Queen's note: Someone needs hug Codsworth, and/or ask him about all his plants and pretty flowers!
Welcome to the Wasteland
Chapter Thirty:
Sanctuary
"I'm still surprised we have time to do this." The older woman sighed as she ran a hand through her hair. Marcy looked up at movement, trying to find where it was, only to find that Preston seemed to have been watching it already. It almost looked like a dog, only more brown than black that was a little more common.
There was a soft canine whine before the dog ran off, spotting the bulk that was the bull moose walking uphill behind the group.
"There's enough hands to get things done." Preston smiled, lingering to let the last two catch up to them. After clearing the school it was nice to walk.
Okay after the cart ride over some rough terrain it was nice to walk around. To stretch his legs and back at their current relaxed pace.
A chuffing-like greeting came from the right hand road before the Red Rocket building. Getting Lana and Mary's attention, the two moved over from on saddleback to see if the Brahmin was alone or with a trader.
"Off they go again," Sturges laughed, keeping pace with Jake in the front of the group. "I should have gotten up there."
"Too late now!" Jake laughed, pausing to let Marcy and Preston get up the hill. "Did you see the dog?"
"Thought I heard one." Marcy sighed, scanning the Rocket stop. "Didn't see them though."
"Pretty boy," Jake noted, pointing in the direction the dog had run off to, "Took off that way, but you can sort of see him sitting between those two bushes. Whoever he belongs to, he was well cared for."
Sturges was peering in that direction, giving a friendly whistle to try and coax the dog back over. Seeing a head tilt from the bushes, but no move to come closer. Before he left past the Red Rocket stop, Sturges pointedly tossed a chunk of jerky to the side of the building.
"Why bother? It might not be able to be tamed at all." Marcy half asked, more demanded as she marched up the hill.
"Why not? Also, why not ask that same thing to Abernathys and Lana's group about us." Sturges tossed back as he moved into step with Preston. "Miss Marcy, you're snapping at me when you have no reason to."
Jake leveled a look at the younger woman beside him, much like he had done countless times to his own great-great grandchildren over the years. That look that would always be more devastating than hatred.
Disapproval from someone that you liked.
Marcy made it three paces before a sigh escaped and she stopped a moment. Running her hands over her head and through her hair. "I'm sorry Sturges. I'm not mad at you… I don't know what I'm mad at right now."
"I know," Jake said, clasping Marcy's shoulder, "When you're ready we'll talk about it. But for now don't forget your husband's safe at the farm showing the kids how to plant split beans."
Marcy hesitated, but was pulled along by the ghoul to keep walking. As they approached a broken bridge as the sound of hooves came trotting up behind them. When she peeked back, she saw that there was no tension in Sturges' shoulders or stance. Why was that young man too good to not keep not holding things against people?
"Found a friend?" Preston asked, laughing at the semi small brahmin that was hurrying to keep up with Buck.
"It's a young bull!" Mary announced in delight, glancing at the brahmin that still had a lot of its fur but for some patches on its back. How ever he was mostly a darker, almost swirling mottling brown and black colors. Both heads had a more golden brown curl over his noses, in the almost same pattern despite one head being distinctly smaller and lulling off to the side and down.
"Other then the secondary head having an issue, he looks in pretty good condition." Jake stepped back, hands held out for both the brahmin and Buck. The moose giving a sniff more to Jake's shoulder and the main head of the Brahmin leaned forward to inspect. Despite the confusion it had, and some alarm being lassoed and pulled along with the moose, his black ears were flicking with interest. The secondary head also twitched to start sniffing, as if trying to smell as well.
"I think he got stung by some bloatflies." Mary shifted, using her cane to point to the shoulders and then back hip of the brahmin. "Might be why his second head is flopping."
"I see it." Preston slung his rifle up on his shoulder, thankful he had gloves on as he moved to the brahmin's right side. "Yeah it's recent it looks like, aaah… can you guys hold up one of his front legs? I can cut the pouch and get the larva out before it goes any deeper and start making the muscle necrotic."
"I got it," Jake volunteered, as he knew he might be the strongest person present, before stooping he pointedly pulled Marcy to be able to control the Brahmin's main head.
"Here," Lana tossed one of her hunting and butchery knives to Sturges. The man quiet happy it seemed to pause the adventure.
