Fear and Loathing in the Mojave
Chapter 3: The Banshee Screams For Fox Meat
"Carlos, you need to see this," said Mona as she looked through her binoculars.
The short man took the binoculars and peered through them at the town I could vaguely see rising ahead of us. "Nipton? That's the name of the place, isn't it?" I asked, recalling the map I'd glanced over back at Mojave Outpost before I'd decided it was time for recreation of the chemical variety.
Mona nodded. "Town got put to the sword by the Legion not long before the last battle at the dam. Never much cared for the place. Lots of shifty sorts and the mayor was the worst of the lot. Still, no one deserves the kind of things the Legion does to people."
On that Mona and I agreed. I'd not seen the Legion's handiwork with my own eyes but I'd read the same leaked reports as any other journalist worth a damn. Now I'd seen raiders do some sick shit to people during my time as a soldier. But those were just the random acts of depraved chem fiends and other worthless degenerates that the NCR has made an art out of wiping out almost as quickly as they turn up.
But the Legion is different. Their goal is to break people body and spirit. To enslave that which makes you anything that isn't them. I am Legion for we are many! Only this time it was a courier and not a carpenter who cast them out.
Jesus Christ! Just where was my mind going? Was it the peyote? The brown acid? Now wasn't the time to randomly start screeching lines from the Bible. I wasn't on a hotel balcony in New Reno or some other place where that would have been acceptable. Or at least no crazier than anything else that was going on in the area. Get it together, man!
"Well, I'll be damned. The NCR is in Nipton. I can see the troops moving around the town," Carlos reported to me. "Would have been nice if someone back at Mojave Outpost had bothered to mention this."
Mona snorted. "Typical NCR fuck up. The right hand has no idea what the left is doing."
"Most likely they're reclaiming the town now that the Legion's gone," I said. "Like what they did with that other place. Shit. What was it called? Paulson? Simpson?"
"Nelson," supplied Mona.
"Yes! That was it." I adjusted my hat and sunglasses to give myself a moment to recall the details. "Now I remember. The Legion had taken the place and was using some captured NCR troops as human shields. But the Camp Forlorn Hope boys managed to rescue the hostages and retake the town. Caused quite a stir once word made it back west. It was the first good news anyone had gotten about the fight with the Legion in forever."
"Wasn't much of Nelson left from what I heard," said Carlos bluntly as he gave Mona back her binoculars and started down the road to Nipton. "I did a bit of trading there over the years and it was a pretty nice place. Small, but the people were honest. Drove hard bargains too. But their goods were quality and they were always happy to see me. A trader can't ask for much more than that."
I saw a mournfulness in Carlos' face as we walked. He'd lost friends in Nelson, I was sure of it. I was curious as to what else he could tell me about that small, doomed town. But while I am a chem fiend, a scofflaw and occasionally the cause of small fires I do have some sense of decorum. I usually chose to ignore it but it is there.
This time I listened to it and asked no more questions. I'd taken a liking to Carlos and one thing I try not to do to people I like is rub salt in their wounds. Life does that to us all often enough that I don't need to help pick up the slack.
It didn't take long to reach the entrance to Nipton which sported what was clearly a hastily assembled guard station at the main entrance to town. As we approached the two men at the guard station focused on us. Alert, ready, but not aggressive. Training hadn't changed since my NCR days. The taller of the two, wiry and brown-eyed, stepped forward and gave us a once over. Seeming not to consider us much of a threat he relaxed a little.
"Afternoon, folks. I'm Sgt. Shoshana with the NCR's 8th Battalion. Mind if I ask what bring you to Nipton?"
Carlos held out his hand which Shoshana took and shook firmly. The little caravaner then offered up a dazzling smile. "Carlos Rodriguez. Owner and operator of Rodriguez Caravans. We were planning to just pass on by but we got curious once we saw you were NCR. I have to say, I'm surprised to see you people here. I'd heard this place was a ghost town and that damn near everyone had been giving it a wide berth since the Legion slaughtered everyone."
