looking for. The pack was about as important as any other material good was to him, which was to say not at all. He knew what was important in this world and is sure wasn't anything that could be purchased for the few caps he'd spent on the old leather bag years ago. Even so he'd need it and its cargo before the journey was over, not in the least for the water and food it held. He sat down on the bed quickly, ignoring the cloud of dust that rose from its first disturbance in centuries. From the bag he withdrew his belt, on which hung his knife and gun.
The gun was just an old 10mm sub machine gun he'd bought from a merchant who's face had long since faded from his memory. It could just as easily have been a hunting rifle or a magnum like Billy's for all the good they ever did him. His aim left many things to be desired. The knife though... that was one of the few things he'd carried since before he had left the Commonwealth. It wouldn't be a terrible tragedy if he lost it but he was pretty sure he'd never find one as high quality.
The knife looked like many combat knives one could find in the Wastes, a slightly curved black blade ending in a cord bound handle. But the blade was special, made from an alloy not found outside of the high tech facility of the Commonwealth. The non-glare midnight blade was perfect for stealth and could even cut through power armor with a bit of effort. But the main reason he carried it was simple, he couldn't shoot worth a damn but he could put a knife through an eye at a hundred yards.
He would have been shocked to know how comfortable he would become with weapons in the future if someone had told him years ago. But he had become more than comfortable, he'd become reliant. Abby especially would hate to know the many things he had been forced to do to survive out there. And even worse were the things he chosen to do just to get ahead out there. Chris wasn't sure if he quite regretted his ill deeds per say, but he wasn't about to repeat them any time soon.
Once the belt was secured around his waist to his satisfaction he stood and let the pack fall onto its customary place over his shoulder. And without a second glance he left the room and the house, finished for the time being with memories and ghosts.
-()-
They left without a word once Carrington emerged from the house with his pack and weapons. Billy had been curious about what kind of arms the surly merc would keep and was mildly surprised at the modest weapons. The 10mm would have drawn most people's eye but Billy instantly noticed the way Carrington's hand stayed within range of the knife handle unconsciously. The knife was definitely his go to weapon Billy knew without needing to ask. You learned to look for the signs after a few years in the Wasteland, well you learned or you died.
Simms didn't even look at the weapons, just nodded at Carrington for some reason and began the trek north. Billy took a position behind Simms and beside Carrington and got the feeling this would be the way they traveled for the duration. Springvale was far out of sight by the time the sun began to lower, taking with it a small bit of the stifling heat. Not that the night wasn't a little hot out there too.
"How long you been a mercenary?" Billy asked after what felt like an eternity of nothing but purposeful forward glares and scowls. Carrington answered without looking at Billy, like he was talking to the dirt path ahead of them.
"What makes you think I'm a merc?" Anyone else would have sounded amused, but Carrington just managed to sound disinterested.
"Because you get payed to do things for men who steal children?" Carrington snorted a short laugh which brought back Billy's usual smile, that had been absent for longer than usual due to his company.
"As far as I know this is Chevron's first foray into the field of kidnapping," Carrington sounded amused now, which bothered Billy more than a little. "And I wasn't being payed, it was more of a barter," It was strange how many fancy words Carrington knew for somebody who lived in the Wastes. But then again, Billy didn't know where Carrington was born and he didn't plan on asking at the moment.
"So what was it you were supposed to get from him?" He half expected Carrington not to answer, but got a pleasant surprise when the man finally spoke up again.
"I'll say it was something I needed dearly and leave it at that," He didn't sound mad, and his eyes had grown distant. Billy recognized it as the look of someone traveling through his past. Nobody was without bad memories in this kind of world he knew. And most people wanted those memories kept in the dark little corners of their minds.
"Well thanks for sharing," Billy chuckled and patted the grim man's shoulder.
"Hrrm," Carrington mumbled in return. But he hadn't slapped Billy's hand off, so he considered it a victory at least in part. Not wanting to loose momentum in the conversation Billy tapped Simms on the shoulder and asked.
"So how long have you been working at Megaton Lucas? You've been living there since before me and Maggie got there."
"Why do you care Billy?" Simms barked, but with something closer to weariness than anger.
"Hey I know you're worried about your son," Billy told him gently, speeding up to walk beside him. "But he and Maggie are going to be ok, you hear me?" Simms looked to Billy and raised a brow in surprise, a grin slowly growing on his bearded old mug.
"Ya, I hear you Billy." They shared a laugh and kept walking for a few minutes longer before Simms called a stop.
"What's wrong?" Carrington asked warily, his hand hovering near the handle of his knife. Simms shook his head and gestured for him to calm down.
