"I'd searched for the information you needed. I barely slept when I finally got to rest my head," Lucky said. Boone could hear the frown in her voice. "You needed you answers, resolution, whatever. I made it a priority the next day.
Exhausted and maybe a little cranky from a lack of sleep, I asked around. Andy, said your wife was pretty and maybe a little boisterous. Cliff at the gift shop said he rarely saw her, but when he did she'd always looked near ill. The McBrides had barely knew either of you, insofar that they didn't even know that she was missing. I didn't explain the situation and left it at that.
By the time I finally got around to Manny, my patience was running thin. He said you came to him. That he was glad. That she was a bitch and that I probably wouldn't like her."
Boone nodded. It was true, Lucky probably wouldn't have put up with her if they were in Novac. He knew his wife could be curt about certain things and her complaints in the months before bordered on nitpicking. He would have done anything to make her happy, even leaving Novac; Carla wanted to go back to the high speed lifestyle of Vegas. But he tried to assuage her dissent, make her comfortable and happy where they were.
"I didn't get much from him. He was more interested in your ended friendship. That he'd lost his best friend," Lucky remarked coldly. Boone could almost feel her deep blue eyes glaring at him. "He might have been slightly immature and you guys had, in fact, drifted apart because of Carla to some extent, but his concern for you was genuine."
"Fuck him," Boone growled. "The one person I could have turned to for support and he was a selfish prick."
Lucky let out a sigh as if he'd interrupted her. He quirked an eyebrow at the response and waited for her to continue.
"I asked Jeannie May and got the same response I'd gotten from just about everyone else. Pretty; you were happy; rude. It always came back to how I probably wouldn't like her; as if everyone knew my personal tastes." She let out a heavier sigh and murmured, "I doubt anyone knows me so well."
"I know how you work," he replied with a glance at the box and stuck his hand in.
His hand searched around until it hit something soft. He gripped the plushy item gently and pulled it out. A tattered and worn teddy bear came out. It's vacant eyes glistened in the dim light. He held it up under both arms. A small smile spread across his face. It was her dirty little secret that he only knew about. He looked past the stuffed animal and his smile faded.
"She didn't take you with either," he muttered. He made the bear's head flop in a nod. He let out a sigh and got up from the chair.
"That's when I figured out who had stabbed you in the back," Lucky continued, oblivious to his actions.
He walked over to the bed, still listening to Lucky speak and nestled it in the pillows carefully. He stared at it briefly. He placed his hand on it and closed his eyes.
He knew what happened after that.
He waited for nightfall. Anticipation and anxiety had ignited the night. It was seeped in the wind that blew the dust from the highway below. The typical taint of death ebbed and doubt bled into him. He didn't know if Lucky was going to hold up her end of the deal, even if it was one sided.
He had all but given up hope when he heard Lucky talking below him. He looked through his scope and saw her heading toward the bridge. She wasn't wearing his beret. She stopped and spoke to someone and nodded for the pair to continue.
"Just over here," she'd said walking up to the railing of the bridge.
Then he saw Jeannie May come into view, right in the cross hairs and unaware of his watching. The two women continued speaking and then he saw Lucky look up at him and took a step away. His target was oblivious to all that was going on around her. It was a dangerous scenario at any other time. But it was exactly what he wanted right then. Lucky put her head down and he saw the flash of her lighter and then the burn of her cigarette. She kept speaking to Jeannie as if nothing was going on and that's when he saw her pull the beret out and place it on her head.
"Be careful," Lucky had warned. "It's dangerous out here."
She started shaking her lighter to her ear. Jeannie went to say something and Lucky pointed up at him. He squeezed the trigger with ease, hitting his target between the eyes. The act was as natural as breathing. Except he realized that he hadn't been breathing through half of it. He glimpsed Lucky through his scope, saw her saying something to the dead woman and then walked away.
But he still felt empty. The pleasure he wanted in exacting vengeance wasn't there. He was till hollow inside. Carla was still dead. There was nothing going to bring her back. Now Jeannie May lay dead but even that didn't suffice.
"I told her it was dangerous. She thought I was kidding," Lucky stated with a weak laugh. "Her last words to me were: that's why I have a nighttime sniper."
Boone let out a laugh. It dripped with a still simmering anger. The irony was delicious to be sure, but who had really killed her. Was it Lucky convincing the victim to follow like a lamb being led to slaughter or him for pulling the trigger? In the end it didn't matter, both of them had that bitch's blood on their hands.
"But what did you say to her after that?" Boone questioned.
As the tape went silent he sat on the bed and flopped backwards. He stared into the darkness above him. Some where behind it was the ceiling about him. The bedspread was cool to his skin and even with the room's temperature slowly rising, he found himself shivering. He could still smell her on the sheets. It was a faint smell of perfume and sweat mixing in a fascinating bouquet. Cactus flower, he thought with a small smirk.