Shoshana sighed and adjusted his helmet, letting a stand of dark hair fall free for a moment before he brushed it back into place. "If you didn't hear about us then I guess that means someone at Mojave Outpost dropped the ball. Again!
"Anyway, you're right in what you said. Hardly anyone has set foot in this town since the Legion massacred the people here. Just a civilian who discovered the mess and reported it to Mojave Outpost as far as I know. Our orders are to secure the town and start getting it ready for "resettlement." We've only been here six days though so we've only just started."
"Who the fuck would want to live in a town where everyone got murdered by the Legion!" I blurted. Shit! The drugs had gotten their second wind just as I'd come across the damn NCR. I had to maintain or this was going to end very badly for me.
Shoshana, the other guard, Carlos and Mona all gave me odd looks. After several long heartbeats Shashana sighed again and shrugged. "Frankly, I've been wondering the same thing. But I'm just a sergeant. All those calls get made by people way above my pay grade. Still, it might be a good thing you came by. We'll need visitors and traders to get this place fully up and running. Letting the caravans know Nipton is safe again would do a lot to accomplish that.
"Come on, I'll take you to Lt. Holmberg. He's in charge around here. And if you're looking to trade he's the one you'll have to speak to anyway."
"I'm always interested in new markets," said Carlos, amiably. "Lead the way."
Shoshana nodded. " Hoffman, watch things here. I'll be back in a few minutes."
"Yes, sir," said the other guard, presumably Hoffman.
We followed Shoshana towards a three story building at the end of the main road which I took to be the town hall. A vague but noticeable smell hung in the air. The acrid stench of burning tires. Despite the warm the the afternoon sun the air seemed oddly heavy. It made my nerves jangle and even if I didn't know this town had been slaughtered by the Legion my primal senses would have been able to tell me that something wild and and wicked had happened in this place.
I could feel old, bad memories at the edge of my conscious mind. Like quicksand wanting to pull me down and back to dark places and times best forgotten. Or battered with chems and alcohol in those times when those black memories became too restless.
Shoshana led us into the building which seemed to be in fairly good shape all things considered. "Please wait here for a moment while I get the lieutenant. He should be in his office upstairs."
Once Shoshana was out of earshot Mona spoke. "Look at the floor. You see it?"
I raised my sunglasses and looked at the floor. Sure enough, after a quick scan I saw what she was talking about. Brown stains on the floor. Small, but noticeable if you bothered to look. Splatter-patterned drops and the odd wet streak here and there. Someone had tried to clean up but did so poorly. Blood is often a pain to get out.
"I see it," I said, as I slid my sunglasses back down.
Carlos' frown confirmed that he had as well. "Never send a soldier to do a maid's job."
Now my curiosity about Mona was certainly peaked. I decided to try a little fishing. "You're not ex-NCR. I spot them a mile away. But you're clearly a trained fighter and a good one. What is your story exactly?"
Mona gave me a glare that could turn a super mutant to stone. "My business. That's what it is and no one else's. Clear, asshole?"
"Mona," Carlos said, his tone reproachful but soft. The same tone you'd use with a friend who'd had too much to drink and was reaching for another bottle.
Mona flicked her eyes to Carlos and the anger seemed to flow away. For a moment she simply looked...tired. But the internal defenses were back up in a second and she looked at me again with a poker face I would be worried to see across from me at a card table. "Sorry. We all have pasts. I don't like to talk about mine. Nothing personal, that's just the way I am."
Interesting. I was starting to think that there was a lot more to both of my companions than simple caravaners. My curiosity was up but pushing things to the point where I got on their bad side was not a wise move. Especially since the attack a little while ago proved that trying to get around the Mojave on my own would be a terrible idea. Best to retreat for the moment, observe some more and then try again.
"No, no. My fault for prying. I don't know if Carlos mentioned that I'm a doctor of journalism. It's the nature of my job to ask questions and sometimes I get a bit carried away."
Mona gave me a skeptical look. "A reporter? You?"
"Journalist," I insisted. "Any fuckhead write down what happened for other people to read. A journalist investigates. Observes. Comments. A journalist is a professional!"
