Chapter 3: Foreboding mysteries.
Night time had arrived. Rem was standing in the door frame, watching as Casey loaded his things onto his pack brahmin. "I'd stay away from that area. There's no telling if their friends came looking for them," Rem said, as he crossed his arms over his chest. Casey continued doing what he was doing but he responded while he did, "Definitely. You couldn't fuckin' pay me to go down that way again." Rem responded, "Yeah. About fifty yards east, there's a river. Water's irradiated and frequently inhabited with mirelurks and lakelurks, so I'd stay away from there, too." Casey nodded to that one, taking in every bit of information he needed, "Thanks. Gonna head south east, try to circle away from that raider encampment southwest, and make my way towards Westside." Rem nodded, agreeing with the plan.
Before long, Casey was done, and when he was, he walked towards Rem and extended his hand. Rem reached out and shook it firmly, "Stay safe." Casey responded, "You, too. I'll see you in about four days. That's about when my route will bring me out this way." Rem smirked, "It'd be a good idea if you have a mercenary or two with you when you do." Casey shook his head because he clearly wasn't all too excited about the idea of ever having to have a mercenary around, "They don't work for free." Rem disagreed with the logic wholeheartedly. What's wrong with spending a few caps for a little bit of insurance? "Too stubborn, Casey. Even now you're still not convinced you should have one?" Casey let go and smiled, began walking towards the brahmin, "We'll see." He took the reigns and began walking away, southeast, and he waved a hand over his shoulder at Rem.
When Casey was out of sight, Rem stepped back into his home and sat down on a chair. He kicked up his feet right next to the radio after turning it on, and went back to the same thing from before. He started thinking to himself, nearly having mental conversations, and spent his time making sure his trail carbine was in proper working order. He'd push the lever towards the tip of the barrel and pull it back towards the butt as slowly as he possibly could, listening and feeling out the action to see if there were any kinks in the motion. Nothing. After that, he made sure it was as clean as it needed to be inside. When that was over, he brought together the 10 mm submachine guns he acquired from the raiders, took them apart, and used the parts that were in best condition from either of them to make one. Looked good. After that, he set the Laser RCW in front of him and began prodding at it. The only energy weapon he was acquainted with was the pulse gun, so he had absolutely no idea what he should do with the energy weapon.
The next few days, he spent his time trying to learn as much as he could about the laser RCW. He took it apart, and then he took all the time in the world he needed to put it back together, unsure of whether or not it would work after what he had done to it. The days had blurred together between the guns, the whiskey, the music, food, and water, and before he knew it, he heard something trudging towards his door. Casey arrived, and when he did, the first thing he heard was the sound of the trail carbine's lever action, letting him know that whoever was inside was armed and ready. He smirked, because the more he knew Rem, the more he realized that the guy was actually very good at reading the psychology of an imminent gunfight. "Relax Rem, it's me."
Rem went through the usual ritual of looking through the windows to see if Casey was being held hostage. What he saw was a little surprising. Behind Casey, there was a mercenary. Cute little thing, probably in her early twenties, brandishing a Plasma Rifle. Despite the unarming details of her dainty face, she looked a little mean. It must have been her eyes. Looked like she had killed people before, and didn't have a problem with doing it again. When the door opened, Rem glanced at Casey and at his mercenary, "You made the right choice," Casey responded quickly, "Damn right I did. Just last night we were attacked by a fire gecko. She made it look easy." Rem looked behind his shoulder at the mercenary, who was glancing at him blankly. Just here on business, that was the feeling he got from her.
"If you have some radaway, I'll take at least four packs," Rem said, and Casey nodded. "That it?" Rem frowned a bit, "Haven't spent any ammo since you left. I as actually wondering if you wanted to take this thing off my hands," he went inside and came back out holding both the RCW and the 10mm submachine gun. Maybe Rem was just really damn perceptive, but he saw a twinkle. Like a star in the sky, in the corner of the mercenary's eye. He turned to look at her, "That Laser RCW doesn't look too bad. I've got one that needs repairs," she said, butting into their conversation. Rem responded promptly, "Fifty caps," she responded just as promptly, "Deal." He handed her the weapon and took the caps, turning to glance at Casey.
"Well, maybe you'll want to buy more after I've told you some news," Rem's attention was grabbed immediately, and he leaned up against the door frame to listen. "There's a new follower's outpost near Ranger Station Charlie. Know where that is?" Rem nodded, "Close to Novac." Casey nodded, "Exactly. I know someone there I owe a favor to. She patched me up once. Recently, supplies were sent their way from the Follower's Outpost in freeside, but it never arrived. They're not running low on food and water, but they don't have the supplies they need to help people in the area. They're not asking for another resupply out of fear it might get attacked again, but they're looking for someone to check out the situation. Do you wanna do some good?"