The brahmin luu-ed as the infection spot was pressed, quickly slit and pressed again to get the insect larva out. He tried to flail. Between Buck being an immovable wall and Jake bracing and flexing to keep one of the young bull's left leg up to be just off balance enough. Preston cut off the dead skin in the bare patch, and expertly got rid of any possible eggs as well. He moved much faster than even Sturges expected, getting not only the two spots Mary had seen from mooseback. Preston found other spots with unhatched eggs on the belly and right side.
"Damn," Sturges glanced at the larva on the ground, "How did you learn to do this Preston?"
"It's the second thing we had to learn with the Minutemen," Preston cleaned Lana's knife with the grass and then a sandy spot. Making sure there was nothing left on the blade before passing it back up, "Make sure to put the blade in a fire for about ten minutes."
"That was well practiced." Lana accepted the knife handle, wrapping the blade to stash in a saddle bag to disinfect later.
"Like I said before." Preston pulled his gloves off carefully, as that fluid from the larva was on them for the same reason. To disinfect later. "A lot of people underestimate how fast a bloatfly, or stingwing, bites and infections can get. This guy should be okay in a few weeks. Tomorrow I'll look at him and make sure there wasn't anything I missed."
"Poor boy," Jake was standing back up, only dropping the foot after the young bull had calmed down some. He smiled and rubbed around the ears and horns of the brahmin to comfort and distract as Marcy made a rope halter with what he had been looped yet. He smiled up at Mary next, "Got a name for him?"
"Nothing yet, any ideas?" The young woman hocked on arm around Lana before leaning down, using her cane to scratch at the spot between the necks.
"Considering I named my bull moose Buck…" Lana giggled, shifting to counterbalance her friend in the saddle.
"How about Angus?" Sturges offered, tilting his head, "At least for a temporary name? That was a cow breed back before the war right?"
Jake snorted, glancing at the pale young man, arching an eye ridge. "Yeah, it was, and this boy does look like he was descended from the angus beef line."
"There, he's secured now." Marcy said, stepping back before she got too attached to another animal. The little single headed brahmin were enough! "Maybe we might find something for those wounds in Sanctuary."
"Yeah, but airing out shouldn't be bad." Preston nodded, making a note to make sure no other bloatflies got too close. "Or rinsing him in the stream."
"I think it should be fine until we get home with some hot water and antiseptic." Lana eyed the slow moving water they could hear more, and just started to see.
"True enough," Preston smiled, no need for added chances of infection or stressing the young bull more. "I see the bridge ahead, you might not make it on Buck though."
"We'll take the lower path." Lana said, getting Buck to move to their right again. Before the aged metal statue of a man with an ancient rifle, when the land slopped easier instead of the rocks to the left.
Jake diverted and moved behind them, in case they needed help with the brahmin. It just took a bit of clapping loudly to get him to make the last hop into the water.
"Its…surprisingly pretty here." Marcy admitted as she walked onto the old wood of the bridge first. Keeping one eye and ear on the wood, so to say. But the surviving wood was surprisingly not that rotten. "It's greener than Quincy. More flowers too."
"It is a nice place for sure," Lana said as she scanned around, feeling Mary nod behind her as Buck walked through the stream, the lead rope for the brahmin in one hand.
"Definitely needs work." Sturges noted, the man slightly regretting his choice to walk over the bridge as he was picking his way over the narrow spot after Marcy. "Jake? Can this be saved?"
"I think so," the lucid ghoul said from below. The scared man walked through the shallower spots in the water, getting a better look at the bridge's supports. "As you said, it needs work."
"The dead trees need clearing," Marcy noted from where she was standing at the entrance to the old community with Preston, "But… they looked aged enough to be fire wood, or could be aged by winter."
"The hard wood should be usable." Jake pointed out as he made it to the far shore, on the left side of the bridge for him. Lana and Mary taking a farther right hand way to go up and around to take a look around the park like space.
Sturges was the first to spot the optics and eye stalks of the only local resident. He nudged his friend and lifted an arm as Jake walked back up, "Hello there!"
There was a slight hesitation before the old but still in decent shape Mr Handy came out from his hiding spot behind a flowering shrub. "Hello Misters and Misses?"
The voice was a heartbreaking mix of surprised warry-hope to Marcy. It reminded her of her husband's broken heart, how he wanted to trust and hope in others but was still too scared to do so. It took a lot of effort over this time and, admittedly, the younger girls helping...and him having the quail chicks and brahman calves to take care of helped as well. Marcy could not tell if the three orphans helped or were too painful. She knew enough that Marcy herself was starting to latch onto them like Connie and Noel had.
The woman took a breath and smiled as best she could. "Hello there. We're friendly."