Carlos seemed amused by my words and I saw him grin a little. Mona just rolled her eyes and mumbled "Whatever."
Cazart! Another win for true journalism.
It was then that a well-built man with short, straw blond hair entered the room. His uniform was notably cleaner than any other NCR personnel I'd seen and he had the air about him of a man used to being obeyed. After the obligatory size-up he seemed to relax and offered Carlos his hand. "I'm Lt. Holmberg. Welcome to Nipton. I'm told you're a trader, Mr. Rodriguez."
"That I am," confirmed Carlos as he shook the lieutenant's hand. "And I'm told you're the man to speak to about deals around here."
"I am. But there will be time for that later. I'd like to ask you folks a few questions first. I'm sure you have some questions for me given what word around the Mojave is about Nipton."
The lieutenant shook Mona's hand quickly and seemed to take note of her stoic detachment. Odds were he'd marked her as the most dangerous should we not turn out to be what we seemed. Holmberg wasn't a total fool, at least.
He paused for a moment before shaking my hand. "You...don't look like a trader. Might I inquire as to what brings you here, mister...?
Unconsciously I glanced down at my clothes. I'd gone through a period of infatuation with Old World styles in my younger days that still lingered in my taste in clothes. Currently I sported a vintage summer outfit from those days I'd gotten for a good price in Junktown. My look was topped off with a light but colorful jacket, some solid shoes, my sunglasses and a type of hat that had been called a "fishing hat" in the Old World. It was a look that I thought would help me blend in on the Strip but admittedly was slightly impractical for traveling the wastes.
But in my book style still counts for something and all the nuclear bombs ever made can't change that. Fuck anyone who says different.
I shook the lieutenant's hand quickly, pulled my arm back and gave my wrist a little flick. My press credentials slid smartly into my hand from a special holder I'd paid a Shin seamstress to sew into my jacket. It was just a simple bit of slight of hand I'd picked up in my travels but it never failed to impress rubes or tribals. "My card."
Sadly for me Holmberg wasn't a rube or a tribal. He looked at my press card as if if was a live, angry snake. After a moment he recovered and took my card, looking it over very carefully before sliding it into a pocket. Now there was a slightly stiffer, more formal air to his posture and a barely concealed wariness in his eyes. Trying to be cute in this situation had clearly backfired. Shit.
"Ah, Mr. Duke. I've...heard of you. I have to say, I didn't expect someone of your reputation to just stroll into Nipton."
He's read that last article about Kimball. I could see it in his eyes. Goddam Aaron Kimball! He could fuck things up for me and not even know it. Bastard!
"The annexation is big news," I said, offering my best smile. But the drugs were still doing their mad dance on my brain so I ended up grinning like a madman on turbo. "My editor asked me to come out here and cover the story. It's a big day for the NCR, after all."
"That it is," replied Holmberg, noncommittally. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you folks to wait a bit longer. I haven't been cleared to talk to the press so I need to check with McCarran for orders. But to make it up to you I invite you all to be our guests for the night. We're using a few of the homes on the right side of the main street as temporary barracks but you're welcome to use any house on the left that you want. Dinner is in a few hours and we can talk business then, Mr. Rodriguez."
"Thank you for the hospitality. We were going to try and make it Ranger Station Charlie to report a raider attack. But I guess that might have been a little too far to try and reach before nightfall," said Carlos.
Holmberg's eyes widen a bit. "Raiders? Where and when did this happen?"
"Back up the road a way. But there's no rush. All the men who attacked us are dead," supplied Mona, bluntly.
Holmberg gave Mona a wary look but nodded. "I'm glad you're all okay. If the three of you took out some raiders by yourselves you have my thanks and the thanks of NCR. We've been hunting down as many raiders as we can but we always welcome help.
"Anyway, I need to go get on the radio but I'll have someone bring you folks some water. Purified, of course. Even here the NCR can still supply some of the comforts of home."
With that small bit of propaganda Holmberg took off. Whatever questions he'd been planning to ask us clearly weren't as important as my press card. At least Mona and Carlos didn't seem to be holding this turn of events against me.