All of a sudden, Rem felt frustrated. God damn it, why? It still felt like it wouldn't make the kind of difference he was looking to make. But if not that, what? Should he stick around here, doing nothing, wasting years of his life? "I'll do it," he said, exhaling, as he leaned off the wall. "Thirty rounds for the carbine, four stimpaks, two doses of med-x, and two bottles of whiskey," he said all of this while he headed inside. When he came back out, he had his brown trench coat on, a white v-neck t shirt with a light chest plate strapped beneath, a pair of jeans, and some brown, dirty boots. He also had a duffle bag, filled with purified water, food, five hundred caps, and some of the stuff he had just purchased from Casey. After paying him, he closed the door behind him and strapped the trail carbine onto his back.
"Tell Sandra Williams I sent you." Rem nodded to Casey, "Don't come around in the next three weeks. I wont be here. See you around," when he walked past the girl, he nodded to her, and she nodded back. Casey headed in the complete opposite direction from Rem, and it didn't take too long for either of the two parties to lose sight of one another. "Who is he?" asked the girl, and Casey responded. "His name's Rem. Ex NCR. He's the one that saved my ass from the raiders." When the girl heard the words NCR, she sneered. Immediately, she didn't like the guy, "A pack of raiders isn't too hard to take care of. Wont have to worry about any of that with me around."
It hadn't been long since he had traveled in the wasteland, but it had been a long, long time since he had traveled a long distance like this. Regardless of that, he felt so very familiar with the terrain, and with every aspect of it. The harsh sand, the barrel cacti here and there, the possibility that in the near distance there might be danger, and most imposing, the raging sun in the sky. Man, it was hot, ridiculously so, but he had brought along more than enough water with him. What he knew best about traveling was that he had to do everything, like be vigilant and watch his step, thoroughly but calmly as well. If he stressed himself, he'd sweat more, he'd need to drink more water, and he'd have to spend more caps along the way than he should.
He found a traveling merchant at some point in time and bought bandages from him, along with a pair of tweezers, and he also found an enclosed, abandoned establishment with mattresses inside. He took one to the roof and slept there, got himself the rest he needed, and continued onward at night. At night, it was different. It wasn't hot anymore, but the night had tendency of hiding things from view, so he was a lot more attentive. It was the trade off for it no longer being hot, even if the cold state of the wasteland was a bit of a problem as well. The trench coat did a great job of keeping him warm, however, and so did the activity of walking the entire way. Eventually, his attentiveness caught something in the distance ahead. Something fluttered.
Rem began looking for places around that were higher than normal, and he found a gas station, so he moved towards that. When he reached it, he used a car to climb up onto the roof, and from there, he crawled to one edge of the roof. He looked ahead and saw three Cazadores, fluttering from left to right quickly and abruptly. His fingers itched when he saw them, and he even smiled a bit. Coyotes, night stalkers, geckos of any sort, and even Deathclaws, were easy to snipe because they were either larger or they didn't move around much unless something was bothering them. Cazadores and Bloatflies, however, were a whole different deal. Cazadores crawled from left to right incessantly despite their ability to fly, looking for something to prey on, and Bloatflies fluttered in the air like small leaves, nearly impossible to snipe. This was the best sport, however, and he was halfway ready to begin target practice before his practical side took over. Might need the ammo later. Besides, there'll be a return trip.
After pulling away from there, he began traveling a different way, putting distance between himself and the Cazadores, and avoided them entirely pretty easily.
It was five am when he arrived. A couple of minutes past, actually, and when he got there, he made sure to hold his hands up for the guards to see. When they saw that he was arriving peacefully, they let him get close. "Hey, welcome to the Followers Outpost. You hurt?" Rem shook his head, lowering his hands to his sides as he did, "No, I'm here for a job. I heard you guys are having a supply problem." The guard nodded, and he was just about to open the door to the outpost when it opened by itself. A blond with her hair pulled back and rolled into a neat bun stepped out. She was in her late thirties, likely, and she wore glasses. She also had a beauty mark above the left corner of her lips. "Who told you?" she asked, with a voice that commanded respect.
Rem glanced up at her from where he was standing, because he'd have had to climb a ladder to get up there. "Sandra, I presume?" The blond nodded, "Casey sent me. The merchant," when she heard the name, her eyebrows rose and she smiled. "Ah, Casey. Yes, did he pay you, too?" Rem shook his head, "Nope. I'm flexible though. If not caps, then medical supplies. If not medical supplies, then a future favor, but medical attention once the errand is complete is a must." Sandra put her hands on her hips, displeased and pleased with Casey all at the same time, and she smiled after a while, "Well, we've got a small amount of medical supplies, but we should be able to provide help with what we have when you get back. We don't have too many caps, so it'll have to be a . . . favor," the way she said the final word sounded odd. Intriguing, actually. She was hitting on him.
