The Burned Man Walks

Synopsis: Joshua finds out the Dead Horses are in danger of falling to the Legion, and the legend of the Burned Man is born. (K+)


New Canaan, November 2277.

"And he hopped all day, and then he hopped all the way up—!" The puppet flew to the top of the makeshift stage. "And all the way down, down, in a big hole." The puppet crashlanded out of sight, thunking dully on the wooden floor.

"Continue."

"And he said..." She took a deep breath, peeking over the top of the crate. "OOOOOOOWWWWW!"

"Is the frog me, Hope?"

"No? The frog is Ooble."

"Well, I identify."

"Shhhh!"

"Sorry."

"And he took a biggest longest hop, and he hopped out of the hole!" The puppet hopped back into view, arcing down to rest flopped on the crate. "And his mommy said, 'You did it! You hopped out the hole!' And he said 'Please' and 'Thank you.' And took a picture."

"Naturally."

"But then he saw... a deathclaw!" A kangaroo puppet appeared alongside the frog.

"This is horrible."

"It wanted to take his shoes and eat him up!"

"Oh no. What will Ooble do?"

Hope peeked her head up from her hiding place, excited. "Don't be scared, Joshua. It's just a story. Okay?"

"You have me worried."

She crawled out from behind the table, puppets forgotten. "Hold my hand?" she offered. He took it. The contact was uncomfortable, but not unbearable. Hope was teaching him to live with his pain, little by little.

"Thank you," he said. "I feel much better now."

"You feel like some soup?" she prompted innocently.

"What, you're hungry? Your grandmother gave you breakfast before she left."

"That was seven hours ago!"

It had been two, but Joshua chuckled and got her some soup, because he was incapable of refusing his grandniece anything. She was a kinder tyrant than Caesar had been, and with less blood in her wake. Joshua loved her.

She reminded him of someone else, too. A boy. Maybe it was more sentiment than substance. She was much younger than he had been; her smiles and her trust were bestowed more freely; her eyes were brown where his had been blue. But they had that same light in their eyes, the same kind heart, the same hunger for Joshua's approval. (And yes, that light had grown dim over the years, and the boy's kind heart had bled at the atrocities around him, and the hunger had died in the end, but it was over now. Joshua wasn't going to make those mistakes again.)

They ate midmorning soup together, and Joshua forgot to remind Hope to roll up her sleeves, so she got covered in soup and spent ten minutes picking out a new shirt. A productive morning by Joshua's standards, though he never found out what happened to Ooble.


The door opened and slammed downstairs. Heavy-booted footsteps approached, putting Joshua on alert. He heard Daniel's voice and relaxed.

"What is it?" he asked, entering the entryway. "Hope is napping."

"Are my parents home?" Daniel asked, clipped. He adjusted his hat nervously. Didn't take it off, though, which meant he didn't plan on staying.

"No."

"Naomi's here, though?"

"No, it's just me."

Daniel's face morphed into a strange look. "Just you and Hope?"

Joshua narrowed his eyes. "Why?" His former home had been more welcoming than he could have asked for, permitting a month or two of hiccups, but he couldn't shake free of the stigma. New Canaan was a community of roles. John the butcher; David the gardener; Joshua Graham who had committed unspeakable atrocities but almost definitely wouldn't do it again. He'd accepted his role as their cautionary tale, even spoke one Sunday about it. He'd patiently fielded questions from curious children, finding that he didn't mind them. Beyond that, his purpose was finding ways to make himself useful, such as caring for his effervescent young niece.

Daniel's tone grew diplomatic. "Oh, nothing. I didn't know you babysat."

"I babysat you a hundred times and you're still alive."

"I'm just surprised they didn't ask me first, that's all."

"You have a job."

"Yes, but — nevermind. That isn't important. I need to know when my parents will be back."

"Not until nightfall."

Daniel huffed in suppressed frustration. "Alright, thank you. Will you tell me where to find them?"

"What is it you need help with?"

He adjusted his hat again, looking reluctant to say. "The courier we sent to Dead Horse Point has returned. Hannah says they're trying to gain admittance into the Legion."

