Remember folks, I don't read reviews so if you have a question, PM me.
Enjoy.
xXx
23rd October 2010 - Georgia
After dropping off the latest batch of walkers to the eager scientists of the Think Tank, Six informed them of their expectant guests. Telling the Think Tank about how he was bringing back actual living people to Big MT was met with mixed feelings. On one hand, they didn't like the idea of half-witted strangers coming in to dirty up their science facility. On the other hand, they were keenly interested in recording the survivors' first-hand accounts of what they experienced when the world fell to anarchy.
Courier Six gave the group the night to discuss their opinions with each other while he slept in his bed in the Sink. He would need his strength since he promised Rick and Morgan he would meet up with them early in the morning.
Six hours of blissful sleep later, he made a quick breakfast of scrambled cazadore eggs, toast, pork n' beans and a glass of brahmin milk.
Once his belly was full, he was soon back in the cockpit of a vertibird. Having memorized the coordinates of the neighbourhood he had visited last night, he guided the aircraft in that direction. In just over thirty minutes, he was hovering over the same street where he found Rick and the Jones family last night. He circled the neighbourhood once to look for possible threats. He saw no corpses on the street, neither the moving nor non-moving kind. "Morgan and Rick must've cleaned them up or they got the securitrons to do it."
He brought the vertibird down to land in the middle of the street, directly across from the house he knew the others were hiding in. Once the aircraft was shut down entirely, Six exited to find Rick and Morgan waiting for him on the house porch.
"Howdy, folks. Lovely morning for an apocalypse, ain't it?" Six greeted, tipping an invisible cowboy hat.
Rick stared up at the near-clear blue skies. "As nice as days can get in these trying times" he admitted. The sheriff shook the Courier's hand when he walked up to the terrace.
"You have everything packed up and ready to ship out?" Six directed the question to Morgan. He spotted a muddy shovel leaning near the door. "And said your goodbyes?"
Morgan nodded and wrapped an arm around his son when he stepped out onto the porch with them. Neither father nor son had any more tears left to shed. They spent those while burying their wife/mother last night. Giving Jenny a proper burial offered some comfort to both of them. It was better than her roaming the streets as a walking corpse. So many people would never get the luxury of a proper burial. "It's all packed and settled. We still need to help Rick search his house for any clues on his family's whereabouts."
The Courier nodded. "Alright then. While we do that, these two can put your stuff in the vertibird." He pointed a thumb towards the pair of securitrons. He turned to Rick who was wielding a baseball bat. "Next stop is your house I take it? Lead on."
Giving his thanks to the others, Rick led the group down the streets towards his home. The vertibird was left behind as the securitrons worked to pack Morgan's supplies into the vehicle.
The group walked in silence, eyes and ears open in case of any walkers lurking about.
For Morgan, the sight of the street so empty was peculiar. "It's strange. Seeing the streets so empty after all this time" he commented. He had grown used to walkers patrolling the streets of the neighbourhood like they owned it. For weeks, that was all he ever saw when he looked out the window. Walkers shuffling or groaning, in search of their next meal. The silence of the empty streets was the closest thing to actual peace he had gotten in ages. So why did he find the silence unnerving instead of comforting?
"Don't let the empty streets fool you. The undead tend to pop out in the most unlikely of crevices. They're sneakier than you might expect" advised Six, speaking from experience. In the past week, he found walkers in all manners of places like basements, attics and holes in the ground. There was even the one time he found one down an elevator shaft when surveying a factory.
"Yeah, I've seen that too. They're especially fierce when grouped up together in packs. Saw firsthand what a group of them could do to a grown man" said Morgan, face turning grim. On the fifth day when everything had gone to shit, he had gone out to get supplies when he bore witness to a pack of walkers attacking a man who'd been caught unaware. He'd been too far away to try and help, not that he could've been of much help anyway. He could still remember the man's screams as the walkers tore into him with their hands and teeth. Morgan never knew how much blood the body contained until he saw it all pour out of that unlucky bastard. It was the first time Morgan considered a bullet to the brain to be a preferable way to go out. It was better than being eaten alive, that's for sure.
