III: Where The Rain Dogs Call Home

A Month Later: The Compound

When I was a boy the moon was a pearl,

The sun a yellow,

when I was a man the wind blew cold,

The hills were upside down.

But now that I have gone from here there's no place I'd rather be,

Than to float my chances on the tide back in the good old world.

- Tom Waits

"Milla… You're showing again."

"Hrm, what?"

" You know, your condition… Your skin's blotching out blue again. Sorry to be blunt, but you're looking like one of those damn geckos. When was the last time you took some radaway anyways?"

Even though Andrew was a bartender by trade, he never seemed to shrug off the natural inquisitiveness of being a man or ghoul of medicine. Milla, being a mutant, and a rather fascinating specimen as Andrew would say when he forgot himself in his thoughts, never failed to provide a source of study for him. She just thought he was nagging all the time, but having someone who was familiar with the downsides of mutation proved to be a definite upside. Nonetheless she suffered through his scientific prodding. He was the closest thing she had to a friend in the whole damn place.

"Ah… The last time, I um, had to be stitched up or something. Yeah. I'm guessing I should pop some Radaway sometime soon. I mean, it doesn't hurt me, my hair's not going fall out of my skull, it's - "

Andrew shook his head and cut her off, "It's just going to put your body through a lot of stress, and who knows what else. You'll probably end up looking like a damn blueberry in a few days, you remember what blueberries look like, riiiight?"

He capped off his retort with a smirk. There wasn't many souls left in the world who remembered a verdant world before the bombs, but Andrew always took the liberty to dig up the old world around a fellow survivor.

"Of course I know what a goddamn blueberry is, I mean, was. Fine Doctor Andrew… I'll watch my rads, take my Radaway and come in for your miracle healing. I still think it's a gold-shot on me though, but hell, I have lifetimes to see what happens."

"Good." He tried to appear serious through his folded arms of fleshless sinew and hardened muscle, but they both knew he was laughing and full of a little pride inside.

Milla was one of the only people who knew he had been experimenting with regular stimpak injections and radaway, trying to improve their all-around effectiveness, and maybe even dream of stopping radiation sickness in it's tracks. It was a very big dream, but it managed to keep his mind off how much of a shithole his life had been out in the Wastes, and still was in Rick's little kingdom.

Amanda, hanging her head from the side in boredom peeped up as if almost on cue.

"What's a… blueberries?"

Andrew snorted like only a ghoul can, as he lifted her up on the counter towards the both of them, and gave a sad smile.

"They're something from before the big War. You know what that was, right? Why everything is so barren, why there's radiation in everything? Why… why I'm a ghoul?"

Amanda puzzled her face a little in concentration, it was hard even for old men in the world to imagine this concept of before, that there was ever anything that wasn't a Wasteland.

"I kinda do. Milla told me about it when she first told me stories. When she was little, like me. Then the really good stories, about the Northern Waste… Where the dried forests are, where they have the fog and sometimes, the rain, and the big, big animals and the monsters too! How she met the wild men… It's different."

Amanda ended her list with wide eyes of curiosity. Milla's time in the North, after the bombs fell and how she eventually made it to what was left of 'California' were always her favorite stories. Things that anyone else from the region would take for granted, little Amanda noted as a tribal venerated spirits and gods. The tribals who took Milla in when she was all but an animal herself at first living on her own, were Amanda's favorite cast of characters, probably because they were Milla's as well.

After leaving the bunker in the deep of the wilderness, as many others had desperately tried before the War, she hadn't known what to do and for almost fifty years she gradually taught herself by watching the animals around her. It seemed no matter how charred and twisted nature had become, it had all but forgotten man's presence and dominance. The new earth that emerged from out of the mountainside bunker was her Eden, but she knew eventually she'd have to leave. If not for the simple reason to explore, to save her gradually crumbling mind. The solidarity was taking its toll on her sanity, and she was lucky enough to admit it. In the years that followed she'd come face to face with many who could've been her, and it was one of the few things she truly feared in this new world.

"Those are good examples, but I think our Milla had it a bit different from ghouls like me. Radiation, the thing that makes the water bad and keeps anything from really growing, that's what happened to me. I'm like the ground, I'm still here and alive, but I have too much radiation in me to keep, to make anything live. Do you kind of understand?"

