CHAPTER TWO

AIN'T NO REST FOR THE WICKED

"Blasted thing." the woman at the bar said, hitting the top of the small radio. "Shoulda made those free loaders pay for the damage."

"Before or after they tore the place to pieces in reply?" Laughed a young man on one of the stools at the bar.

The woman grumbled and gave up trying to get a better signal. Saoirse paused, her hand hovering above the bar. She had been the one who suggested going outside. To go and see what people knew but now that she was faced with it, the idea became more ominous. What if she freaked. What if they didn't like her? What if she made some sort of world faux pas that would make them run her out of town?

She paused and breathed. Now wasn't the time to panic. She didn't have that luxury.

"I could have a look." Saoirse said, regretting it almost immediately. Both pairs of eyes turned to her, staring as if she'd grown a third eye.

"You the stiff that Doc Mitchell was patching up?" the woman asked.

"Don't look so stiff to me." replied the man, looking her up and down.

Saoirse shrugged, unable to hold eye contact for long. "Lucky I guess."

The woman pointed at the radio behind the counter. "You're free to try. That blasted thing has been driving me up the wall for days."

"That's an understatement."

"A big word for you. You been at the books again Jed?"

"Funny Trudy."

With a small smile Saoirse stepped behind the counter.

"You got a screwdriver or a knife or somethin'?" she asked. The woman Saoirse assumed to be Trudy reached down and pulled out a small tool box.

"Should be one in there."

Taking out the fission battery from the radio she unscrewed the back. She could feel the judging stares from the fellow patrons but tried to ignore everything. If she didn't she'd freeze up and take forever to fix a blasted radio.

There was something about the radio, about the wires and electrical parts that made things click into place in her head. It made sense. Was logical and had a right answer. She knew what to do.

Finding the problem she reattached the loose connections and screwed the panel back into place.

"Tell me quick! Ain't love a kick. In the heeaaaaddd."

Trudy whistled behind her. "Would you look at that as good as new. Sit down I'll get you a drink. At least you deserve for fixin' the radio."

"Nothin' alcoholic please." she said, settling into a stool. "Don't want to mix whatever medication I'm on and drink." While she had been working the pain in her head had dispersed, but now that she had finished it slunk back, easing its way into every nook and cranny of her brain before it would scream at her again.

"Sure thing. Try the sarsaparilla. Same burn as the alcohol but won't leaving you drooling on the floor. What's your name kid?"

"Saoirse."

"Pleasure to finally meet you Saoirse. Here," she handed her the bottle, "The name's Trudy and this little piece of heaven is the Prospector Saloon."

Saoirse gave a grateful smile. "Thanks."

"You've been causin' quite a stir in these parts. Not everyday someone gets shot in the head and lives to tell the tale."

"My lucky day I guess."

"You're tellin' me. Doc Mitchell's a good sort though. If it wasn't for him half the town's population would have died of gecko bites." She picked up a rag from the counter and started cleaning one of the empty glasses.

"You in here for anything in particular or just the company?"

Saoirse twirled the bottle cap in her hands and looked down at the bar as if it held her answers. Her mind ached, making words harder to come by. "I was...actually hoping to see if anyone knew anything about the men that...shot me?"

Trudy snorted. "A bunch of free loaders if you ask me."

"Here we go again." Jed muttered, shaking his head.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothin'. Not as if you've been complaining about them for the past three days."

"They expected free rounds on the house!" she explained to Saoirse. "Then one of the Great Khans knocked my radio to the floor, 'by accident' after I forced them to pay up. Good for nothing mudsill the lot of them."

"Did they say where they were going?"

"Not sure. I think it was the Strip. That flannel mouth certainly spoke like them New Vegas folk. Too smooth for his own good. It sounded like they came through Quarry Junction up the I-15 and if that's the case then I can't blame them for not wanting to go back that way. Whole place is overrun with critters who just get mad when you shoot at them, what I heard. Merchants tend to treat the whole stretch of the I-15 like it's radioactive which it could be for all I know."

"How would you get to New Vegas without going that way?"

She put the glass down and leaned against the counter as she thought. "Hmm...If he wanted to avoid I-15 he'd have to go east and take Highway 93 up." she paused and watched Saoirse through narrow eyes. "You ain't planning on following them are you?"

"They took something that belongs to me. I need to get it back."

Trudy pursed her lips. "I guess. Just don't see why you want to get yourself into a heap load of trouble like that after what you've been through. If you really want to head to the Strip then your best bet would be to go down past Primm and round through Nipton and Novac. Longer that way but less likely to get you head bitten off."