"Nothing, but its about time to make camp." Before any objections could be made he added. "I won't do us any good to catch him if we're to tired to put up a fight when we find him. Besides as long as he doesn't know he's being followed he'll be stopping at night too."
Billy looked around the dimly star lit darkness around them and nodded his head in agreement. When it was clear Carrington wasn't going to object they searched around the area until Simms found a roughly level patch of dirt near the sheer drop of a cliff in the moon light. The small scorch mark in the middle of the circle clued them in to the fact that the clearing had been used for such purposes before. Billy and Simms settled down on the ground as Carrington vanished into the darkness without a word. He returned before either of them could begin to worry, dragging two large planks behind him.
"Got any matches?" Carrington asked, dropping the wood on the scorch mark. Simms pulled out a box and tossed them to him without comment.
So they sat around the modest fire and watched the stars, not even Billy feeling the need to say anything. It was peaceful out that night, a rare thing in such chaotic times. After a while Simms was snoring loudly into his down turned hat. Billy grinned at the sound of the old man's slumber. After a few hours it became clear that Billy wouldn't be able to get to sleep with so many things on his mind, and for whatever reason Carrington still remained awake.
Without looking at Billy Carrington rose from his spot and stretched soundlessly. Again without a word Carrington left the camp, but this time didn't vanish before Billy's eye. Instead he walked slowly over to the edge of the cliff a little way outside the fire light and stopped. Panic welled up as Billy assumed Carrington was about to take the short road to the end. He blew out a relieved sigh when Carrington sat down instead, from what he could see letting his feet hand over the edge.
"Never let a man think alone," Billy chuckled to himself, leaving the fire light to join him.
-()-
"Big Town," Chris told Billy as he joined him on the edge of the rocky cliff. He pointed to the distant building lights below and far away from them. Billy nodded his head and let his feet dangle like Chris's.
"I've been there once or twice," Billy said with a smile. "Back before I found Maggie that is," Chris expected his face to darken at the mention of his missing child, but instead the smile persisted. Billy took out a pack of cigarettes, lighting two and handing one to Chris before taking one to his lips with the ease of one who had been smoking for a long time.
"Thanks," Chris muttered, inhaling the familiar scent of tobacco and burning paper. Billy nodded his head and returned the box and matches to his pocket. Chris watched the man from the corner of his eye, masking the movement with the billowing smoke. Why was this man going so far out of his way to be friendly to him? It could be a ploy to gain his trust but Chris doubted it, Billy didn't seam like the type to double cross. Maybe he really had been out in the Wastes too long, Chris considered. He had come to think of almost everybody as potential enemies, and distrust overt acts of kindness on the spot. He didn't need any friends at the moment, Chris knew that well enough. But maybe he could just enjoy the company while it lasted.
"Sunrise," Billy sighed with a hand lazily raised at the growing orange tint the horizon was taking behind them. "Just can't beat a one out in the wild!" Chris agreed without saying so out loud. As the sun rose the form of Big Town took on greater clarity. It was a rough square of buildings with improvised walls build between the outer buildings to form a parameter around the populated ones in the center. Chris had only been there once before but from what he'd seen those walls were put there for good reason, not that they ever did any good. Unfortunately for the residents Big Town happened to be settle right in the middle of countless threats and territories, ensuring the town was in constant danger.
"The Vault kid's been there too," Billy informed him. During his brief stay at Megaton Chris had learned that The Lone Wanderer seamed to make up quite a bit of the conversation for those who lived there. Well he couldn't blame them really, if he'd been born in such a small town he would probably grasp at whatever he could for stimulation conversation too.
"So I've heard," He flicked the cigarette but off the cliff as he spoke, watching it sail into the twilight of the early morning. "Saved the town from a hoard of Super Mutants didn't he?"
"Yep, rescued the town doctor from their stronghold too," Billy finished and let his cigarette follow Chris's. He'd heard that story amongst many others during his travels. The kid from Vault 101 was living a very interesting life if all the stories were true. "In fact I think he," Billy froze in mid word as a distant rumble reached their ears. Chris recognized the sound instantly as he was sure Billy had too.
"Frag Grenade," Chris growled, Billy nodded his agreement. They both stood and watched as three tiny flashes at the distant entrance of Big Town preceded further rumbles.
"I'll go get Simms," Billy shouted as he took off back toward camp. Chris didn't answer, he was listening intently and peering at the town. Then he heard the sound he was waiting for, the sharp crack of hunting rifles. Only one thing in all the world traveled in groups and was armed with those two specific arms.
"Super Mutants," He whispered. "Damn..."