Eventually, the group had to encounter a walker at some stage and the time came when one stumbled out onto the street from behind a garden fence. It knocked a trashcan in the process. Everyone stopped at the sight of the walker but it already spotted them. Snarling, the male walker wobbled its way towards the group, its once brown suit now dishevelled and filthy ever since turning into a walking corpse.
Morgan reached for his revolver but stopped when Six placed a hand on his shoulder. "Don't." The Courier turned to Rick who was looking back at them. "Rick needs to learn how to kill these things himself."
A contemplating Rick looked between the Courier and the incoming walker twice before reluctantly nodding his head. The sheriff knew Six was right. If billions of people did turn into these undead cannibals, he would need to learn how to kill them. Worse, he would need to get used to doing it. "Yeah, I got this," he said, sounding far more confident than he felt. Taking a few heavy deep breaths, Rick crossed the remaining distance between him and the walker with a single step. With a swing of the bat, the walker's nose broke with an uncomfortable crunch noise and it stumbled back two steps before righting itself. It pressed on its attack on Rick but a second swing brought it to the floor, though not dead. Three more wild swings to the skull saw the walker's skull shattering with blood and brain matter spilling all over the pavement.
Once the walker was properly dead, the baseball bat fell from Rick's hand, the wooden tip now sporting a thick bloodstain. The sheriff fell to one knee while sucking air into his lungs, all while trying to keep his stomach's contents from spilling out onto the pavement to mix in with the walker's splattered brains. Rick thought about how none of his police training prepared him for this. Most of his time as a sheriff was spent taking in rowdy drunks or getting in between married disputes that turned physical. The shootout between the gunmen which led to his coma was the most action he and Shane ever got as police officers. Even then, they had been trained to shoot as criminals when the time called for it. Bashing a person's brains in, walker or not, was not what he was trained to do.
The rest of the group gave Rick a moment to process his first kill, all while keeping an eye out for more walkers. Morgan's expression was one of understanding as he watched Rick battle with his emotions. When he killed his first walker, he felt sick to his stomach. He hadn't been one for any kind of violence so having no choice but to kill just to survive took some time to get used to. He didn't like it but he got used to it which was all that mattered if he wanted to protect his son.
The Courier gave Rick some time to himself. He understood Rick's need to process but not because he understood the horror one felt when killing something for the first time. Killing came second nature to him, whether it be killing mutated creatures like super mutants and feral ghouls, or killing humans needing to be killed, like Fiends, Legionaries, or checkered suit-wearing assholes who wear too much hair gel. What he did understand was that Rick came from a pre-apocalypse era where the notion of killing something was nearly nonexistent, especially for survival. Rick was now coming to grips with his new reality and that he would need to get used to killing and fast if he wanted to survive in it.
Eventually, Rick sucked in a lungful of air and pushed himself to his feet. Six patted the sheriff on the back. "You good?"
After a few seconds of gathering his thoughts, Rick nodded. "Yeah, I'm good." Nobody believed him. Rick continued the journey to his house while the others followed closely behind him.
As they marched on to the Grimes family home, Six sparked a conversation with Morgan who was walking beside him. "Did anything happen while I was away?"
"Nothing worth mentioning. More walkers showed up soon after you left. Ten at most but they were no match to the robots."
Duane peaked over at Six from the other side of his father. "Does Big MT have more cool stuff like the robots?"
"That depends. What do you peg as cool?" asked Six with a tilt of the head.
It took Duane a moment to think of an answer, much to the amusement of his father. "Umm... are there any animals?"
Morgan's smile stretched while hearing his son's excitement to see Big MT. "Duane was always hassling us for a dog. He always wanted one" he told the Courier while patting his son on the head.
"Hmm, well Big MT does have cattle. We've got brahmin and bighorners."
"Dare I ask what they are?" asked Morgan, having never heard of such cattle before.
"They're creations of the Think Tank." Not true but Six had long decided that anything that was scientifically advanced or unnatural for this world would be explained away as being a creation of the Think Tank. "Brahmin aren't too different than the ordinary cow, as long as you ignore its two heads."
