Chapter 5: Separation
Argus and Bell walk away from the gas station, both unsure of what the day would bring.
"What the hell am I doing?" Bell thought, "I should never have agreed to this; I'm such an idiot! He'll probably just kill me at the nearest opportunity." She sighed, trying not to put her head in her hands. She only hopes that he's either far enough away to shoot when things inevitably fall apart.
Argus stays silent, scanning the area for threats. He missed his spear, only having the knife Coyote left him that morning. Glancing at his now possibly-maybe squadmate who had her head in her hands, that was not a safe way to keep lookout, but maybe that's how the NCR operated. What he did know was how the Legion operated, and what he needed to do.
Or rather, what he couldn't do.
"I can't go back to the Legion; they'd kill me, and if they killed me then the Tribe would be at the mercy of the Legion. But if I stay, then they'd presume I deserted. What do I do about this?" He looked at his charge. She'd manage to recover from whatever fatigue she'd had and kept her head on a swivel. She was small, well, smaller than the other NCR troops he'd seen and was light even for her height. She was weak, and in need.
His ribs chose to twinge, invoking a sharp pain he barely kept concealed.
…She might not be the only one who needed help.
"Whatever happens, I must get her to safety. Hopefully that is soon."
They soon arrived at the battle scene, the hot desert sun at noon creating a blistering heat to go with the smell of rotting flesh. Bodies were strewn everywhere, a mix of green and red uniforms lying in the barren wastes. In the middle lay a curious sight. A Deathclaw lay still, with talons piercing two bodies laying on top, one red and the other green.
"So he did manage to kill it." Argus muttered, a little awed. Not many could claim to have seen a Deathclaw, much less live to tell the tale. To have taken one to the grave… it was extraordinary.
Bell glanced over his way, wondering what he said. She kept a eye out for danger as they drew closer.
Argus stepped towards the corpses. As he grew closer, he saw that the Sergeant wore the Decaniis' helm, and that the Decanii wore an NCR trooper helmet. With a snort he moved towards the Deathclaw.
It was huge, taller than anything he'd ever seen even in death. Its horns curved forward with a wicked twist as it seemed to bellow silent defiance even to the end.
He blinked and a shiver went down his spine. The sand howled in the wind rushing past.
It almost looked like the glazed, lifeless eyes stared at him, now.
"I almost forgot," Bell butted into his thoughts, "What exactly did happen? I remember being thrown by the Deathclaw but not much else."
Argus continued looking at the Deathclaw, ignoring her. She huffed slightly and went about scanning the area, trying to piece together the scene. She wished she had been awake for more of it, but there was nothing to be done about it.
"So… Murphey and Dan went down here, and Smith fell with two legionnaires. Okay, so what about the rookie?"
She looked and saw him. He lay hacked to pieces, a machete in his gut while a legionnaire lay next to him.
"Dear God," she breathed. It must have been excrutiating. None of the other wounds were terrible, but he would have been left bleeding out over hours, too weak to do anything as he lay dying.
She took off her helmet, holding it over her heart as she tried to stop the tears from falling.
Pete was his name, and he'd been shipped out a month ago. They'd quickly become friends, Bell and him, as he reminded her all about the goings-on in the Hub. In fact, Bell could have said that about all her squad. They'd been safe, relatively, and she'd been sure that he'd be able to survive his tour and get back to his sweetheart.
Not anymore.
She wiped her face, trying to clean off as best she could. She glanced towards Argus who was looking at her with a blank face.
"You got something to say?" she snapped
Argus shook his head quickly, and got back to doing… something with the Deathclaw.
Bell pulled her mouth cover over and turned away.
It was time to get the dog-tags.
Argus wished he had a cloth to cover his face. The smell was terrible
He lifted up the left leg of the Deathclaw and with a grunt moved it aside.
"Let's see. Grandmother said to watch for the color of the skin... dark tan, so an adult, and also the blood trails near the... Oh. So, an Alpha then. Recently sired a nest as well."
"Any particular reason you're staring at a Deathclaw crotch?" Bell asked. She was finally done with her task. 4 bloody chains lay in her breast pocket.
"Confirmation." Argus said simply, as he got up from the corpse. He turned around and quickly pulled out a small bottle from the kit he carried, washing his hands with it.
Bell waited for him to continue and gave in to her curiosity when he didn't, "Confirmation on what?"
Argus cocked his head and was silent for a bit before responding, "If there's a nest around."
Bell tilted her head. "How'd you do that? Legion voodoo?"
Argus chuckled as his mind brought back a memory.
A year ago, as they'd been marching towards the Mojave, Argus had insisted on stopping the group.
The Decanii had been seconds away from making an example of the stubborn initiate, before smirking.
"Very well then. Recruits, on me. We'll scout around the area. Our newest has kindly offered to set up camp for the night, including dinner."
Loud cheers rang out, and the rest of the group dumped their gear at Argus' feet. He kept his head low, ears burning even as he wanted to shout at the man.
But one never shouted at the Decanii. One did not talk at all.