Amanda young face tendered with a sagely frown, "So that's why you don't have hair, or a lot of skin, and no…nose but your holes, like a lizard. That's why Da's men are bad to you, because you lost things and can't get them back. You can't be normal again."

Andrew gave a small smile and nodded his head. It was a look Milla had seen on countless other ghouls, a silent assurance that they at least, weren't in denial about their state.

"S'ok, Andrew. I still like you because you know how to tell really good stories and how to make people feel better. Only really good people know how to do that."

Amanda ended her speech by giving him a hug on the arm, as only five year-olds knew how to make meaningful.

"Do you still want to know what a 'blueberries' is?" Milla said with a chuckle.

"Of course! It must be really good if you're going to turn into one. So what is it?"

Andrew snorted trying to hold a laugh down at her frankness to which Milla gave him a light cuff on the shoulder.

"Quit it, I'll take the damn meds, I promise… Anyways, it's called a 'blueberry' when there's only one, and when you have a bunch they're called 'blueberries'. They were, here-"

Milla looked around the counter of the bar for a pen, but found a scrap of charcoal left from a slaver's game of some deranged form of tic-tac-toe. She then found one of the bluest splotches on her right arm and drew a small circle, with a star-shape top and a 'x' on the bottom.

"There, that's what a blueberry looked like. They came from bushes. Kind of like the ones you see dried up around here, but they had little shiny leaves. Blueberries were kind of sweet and mushy."

"They're mutfruit?"

"Yeeah, sort of."

"Oh, okay. They sound good. But you should get fixed up so you don't turn into them. I like you the way you are now."

"Okay, okay. I will, but I need you to get to bed first. You've managed to stay up late again by making us old muties dribble on about the past, but it's time for my clever little human to get some sleep, okay?"

Amanda gave a whining sigh, "Okay, but you'll have breakfast with me before you work on top of the Wall tomorrow, right?"

Milla scooped up her tired little body and turned from the counter, waving goodbye to Andrew on her way out.

"Of course I will bumblebee, someone has to make sure you do. Say goodnight to Andrew."

"Good night Andrew."

"See you later Amanda, and you make sure that big blueberry comes in afterwards for her medicine too, ok?"

Amanda giggled into Milla's shoulder, "Ok."

Milla stepped out the doorway with her sleepy little charge to leave Andrew alone with the smoky and dim room. A slaver in the corner who hadn't managed to fall asleep into his glass, or let the dangling cigarette burn his lips yet raised his head up and barked at him with a squint.

"Hey zombie, 'nuther glass of pisswater over here."

Andrew paused in a mid-wipe with his rag on the counter, then glided over to refill his glass.

"That's it…and don't cheat me with that fuckin' shit that's watered down. I know you bartenders are all alike. Greedy little bastards, takin' advantage of poor honest drunk sods like me."

Andrew of course, didn't say anything and just held up a grimy bottle of regular whiskey, waiting for approval. So far the slaver was being relatively gracious in his compliments and hadn't even reminded him he was a ghoul yet. All smooth skins needed to do that eventually, since they were convinced Andrew hadn't seen a mirror for the past century.

"Yeah, that's it. Pour me that."

Looking it over then finishing it down, the slaver ruffled through his pockets and left five caps as he staggered to his feet.

"See? Honesty. That's… That's something you don't see anymore. Those kids who keep bein' hired, don't have no respect for guys like me. You, you're tooo good. A god of bartenders!"

The sagging frame of the aged slaver suddenly sprung up in revelrie to some hidden audience, but the remaining men passed out in the darkness were deaf to it. Andrew picked up his glass and gave a sigh of mixed relief. At least he didn't fire off his pistol into the ceiling this time.

"Goodnight, Smokey Joe."

"Yeah-"

Smokey paused for an incoming belch, not sure whether he was going to make it out the door or chunder in the ghoul's face.

"You too." He finished in simple relief.

Andrew watched him finally leave before closing up and gave another sigh. He found the charcoal bit Milla had used earlier and rolled it in his hand under the greasy light, then put it up behind the alcohol in an old cigarette box before finally drifting off to bed himself.

Milla watched the syringe poke into her arm as the amber-like liquid inside slowly flooded into her veins. She wasn't afraid of needles, but she always had to watch while they were being injected, as if something would go horribly wrong at the last minute.