"It's a cow with two heads?" muttered Duane in awe, all while picturing what it might look like in his head.
"That's right" chuckled Six, enjoying the child's enthusiasm. He always had a soft spot for children. "Big MT uses them mostly for their meat and milk, though they're also useful to move heavy cargo. As for bighorners, think of them as bighorn sheep, only much larger. We use them for meat, hides and their horns."
Duane didn't know what a bighorn sheep was but Morgan did. He tried to picture it but bigger.
"Are there any pets in Big MT? Any dogs or cats?" Duane asked, hopefully.
"No cats but I did mention we have cyberhounds waiting for us back at Big MT."
Morgan cast a suspicious gaze at the Courier. "Anything particularly strange about these 'cyberhounds' as well? Two heads? Three eyes? Four asses?"
"Please don't be giving the Think Tank any more ideas" warned Six with a wave of his hand. Morgan wasn't sure if Six was joking or not. "The dogs we have back at Big MT have metallic limbs, razor-sharp teeth and a jar to keep their brains intact."
The father of Duane looked at the Courier with a somewhat serious expression. "Are they dangerous?" he simply asked. They very much sounded dangerous and if they were, he didn't want his son anywhere near them.
"Oh, they're extremely dangerous. If you're concerned they might hurt you or your son, there's no need to worry. Metal claws and teeth aside, they are nothing but overgrown puppies." Six looked up in contemplation. "Although, we recently got a new litter of puppies. I would recommend you keep away from them. Cute as all hell but they will eat through anything that can fit in their little jaws. Ravenous little beasts are what they are."
Morgan wondered if Big MT was as safe a haven as he first thought it to be. He would have to get a look at it first before deciding on permanently staying there or not. Not that he had a backup plan if he decided not to stay in Big MT. "There's always the refugee centre in Atlanta."
Luckily, the group didn't encounter any more stray walkers throughout the rest of the journey to Rick's house.
Rick stormed into his home with the others following. "They're alive. My wife and son. At least they were when they left" he said as more of a statement than wishful thinking.
"How can you know?" enquired Morgan as they walked into what was once the Grimes family dining room. He agreed to help Rick find clues on what happened to his family but they've only been in the house for a total of five seconds. How could Rick possibly know his family was alive in that little amount of time? "By the look of this place-"
"I found empty drawers in the bedroom. They packed some clothes. Not a lot, but enough to travel" explained Rick.
"You know anybody could've broken in here and stolen clothes, right?" Morgan said. He didn't want to come off as a jackass but he didn't want Rick to get false hope.
Rick pointed his bloody baseball bat at the bare walls. "You see the framed photos on the walls?" he asked. Six, Morgan and Duane looked around and saw no photos but they did see the nails in the walls which once held them. "Neither do I. Some random thief take those too you think?" He opened a nearby dresser and saw the photo albums missing. "Our photo albums, family pictures, all gone."
Courier Six agreed with Rick. When everything went to shit, people would've taken essentials. Food, water, medicine and clothing. Photo albums would just be wasted weight that nobody would take, not unless they held sentimental value.
Morgan suddenly started laughing, catching Rick and Six by surprise. The father sat down by the dining table, laughing all the while. "Photo albums..." Spotting how the others were looking at him strangely, Morgan explained. "My wife... same thing. There I am packing survival gear, she's grabbing photo alb-" He stopped because he knew he was going to get emotional again. Just when he thought he was a step closer to getting past his wife's death, memories of her resurfaced and brought forth strong emotions he struggled to bury.
Duane stepped behind his father. "They're in Atlanta, I bet."
"That's right" nodded Morgan who was happy to get his thoughts away from his deceased wife.
"Why there?" Rick asked.
"Refugee centre. A huge one they said, before the broadcast stopped. Military protection, food, shelter. They told people to go there, said it'd be safest."
"Plus they got that disease place" added Duane.
That piqued the Courier's curiosity. "Disease place?"
"The Center for Disease Control," told Morgan. "Said they were working out how to solve this thing."
"Now that is interesting," said Six while adding the information to his Pip-Boy. He doubted they had the actual know-how to cure the Wildfire Virus, but they might have extensive notes and research that could be used to help the Think Tank hasten the search for a vaccine. "I'll need to pay that place a visit soon."