The Legion does not speak, only act.
So Argus let them go, unable to tell them about the Cazador moltings he'd spotted on the way here. He set about getting the Decanii's tent and started a cooking fire, deciding on a simple bean and bone soup.
So it was that when the Decanii came back, frothing at the mouth and carried by the rest of the Legionnaries (some of which also had wounds.) Argus already had a place to lay him.
After he administered a antivenom he'd kept in his pack, he'd gotten the same question from a Legionnaire
"What was that magic you used?"
"Nothing more than my eyes." Argus replied.
Bell raised an eyebrow. "Right. Well if you're worried about nests, there's Dead Wind Cavern to the south of here. The Rangers have reported at least 3 nests near there."
Argus stared at her dead in the eye. "You let Deathclaws nest so close to towns?" he said coldly.
Bell stared back. "If we didn't have to fight you, it wouldn't be there. I'm sure you have your own issues back East."
Argus shook his head. "Not Raiders. Not Deathclaws. All are purged before it is claimed. Perhaps your chiefs should be more cautious about how far you reach before securing your homes."
"I don't want to hear that from the group who burned down a town after it wanted to join them. You ever heard of Nipton?" Bell shot back.
Argus lowered his eyes. Of course he knew about Nipton. That raid had been legendary. A whole town, sacked in a single night without a casualty.
Taken by Vulpes Inculta, through manipulation and lies, was the whispers of the legionnaires. Taken without honor, nor praise to Mars. Godless.
"...Yes, I do." Argus said. "Would you really have wanted them there, if they were so willing to throw away your protection?"
Bell opened her mouth to argue, but no words came. There had been rumors, sure, of NCR troopers seeing fellows in red jerseys while going to the town for a "visit". She'd heard all about it when she had been assigned at the Mojave Outpost, before being transferred to the Sarge's recon patrol. Many wanted to just take the town, or at least establish a stakeout there as the rumors became more frequent.
Now it was too late, and Bell had a bad taste left in her mouth from the silence.
Bell took in a deep breath, and sighed. "I... don't know. I can't make that call. Look, let's just get this over with. You have everything you need?"
Argus nodded, pausing to pick up an abandoned spear and hefted it into his hand. He grunted in satisfaction; it was good to have it back in his hand. He rolled it over in his hand.
The wooden shaft was freshly oiled, the wood slick with a sheen as Argus whispered a prayer.
He took the small knife out of it's sheathe and began to whittle, jagged symbols coming into being.
Thoughts of home sprung to his mind, his Grandmother most of all. Lessons as he learned about the ways of the written script, and about the movement of the stars.
A line became pronounced, straight as the shaft allowed it to be. The grounding rod. Perilous to those who would choose to defy the order of things.
The knife twisted in his hand, moved in a rhythm he did not set. Down, curve and chip. slash and cut upward.
Ah, the bow. Only a part of what made the whole. Necessary in the hunt, but more so in life.
Argus felt himself slip away, and he drove the knife stronger than he thought possible. The next cut would be deep, smooth.
Up and curve, hook. Slash down and start again, above the last. Slash down, and end.
He felt a prick, and his eyes opened. He stared at the new symbol. A crook and a line. One he had not seen.
One filled with his blood. The way was opened. What did it mean?
The weathered wood looked back at him. It was the first spear he had made, and still the unknown glyph looked back at him, scarred and reddened. Unsolved.
Bell came over as he nestled the spear on his shoulder. "You're not going to take anything else? Not even a gun?" She asked curiously. She had grabbed the dog tags, as was required, but also bundled up the remaining guns, ammo and salary.
Something to help pay for a pine box, at least. If there was anything to even collect later.
Argus shook his head. "I'm not a good shot." He grunted. Bell shrugged.
Bell struggled to contain a laugh. "So the guy who can throw a spear says he's a bad shot? Whatever."
They trotted off, heading towards the base.
Argus dismissed the shrill wind by his ear and covered it roughly.
Later, around 5pm. Ranger Station Charlie
They were farther down the train tracks to the south of the station, Argus remaining concealed in a rock cropping nearby.
Bell knew something was wrong, even this far away from the station. No one was watching the tracks. A crude, mobile junk wall on tires was locked and chained in place in front of the sandbags leading to the front of the station.
"Something's up. Keep on the look out."
Argus nodded and pulled out his spear, crouching down.
Bell kept talking to herself. "Bravo should still be at the base, unless they went out searching for us. But that's against protocol, and there ain't no way in hell Jim is going to put up with that. Where are they? The gate's closed, at least. Good thing I got the key from... shit! I forgot the key!"
"So what shall we do?" Argus asked.
"We?" Bell looked over at him, confused. "We don't need to do anything. You got me here, alright? Your part in this thing is done. I'll wait near the gate for them to return. No one's stupid enough to come near a NCR base."
"Except for me" Argus thought grimly.
Argus blinked. He slowly stood up and away from Bell. "Understood."
He turned and started making his was back where they came from, picking his way across the tracks.
Bell looked on, her mind prodding her as she watched him leave.