"But she's with them."

"Yes. Which means she's in danger, which is why I have to find my parents." Daniel's face and voice were tight with stress. He spoke too quickly and too loud, forgetting Hope. "If you could just—"

"Hush," Joshua said. "I'll take care of this."

"...What?"

"I can dissuade them. I'll leave today." He ascended the stairs to pack.

Daniel followed anxiously. "But, Joshua. You can't just—"

"You wanted to babysit. Congratulations."

"But in your condition..."

"This is a diplomatic mission. I'll be fine."

Daniel hovered in the doorway as Joshua threw his things together. Bandages, antiseptic, change of clothes, some water — as for the rest, he could live off the land. Finished, he started back to the stairwell.

"Wait." Daniel stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"I know you don't trust me, Daniel. But I made the Dead Horses my responsibility. I can fix this."

His nephew relented, stepping back. "I'm sorry. It's just... Hannah is my sister."

"I'll keep her safe. Tell your parents I'm on it."

Daniel's voice softened, reluctant acceptance. "I will."


He crouched on the shore of the Eastern Virgin, waiting. He hadn't expected to see the Banner of the Bull fluttering outside the rocky caves of Dead Horse Point. The Legion presence was stronger here than he had expected, if they'd felt emboldened to mark their future territory with a flag. So he hid, and he watched, and he waited.

"Hoi!"

Joshua startled and fell to one knee. Sharp pebbles ground through denim and linen into skin, but it was fine. He was fine.

A man approached — no, a boy. Only one tattoo, and no ornamentation on his war club. His neck craned curiously to examine the man hiding in the bushes, but his toes wiggled in the dirt, ready to flee. He wore nothing but a loincloth and baseball cap.

'Hello, friend,' Joshua replied quietly. He was fairly certain he still remembered the Dead Horses' dialect well enough for conversation.

'Are you an enemy?' the boy asked pleasantly.

'I'm here to see family. Would you bring Hannah to me?'

'Why are you hiding?'

Joshua hesitated. 'I'd rather stay away from the soldiers," he admitted.

The tribal cocked his head thoughtfully. 'I can bring you to a better hiding spot?' he proposed, with an air of hopefulness.

There was no deception in the boy's face, and tribals weren't normally raised to be skillful liars. But this would be a great leap of faith, should Joshua accept. The place was held by enemies, and to even be seen would threaten everything.

On the other hand, crouching in a bush hurt.

And then he was reminded of another blue-eyed, fifteen-year-old tribal, who had trusted Joshua with his life. Someone he couldn't seem to get out of his head lately.

'I accept your offer.'


'Why are you hiding from the Legion men? You sent them,' asked the boy. His curiosity was as earnest and genuine now as it had been in the riverbed.

'You know of me?'

'I remember you from before.' The boy seemed equal parts excited and nervous to be talking to Joshua. He remembered making quite the impression on this tribe. Apparently that influence remained.

'You must have been young.'

The boy looked down at his bare toes wiggling in apprehension, as if he hoped the stones beneath would answer for him. He had brought Joshua to a sheltered overhang outside the tribal village, explaining that this is where Hannah stayed, out of wariness of the legionaries. He spoke again, hesitant. 'You've changed. I think.'

'Maybe. I look different, at least.' He gestured to his bandages. The teenager smiled.

A woman rounded into view and gasped in surprise, holding an empty cookpan to her chest like armor. Joshua stood up to greet her as she calmed herself down.

"Hannah. It's good to finally meet you."

"Is that you, Uncle?" she asked, confused. "I hadn't expected..."

"I came as soon as I heard."

"I..." Hannah's face looked thoughtful. She took after her formerly-tribal father more than her siblings did, at least physically, giving her delicate features that the old world would have called Asian. New Canaan was one of the more racially diverse communities out there; like most, its gene pool had been intermixed during their ancestors' time in a vault. Unlike most, it saw a lot of new blood from converted tribals. This made them less homogenous than other groups... all but the Legion. "The way Mother describes you, I thought you'd be too frail to come here. Otherwise, I might have asked. The Dead Horses all but revere you, sir."