"Favor it is," he responded, "Now, can you give me the details on the errand?" Sandra raised an eyebrow, "You're not going alone, are you?" Rem nodded, simply, and that was it. Sandra looked a little less impressed all of a sudden, "We're not looking for someone to die on our account." Rem responded sharply, "I'm doing this on my account. Give me the details, please." She didn't say a thing for a while, but when she realized that he wasn't just going to sigh in defeat and ask her nicely, she gave in instead. "The supply was coming along the northwest, over there. They radioed in from one of our safehouses and it shouldn't have taken them another day to get here, so they have to be somewhere between there and here. I'll give you the coordinates of the safe house." She climbed down the ladder, turned to him, and handed him a paper. He took it gently and looked it over, "I'd like to get some sleep and head off at noon." Sandra nodded, "Sure thing. We have bunk beds up there."
Once he was inside, he saw that there were five injured people in the care of the doctors. Two of them were young teens, and the others were adults. They were in stable condition but they needed more attention, which would take up medical supplies that'd be gone soon. So, he didn't waste much time getting into bed. When he did, he took his hat off and placed it over his face. The duffle bag was placed under the bed and the rifle rested on the bed beside him, too. Didn't take him long to fall asleep. Trekking the way he had took a lot out of someone.
Rem slept peacefully, and he even had a dream. The dream was about Santa Clarita, and the days during which it was a relatively safe place to be in. He dreamt up his mother and father, his then girlfriend, and a lot of other things that were good about those days. But when he woke up, he felt someone standing over him. At first, he was scared, but then he heard the sounds of the outpost. Doctors talking amongst one another, patients talking, all in the background, so whoever was standing there couldn't be someone he had to worry about. He removed his hat from his face and looked up to see a pair of hazel eyes staring down at him. One of the young patients, with bandages wrapped around her head. They locked eyes and neither of them said anything for a couple of seconds.
"Sir," she began, "Are you going to get us the supplies?" Rem sat up, turned his body to face her, and responded in kind, "Yup. When I'm done, the Freeside outpost will be clear to send you guys some supplies." The little girl smiled, and Rem placed his hand on her shoulder. He would have placed it on her carpet of black hair, but he knew it'd probably hurt her head. He had to wonder what may have happened to her but honestly, it'd be a little cruel to ask a little girl to explain it. So instead, he put his hat on, grabbed his trail carbine, and stood up from the bed. After putting on the brown trench coat, he glanced at the girl and said, "Don't cause any trouble around here and everything will be alright." She nodded fervently, "Yes sir." She watched him head out the door with a duffle bag on his back.
When he reached the floor after climbing down the ladder, he looked around, stared into the distance in every direction, and settled his gaze on his destination. He saw a wall of hills, some larger than the others, and that was where the safehouse was. It was a good place because wherever in there it was, it was hidden among the hills. Places like those, however, could become inhabited with a slew of creatures, so he figured it must've been the work of some local wildlife. That is, if in fact they did get attacked. Plenty of times, he had heard about supply crews taking off with the supplies they'd been asked to transport, and it was possible that it might have happened here, too. Well, he'd find out soon, he thought, as he began walking.
It was a little difficult to find a trail to climb places like these. A lot of the time, they were a pain. Horribly inconvenient because he couldn't reach every plateau in sight, and if it just so happened that he had to kill some geckos to get around a mountain to find something on the other side, there was nothing he could do about it, and right now, he didn't want to make a noise. At this point, both the duffle bag and the trail carbine were on his back, which was inconvenient, because he knew he was likely in for a fight soon. In the case that he encountered something, he'd have to draw his weapon, which made him a little slower to respond, even though he trusted his noose tying abilities. All he had to do is pull on one string to loosen the weapon, pull it over his shoulder, and begin retaliation. But what if he was on a hill? Firing while he had to make sure he didn't lose his footing was uncomfortable.
When he reached a point in these mountains where there was flat ground, he kept himself low and surveyed the area. All he saw was the wind blowing, and no traces of any creatures. Good, he thought, as he pulled out the piece of paper and followed the coordinates. After a half hour of climbing around, he ended up above the safehouse. A wooden establishment, lonely as can be, but the door was wide open. Yeah, this wasn't a safehouse anymore. He stayed there for a few minutes, silent as can be, listening for anything that might be inside. Didn't seem like anything, but to make sure, he picked up a rock and tossed it at the roof. Thud, silence, nothing. So, he slid down the side of the hill and landed beside the safe house. He pressed up against the wall, tugged the noose for the trail carbine, and drew the weapon over his shoulder. He let himself become engrossed in the moment.