The three of us sat down in some battered chairs that had been placed along the wall to try and make the room seem more like a proper lobby. Sure enough, five minutes later Shoshana appeared with the promised water. We all accepted it gratefully before Shoshana disappeared out the door and back to his post.
Carlos and Mona seemed content with their own thoughts so I didn't bother with small talk. My arrival in New Vegas had been delayed but the signing wasn't going to happen for a time yet. I'd be there, I had no doubt. Besides, this Nipton situation intrigued me. The men stationed here were first hand witnesses to the aftermath of a mass murder. That was the sort of thing that journalists would step over their own bleeding mothers to cover and I'd stumbled into it by accident. I didn't fell lucky though.
Yes, there was a story here. Not the story that the Legion were goddamn animals. Telling people that would be like shouting from the rooftops that shit stank. No, the real story here was man's inhumanity to man. That story was old as dirt but it was also one that needed to constantly be reported. Otherwise, because humans are damn fools, people start to forget. They forget that man is the only animals that kills for any reason other than survival. And forgetting that is the same as painting a target on your forehead.
Around twenty minutes later Holmberg returned. I was leaning against the lobby desk enjoying a smoke which earned me a quick look of disapproval. But fuck Holmberg and all the health freaks like him. It hadn't been that long since raiders had tried to kill me so I'd earned a goddamn cigarette. Hell, I'd have been toking away on one of the joints in my bags if it wouldn't have landed me in whatever passed for the stockade in this town.
"Mr. Duke, it seems your writing has fans in high places," Holmberg began. "I've been authorized to answer any questions you might have. You're also free to speak to my men about what we've seen here. I promise you, it's a story worth hearing. I'll pass word along that they're to cooperate with you so long as it doesn't interfere with their duties and to answer any questions that don't compromise security.
"Mr. Rodriguez, you and your friend are free to do business with any of the troops who are off duty. I'm sure most of them have some caps burning holes in their pockets."
Carlos gave a small chuckle. "I'd be glad to help them out with that. Come on, Mona. Let's get to work. Until dinner then, lieutenant."
"Sir," said Holmberg respectfully as Carlos and Mona headed for the door. "Well then, Mr. Duke, if you're ready we can speak in my office upstairs."
Holmberg was a slick one, I had to give him that. I do indeed have my fans in high places despite my antics. But I wasn't so foolish as to think that I was being given this sort of access by fans.
No, I had a reputation. A mixed one, to be sure. But love me or hate me, people read what I write and listen when I speak. For anyone looking to climb the ladder more often than not that's enough to let a gadfly like me past the velvet rope.
I'd used that very rope to hang more than a few people. I'd also used a literal velvet rope to half strangle a bouncer who refused me entry into a nightclub in Dayglow. But that's another story.
"Certainly, certainly," I said as I stubbed my cigarette out in a conveniently placed ashtray on the desk. "Lay on, MacDuff. Lay on."
Holmberg clearly had never read Shakespeare because he looked at me as if I'd grown a third head. Am I the last educated man in the NCR? Still, I suppose not everyone has the benefit of having attended a Followers' school as a child like I had.
The clearly confused Holmberg ignored my reference and gestured for me to follow him silently. In short order we were in what I took to have been the former mayor's office and sat down at his desk.
"All right, Mr. Duke, I'm yours for the next forty minutes. Then I really do have to get back to work," Holmberg said. "Ask away."
"Let's not dick around then," I replied as I dug a pencil and my notepad from a pocket. "First, I'd like to know what it was you saw when you arrived here."
"The most fucked up scene I've ever laid eyes on," answered Holmberg without missing a beat.
My surprise at his profanity had to have been as clear as the Mojave sky because I saw Holmberg grin a little. "I've been told that you respond well to...frankness, Mr. Duke. So I've been given permission to speak bluntly and, truthfully, I'm glad of it. People need to know what happened here and if unbuttoning the collar a little helps that then the NCR is willing to compromise our normal ways of speaking with the press a bit."