Andrew had injected countless arms for countless ailments and kept his face in a stoic concentration as always, but the way Milla's phosphorus and critical eyes always watched over his, made his concentration drift to stare back at her. As if they were two hawks watching each other after the same prey.

"You know, you don't make it easier on yourself looking like that." He muttered after finishing the injection.

"Ok, you've made it clear for the hundredth time already. Watch. My. Rads."

"No, that's not… Nevermind."

"No what?"

Milla's eyes had changed with the expression on her face Even if he tried to explain it now she'd never understand what he meant. Andrew cleaned off her arm with a swipe of alcohol and put the blood sample he'd gotten from her earlier away to be analyzed later. Since most of her radiation seemed to accumulate that way, he assumed it was something that was similar to humans, but he needed more tests to figure anything for sure.

"That look you get on your face, with the needle... When you are, I dunno, concentrating and watching, I guess. It's kind of creepy. I just keep imagining Rick's men finding it a reason to give you shit and all that." He tried busying himself with empty syringes in the corner, waiting for something other than an awkward silence, but was jinxed as Milla simply hopped off the table and walked past. The light above started to buzz as if on queue, until she swept the air clean with a somewhat stale reply.

"Oh… I never noticed that to be honest. I guess I just drift in my mind from time to time."

Andrew could only silently curse himself as he turned towards her now, but found her smirking the moment he did. He could only raise an eyebrow at the thought of her hearing his thoughts. Some things seemed too far fetched to imagine, even for mutants.

"Don't worry about everything else though, they give me shit anyways for being a woman and being a contracted slave, my mutation is the least of it." She replied, again clearing out any awkwardness.

"Well, there's that new girl hired on last year, 'Cali Rose' or whatever the hell her name is. I guess she might deflect some of that."

"Pfft, Andrew, you don't really know women. Forming some sort of sisterhood is the last thing on her mind, I'm just another obstacle in her way to the top as much as the guys. The irony of it is I can't be a part of the rat race if I wanted to."

"I have to admit, sometimes its easy to forget you're a slave… Or for Rick I guess, convenient."

"I'd take that as a thank you, if you weren't in a deeper bit of contracted bullshit yourself."

"Yeah… Thanks for trying to lighten the blow there, but I'm old enough to know I brought most of that on myself. You though… It's not self denial or anything just-"

He stopped as Milla's eyes were narrowed in slight. Andrew dropped anymore helpful ideas before he had her ripping the clinic door off in anger. He only ventured so far because it was the truth in her complacentcy. Anyone else with such a mind as hers would've busted for freedom by now, but here she remained. Then there was Amanda. He was reminded again of that tangled web between slave boss, daughter and slave.

Andrew lowered his head and patted a friendly hand on her icy shoulder.

"Sorry."

She gave a slight smile in reflex before replying as if nothing happened. He was thankful for that at least."As for Cali and the rest, the jobs Rick keeps sticking me in put me damn close to the top, which will always be in her way. I never ask for it, but there I am."

"How do you know that? He seems to think you're good enough for everything else."

"A slave out on a mission to collect slaves? It doesn't make any sense Andrew, no matter how brainwashed and loyal you can make someone. Besides, Saul the Almighty would shit lighting on Rick's head if he even mentioned it."

"Alright, sorry I asked…Okay, you're finished here. I better let you go back to watching the Wall. There's been some rumor going around the bar at night of a group of raiders ambushing slave caravans. They attack like they have an insider with them since they always know where the old routes go through. Apparently, they've raised enough hell to get his own Almighty irritated, so he's had all of the routes changed for the time being and the scouting parties larger. Kind of leaves home base open though… So, maybe you'll get some practice in today."

Andrew chuckled a little as he got ready to prepare the bar for that night.

"Oh thanks. Thanks a lot. Now I'll have to actually do my job, and swat flies all day like a tail on this big Brahmin's ass of a settlement… See you around then."

Andrew gave a wave before turning for the bar's back door, his mind resigned to the idea that Milla's thinking was something he'd have to learn to work with.

Milla left through the clinic and climbed one of the many rusted scrap ladders to the metallic monstrosity that was simply known as the Wall. Many slaves who pasted under it for the first time looked as if they were entering a ring of hell, which Milla couldn't blame them for as the morning sun seemed to magnify the stains of blood-red rust that curtained over it.