As for the refugee centre in Atlanta, Six didn't know what kind of state it might be in. The government might be gone but the military or at least remnants of the military might still be operating. Perhaps the military still runs the refugee centre to this day. Or maybe there was no longer a refugee centre left to find. That was for Rick to find out.
With a destination now in place, Rick needed to gather weapons for the journey ahead. And he knew exactly where to go.
King County Sheriff's Department
Having taken his set of keys to the sheriff's department building, Rick used them to open the door. Quietly and carefully, he led the group into the dark hallways of the sheriff's department, armed with his bloody baseball bat in one hand and a flashlight in the other to light his way.
He was followed by Six who held a bowie knife in his right hand. Behind him was Duane. Morgan followed in the rear, holding a crowbar in one hand and a lantern in the other. The lantern provided some extra light in the dark halls.
The group went from room to room in search of any walkers that might be lurking. It was only when every room was checked and no walker found did the group relaxed and holstered their weapons.
Rick, Morgan and Duane took advantage of the building's still-working water and operational propane system to enjoy a hot shower.
That left Courier Six alone to look around the building. From Morgan's laughter and Duane's singing he could hear, he guessed it must've been a while since either of them got to enjoy a hot shower. Hot showers were likely rare luxuries in this world now, just like how it was in his world.
Having left his elite riot gear helmet on one of the desks that one of Rick's coworkers had once worked at, Six snacked on a stale doughnut he took from a pile left on another table. Doing a mixture of humming and chewing, he rummaged through the drawers in all the desks. He found nothing of importance, the drawers mostly filled with papers regarding cases the sheriffs had been working on before the world went to shit. He did manage to find a bottle of water in one of the drawers and a clip of 10mm bullets in another. He also took a gun magazine he found displayed on top of a desk. It would be something to read whenever he got the time.
Hearing footsteps, Six leaned back against a desk with arms crossed and saw the others walking in, freshly showered and dressed in clean clothes. "Looking good, Rick."
Rick smiled and rubbed his freshly shaved face. "Thanks. You find anything good?"
"Bottle of water and an extra clip of ammo." Six casually tossed said items to Rick who caught them.
The sheriff handed the bottle of water to Morgan to pocket while he kept the ammo clip. "The clip was probably Lambert's. He was always a bit of a gun nut. Could always find him reading a magazine about guns at his desk" said Rick, recalling his time working alongside his fellow officer.
"Now I know whose magazine this is then," said Six, briefly showing the gun magazine in his duster before putting it away.
"Come on. Let's check out the armoury and see what we can get." Rick led the small group to the room where the armoury was kept.
Following after Rick while putting his helmet back on, the Courier surveyed the armoury which consisted of a blue steel cage and a cage door which was locked with a thick padlock. "My armoury is bigger" he thought with a prideful grin.
Unlocking the padlock with his key, Rick threw open the door. "A lot of it's gone missing" Rick pointed out.
"Probably the ones the other sheriffs had on them when the world went to hell" stated Six while he checked out the guns. There were pistols, shotguns and hunting rifles. Nothing with proper stopping power but they all looked to be in good condition. They wouldn't kill a super mutant but they'd do the job on humans and walkers.
"What'd you mean?" Rick asked after checking the scope of a Remington Model 700 rifle. He then handed the rifle to Morgan. "Here. Nothing fancy but it's accurate."
"If they were here and saw the world ending before their very eyes, the sensible thing to do would be to empty the armoury of every gun and bullet it contained. They most definitely wouldn't have bothered with locking the cage up behind them at any rate."
Morgan, who was helping his son pocket all the boxes of ammo, nodded in agreement. "Makes sense."
Rick pondered the Courier's words but quickly accepted them as fact. That meant his fellow sheriffs either fled, hopefully to the nearest refugee centre, or they died. He hoped it was the former rather than the latter.
"Daddy, can I learn to shoot? I'm old enough" asked Duane, eagerly.