How many times had they collapsed onto this bed after returning from the Wasteland? He couldn't fathom the amount. They could be covered in dirt, still armed, and clothed and just fall asleep without a thought. For awhile, Cass thought he was sleeping with her to get in Lucky's pants, but that's not the appeal Lucky ever gave off.
That idea seemed to only get worse when Lily came along. The nightkin made it well apparent to him that if he was going to be intimate with her, he needed to make a proper woman out of her. She wasn't going to let him defile her "sweetie" for kicks. It was probably the only time he'd felt himself blush.
"I came back to return your hat, but as I reached the top of the stairs, something hit me. You were all alone, your vengeance should have been spent, and a part of me didn't want to walk alone," Lucky admitted.
Boone remembered her coming in and handing him back his beret. He looked at her and frowned. Red mist had sprayed across a side of her face and speckled her lens.
"Are you going to be alright now?" Lucky asked giving a quick glance to Jeannie May's corpse. Boone nodded slowly, unsure about what to do next. Carla was dead. So was... "I'm sorry about Carla and the baby."
Boone's mouth dropped.
"How did you know?" he questioned, his lip quivering slightly.
"The bill of sale," she answered.
"I see," he murmured.
Lucky let out a sigh and opened the door. She went to leave but hesitated.
"I had to at least ask if you'd come. It's not like I had anything to lose," she explained with almost a shrug in her voice.
He told her "no" and she continued walking. She didn't even look sad to his negative response. She just took it.
He turned back toward Nelson and stared into the night. He felt withdrawn from Novac. He didn't give a damn about this backwater town, didn't give one iota of a fuck about himself. He wasn't spent in his vengeance like he thought the execution would do. He had an unending vendetta: until Caesar was dead, until the Legion was dead, he would not be fulfilled.
He spun quickly around and ran through the gift shop till he was out in the lot again. He saw Lucky opening the door to her room and it shutting.
"I was going to leave at dawn for Boulder City. I had my own hand to play, still and I'd spent too many days there," Lucky coldly stated. "I don't like to linger in one place for too long, and definitely not with the Legion a klick away."
He ran across the yard and came to a dead stop when his own room door came into view. Part of him didn't want to leave, but something in the way Lucky worked beckoned him to face his evils. It was time for him to pay the piper and he hoped she'd be the death of him.
He shook off the thought and hurried up the stairs. He pounded on the door once and got no response. He tried again, much more insistently for her to respond.
"You scared the hell out of me," Lucky admitted with a nervous chuckle.
He remembered her small frame blocking the door and the click of a hammer returning to its resting place. Her long black hair flowed over her shoulders and rested delicately on her chest. An oversized button down shirt was all she wore.
Carla used to wear his shirts like that when they were alone.
"I was shocked that you had come at all."
She moved aside and let him in. She let her gun arm drop to her side. She never took her eyes off of him as she put the piece back in its holster and then sat on the bed. She picked up the smoldering cigarette and put it to her lips. He almost took a full minute to say anything. He just stared at her, maybe with a bit of amusement, but more for the fact that she'd let him in in the first place.
"Does your offer still stand?" he asked her.
Lucky blew out the smoke and nodded.
"If that's what you wanted, I wasn't going to stop you. Even when you said that you were only there to hunt Legionaries, I allowed it. I knew eventually I was going to have to face that monkey on my back. You just sped it up faster than I intended," Lucky said and snorted playfully, "jackass."
He let out a soft chuckle as he closed his eyes. Her words bled into his thoughts.
"You said you'd be back. I left the door unlocked. I figured you'd be back shortly, but I was too fucking tired to wait any longer," she said.
He went to his room, the smell and silent screams were deafening.
"I'm sorry, Carla," he uttered under his breath.
He grabbed his 10mm and the knife still left on the floor. He picked up a piece of paper and scratched out a note to Manny: Novac is yours. He came out of the room and walked to Manny's door. He held up the note and slammed the blade of the knife through it and stuck it to his door.
He made his way back to Lucky's room and knocked softer than the first two times. Again, he got no response. He jiggled the door knob and the door swung freely. He stuck his head in and saw Lucky asleep on the bed. She was propped up on the pillows and even though sleep made a person relax to an extent, she looked like she was fighting something in her sleep. No, no, thrashing, just sadness.
He sat on the couch beside the bed and looked at her. Her fit, pale legs sparkled in the yellow lamplight. Numerous scars scaled across her thighs and calves. Silvery-grey lines trailed from hip to toe.
The only thought he could ask and still did was: what the hell happened to you?