"You're not here to loot and... hurt the neighborhood are you?" the Mr Handy asked, still worried, but drifting closer to the street as he kept his arms politely tucked.
Preston moved forward and smiled, pointedly slinging his laser musket up onto his shoulder, "We don't want to loot and run, friend. There's a group of people that are hoping to settle here instead. Good people that my men and I have been protecting."
The man walked a little closer but stopped in the middle of the old street, able to see one house was in the best shape. Even with some of the sidings falling off the other houses, it was all neatly stacked, most of the places were well cared for though. In fact most of the useful debris around was organized somewhat into neat stacks under awnings. There were also several large stacks of good firewood beside what Preston guessed was the robot's house. As well as beside the other more in shape houses.
Full cords of firewood at that!
The path to the vault was oddly well cared for, wild hub flower bushes had been transplanted to be growing around the path as well as in Sanctuary along the main street. There was a distinct lack of any skeletons, but what looked like crosses in the semi distant woods off the path to the vault.
The younger man motioned to himself and then the others. "My name is Preston Garvey, these are Sturges, Jake and Marcy. Over there are Lana and Mary on top of Buck with…Angus following."
"My name is Codsworth, Mr Garvey. It's quite the relief to meet friendly people again!" The Handy… Codsworth started to relax his arms as he drifted closer, each optic taking a good look at everyone. "It's been dreadfully quiet and dull since the last family left on their pilgrimage south, and Mr Harvy passed a day ago. I only have the critters and the canine for company now while waiting for my family...or Rather their descendants to come out of the vault."
The pouring out of words was slightly desperate for attention. For interactions with others that were not squirrels and iguanas, or an aggressive person.
"Your family is in the vault?" Sturges kept himself from wincing, glancing over at Marcy as they shared a look. Then over to the path lined within hub bushes, the flowers were full and unbothered, quite happy as there were both new flowers and even seed-hips.
Was Codsworth trying single handedly to keep things as neat as possible waiting for his people? That was both admirable and sad to Struges, the Mr Handy was trying so hard.
"Oh yes! The first fifty years were so hard," Codsworth admitted, waving one of his servos to indicate the neighborhood, "The original survivors of those living here could not stand to stay and left. Looters were a pain in the thruster but even though it was other houses I tried to keep the riff-raff out. And things as neat as I can, but the survivors can only do so much against time and age."
His tone though made it clear that he did not enjoy violence. Preston came a little closer in response, motioning to the house that seemed the most intact and had extra care to keep the debris away. Wielded patches to the metal to keep the place sealed, shutters added to protect the glass windows. It even had fresh spring grass growth that came up to the ankles with little yellow flowers trying to pop up.
"From what I can see, you've done enough to keep your home, and several other places safe." Preston said as the last of their group came walking up on their ride. "It's all in really good shape, Codsworth. I think your old people would be very proud of all your efforts and accomplishments over the centuries."
"I…" there was a pause as the words sunk in for the aware robot. Old enough to be around before the bombs dropped to get his root personally developed. Old enough that he sounded self aware but chose to stay for whenever the descents of his family came out. Not so old in a way that Codsworth still hoped, and Preston could respect that.
"...thank you Mr. Garvey," Codsworth drew his arms close for a moment, "That means quite a great deal to me. I truly hope they are."
"I think they are," Jake added, motioning around, "Even if things are falling apart in age, I can see what has been done to at least organize things."
Codsworth waved his pincher servo, motioning to the seasoned firewood nearby, "I've been trying to think of the practical things. And when peaceful families were still here they helped as well."
"Is that why there's siding on this house, and that one over there?" Marcy asked, coming over to Preston's side and looking at the intact house.
"Yes!" Codsworth perked up, "I let them stay in my family's home in exchange for helping with what maintenance we could do. If you are really meaning to move into Sanctuary, I would be willing to do much the same as well Miss."
One eyestalk peered at the group while the other two glanced at his home.
"That's very generous of you," Lana smiled from where she was on Buck. The woman was encouraging the big creature to kneel and then lay down. Making it easier for Mary and herself to get off.
"My! What a steed you have there Miss!" Codsworth finally, really noticed, coming a little closer but no more than next to Marcy and Preston. Trying not to spook the big beast, "I thought that was a draft horse at first! Then I realized it has antlers, how ever did you tame a moose? Is it...is it an Alaskan Moose?"
Lana brightened up at the question as Sturges helped Mary off, being the support with her until she had her balance and cane in hand. "He's not exactly, mainly descended from Yukon moose strains and the Rocky Mountains strains. Mostly a breed my family has been working on to make him a cart moose."