"Hell yes, you're gonna learn but we've got to do it carefully, teach you to respect the weapon" agreed Morgan, having already decided that Duane was going to learn to shoot. Like any good father, he would've preferred if Duane never so much as looked at a gun. Circumstances have made that impossible, however. He wasn't going to let his son out of his sight without some kind of weapon training, he didn't care how safe Big MT was supposed to be.
"That's right. It's not a toy. You pull the trigger, you have to mean it. Remember that, Duane" advised Rick. Once he found his family, he would make sure to teach his son how to use a gun as well.
Duane looked serious, showing a sense of maturity. "Yes, sir."
Six silently agreed with both men. He surely meant it every time he pulled the trigger. Except when it came to Benny. He double meant it when he blew his brains out.
It took only a few minutes to clean out the armoury. The guns and ammo were all dumped in a police bag which Rick carried. Morgan carried a bag holding his new Remington rifle and its ammo.
As they left the building through the back entrance, Rick offered some more advice to Morgan and Duane. "Conserve your ammo. It goes faster than you think, especially at target practice."
"Duane" Morgan called his son.
"Uh-huh?"
He held out the bag holding his new rifle for his son to take. "Take this to the car."
"Okay."
As his son ran off to the police car they would be taking, Morgan stayed back with Six and Rick. "You sure you'll be okay out on your own?"
"Not really but what other choice do I have?" remarked Rick with a shrug. "Hopefully, if there still is an army, they might have cleared up some areas around the refugee centre."
The sheriff opened the door to a police car and reached in for something. When he came out, he was holding onto a walkie-talkie. He offered it to Six. "You got one battery. I'll turn mine on a few minutes every day at dawn. Be able to keep each other updated."
Six pushed the offered radio back. "No need. Got my own radio right here" he said, shaking his Pip-Boy for emphasis before slapping the right side of his helmet where the antenna was sticking out from. He started fiddling with a knob on his Pip-Boy, making clicking and static noise. He then took Rick's walkie-talkie and did the same thing with it before handing it back. "There, they're both on channel six. When you find your family or find yourself in trouble, just give me a call and I'll be on the way."
The sheriff took back the radio and couldn't express how thankful he was to Six. "Thank you."
"Listen, one more thing," said Morgan, stopping Rick from getting into the car. "They may not seem like much one at a time, but in a group, all riled up and hungry... man, you watch your ass."
Six nodded, having seen the dangers of walkers travelling in packs. The Think Tank scientists had been fascinated by the walkers' pack mentality when he told them his occasional experience with them. The six scientists often discussed the topic, throwing theories back and forth as to why they behaved that way. Six couldn't deny he was a little curious as well as to why walkers grouped up like that. Whatever the case, he preferred to go around herds of the undead rather than fight them. Even his securitrons would get overwhelmed against a big enough horde.
"Thanks for the advice. Stay safe."
Morgan smiled and shook Rick's hand. "You're a good man, Rick. I hope you find your wife and son."
Six smiled under his helmet. "There'll be a room saved for your family when you come to Big MT."
Rick smiled back, not needing to say anything to either man because he knew they knew he was grateful. He turned to Duane who had returned and shook his hand. "Take care of your old man."
Duane smiled in amusement. "Yes, sir."
Six spotted something and whistled to catch the others' attention. "We've got a friend."
The others turned to see a sheriff-dressed walker limp towards them from the other side of the barbed-wire fence. It was only one so nobody was in any rush to get away.
Rick, however, recognized the walker. "Leon Basset?"
"A friend?" asked Six.
Rick shook his head. "Nah. I didn't think much of him. Careless and dumb. But I can't leave him like this." He'd want someone to do the same if he ever turned into a walking corpse.
Six patted Rick on the shoulder to get his attention. He tilted his head towards the police car. "You head off. I'll deal with him." He brandished his bowie knife.
Giving the walking corpse of his fellow sheriff one last look, Rick nodded to the Courier before entering the police car.
Six, Morgan and Duane stood and watched as Rick drove off, none knowing if they'd ever see the man again. "You think he'll find them? His family?" Morgan asked for Six's opinion.