There was already several others who were joining her with all means of weapons in hand, but all of them carried the standard slaver favorite of an R91 assault rifle and to each his or her own modifications and pet name for their best friends. Milla preferred instead her own modified hunting rifle. It may have had less of a magazine, but she preferred accuracy over just gutting an enemy with lead spray. There was also her steel spear, which glared out arcane amongst all of the modern weaponry, but it was one of the handful of things she actually owned for herself. Rick saw no reason to waste his resources re-equipping anyone who came with their own toys. If they fought enough with something to keep themselves alive and to his disposal, so be it. It was her treasure, the only thing she had that was almost as old as her and had seen the insides of many different bellies. When all else failed to bring something or someone down, she always fell back to her own creation.

After changing guard on the Wall and loading up with new magazines, everyone turned to their respective directions as faces on a totem pole. Milla was thankful that this job however mundane, kept everyone in their place. She really didn't feel up to dealing with slinging shit with the rest of them and hoped the raider rumors kept them occupied throughout the day. Though, after staring into the distance of the waste for six hours, her neighbor to the east was growing antsy, as was everyone else. Milla looked up to see it was Black Jack walking over from the right and she gave out a groan before composing herself, trying to find anything else to focus on in the dusty landscape.

"No luck either, huh?" He announced after taking a long drag off his cigarette.

Out of all the self-assured assholes in Rick's employ, Black Jack was the only one who managed to get under her skin. Something she tried to hide as stoically as possible, but even if she didn't say a word he knew she was angry and he lived for it. She just squinted her eyes in an excuse to focus, but he knew it was his own invitation to continue on.

"Awuh, nothing to say to me? C'mon, we're friends. Even if you don't think so I want you to know…no matter what the other dickheads around here say, I think you're as worthy as the rest of us and that contract business means no difference. It's just circumstance, y'know? We're all here for one reason or another, workin' for the big guy."

He leaned in towards the front of her face and raised his eyebrows with a pitiful smile.

Milla thought he looked like a puppy after pissing on the floor, who continued to dribble all over as he went up to beg forgiveness. She did everything not to laugh at the image, he'd only take it as a sign to continue.

"You're blocking my view."

"Ooh! That was harsh now! Besides, if you're thinking about those raiders I wouldn't bother with it. I heard from Tin Man when he got back from the new routes, that some of Saul's own personal bodyguards wiped their asses clean off the Wastes with a row of buried mines and missile launchers. Poor bastards made the mistake of holdin' out by that old gas station out South, whole place went up like a roman candle! I'd like to see a group of stupid ass kids take on this and Saul's place. They may have enough crazy between them all to try, but it doesn't win a war, y'know? Even if they had some insider-"

Black Jack only continued with his rant as he noticed she was growling in annoyance. He smiled for the extra effect.

"…Personally, I think taking raiders as slaves is a waste of all our fucking time. It's like tryin' to tame a centaur, you never know what way their heads are gonna go and they can't work worth shit. I'm not the only one who thinks this, mind you, and I think Saul might change his policies after this little episode. Which will mean more fun for us popin' these idiots in the long run."

Milla blinked and gave him a curt reply, "Sounds like another waste of ammo to make the effort of killing them out on runs, just saying… Personally."

Black Jack gave a little sigh, it was still too much fun for him.

"Why so serious all the time? I mean, yeah you're still a slave under that contract, but Rick really seems to treat you a lot better than most of us older crew even. Don't worry so much, you need to relax or you're head gonna spin marbles…"

Milla drifted her eyes over the landscape again to try and ignore him and as if some miracle, a speck and then a few more gradually appeared out in the Wastes. They were crawling across wildly but were definitely headed for the settlement. Despite the madness, it was plain their only intent was organizing for an attack.

Over the years raiders had never failed to provide some fascination to her. They and she both knew they had nothing going for them in the near future of the Wasteland and always wanted to go out in some excitement. Still, when that time came, there wasn't enough chems or booze in the world to erase that primal fear of death. No matter what anyone else said, she'd at least argue that raiders still had the purest form of humanity left in was the distraction she'd been waiting for all day and out of the peripheral view, she could see the other slavers agreeing with raised rifles. Only Black Jack seemed oblivious for the moment, as he was gently pawing at her shoulder in some failed attempt of a flirtatious massage.