Fuck! The interview had only just started and Holmberg had thrown me for a loop. Him and whoever it was up the chain of command he answered to. But this tactic did make a twisted sense. If Holmberg spoke to me in an off the cuff fashion I couldn't easily accuse him of being nothing but a mouthpiece for the official line.
People in the Mojave were wary of just what NCR rule would mean and people back in California were sick of the same old shit. A frank, "uncensored" interview would look good to a jaded audience. And if it didn't the NCR could just trumpet my...excesses, piss on my credibility and sweep the whole mess under the rug. No doubt every ass but mine was already covered by backroom deals and unspoken promises.
Meet the new boss, same as the old boss.
Fine then. If this was how NCR wanted to play the game then I'd play along. Buy the ticket, take the ride.
"I appreciate the candor, lieutenant," I said. "Go on."
"As I said, it was the most fucked up thing I'd ever seen. Right as we get into town there's a body on the ground just a few yards from the Nipton sign. The birds had been at him but we tell by his clothes that he'd been a Powder Ganger. The holes in his shirt said that he'd been shot three times in the back. I don't think the bastard even saw it coming.
"Anyway, we didn't worry too much about that guy. From there we could see half a dozen bodies, all in Powder Ganger outfits, crucified on the main street."
"Class Legion tactics," I muttered as I furiously scribbled notes.
Holmberg nodded. "Something like that never stops getting to you and I've seen the Legion do that to people more times than I care to remember. But if there was still any doubt about this being Legion work then the squad of dead Legionaries we found around town put and end to that."
I stopped writing in mid-word. "Are you telling me that a bunch of wasteland civilians took out a squad of Legionaries?"
"No, sir. In investigating the town we did find a few Legionaries that looked to have been killed by the locals. I'll give them credit, some of the people of Nipton did NOT go quietly. But most of Legion bodies we found didn't match up with being killed by a civilian who got lucky. Or was disturbingly prepared for intruders."
"What?"
"Long story. Ask one of the troops about 'Mr. Essence's house.' They never get tired of talking about it. As I was saying, we found the bodies of a whole Legion squad and damage to the town suggested one hell of a fight had happened. One in which someone had been pretty free with the dynamite. A tactic I'd recommend if I were to find myself taking on a whole Legion squad by myself. Especially one personally lead by Vulpes Inculta."
"Inculta? The creepy fucker with the dog on his head from the propaganda posters?"
Holmberg's smile became very thin. "We prefer to call those motivational posters, Mr. Duke. But yes, I'm 99% sure Vulpes Inculta, the Dessert Fox himself, was killed here in Nipton. Naturally the bugs had been at the bodies. But one of them carried documents addressed to Inculta and was wearing armor and a vexillarius helmet as would be expected of the leader of Caeser's frumentarii. Had his name engraved on the Ripper knife we found on him as well."
"Rather odd the NCR hasn't mentioned this until now. Inculta's death is a big win. With him and Caeser dead that leaves Lanius as the only major Legion leader still alive. Why keep it under wraps?" I asked.
A shrug was Holmberg's response. "I'm afraid that decision was made above my head. But as I said, I'm only 99% sure it was Inculta we found. Naturally the NCR wants to be 100% sure in the case of someone like that before we make any announcements to the public. I was ordered to have two of my men escort the body to McCarran for formal identification. So I imagine that an official confirmation will happen in a few days.
"That will likely be after you're in a position to file your story, wouldn't it, Mr. Duke? I'm sorry I can't give you an official confirmation or an exclusive on that information."
Dick Richardson's saggy left nut he was sorry. Announcing that Inculta had been killed and that NCR was already rebuilding the town he's slain would be a perfect ramp up to the annexation signing. No wonder the NCR had sat on this until it could do the most PR good.
Holmberg's smile improved a little and I could tell he'd seen me putting things together. Smug asshole. He thought he had me beat. We'd just see about that.
"Let's get back to what happened here in the town. Can you give me any details on just what they Legion did to Nipton?"
