Chapter 7
Helmoot was the closest, and ran to where Cuddles had been. He looked up at the others shaking his head, "Wire's gone; well his boots are still here, but he's gone."
Glen looked around them picked up a piece of the submachine gun; it was scrap. He tossed it onto the Deathclaw carcass and said, "Let's see if we can get into that place before more of them show up."
Helmoot picked up the rocket launcher and rejoined the others. The doors were solid. Ice peered through a new hole in the wooden fence where the Deathclaw had been. Your pet is down the hill looking for you. She looked up the wall. There was an open window above one of the four truck bays.
"Helmoot, come give me a hand." she said.
Helmoot and Ice knelt, and held the rocket launcher between them; she looked at Glen, "Think you can reach the ledge?"
Glen steadied himself against the wall and stepped onto the weapon. William helped lift him up the side of the building. The window was well out of reach; they lowered him back down.
"There were rows of 2nd story windows in the back," said Glen, "and a couple of dumpsters. Let's try to get there before the Deathclaw comes back."
They hustled back out through the hole in the building wall, crouching and keeping an eye on the Deathclaw below among the ruined houses. They left the land mines where they were in case it came back. At the back of the building, they climbed onto the dumpsters and used the missile launcher again. It was just beyond his reach. Glen dismounted his sniper rifle and hooked the pistol grip onto the window ledge. He slowly put weight on the gun; it held. He pulled himself up the side of the building, throwing an arm over the window sill, and hoisted himself up. He peered inside before he clambered in.
Above the crew, Glen looked out the window in the direction of the ruined village but couldn't see any immediate danger.
"Keep an eye out for that Deathclaw," Glen said. "I'll be right back."
They saw him disappear as his footsteps ran off inside.
"You've gotta be shittin' me." Helmoot said to Ice, just as a fire hose unfurled and bounced off his head.
With everyone inside, they checked out the second floor. Beams of light, from the dilapidated roof, lit a faint cloud of dust they had stirred up. They carefully walked across the old floor, avoiding gaps where the rain had rotted through to lower levels.
"In here," said Ice. The others walked into the mob bay of beds, where all but one were vacant. There was a skeleton in the bed surrounded by packs, supplies. A grappling hook and rope lay nearby on the floor.
William picked up a journal off the table and flipped through the pages, then handed it to Ice.
"He was a vendor." She said, and flipped to the last entry. "He got trapped and sick; I guess help never came."
Glen looked through his clothes on a chair and found a large diagram. He opened it, showed it to Ice, and then put it in his shirt. They checked his bags and found some useful supplies including cans of food and some water. Against the wall were two assault rifles, and boxes of ammo in the vendor's bags.
They stood looking at the vendor for several seconds without saying anything then turned to search the rest of the building. They walked down the stairs and found a kitchen, showers, toilets, storage, and a maintenance room. It had several oxygen tanks, masks, spare valves and other equipment.
Glen picked up a valve and looked at it, then dropped it back onto the workbench. He said to Helmoot, "Have a look at this crap and see if we wasted our time."
"It would have been handy to have Wire around for this; " Helmoot said. "I'll do what I can."
William was looking at the only remaining truck still in its stall. The wax had curled up like a dry lake bed, revealing the oxidation of the red paint underneath. It sat on tires that looked more like cactus plants with all their frayed split treads, and rusted metal strands. He saw Ice walk in.
"Can you give me a hand with this?" He said. He walked over to a ladder on the side of the truck.
They lifted it off the hooks and William led them upstairs to the upper windows. They tested the locks as they extended it on the floor.
"It'll be a lot easier than that grappling hook." Ice said. "Let's check on Helmoot."
"Is anything salvageable Helmoot?" Ice asked.
"There's a pump here." He said. "I'm trying to clamp a crank off the truck's siren to the pulley. If it works, we can try filling the tanks. There was a complete setup for a mask in the stack. I'll assemble some more the same way."
"Sounds like a plan; good job." Ice said. "I'll see if I can scrape some food together. Can you give me a hand William?"
"Sure, I hope we're having canned food, I don't want to know what Deathclaw tastes like."
"Nobody eats Deathclaw. Molerat you can choke down, but Deathclaw tries to eat its way back out. Unless you're packing a big supply of bog roll, you should avoid it."
They sat on the beds after eating, thinking about the next day's journey. Hopefully it would be a better day. They had lost Wire, but they felt locked on a course they had to see through. There had been too much scraping by, too little food, too many endless battles. In a matter of a week, they were down to half their number. They needed a big score, before the Wastes whittled them down to nothing.
As daylight broke, the ladder eased out of the window. In a few minutes they had the supplies down and the ladder stashed. Never know when a good hiding place might come in handy.
Packing the heavy gear was no easy task. Everyone packed their own gear including a fireman's suit. William had to sell them on the suits, explaining the gas may work on your skin too. They had to leave their armor and use the Wastelander clothes they kept as backup. The armor was just another 15 pounds on top of the gear, guns, and bullets.
The sun had been up about 20 minutes and they had made it halfway across the valley towards the Scrapyard. That's when they saw it.
"We've got company!" Helmoot said from the rear. They turned and looked back and saw the Deathclaw some distance back. It had picked up their scent, and it was limping in their direction.
"The rest of you keep moving;" Glen said. "Helmoot, give me those mines and give Ice some backup, keep that guy alive. I'll catch up."
Helmoot picked up both sets of gear and headed off, as Glen rearmed the mines. He crouched and chambered a round in his sniper rifle. He watched it sniffing as it approached, scanning ahead. What they lacked in vision, they made up for in a sense of smell. When the others were far enough away Glen stood and the Deathclaw stopped. It still smelled the air and Glen was upwind this time. But it stepped forward slowly still sniffing.
"Come on you Bastard! Hey! I'm right here!" Glen yelled.
The Deathclaw started side-stepping until it couldn't smell the explosives anymore, and then it started moving forward again.
"Smart Bastard." Glen said. He stepped sideways, keeping the minefield between them. He shouldered the sniper rifle and aimed at the wounded thigh. The round tore into its flesh and it roared. It started moving towards him again, but was picking its way around the mines. Glen pulled the trigger again, but it clicked. He recharged the rifle, three more times as he backed away but it was pointless. Something had given out; the firing pin, the sear, maybe the hammer. He was holding 10 pounds of dead weight. He threw the rifle at the mine field but it fell short. He backed away faster but kept within its visual range. It limped after him, leaving the useless mines behind it.
The others looked back. Far off in the distance, Glen led the Deathclaw further south, towards the rocky hills. Helmoot dropped the gear and charged his rifle.
"No," Said Ice. "He's leading it away from us, we have to get to the vault or Wire died for nothing. Glen knows it can't climb the rock face. He'll catch up. Let's get going."
They headed out again, looking over their shoulders but soon the Deathclaw and Glen were out of sight.
