Vertville shimmered in the distance, sparkling at him like a diamond in the side of the cliffs. The effect of the hubcaps and chrome bumpers was always impressive at this distance, most people were disappointed when they came closer and found it was piles and piles of mostly rusted old cars. It had been an old scrap yard back before the war, mostly vehicles that had come there to die. They were all stacked high in long rows, neat little aisles between each, just large enough for a man to fit through.
The first wastelanders to come across it found that there was a sizable gap between the first set of cars and the cliff walls. Enough of a gap to set up meager shelters and somewhere easily defensible. More people had come and eventually the meager shelters became more sophisticated, more permanent. When they finally got around to deciding that this was a place they wanted to call home permanently they went to action.
It took several years, and many men to move the cars around. They were already crushed pretty compact so once they were taken down it was just a matter of deciding where exactly they wanted the wall placed. They decided to make a half moon against the base of the cliffs the cars were stacked more than three times as high as any man stood. The town grew quite sizably for a while, the space became packed with buildings and people, the walkways had to be raised so that people could still get around efficiently. They soon discovered that they would need more room, they had started to consider the schematics of increasing the size of their wall when they discovered that the cliffs behind them were soft enough to be carved into, but sturdy enough to hold strong.
It had been slow going at first, chipping away at the stone with crowbars and axes, but when they had discovered the power of a jack hammer things had gone much smoother. They created a sequence of caves along the ground level, and then they had thought to go higher up, more caves, more rooms. Their carving became more sophisticated as they went, carving windows that looked over the wastes, tables out of the stone. People began to move up there by choice, not so much necessity.
Eventually the caves became the residential area, and the 'flats' or the original part of town became strictly traders and local stores. Buildings were cleared out of that area to create a more open place, travelers were welcomed in, just so long as they handed over their weapons. That had all happened long before Fisher had come across it, but it was part of the town history and it was shared often over late night drinking with friends.
Fisher pulled his wagon along, a couple young molerats weighing it down. He did some of the hunting still for Heather back at the café, he wasn't young, but he refused to consider himself old yet. The old pain in his thigh still bothered him with each step, he told himself he just needed to warm it up was all, he'd been telling himself that for 20 years now. Molerat wasn't the best, but it was meat, and it was locally found. Anything more than half a day travel from town Fisher just bought from the traders who came by fairly regularly, being a merchant himself he was effective at getting himself a deal.
He hooked up the wagon to his shoulder straps and hoisted it along the path on his way home, it didn't take him longer than an hour or two to get there. It always seemed deceptively close on the flat plain that made up most of the surrounding area, the only change of pace was the butte that he called home. He had climbed up to the top once, in younger more foolish days, it was a difficult way up, he had nearly fallen several times when he finally reached the top the view had floored him. He had decided that this was the place he would settle, no more vagabonding and stealing, he would become an honest man in this town.
That had been a long time ago, he sighed at the memory and squinted up at the top of the cliffs, he had promised himself he would go back one day, but never had. Responsibilities had a way of sneaking up on a man. He waited at the front gates for the bridge to come down, they had built themselves a moat with shards of rusted metal and glass to greet whoever might fall in. It groaned as it was cranked down on cables to meet the ground.
"Heya Fish!" One of the men at the controls called over while he worked. Fisher had lived in Vertville a long time now, had seen many of the inhabitants age from young kids to grown folk. It was a comforting thought in a world that had seen so much gone wrong. He nodded his greeting and pulled his cart across the bridge and down the main drag to one of the sturdier looking buildings near the end. 'Chevy Café and Supplies" was painted across the front of the building in meticulous and bold red letters. Fisher had been a scrapper and a scavenger for a long while before he came here, and found he couldn't quite stop himself when it was time to settle down. So he had satisfied himself with searching for car emblems in the expansive junkyard that still surrounded much of the town. He had found mostly chevy, and had polished up the ones that could be convinced and started to plaster the walls with them. The whole inside of the café looked as though it were some kind of crazy memorial. He wheeled the wagon around the backside of the building where there was a larger sliding door that he managed to wheel the cart through. Closing the door behind him he was startled by a cheerful voice.
"Thought that was you I heard. How was the pickings?" Heather grinned in her open way, her hands stuffed in her overalls and kitchen grease smeared over her forehead where she had tried to brush some of her auburn hair away from her face.
"Molerat and more molerat. I'm not really surprised though, so pretty good. We have any customers?" He asked her as he worked on hauling one of the monsters over to the hooks where he hung them for butchering.
"Yep, coming just as regular as no rain. Haven't seen Gabe yet though, weren't you expecting him?"
Fisher smiled a little inwardly, the girl was as subtle as a brick. "Soon I'm sure. Are you letting them steal my goods while you're back here yakking?" He gave her a sharp look but it was meant in good fun.
"Alright, alright. You want anything cooked up since I'll be slaving away anyway?" She put the back of her hand up against her head as though she were preparing to faint but she still had the silly grin on her face.
"No, that's alright." He smiled. "Go on now, I've got some gutting to do."