Milla watched in her scope for one of the growing specks and gave a wry smile letting them grow larger until their head rested snuggly in the crosshairs of her rifle. With that she let the bullet release to blast open the side of a raider's head. Just enough so the butt of the rifle sticking up smacked Black Jack in the face, which had joined his hand in vainly trying to caress her shoulder. He stumbled back holding the area between his brows. She'd like to see him catch up and shoot with the others now.

He scrambled for his rifle and gave her a painful glare, only to then realize the group of raiders heading their way.

"Holy shit, there's really raiders coming!"

Two others joined on Milla's side of the post, Garret and none other than their newest member, Cali Rose.

"No shit, Sherlock! Where've you been for the past five minutes? They're right in front and you haven't taken a single shot yet!" Cali Rose retorted while slamming in a new magazine.

Milla took aim again and snorted at the scene, conveniently as Cali Rose noticed Black Jack's new lump between his eyes. She laughed and gave Milla a pat on the back.

"Excellent work, honey. I was definitely wrong about you, slave or no, you can drink with me anytime."

"Jack, Cali - Both of you shut the fuck up and get to your stations to back the boys up. Milla and I can hold this end down, now move it!" Garret roared at Milla's other side.

He may have been an asshole no different from the rest of them, but he was the only one she openly showed respect. He was Rick's right hand and even so, had taken the trouble to show her all the workings of the settlement and groomed her existing skills and experience into a vital element of Rick's personal army. To him it didn't matter if you were a slave of any degree, an extra gun was an extra gun, as long as it was under his command.

He grabbed another sniper rifle while the raiders were still far enough out and open. Then as if it was only natural, let a bullet fly for every exhale as he stood there before reloading again. Garret was the oldest slaver in the settlement and the only one remaining who'd help build the place. Simply looking at the scars the mapped his grizzled face showed he'd been with Rick since the beginning. While everyone else would be talking about this attack for another two weeks or so, it was just another few rounds for him. Just yet another group of nameless enemies caught in his crosshairs.

"You holdin' up alright doll?" He muttered to Milla between shots.

"Yep."

Garret gave a smile out of the corner of his mouth as he obliterated the cranium of another raider. Milla had learned over the years that Garret preferred sentences only if you had a damn good reason to be wasting his time.

"Good. You're not blue as a damn gecko either. I don't know anything about you mutants and rads, but I expect you to watch yourself like the rest. Especially if you wanna outlive all of us old bastards…"

"Crystal, commander."

Garret gave a short laugh and switched to his assault rifle, his darling Sally. Milla couldn't help but mock a coo at him for it.

"Hey now, cut the crap. You're not new meat, y'know… Watch to the left behind that dune. I don't like that pisser with the shotgun, he's eyeing his dead friends' launcher. We don't suffer smartasses like that, now do we?"

Milla reloaded her rifle and gave a wicked smile as the raider made a dart for the missile launcher.

"Of course not."

The raider flopped in mid-run and joined his comrade on the ground.

After another half-hour of firing Garret had most of them switch posts to the front of the settlement to catch any stragglers and of course, their weapons for themselves. Milla followed him down off the bridge of the Wall, watching him talking on an old and crippled two-way radio with Rick. He continued relaying the situation until Rick made all of them jump in surprise when he appeared, like a raven-haired apparition at the bottom of the gate. He was smirking at Garret, who was still standing with his radio in hand.

"You can stop talking into it Garret. I am right here." He said calmly while loading his rifle, one of many and mysterious implements he worked on in his free time, all of which he cherished like prized heirlooms.

If Rick brought out one of these, it meant two things: His men would be having some real fun and that Saul was coming. The latter of which meant everyone's collective asses would be chewed out if the fun didn't go as it was supposed to. Garret smiled at his oldest friend and cocked his rifle in reply.

"On your word, Rick."

The lean but silently intimidating man gave a deep and short laugh, then slit his cigarette.

"Sounds good to me, Garret.

- Boys and Girls, let's show these animals how we play…"

With that Rick and Garret walked through the iron gates as their collective army shrieked and roared as a hungry beast, which was only amplified by the hollow metal doors. If they weren't already, Milla knew the remaining raiders either wounded or hiding were pissing their pants.

In passing thought, she just hoped they wouldn't stain any of the good armor that they might have on their bodies, she needed some new leathers.