Boone knew that an all out assault was going to be a pipe dream. He looked over to Lucky still sullen and growing paler with each passing moment. He didn't know if she was going to be able to continue on. Not by cold feet, but that she'd come to her senses, given that she was wounded and would have only been a hindrance to the battle. She didn't speak only dangled her foot into the cool, clean waters of the Colorado. Her head rested against a pole. She was there but wasn't. Whatever thoughts she had, she'd kept to herself. She made little attempt to make her presence known to the men.
"So what's the plan?" Arcade's voice cracked through the air with a pained expression.
Lucky's head rolled from one shoulder to the other and glanced at her friend with a furrowed brow. Boone could tell that she had been thinking about what to do, but with the amalgam of endorphins being pumped into her body from her injuries, she had been worn out by it.
"I don't know," she murmured. Her arm draped over her abdomen gently and then a sharp jerk had her trembling. She clenched her teeth and let out a low growl of agony. Her eyes glazed over and she started to slump in the direction of the water.
Boone grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into him. He could feel her body quaking against him. She was mumbling incoherently and then it stopped. She shuddered heavily and pulled her hand away from her wound. Glistening red fingertips poked out from inside her sleeve. She was holding something between her fingers. The sniper grabbed her wrist, and plucked the object from her grasp.
"Jesus, what were you thinking?" he muttered.
"I wasn't," Lucky replied as she clutched around for her pack. "I just wanted it gone."
Arcade slid the bag to her and watched as she clumsily undid it and began to search. Boone sat flat on the raft and glanced at the piece of metal in his hand. He rolled it around his palm and examined it. It was too small to be a bullet. Shrapnel sprang to mind at the serrated edges poking into his skin. He instantly remembered them saying she'd rolled a grenade in to a group of Legionaries, but apparently she wasn't fast enough. And now she was bleeding on him. Hot and red started too ooze into his pants and down his thigh. It wasn't fast moving, but he instinctively held her tight to protect her. She let out a grunt of discomfort and he eased up when he looked down at her.
"What are you looking for?" he finally asked. He found himself in a mix of emotions. Fear. Concern. Things that hadn't - until that moment - been a problem for him. "I can get it for you."
"A stimpak," she answered with a frown.
Boone let the spiny metal fall out of his hand and sighed. Such things should have been obvious, but when it came down to hit, he was a coward. She was his friend. If the roles were reversed, she would have been on him, and taking care of whatever problem existed. It was in her nature, apparently. Something that he hadn't realized.
He shook his head and pulled the bag over to him. He looked in, the dying sun granted very little light for him to search. Lucky gasped in pain and he felt a hot flash run down his leg. Arcade rushed over and took Boone's place.
"She's bleeding," Arcade stated.
"No shit," Boone snapped in frustration.
He dumped the bag out and saw what was likely the last stimpak between the three of them. He grabbed it quickly and went to hand it to Arcade, but he was intercepted by Lucky's bloody hands snatching it from him. Before the two could argue with her, she stabbed it into her wound and for the first time in what felt like forever for anyone, she sobbed.
Her breathing slowed and she slouched further into Arcades torso. "We'll have to go in disguise."
"To hell with that," Boone growled.
Lucky's eyes fluttered open just long enough for an angry stare to penetrate him. With the medication and pain flowing through her system, she wasn't thinking straight. They both knew that she was incapable at this moment to make a rational decision. This whole damn excursion was borne of an emotionally charged irrational decision. Even Boone, for all his hateful bravado, thought about turning around. The Legion wasn't going anywhere yet; they'd be able to fight this battle when she wasn't injured.
Before they had realized it, darkness had overtaken them and the sound of war drums was loud enough to rattle the trio's bodies. Boone glanced at Lucky. He picked up her wrist. It was damp and cool, but the pulse thumping against his fingertip was strong. She would live. She just needed to rest.
"There's no going back now," Lucky grumbled finally as she tried to sit up. "Once this is done, I'm considering letting the Mojave sort out its own bullshit."
Arcade tried to protest her moving. He told her that she wasn't completely healed, only to be told that his concern was noted, but at that moment completely unwarranted and irrelevant. The researcher gave Boone a look of exasperation and helped her up. Lucky let out a groan. It was soft, nigh mournful and child-like. It reeked of second thoughts. Boone held out his hand to her so she could be supported as she tried to straighten up more.
Her small gloved hand fell into his delicately. She gave his fingers a gentle squeeze and scoffed. He knew she was trying to reassure him that she was alright, but he could tell otherwise, even if she refused to look at him.
Her eyes raised up to the Fort, forlorn and worried. Maybe she had overestimated her skills or that her wounds had actually proven to her that she was mortal. The previous bullet to the head probably told her otherwise.
Arcade grabbed the rudder and moved them away from the main docks. If they were going to do this, they were going to do this thing right. Lucky gave a thoughtful look to her friend and stepped off the raft. A small sandbar blocked the raft's path further north. Boone dove in followed by Arcade complaining about the temperature of the water.
Insanity.
The three of them hurried up the winding narrow path to a set of large doors. Lucky grabbed her side arm and inched the door open to see inside. From where she was standing, she could see one young crimson-clad man in front of the door. In the distance, the dogs howled in hunger. Boone looked over at her and gave her a reassuring look. She pressed against the door and held the gun out, hammer back, ready to execute the guard. She was careful, scared, and made every effort to not make a sound. She came within an inch of him before pulling the trigger. He fell flat in front of her, no grand spectacle. Just dead. She looked back toward her friends and waved them in. The pair of men slid through the ajar door and came to her. She knelt beside the dead man and began searching him.
"So what do we do now?" Arcade asked, folding his arms. His eyes darted from side to side anxiously. "It's just going to be us against an army of fanatical harden soldiers?"
Lucky shook her head and pulled a small set of keys from off the Legionary's belt. "No." She looked to her Pip-Boy and then to the moonless night. "Not just us. Give it another couple of hours." Her eyes met Arcade's and she tossed the keyring to him. "When we get up to the upper tier, I want you to head to the slave pens. There's usually a master arming switch to deactivate the bomb collars. Get them out of here."
Boone and Arcade looked at each other with confusion.
"And how do you...?" Boone began.
"Look. We don't have time for my life story, can we just get this over with for fuck's sakes?!" she yelped as quietly as she could. The flash of anger and vulnerability left her face. "Boone and I will get you there, if necessary. After that, we'll draw their attention away from what you are doing. That should leave us enough time for the others to get here, because once this starts, it's going to get bad. Fast."
She rested her hands on her knees and shook her head.
"You okay?" Boone asked.
"Yeah, just tired. But I'll sleep when I'm dead," she said with a feigned smile.
Before long, the war horns blared and the drumming stopped. And they knew then that this was going to be one of the longest nights fighting for their lives and possibly dying at Lucky's behest.