"Shit!" I tossed the carbine to the side as I contemplated my situation. I sat there in the dirt with three guns: an old .38 revolver with four rounds, a shiny .45; Dan's Revolver, with five rounds, and an M1 carbine with no rounds. I didn't even know what type of bullets they needed. I looked up past the small fire I had made toward Genie. "At least I have you."

"The sky. Pretty." He sat in an awkward indescribable position gazing at the stars.

"That they are, friend." I looked up for a moment, too. I wasn't as interested or amazed by the sky, but you couldn't deny a sight like that. It's usually masked by dust in the sky, so when it is clear you don't think to look up some times. "Listen, I'm going to get some shut-eye. You just keep looking up. Good night."

"Pretty."

When I awoke the next morning the bright sun shone directly above me. However, it was a pretty cool day, so I removed my duster and let the breeze cool my skin. I noticed Genie lying on his back still looking at the sky. "Hey, big guy, you know you can go blind looking at the sun like that?"

"But it's pretty."

"So are women, but I try to steer clear for health reasons. You should do the same."

"Okay." He sat up and stared directly at me. "What we do today."

"Beats me. We should probably find another town or something so I can get some supplies. Dansfield didn't work out exactly." I noticed my stomach move. "Mm. What do you eat, Genie?"

"I like cereal, but meat is good, too. But I like cereal."

"Cereal it is, then." I scanned the horizon. To my right, Dansfield was just a lonely tower fading in the sun. Directly in front of me I noticed a Brahmin. Next to it was a dog and two people. "Great. Traders."

The group stopped short and began taking cover behind the cart that the Brahmin was pulling. I heard a crack and Genie lunged forward. He either groaned in pain or anger, but the bullet hadn't pierced the back of his head. That's when I got up and started waving my hands so they'd stop. They must have misinterpreted my gestures because they continued to shoot at my bodyguard-friend.

"Stop! Stop! He's a good mutant! …If that makes sense." I heard a bullet whiz past my ear. I ducked down and covered my face with my arm. The shooting stopped and I took the time to get back up and run toward them. "Stop shooting, please!" I shouted while running and then I heard another crack from one of the rifles. This time a bullet grazed my right arm. I clutched it and fell forward. I lied on my side holding my tightly.

"Look at that! You shot him!"

"Sorry. He was in the way."

"I think the freak is down. Let's go help this guy."

I looked at the horizon sideways and breathed heavily through my nose to ease the pain. I heard the sound of feet shuffling on dirt growing. Two sets of feet stopped in front of my eyes. I didn't dare look up out of anger. "The mutant…won't…hurt you." I said in between burns of pain.

"What? Really?" The pair of combat boots said. "Hmm. Wow."

"Aw, I can't believe you made me shoot at that poor thing." The worn pair of sneakers said. He had a younger tone, possible the combat boot's son.

"He's still a super mutant, kid. Still dangerous." The combat boots kneeled down and I got a look at his face. He was a scruffy, middle-aged man with a salt-n-pepper stubble growing untidily on his face. He had strong, masculine features. He had deep-set faded light brown eyes and bushy gray eyebrows. He had a dark complexion; a combination of being in the sun constantly and dirt. "Sorry about that, Sir, the kid still needs some shootin' work. Let's get you up." He helped me sit up.

I looked at my shooter. He was a tall, skinny teenager with a lighter complexion than the older man. He had a baseball cap that pushed down curly brown hair. He didn't look as weathered as the other guy, but he was growing a small beard on his chin which somewhat made him look older. He wore a white t-shirt covered in dirt and dried mud. He had a pair of jeans that were torn at both knees. The other man had about the same thing except he had various pads adorned on his shoulders, chest elbows, and knees.

"Sorry, Mister." He kneeled down, too.

"No problem. Wouldn't be the first time."

"I'm Carl," the older man said, "And this is Dale."

"My pleasure." I helped myself up and dusted myself off. I looked back at Genie who was rubbing the back of his head where he was struck. "Will you excuse me?" I ran over to Genie and kneeled toward him. "Hey, big guy, what's up? You okay?"

"I'm okay. Head hurt bad."

"Okay, that's good. Just keep rubbing it. Listen, I'm going to get some cereal from these guys, okay. You just stay here."

"Okay." I patted the giant on his shoulder and ran past him back toward the traders.

""Wow, that's quite a sight." Carl took his worn trucker-styled hat off and scratched the top of his head. "How'd you tame him?"

"I didn't." I looked back at Genie. He was playing with the dirt. "He's just different, really."

"Huh. So how can I make up for our little mistake?"

"You can patch me up and give me some cereal for the big guy if you have any."

Carl smiled, "We have plenty!"