"If it was anyone else, I'd say hell no. The odds of his family being alive at all would be at a billion to one. For Rick to find them, a trillion to one. But, Rick has proven to be one lucky son of a bitch. If Lady Luck stays loyal to him, he just might find his family alive and whole someday."
Six's encouraging words were enough to make Morgan smile and hope for the best.
Once Rick was gone, Six walked over to the walker of who was once Leon Basset. There were no words spoken. With a thrust, his bowie knife broke through the walker's left eye and pierced its brain. The walker fell onto its side, truly dead.
Turning around, he took out a cloth and used it to wipe the blood off his knife. "You two ready to see your new home?"
Morgan had never been in a helicopter before, especially one as souped up as the Courier's. A 'vertibird' he called it. For such a big piece of heavy metal, it flew pretty smoothly.
From the police station, they had driven back to the house while ignoring the few walkers stumbling on the roads. Since the securitrons packed all the supplies in the vertibird while they were away looting the police station, they could leave without delay. Within minutes, they were up in the air and on the way to their new home.
That had been over twenty minutes ago. Duane sat in the co-pilot's seat beside the Courier, enjoying the sights the flying aircraft afforded him. The child often pointed at something and asked Six questions nonstop. That left Morgan alone in the cabin behind them, seated on one of the uncomfortable seats welded to the walls. The two securitrons were there with him, though he didn't consider them to be good company. They stood motionless in the middle of the cabin, back-to-back which made them look eerie in Morgan's eyes.
Morgan's eyes turned towards the pile of boxes left at the back of the cabin. He was tempted to root through the boxes to find a photo album but he squashed down that temptation. Instead, he turned to his left to look at the back of the pilot's head. "So how does this work?"
Six looked over his shoulder at Morgan, face currently hidden beneath his helmet. "How does what work?"
Morgan gestured to the pile of food, water and clothes he had collected over the two months of the apocalypse. "I mean, am I pooling my supplies with yours? Is that how it works now?"
Turning back to focus on flying, Six answered. "I wasn't planning on taking any of your supplies if that's what you're worried about, Morgan." That had been exactly what Morgan had been thinking. "I believe in the term of finders keepers. You found them so they're yours to do with. Save them for yourself and your son, trade them to other survivors, whatever you want. Big MT has a large cache of everything from food, water, ammo and all manner of luxuries. Besides, if we were to find enough survivors, we would have to look into adding a currency." Six took one hand off his controls and held it open beside him. "Hand me something."
Reaching into one of the boxes, Morgan took out a can of beans. He handed it to Six who checked to see what it was. "A can of beans, huh? For this, if you wanted to trade it to me to add to Big MT's cache, I could give you something like say... three bullets of a particular kind of gun or five bottle caps."
Duane gave the Courier a strange look. "Why bottle caps?"
Six chuckled. "The main reason is that it's far more difficult for people to counterfeit bottle caps compared to paper money which is far more common. And with their limited number, they'll be protected from inflation, for now anyway. There's also a personal reason that I won't indulge in."
"Why not just use the American dollar?" Morgan asked upon seeing the lost expression on his son's face. "Wouldn't it just be simpler?"
"Because it's as I said, the dollar is far more common to find than bottle caps. Think about it, all someone would have to do is break into a bank and they would come back with millions of dollars to flood into the economy, thus destroying the value of the currency. Others would only do the same until the dollar wouldn't be worth to wipe your ass with" explained Six who grinned when Duane let out a laugh when he said 'ass'. "I'll have to incorporate some sort of exchange rate with the dollar but bottle caps will be the main currency from then on."
Morgan was no accountant but the Courier's explanation sounded sensible in his ears. Still, the Courier's talk on creating a currency for them to use was odd to think about, as it sounded like Six was pushing towards creating something other than a safe haven for people to stay and survive. "Man sounds like he's already thinking on how to rebuild society." That couldn't be right, though. How could humanity hope to rebuild with millions, if not billions of walkers roaming the world? That wasn't even taking into account people who likely took to stealing and killing to survive. There were bad people in the world before society fell. With no government or law enforcement, nothing was stopping those kinds of people from doing whatever they wanted.