Highway 93. She'd remember that.

"Thanks Trudy. You've been a big help."

"And you've been polite. Not something you see often in places right that. Right Jed?"

"Ah, shut it Trudy."

"Such a gentlemen."

The door to the saloon slammed open, a dog barging through soon followed by a young woman dressed in leather armour. Warm musty air washed through the saloon, the faint hint of smoke travelling in the breeze with it. Smoke wasn't usually a good sign but she tried to ignore it. She wasn't in any state to go and see what was going on.

"Mornin' Trudy." the redhead called.

"Sunny! Come see who finally joined the land of the living."

Sunny grinned and held out her hand.

"Please to finally meet ya'. The name's Sunny Smiles. I'm the sheriff around these parts."

"Only 'cause no one else will do it."

"Shut it and drink you scotch Jed." Trudy barked back.

"Saoirse Song." Saoirse replied with a faint smile, shaking the woman's hand. "Doc Mitchell said I should come to you actually. Something about helping learn to shoot."

Sunny shrugged. "Sure. Can't see why not. We could go just now if you like."

Saoirse shook her head. "I'd love to but my head's still acting up. Don't think gunshots going off will help it."

"No rush or anything. Just tell me when you're ready. I spend most of my time here or down at the water source anyway." Sunny paused, remembering something. "Don't go down there by yourself by the way. Damned geckos are attracted to it and good people have died down there 'cause of them.."

Trudy grimaced. "Another one?"

Sunny nodded and the bar went silent. Saoirse's stomach sunk and swirled. Someone had died from a gecko attack? Died. She ignore her twitching hand, aching to reach up and check that the bandage was still there and she wasn't just standing there like a forgotten spectre. She was there, she was alive and she needed to be thankful like that. Others didn't seem to have the same luck.

"I should probably head back to the Doc's house." she said when she'd finished off her drink, breaking the thick silence. "Don't want to overstay my welcome" By that point her head had began to pound. It was like some creature was clawing behind her eyes and scratching inside her skull. But she wouldn't mention that to them. At least if she was feeling the pain then it meant she was still kicking and not six feet under.

"You ain't overstaying at all." Trudy said. "Feel free to come back in any time you feel up to it. Nice to have a new face round here." Saoirse smiled softly and left the saloon with a short wave. It had gone better than she'd expected. No one had shouted at her or tried to shoot her. That was always a good sign.

Tumble weeds greeted her as she stepped out from the cool saloon into the scorching head of the Mojave sun. They bounded along the dirt roads, kicking up dust, rocks and whatever else had been dumped on the desert floor. The cool of the saloon had been nice while it had lasted, but the Mojave heat was more comforting somehow. The place felt less dead.

"Howdy." Her chest clenched and she gasped. She hadn't noticed the man sitting in a chair beside her. Small blue eyes watched her from under a rawhide hat and thick white eyebrows. His skin was dark and leathery with deep ridges and wrinkles hidden amongst the thick beard.

"Hi." she replied weakly.

"The robot fella went that way if that's who you're lookin' for."

Robot fella...? Victor?

There was a large blue object rolling across town in the direction the man had pointed. Long tubular arms hung down nearly touching the ground and it sped along on a single wheel.

"Thanks!" She waved back at the old man who replied in kind.

"Hey!" she called, running after him. "Victor?" The robot stopped at the sound of it's name and turned to her.

"Howdy partner!" he called, sounding happier than she thought was possible with robots. "Why aren't you looking as fine as cream gravy!"

"You're...the robot that found me...right?" she asked, breathing heavily from even the short burst of running. The screen on the front showed an image of a man in a rawhide hat, grinning at the world.

"Darn tootin'!" he called but didn't elaborate. Some part of her wasn't surprised and she chuckled under her breath.

"Can you tell me what happened?" she asked. "I'm kind of missing a lot of that part."

"Sure thing. I can do one better than that. Just watch." His face was gone, a video being played instead. She looked closer, trying to make out anything. The light was dim, the only source coming from a small lantern on the ground. She could make out faint struggling and the occasional mumbling but nothing coherent. Then the sound swam when Victor must have moved in closer, and she saw a glint of gold.

~From where you're kneeling it must seem like an eighteen carat run of bad luck~

The man wore a chequered suit, like Trudy had said and stood in front of Saoirse's bent over frame. His gun shone in the faint light and her chest tightening as her breathing came out in small gasps. This was all too much. She couldn't watch her self die even if she knew how it ended.

