"My intention was never to go to Novac. I was going to stick to the 15, head north. It didn't matter in the end. Everyone in Goodsprings warned me not to go. 'Gangers and Deathclaws were everywhere along that stretch.' Powder Gangers weren't an issue; just your run-of-the-mill raiders. Deathclaws? Well, there were less messy ways to die, I guess. Aside from the fact I was freshly from the grave, I didn't want to press my luck any farther than I'd already done," Lucky stated.
"I guess just breathing again was a roll of a dice, insofar that I'd probably not want to draw the attention of anyone inhospitable."
"Inhospitable? How many people do you think you pissed off?" Boone queried.
It wasn't just raiders, or Gangers that she'd ruffled the feathers of. She'd pissed off whole armies, governments. Somewhere along the road, she didn't care about luck running out. It was like the game was rigged and she knew it.
"I got to Primm my third night out. Found a Mojave Express outpost and told them I'd lost a package. I've done this job since I was 15. I knew the loss of package was a big deal, but the manager seemed hesitant about it. He'd said the whole thing involving my package was strange," she explained. "Wouldn't really say why the ordeal was strange, just kept it at that.
It wasn't long before I'd got to Nipton Highway. Maybe half a day or so. I saw the statues near Mojave Outpost. My dad had told me about what the significance of the statues meant. He never liked the idea of the Desert Rangers being absorbed into the NCR. He was one prior to the Unification Pact. Preferred free-roaming the Long 15 all the way to the 80. Occasionally making clandestine Arizona strikes when the need arose," Lucky told him. Boone heard the rustle of papers and then a shuddering laugh. "He's in the picture on top."
Boone pulled out a small stack of photos from the box. He looked at the black and white photo and saw a small girl - maybe age seven - with a cheesy smile. A mop of black hair tousled around her face. A blonde man stood beside her in desert ranger gear, a sniper rifle strapped to his back, and a .44 holstered to his thigh. His helmet was tucked under his arm. He looked as happy as the girl.
"That was taken near Ogden. He loved going up there. It was a little more out of the way than I was used to, but worth it," she said. He could almost hear the smile on her face. But something changed in her tone again. Her voice faded as she started again. "But that was before he... I... Damn it!" She let out a sniffle and muttered under her breath, "A child shouldn't be put in that position."
"It's alright. I know," Boone tried to assure her absent form.
He looked at the picture intently. He didn't think he'd seen her so happy. Innocence lost and all that.
"After he died, I went up that way every year and traded with the tribes. I owed it to him. I had nothing to tie me down. I just wandered, took jobs when people would have me. My dad taught me how to shoot, scout, and live off the land. But I'd gained his wanderlust. I wasn't happy in one spot, kind of like now," Lucky stated.
I walked towards Nipton, sun at my back. You could smell the smoke and cooking meat from halfway down the highway. I heard from one of the caravaneers that Nipton was a pretty busy place. Think Gomorrah: whores, drugs, etc. And it catered to everyone. My plan was to rest there for the night before heading north.
When I came into town a neurotic man ran at me. I almost shot him on the spot. He had wild eyes and he seemed excited; he screamed about winning the lottery. I figured that was just standard for the town and didn't think much of it. He ran past me into the encroaching darkness. I didn't care where he went, I just wanted him gone. He was way too uppity to get any real information from.
I walked into Nipton proper and noticed that it was strangely quiet. There was nothing there, no people, just fire," she stated. Boone heard her breathing increase as she spoke."I saw the town hall and was about to see what was going on when I saw men in crimson walking around. They almost looked like they were admiring their work." Several lighter clicks ticked onto the recording. "I knew who they were. I hid behind one of the buildings up the street. The one in charge ordered the troops to leave.
I waited for a while. I didn't want any of them there. I didn't want to be caught by them. I just wanted the day to be over. Legionaries were the worst way to end the day and I was grossly outnumbered.
When I was sure they were gone I turned the corner and started to look for survivors. I hoped someone had made it out with their skin. The main street leading up to the town hall told me otherwise.
I'd seen streets like that before, more than I'd wish to admit. Severed heads staked in contorted faces. The first of many warnings. It's not a sight you forget. Ever. I just kept facing forward. The town hall: my prize.
It didn't take long before I came upon something – heh – something worse. I had found the crucifixions."
Boone didn't know why something like that could have been worse than beheading.
"It's a slow death. The 'lucky losers' always lost their heads. It's quick. For others, they let linger so that they can feel themselves die. After they've been tortured, beaten, nailed to a cross and stood for show..." Lucky's words came quicker and harder as she spoke. "It would have been a disservice to not do anything.
I checked the first one I came across. He was barely breathing, even less coherent. His lips were already turning purple from lack of oxygen. I watched him, shook his foot to get his attention. He barely opened his eyes to acknowledge me. He let out a groan from deep in his chest. It sounded like he'd used the rest of his air just to make that noise.
I looked around; it was so quiet. I turned back to the bloodied man. I swore I heard him beg to make an end for him." Boone heard the click of a hammer being pulled back. He knew it was her .44 revolver. It was the only sidearm she carried. "It was soft at first, I thought I was hearing things. I didn't want to. I didn't want that responsibility. I almost said no. I had to search deep just to look at them for more than a few seconds.
I knew I couldn't leave them – him – like that. Not again.
He heard the gun go off and then silence. He couldn't hear her breathing, the flick of her lighter, or squeak of her chair. Boone's breath hitched as five more shots rang out. Each shot shook him more as if she was punctuating her point. She wanted him to feel it. Every squeeze of the trigger, the recoil, the deafening crack as the hammer fell on the round. She was going to show him that she knew exactly what he felt when he'd shot Carla. He heard her crying between each shot; the sobbing only ending when the spent gun fell on the desk.
"Why? Why did he have to be so reckless? Why did they have to ask me to do it? I couldn't save them – him," Lucky sulked. He pictured her leaning over the picture, eyes flooding with uncontrollable tears. "I did what I could to make his voice stop. Even after the last one breathed their last, it didn't end. The gun was my father's. It's almost 'cursed,' I guess.
And I don't believe in curses or coincidences. It just felt like I was reliving it again. Being 15. seeing the last remaining person who'd raised you since 5 be put on display like some trophy. Defiled. Broken. Denigrated. Barely recognizable. The stories of Legion atrocities, aren't stories.
Spend a few years with them and you'd know. Sadists, all of them. No shred of decency. Just cold calculations and machinations."
He heard the ratcheting of a gun's cylinder and casings tinging together. He didn't know what to say. Didn't know what to think. He looked around to see where the bullets had landed. The room was too dimly lit to see. The desk light flickered briefly and then went out. The entire floor seemed to go silent. No machinery working. No buzz of lights. Everything was so still that he felt unsettled. The only illumination came from the glow of the Pip-Boy's screen.
"Shit, he grumbled.
"I couldn't stay there. Not after the blood I'd spilled. Not after the ghosts seemed to follow me the moment I came into Nevada. This whole thing was bad luck, just like the manager of Mojave Express warned me about.
I kept walking till the early morning hours. I saw the dinosaur in the distance. Knew that I'd found civilization – at least that's what I'd hoped – I didn't know that I was going to be bringing someone with me," Lucky let out a scoff. "I wouldn't change it though."
"I would, but not for the reasons your thinking," Boone replied.