Truthfully, Morgan was relieved he didn't have to give up all the supplies he gathered to add to Big MTs. Although, he was slightly curious about what the Courier had that he could trade supplies for.
"We're coming up to Big MT" informed Six from over his shoulder. "You'll probably want to get a good look at your new home for the foreseeable future."
Morgan heard his son gasp out loud from the copilot seat which enticed him to walk up to the cockpit so he could get a look as well. Placing his hands on the back of Six's and Duane's seats after managing to not fall over, Morgan soon followed his son's example by letting out a loud gasp himself. With how high they were, he had the perfect view to see their surroundings for miles. Most of what he saw were trees on relatively flatlands with the occasional small hill. Rivers were cutting through the forest, all differing in size. He would think nothing strange about the forest, if not for the perfectly circular barren land in the middle of the forest. Small buildings of different shapes and sizes littered the wide expanse of land, the most notable being the two domed buildings, one directly in the middle and the other further north. The land was mostly flat but Morgan noticed the circular discolouring in the floor, as if there had been craters littering the landscape before they were filled in with stone that wasn't of the name mineral or colour as the grey-coloured stone which made up a majority of the floor. It was especially obvious when looking at it from the air because it looked like the grey floor was covered in a lighter shade of polka dots.
There was no time to take in everything because the Courier was already lowering the aircraft. They flew over the central domed building until they were somewhere northwest of the building. The Courier lowered the aircraft onto a makeshift landing pad which consisted of a large white circle spray painted on the ground. When the vertibird touched the ground, Morgan and Duane waited for the Courier to exit the vehicle before they did.
Courier Six pushed open the side door and jumped out of the vertibird. He then waved an arm to gesture to his surroundings once the father and son exited the aircraft. "Morgan, Duane, welcome to Big MT."
It wasn't until Morgan jumped out of the aircraft and helped his son out that he finally got an up-close look at Big MT. "This is surreal" he admitted, looking at everything, from the massive domed building beside them to the vast pipes that trailed all over the landscape. The place was practically empty, at least until he spotted a few of those flying robots from before flying around the buildings. He then spotted the occasional securitron rolling somewhere. He thought it was a good thing the holes had been filled in cause if they hadn't, he guessed it would've been near impossible for the securitrons to transverse the landscape. Then he saw what he guessed from the four-legged shadowed figure to be a cyberhound, though it was too far away to properly make out. With all the robots and cybernetic dogs, it was like he ended up in one of those sci-fi movies he often watched on TV with his son. It was like a crossover between Mad Max and Independence Day, only except for aliens, there were walkers.
"Yep, she really is something" agreed Six, hands on his hips, sounding and looking like a proud father.
"Wow! And you own all of this?" asked Duane who was taking everything in just like his father.
"Pretty much, though I'm more of a caretaker. I help make sure nothing goes wrong and keep the scientists in check."
"Do the scientists need to be kept in check?" Morgan asked with a quirked brow.
Courier Six openly sighed. "Like you'd never believe but enough about them. We're not here to talk about the looney bunch. Come on, I'll show you to your new home."
Taking in his nearby surroundings, Morgan saw two more vertibirds lined up beside the third. He guessed this was where Six kept his vehicles. There was also a lone car parked near the curved wall of the domed building. It was a silver 1998 Lincoln Town car, though covered in dents and with what looked like dried blood painted across the hood. Either the Courier found it like that or he wasn't a very good driver. Large metal storage tanks protruded out from the rock floor near the car and vertibirds. From how close the vehicles were kept close to the tanks, he speculated that they were filled with fuel. "Six even has his own refuelling station."
Morgan then turned to the vertibird they had come from. He could see all his boxes of supplies from the aircraft's open door. "What about all the supplies?"
"Don't you worry about that, partner. Ole' Victor here can handle the workload."
The pleasant voice came from a securitron who was rolling over to them. The securitron was designed exactly like the others except for one glaring difference. Instead of the cartoonish soldier face that was plastered on the screen of the two securitrons he had become familiar with, this one had the cartoonish face of a cowboy. Its voice was also warmer and friendlier, much more preferable compared to the hard and no-nonsense tone the soldier-faced securitrons had.