"That is most impressive!" Codsworth perked up even more, something that was a little like the old world, "He seems very well trained and well mannered Miss."
"Thank you!" Lana chirped, rubbing the side of Buck's head, as he grumbled happily at the attention. "If you don't mind, later I'd love to know what you do to get those hub-bushes so happy and blooming. All mine are wild transplants and just... everywhere."
Codsworth tried not to flail his arms in excitement at that. He liked these new people!
When asked if he had the time to give a tour, Codsworth might have jumped at the chance if he were able to. Taking the group to first see his home, most everything was cleared and open toddler-safe floors, with a true potbelly stove someone had brought in over the last two centuries. Internally at least the walls were in shape, even had paint that was only a few years old. There were a few intact, or just cracked windows that had been tapped over, those that were not replaced were boarded up neatly with the shutters.
It was explained that one of Codsworth's old guests had made the effort to put up those shutters on the outside of the windows. Thicker slabs of wood to not just protect against weather but from gunshots and raiders just in case.
The furniture may not be all the original but had some blankets or sheets covering them to try and look neat. Bed frames tucked against the walls or in a corner, though the Baby's room just about broke Marcy.
No one was really unaffected as Codsworth only asked them to not use the Nursery unless there was a baby in the group. The toys all neatly tucked away on shelves, the closet full of his family's personal things. Two dressers had been moved in by survivors in the past, the two big heirlooms and the crib that once belonged to 'Mum' and then her son.
Codsworth was very proud of the centuries old cib, boasting that it had helped another ten families since the bombs dropped, and about sixteen babies that he helped see adulthood. But as kids do they age out and go find ways in life
The Mr. Handy did not say it but the way he spoke seemed like some had come back at some point, and he hoped others would as well.
Each house had a story pre and post war. Lana, Preston and Jake had notebooks that they were writing in, different and similar things. Cogsworth excitedly offered clipboards from his stash of supplies. One place had long been stripped to the foundation and had fencing added to act as a brahmin stall and grazing spot. A place that Angus was led into for the day, as Buck lazily stayed near by to graze on the lower tree branches and rose busses. The flowers and hips very carefully nobbled on.
The massive hedges were reviving in the spring weather, flushing with dark greens. The pink and yellow flowers that Buck liked also had had Lana and Jake excited. Roses Codsworth called them, explained to those that had never seen them that they had changed slightly over time but were still good in tea and keeping the big brahmin from wandering off.
Or people sneaking through them with the maze of thorns.
"Is that a garden plot by the older tree?" Lana asked once they had made the first loop around the cul de sac. Pausing by where the massive pre-war tree was.
"Yes!" Codsworth happily chirped, pointing out the spots that still had carrots, and the leftover stalks of corn. As well as his winter growing razorgrain. "I'll be redoing it soon, mixing the compost in and such."
"It looks like pretty healthy soil too," Mary noted, pulling a tarp like cover of some of the covered section, "Protection from winter?"
"Yes miss Mary, I try to cover this area in the storms." Codsworth helped lift the cover and showed how he could have it propped up against lighter rain and rad storms.
"What kind of tree is this?" Jake asked, tapping the chunks of almost petrified like bark on the outer area. But there was a spot low enough that seemed like someone took an axe to open the bark. A new branch was growing out there, and it looked like other spots had been opened up farther up along the old tree's trunk and oldest branches to let it sprout in the spring weather.
"It is an eastern American black walnut," Codworth was happy to supply, at first not noticing how the ghoul and Lana snapped their attention back to him at once, "I haven't found another one nearby, but there must be some as it drops nuts every autumn for the last few dozen years."
"Wait, a black walnut?" Jake motioned upwards, "this is really a walnut?"
"As in, an juglans nigra, black walnut?" Lana lit up, exchanging a look with the taller, scarred man. "Really one?"
"Well, that's what the old purchase order called the tree, yes?" Codsworth peered with all three eye stocks. Worried for a moment as Lana clasped her hands in front of her mouth, "I have a few of its seedlings that turned to mature, if very small tree…?"
"I thought the black walnut was completely extinct." Lana breathed, as beside her Jake ran his hands over his bald head and then laughed. "We don't even have them back home, just a few English walnuts and Juglans sigillata, just a male and female of that one grandfather got smuggled before the war was really bad."
"You said there's a few younger trees?" Jake turned, and then looked around once again as if trying to see what trees nearby looked alike to this old tree.