~Truth is,~she watched as the gun was raised, only a glitter in the dim light and she stopped breathing, ~the game was rigged from the start~She knew the gun shot was coming, and even then she still jumped at the sound. It was true. She had really been shot in the head.

Victor's face returned, breaking her out of her dreaming state. She licked her lips and tried to form words but they had left her. There wasn't much she could say.

"Do you know who it was?" she asked, her voice small. "The man in the suit."

"Can't say I do. Looked like one of the city slickers though. Too smooth for his own good. You could try asking Trudy about it. She's a good sort, notices these kinds of people."

"Already have. Said they were heading to the Strip."

"Well then! At least you got yourself a destination. Try rest up first through. Don't want to have to pull you out of another grave."

"How did you film that tape?"

"I film most things I find odd for documentation purposes. Allows me keep better tab of faces and names. Wish I'd filmed the rascals when they moseyed on into town. Might have been better help to you that way."

She smiled, the panic starting to melt away from her. "You saved my life. I think you've done more than enough."

"Don't mention it! I'm always ready to lend a hand to a stranger in need."

"I have to admit. I don't recall ever seeing a robot like you before." She had been looking the robot up and down, trying to find anything about him that was familiar but nothing clicked. He was just as new as everything else she'd seen.

"I'm a Securitron, Rob-Co Security Model 2060-B. If you ever see any of my brother's tell them Victor says howdy."

"I will. Thanks again Victor."

"Happy trails!" And with that, he rolled off towards the town. She made a mental note to remember the robot and any that looked like him. If he was that friendly then perhaps his 'brothers' would be the same.

The Med-X was a godsend.

For two days she'd been given an injection every four hours to fight the pain that racked her. Something in her hated the fact that Doc Mitchell was using so much of it on a patient that didn't have the means to pay him back, but the other just wanted more. It was a relief from the pain and the panic. She could just sit there and sleep without an issue. Then there was the other side, the one she wasn't so fond of. Hallucinations. Voices.

It had been late at night. She sat on the couch in Doc's living room, reading another medical text while the radio played softly when it happened. She knew that what she was seeing wasn't happening. The world couldn't just alter itself, morphing into a twisted nightmare.

The idea that her mind was turning on her again flitted through her mind. After all, dreams were supposed to make little to no sense and it certainly made no sense. It couldn't be the Med-X, it wasn't known to cause hallucinations. But if that was true then it was in her head. She wasn't sure which one scared her more.

The shadows flitted around the edges of her vision, appearing at the very corner of her eyes, disappearing when she looked, like a child playing hide and seek. They knew you could see them, take joy and pride in that fact, yet they continued to hide, teasing you with each glance they allow you to have.

"They aren't real." she muttered, trying to focus on the book. "They aren't real."

"But I am real."The gulp of air she took in felt like she had just swallowed dry wall. Her entire mouth went dry and throat clenched, a sharp pain rising in her throat as if something was trying to push itself out of her. A man stood in front of her, seeming as real as herself. His warm brown hair was streaked with grey like the faint beard on his chin. Dressed in a white coat he looked like a doctor or a scientist yet for the life of her she couldn't place him. He smiled at her. "Hello sweetheart. I've missed you."

"You're not real." she whispered, unable to take her eyes off him. "You're not real."

The radio had become faint and crackled in the background.

~Blueee Moooon. Now that I'm s-st-st-tanding alone alone alone. Without a dream in my my my~

The smiled didn't disappear from the man's face at her words, instead he stepped forward and smooth out your hair like a parent would with a child.

"You need to stop this now sweetheart. None of this is real."

"Shut up."

"You didn't climb out of that grave. No one ever climbs out of their grave."His lips weren't moving now, the words no longer his. She stood beside him, without the bandage wrapped around her head like the original who stared at them both with wild eyes.

"Nothing here is real. You aren't real."Her doppelgänger smiled and held out her hand to her.

"Come with us. Come home."

"It isn't real." She whispered, unable to speak any louder.

She was so close to screaming that her chest physically ached in the attempt to keep it down. This was wrong.

"Come home sweetheart."

She slammed her eyes shut and gripped the book in her hands.

"Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up-" she repeated the mantra over and over, each time gripping the book tighter.

"-at least you'll be safe. Just knowing that will be enough to keep me going."

Then a hand touched her shoulder.

A small squeak of a sound, somewhere between a scream and a yell escaped her mouth and her eyes snapped open. She scrambled off the sofa to the hardwood floor, looking around in a panic for her attacker. The world swirled around her and slowly but surely, everything evened out. Returned to the basic normality that she knew.