Those steps were utterly silent, nothing to be heard, not even sand crunching under his boots. He made sure his breathing was steady and not louder than usual, and he never sighed. When he reached one of the windows, he leaned in so very slowly, and looked inside for two seconds. When he pulled back, he knew he didn't see anything in there. He lowered below the window, grabbed his trench coat with one hand, and made sure it didn't drag too noisily on his way to the door. When he got there, he turned his body straight into it, held his rifle up, and saw something that chilled him to the bone. The place was a damn blood bath, but there wasn't anyone there. Just blood, on the floor, on the walls, on the mattresses, everywhere. Looked like something night stalkers or deathclaws might do. He lowered his rifle and stepped further in, scrunched his nose at the smell, and looked at the walls again.
"What the fuck?" Oh," he saw bullet holes, but for a moment, he had confused himself. Thought that whatever had done it had used bullets, but those were likely fired from the weapons of the Followers. Yeah, whatever did this must have been local wild life. There were no body parts left, so whatever it was had probably dragged its food back to its home, which was likely a cave tucked away somewhere in these hills. While he was walking, he knelt down and picked up a bullet case. 5.56mm rounds were fired, likely from some kind of rifle. Could have been a varmint rifle or an assault rifle of some kind. He let it fall to the floor and turned around, and just after he had looked past one important detail, he looked back at it. The radio, perfect.
They heard a voice at the outpost. "This is Rem, calling in about the supply situation." There was a pause but before long, he heard Sandra's voice. "Yes? What'd you find." Rem responded quickly, turning to face the door as he did, to make sure nothing would sneak up. "The Followers were attacked inside the safe house. Probably happened when one of them opened the door. Looks like it was some local wild life, but there are no corpses to be found. They put up a fight though, bullets everywhere." The moment he said that, his eyes settled on something else. Another bullet case, "Give me a sec." He paced towards it, knelt down, picked it up, and looked at it. It was a 10mm bullet case, which he concluded on his way back to the radio.
"Yeah, so that's the situation," Sandra nodded on the other side, looking definitely affected by the loss of people she knew. "Alright, listen, I need you to check something. There's a wardrobe cabinet on the west side of the safehouse. Move it. There's a hatch underneath. Tell me if the supplies are there." Rem responded, "Got it." He moved towards the cabinet and gently pushed it aside, making sound that he didn't really want to make. When he revealed the hatch, he lowered and opened it. There it was, the supply cache. He closed the hatch, pushed the cabinet over it again, and went to the radio, "Yeah, it's there. Stroke of genius, whoever came up with that." She responded, "Thank goodness." He heard her sigh, and before she could say anything else, he added, "Send one of the guards with a brahmin to wait for me at the base of the mountain where the safehouse is. When I'm done clearing out whatever's infested the place, I'll have him help me bring the cache down and we'll use the brahmin to transport it back." For Sandra, it felt like all of a sudden, things were looking up. Rem was starting to seem more and more like the godsend she'd been hoping for, "Okay." Rem added, "Send him in three hours."
A lot of people were around Sandra at the time, listening in on the radio. They seemd a little uplifted despite the fact that they had heard the supply crew was gone. "Oh, do you have any idea what kinds of weapons the Followers were carrying?" One of the other Followers responded before Sandra could, "I'll see if I can contact the outpost in Freeside." Rem heard it and nodded, before he started pacing around. As he stepped around, slowly, he nudged matresses aside with his foot, a curtain, and he found two weapons. A 10 mm submachine gun and a fully automatic assault rifle. There they are. Now, if they match, the situation's clear, he moved towards the radio and picked it up, "Get an answer yet? I have an assault rifle and a 10mm submachine gun." The Follower that radioed the Freeside outpost responded, "We're not getting a response right now. It's been like this for about six hours, haven't been able to fix it." Rem nodded, "Alright. Well, that's that. Time for me to get going. Rem out."
He set the radio phone down and headed out the door.
The Follower stood there, beside Sandra, silently. Then they heard static on the radio, and a voice, "This is the Freeside outpost. Do you read?" Sandra's assisant responded quickly, "Yes we read. What's going on?" The others responded, "Radio trouble. Just got it fixed. We could hear you but you couldn't hear us. Regarding the weapons question, each of the three members of the supply crew was carrying a 10 mm submachine gun." Sandra's eyes widened, she picked up the radio immediately, and yelled into it, "Rem! Rem!" By then, Rem was far enough away that he couldn't hear it. "Damn it!" she yelled, and then things went silent there. The idea that this bit of information could end up killing Rem frightened them, and not only could he die, but their hopes of retrieving the supply cache could be gone, too.
Rem walked along a dirt path, making sure he didn't lose his footing, and began his search for a cavern. Wherever there was a cavern nearby, he'd find the creatures responsible for this.