"Just Joshua is fine," he muttered in mild irritation. "I remember gaining their interest some years ago. We've... The Legion has been courting this tribe for awhile, hoping to use them as a stepping stone to assimilate others nearby."

Hannah studied him. He could practically read the conflict playing out on her face. Joshua had caused this problem (caused so many problems). But he was also the best — maybe only — candidate to fix it. When she spoke, she surprised him. "I guess I should be thanking you. The Legion ran off all the other missionaries who were stationed here, but the tribe protected me. They know I'm your relation."

"How kind of me. On second thought, I might have simply refrained from co-founding a bloodthirsty empire."

"Well," Hannah grinned and stifled a laugh. "Everybody has those days."

Joshua could already tell that they were going to get along better than he did with most of his family. Their mutual acknowledgement of Joshua's culpability released the elephant in the room and put them both at ease.

Hannah glanced back at the tribal boy, who still sat on the ground, listening vaguely to the conversation. 'Thank you for bringing him here, Restless-Wind.'

'Restless-Wind. How did you come by that name?' Joshua asked. He hoped asking wasn't an insult in their culture, but the boy smiled.

'I ask too many questions,' he said bashfully. 'But I'll have my first adult name soon.'

Hannah interrupted their conversation. 'We can get to know each other later, okay? Until that time, don't tell anyone Joshua is here.'

'I understand,' Restless-Wind said. As youthful as he acted, Joshua could tell he took this seriously. He was thankful the boy had happened by.

"What needs to be done?" Joshua asked Hannah. "If there are fewer than ten legionaries, assuming they aren't clustered together, I can take them while they're sleeping."

"You mean kill them?" Hannah asked, appalled. "You'd really do that, when you're the one who sent them here?"

Joshua frowned at her. "I don't see that we have an alternative."

"No, no. You're going about it wrong," Hannah asserted, waving a hand vaguely for emphasis. "The Legion just took heavy losses in Nevada—"

"I noticed."

"So, their ego is fragile right now. If we kill their ambassadors, we throw the Dead Horses straight into war."

"If they join the Legion, war will become their life," he countered.

"We have to convince the Dead Horses to banish the Legion on their own. It'll buy us time. This tribe respects you, Joshua. If you ask them, they'll listen."

"You've forgotten that I'm supposed to be dead."

"They'll keep it quiet. Have a little faith," she implored.

"Faith in what? Myself? I have enough influence over them to keep them from killing you once the ambassadors are dead, but I can't tell them to change sides and expect them to listen."

Hannah spoke with calm logic. "You underestimate the Dead Horses. And yourself. The fact alone that you're still alive is enough to win anybody's respect."

Joshua scoffed quietly. "Tell that to your mother."

Hannah laughed. "Well, siblings are a different story. Maybe you just need a little more confidence."

He turned his back on her, stress breaching the surface. "It's easy to be sure of yourself with a perfect record, a body that functions, and an army at your back. I'm afraid I don't have quite the image I did before."

"So... make a new one." She paused. "Show them why you're still alive."

Ready to scoff at her idealism, Joshua paused. The river babbled tunefully over the shallows, filling the cave with music. Nearer, bighorners grumbled as they pawed for edible foliage. Awkward silences were neither awkward nor silent in a place like this, and Joshua almost found himself believing.

"...Fine," he concluded finally. "But I'm going to need some things first."


This had been a bad idea from the start. In hindsight, Joshua hadn't at all been listening to his reason; more to whatever damaged part of his soul still yearned for what was left here.

Flagstaff. Why.

He knew the city's layout. He knew that the guards were never lax in their patrols, even at night. He knew that being sighted would be nothing short of catastrophic.

Maybe if he could contact Dead Sea — no, the teenager was far too loyal to Caesar. A decanus now, he wouldn't even hesitate to alert the guard.