Then she realised that her 'attacker' had been Doc Mitchell. He loomed over her, his brow wrinkled.

"You're jumpier than a deathclaw during mating season. You oka-"

"I'm fine." she interrupted. "I'm fine."

No you're not fine. You're crazy.

"Maybe you should get some sleep." he suggested, holding out a hand to help her up. "Make you feel a bit better."

She didn't argue. If she didn't have to go through that again, she'd try anything.

On the third day he lowered the dose of Med-X. It was her last day in Goodsprings and he didn't want to send an addict out into the wastes. She knew he meant well, but that didn't mean she was happy about not having the pain free moments as often as she'd like.

That became more apparent when she finally took Sunny up on the training. If anything, she would have killed for Med-X to stop the ringing the gun shots left in her head.

Saoirse collapsed onto the desert ground and tried to catch her breath and stop the ringing in her ears. The varmint rifle Sunny had given her was clasped to her chest as if she'd lose it if she let go. Adrenaline rushed through her, under her skin and down her spine. She knew she needed to calm down. The trouble was over. The geckos were gone. That's why she was laughing.

Sunny laughed with her and held out her hand to help her up but she just waved it away.

"I'm fine here until my head stops spinning."

"It got rather exciting there at the end didn't it?"

"Someone almost died."

"Exactly. Almost." Saoirse smiled and shook her head. Her skull had stopped spinning and the white spots dispersing. She pushed herself up and brushed the desert dust off her jumpsuit.

"At least I now know to fight a gecko attack. I'm sure humans are the same."

Sunny scoffed. "Once you know how to kill one creature everything is the same. Just try not to shoot at random people. Don't think they'd like."

"Darn it. My master plan of shooting random strangers is ruined."

Sunny chuckled and filled a bottle with water from the source before throwing into her waiting arms.

I've got one more thing I can show you if you want." she said after downing half a bottle of water.

"Should I be worried?"

"Just survival stuff. Living off the land kind of thing. You'll need it if you're heading to Primm. That's about twenty miles of raiders, geckos and Powder Gangers."

"What do we need?"

"Xander Root which is beside the school house and Broc Flower which is up at the graveyard."

Saoirse was silent for a moment.

"Graveyard?"

"Yeah. You don't mind going do you?"

"N-no. Just checking I heard you right."

The graveyard was empty when Saoirse got there. The bodies of bloatflies and bark scorpions littering the ground along with bent tin cans and beer bottles. Her nose crinkled and she crossed her arms over her chest. The place looked unloved and as dead as the people it housed. A large water tower loomed over her, groaning and creaking while it shielded her from the merciless sun's rays. Her stomach swirled and chest clenched.

Her grave. A perfect rectangle in the ground. A small lantern sat at the edge and continued to glow in the morning light. She approached it with small steps, tightening her arms around her and digging her nails into her palm.

It almost didn't seem real. Everything was too bright and fuzzy through her eyes. Maybe she really had died. Now living in some limbo allowing her to live out her last job. At least that way she could explain off the hallucinations, the voices in her head.

She kicked dirt into the shallow grave, catching her breath as it hit. The thought of someone doing that to her. Of shooting her and dumping her in the hole, covering her in dirt until she was like every other grave here. Sitting, gathering Mojave desert sat and rocks while her body slowly rotted away, eaten by whatever insect life was left in the ground.

Her mind begged her to turn around. To leave the graveyard and stop thinking about it. She was alive now. That's all that mattered.

She ignored it and went to collect the Broc flower.

Picking a couple of the orange blooms from the stalk she went to leave the place, trying to avoid looking at her grave again. Then something caught her eyes.

A couple of cigarette butts. Distinctive, with markings she hadn't seen on regular ones. Then it came back to her.

"Time to cash out."

He had used them. The man in the chequered coat.

"Why would he just leave them here?" she asked the wind.

"So you could find them."Some part of Saoirse knew that she should have been concerned when she saw herself standing to her left, staring at the grave. It seemed almost normal in the warm Mojave sunlight. Like meeting a friend you hadn't seen for a long time.

"Why would he do that?" Her doppelgänger looked up and smiled.

"To get you confused." Saoirse scoffed.

"That's just paranoid talk. I'm not paranoid."

"Maybe not. But you are talking to yourself and seeing things. That's a start."

She pocketed them without looking back at her grave and left, leaving the groaning water tower, scenic views and her doppelgänger behind. Goodsprings could keep her grave for now. She didn't need it. She had work to do.