"Of course. I have to say, it was sick even by Legion standards," said Holmberg. "Nipton had a reputation for being a shady place long before the NCR or Legion showed up in these parts. It seems that the late mayor, the less than honorable Joseph B. Steyn, cut a deal with Inculta to capture and turn over some visiting NCR troops with muscle provided by a small group of Powder Gangers. But the Legion backstabbed Steyn and took over the town after he let them in. As I said, it looks like a few people fought back and even took a few Legionaries with them. But it was too little too late.
"Once the town was firmly under Legion control Inculta, likely inspired by Vegas' reputation for gambling, decided to hold a lottery."
Again I paused mid-word. "A lottery? Are you fucking kidding me?"
This time Holmberg's smile was genuine. The fucker was enjoying this! He was enjoying toying with me. Damn that I couldn't shoot him and blame it on a Legion sniper.
"No, Mr. Duke, I am most assuredly not fucking with you. Those who lost worst were crucified, the "lucky losers", as Incluta put it, were given a quick death by beheading. Most everyone else was enslaved. Though the mayor was an exception. Him they burned alive on a pile of tires. Here, I have several of the lottery tickets right here in my desk. We found them all over the town. I held onto some for proof since I know how the story must sound."
Holmberg reached into his desk and quickly handed me a grubby piece of paper with "Nevada State Lotto Big Ranch" written on it and drawings of two cowgirls on either side.
"That's life or death you have there in your hands, Mr. Duke. Which one you got was totally up to fate. Well, if you believe in that sort of thing," Holmberg continued. "Feel free to keep it, by the way. We have plenty."
I wondered which one, life or death, this ticket had earned its last owner. Just holding it made me feel dirty and that's a no mean trick for someone who's lived the sort of life I have. Once again Holmberg had thrown me so I stuffed the ticket into a pocket and tried to regain my footing.
"Earlier you said 'A tactic I'd recommend if I were to find myself taking on a whole Legion squad by myself.' Did I misunderstand you there or are you telling me that ONE man took out an entire squad of Caeser's best lead by the top man in the frumentarii himself? Bullshit!"
Holmberg held out his arms in a gesture of helplessness. "That would be my reaction too, Mr. Duke. But we've been going over this town for six days and every bit of evidence we've come up with supports exactly that happening."
Clearly I had vastly underestimated Holmberg. He'd been two steps ahead of me ever since he'd laid eyes on my press card and now he was making me dance to his tune. Molerat-raping fuckhead! This was no way to treat a doctor of journalism. Even one who was a part-time violent chem junkie.
"Proof? Just what kind of fucking proof do you have?" My anger had made the drugs flare up again. I had to get myself under control. I had to maintain. To be professional. Or I was going to end up in jail or shot for trying to kill NCR personnel. Who was I kidding? There would be no jail. There would just be being shot. The army didn't fuck around with that sort of thing in my day and I was sure things hadn't changed since.
Despite my outburst Holmberg remained as annoyingly calm as ever. "To answer you question, Mr. Duke, while I'm not a detective I am an experienced soldier and so are my men. Some things are obvious to any soldier's eye if he looks for them."
I thought about the blood stains in the lobby. That was true enough. What would I have picked up on the main street if I'd been paying more attention?
"Also, we have an eyewitness who has confirmed everything I've just told you."
"Holy shit, you have a witness! Where?"
Holmberg's grin reminded me of a picture I'd seen of a great white shark in one of the books at my old Followers school. Indeed, I had grossly underestimated this man.
"Yes, Mr. Duke, we do have an eyewitness to the horrific events that happened here in Nipton. He was one of the "winners" of the lottery, you see. He won and so the Legion spared him to tell the tale of their atrocity. Would you like to meet him?"
Author's Notes: I always found it a little odd that no one over moved in to take over Nipton once the events there were over. So I decided to use this chapter to deal with that.
It was also pretty fun to have Duke feeling off balance and out maneuvered. But he's the new guy in town and the Mojave has plenty of smart players roaming around so things won't be easy on him. That's something I wanted to get out up front early in the story.