Joshua crept through the streets quietly at first, then realized it was more of a detriment than a protection. The streets were dark enough that in profile, he'd look like another guard on rotation. They were on the lookout more for escaping slaves than intruders; if he didn't look suspicious, they wouldn't be suspicious, as long as he stayed out of the light.

He began to walk with purpose towards the center of the city. Once he got closer, he would have to deal with not the regular guard rotation, but the Praetorians. Joshua's old house was visible from their post at Caesar's door, as if it had always been the legate they were on guard against.

So he did something stupid.

He snuck around to the back of Edward's house. No guards here. He crouched by the wall right next to where he knew the man's obtuse bald head to be.

He fantasized for a moment about putting a bullet through that wall, into the person who had taken everything from him. He had his gun drawn, finger caressing the trigger, when he forced himself to snap out of it. Juno, Edward's slave, could be in that bed, and he could never forgive himself for hurting her. (He fantasized for a moment longer about slaughtering the guards, feeding Edward that bullet, and taking Juno back to New Canaan, where she could find a man her age, one who'd show her the respect she deserved. But that would have gotten them both killed, so he let it go.)

He rapped sharply on the wall. He heard a woman shout in surprise — no masculine voice accompanying her, however. It was possible that Caesar wasn't home, which meant the guards would be more relaxed (and he had been right not to shoot the wall).

"I'm sorry, Juno," he murmured softly.

He rounded the house and watched from a distance. As expected, Juno exited to alert the guards. She didn't look well at all; he wondered if Edward had been a worse master since the Dam. Or maybe she had always looked so haggard, and the legate had been too arrogant to notice.

She had been Joshua's slave, too, a shared piece of property from earlier days when the cost of things still mattered. They had been good friends despite her status. He hadn't been one for Caesar's mind games, he'd never taken her into his bed, and she was allowed to speak freely in his house. As long as she never spoke a word against Edward. At his execution, he had caught glimpses of her begging Caesar to spare him. Only a few months removed now, it all felt so sordid, his so-called kindnesses a pale excuse to assuage his own guilt.

He'd spent too long thinking. The guards would be back from their investigation soon.

Joshua's house wasn't locked, surprisingly. Surely Caesar hadn't replaced him...

...no. Definitely not possible.

He continued inside, no longer cautious. The place obviously hadn't been touched in months. Its total neglect was a little insulting, but also convenient.

He had to be smart about what to take. Something that would make an impression. Nothing that would be noticed... but the door had been unlocked; surely it was conceivable that a thief could have come through, if one hadn't already.

Not that there was much of anything to take. He had never been a man of material possessions. But a few items would be useful.

Some books, especially his book on tribal dialects.

Survival supplies he'd bought, taken, and made over the years. Water purifier, Geiger counter, portable stove, a hand-drawn map of the Legion and its many frontiers.

Some old clothes and armor.

His boots.

His belt.

His modified .45, with the snakeskin grip that matched the boots. He had been working on a replacement, but he preferred the original.

And all the ammunition he could carry.

In truth, that was everything he'd come for. Not enough to justify such a long journey. If he were being honest with himself, what he'd really come all this way for was closure. It didn't seem he would find it here.

A strange pang of memory struck at the thought. Joshua sprang into his former bedroom and opened the bedside cabinet. He pushed aside everything he didn't care to take, until he saw it.

A thin, frayed wristband, made of tightly corded reeds, emitted a faint greenish glow into the desolate room.

Holding it to his chest, Joshua left through the window.


Timeline so far:

2277-
February - First Battle of Hoover Dam
July - The Mummy Returns
August 17 - Aniss leaves Vault 101
The Prodigal Son
September - To Set the Record Straight
November - The Burned Man Walks
2278-
April - James dies (Purity War begins)
Bitter Springs
September - Project Purity activates
2279-
Adams Air Force Base (Purity War ends)
2280-
May - Dogmeat's Vacation
August - Boones are married
2281-
October 11 - Sage is shot in the head
October 19 - Sage wakes up
2282-
ED-E, My Bud
2283-
January - Second Battle of Hoover Dam
February - To Have and To Hold