"Here to greet the guests, Victor?" asked Six once the securitron stopped in front of the group.
"I couldn't help myself, partner. It's not every day we get visitors in this neck of the woods" explained the securitron who placed its pincers on its 'hips'.
Morgan looked the securitron up and down before turning to the Courier. "Do all your robots have... personalities?"
"Most don't but when it comes to securitrons, Victor is special."
"Aw, shucks partner, you're gonna make ole' Victor blush with that kind of talk." The robot even held a pincer under its screen and waved the other in a surprisingly good attempt at acting flustered.
Morgan was more than a little impressed by how human this robot acted. The two securitrons who returned with them only spoke when spoken to and mostly gave emotionless one-word responses. This securitron, or Victor as it liked to call itself, was behaving like a normal human being. "If I spoke with it through a phone, I would've never guessed it was a robot."
"I'll recruit those two to help me take... oh gosh darn it! Victor here never asked for your names. CPU isn't as good as it used to be I'm afraid" said the securitron who slapped the side of its head, as if trying to hit a loose part back into place.
"I'm Duane!" laughed Morgan's son while throwing his hands up in the air in childish glee. The child was finding Victor's antics funny.
"Howdy, Duane. I'm Victor!" told Victor who copied Duane and raised its pincers in the air which got another laugh from the child.
"Umm, I'm Morgan." Introducing himself to a self-aware robot. This was a strange world he was living in now.
"It's great to meet ya, Morgan" greeted a cheerful Victor with a swing of its arm. "Victor here will recruit his two brothers who came home with ya and get the stuff brought up to ya room. Which room will our new friends be staying in?"
"Dr. Klein's room," Six answered.
"Ooh~, one of the executive suites! You two are gonna love it" cheered the unique securitron before it rolled towards the vertibird.
"Fill up the tank while you're at it!" Six shouted at the robot. Before landing, he spotted how the vertibird's fuel gauge had been on the low side.
"Sure thing, partner!"
"Well, that was... something." Morgan wasn't sure how else to explain that experience.
"Victor is quite a personality, isn't he?" chuckled Six from beneath his helmet.
"That's one way to put it."
Six titled his head in one direction. "Come on, I'll show you two where you're going to lay your heads." He then turned and walked off. Morgan and Duane quickly followed after him, all while looking at anything and everything.
"What is this place?" Morgan couldn't help but ask, tilting his head back just so he could see the top of the domed building they were circling. The structure looked to be made out of solid rock, or at least the outer parts of it were. While walking, he pressed his hand to the stone wall, all while wondering why the building looked so weathered.
"This building here is the Dome. Home to the Think Tank. This will also be your new home."
"So, when will we be meeting these Think Tank scientists?" Morgan couldn't help but ask while taking his hand off the weathered wall. The scientists created robots and stimpaks, both inventions he believed to be impossible in this day and age. That brilliance was what had him hold out hope for a potential vaccine against the Wildfire Virus.
"Let's hope never."
Before Morgan could ask why, they came upon the front entrance of the Dome where another pair of securitrons stood vigil on either side of the entrance, both displaying the cartoonish, no-nonsense face of a soldier. The entrance consisted of a large doorway that was blocked by a heavy-looking steel door that was two feet taller than him and wide enough for four people to walk in side by side without hitting the edges. "How many securitrons do you have?" he asked. Including these two, that made five securitrons, four emotionless soldier-faced ones and one... Victor.
"I've got twenty of them, as well as a dozen cyberhounds, fourteen robo-scorpions and eleven eyebots. There are also a small number of other brands of robots you'll likely see around the place."
"And here I thought we were years away from getting any kind of robot built," said Morgan with a thoughtful expression.
"Not in Big MT. We're a bit ahead of the curve compared to the rest of the world" explained Six before he pressed a button on the panel beside the doorway.
Morgan watched with his son as the large metal door slid down into a gap in the floor, revealing a single pathway leading into the building. The floor, walls and ceiling were all metallic with wires and blue lights visible through their open gaps. "A bit ahead of the curve you say?" muttered Morgan before shaking his head in disbelief. From robots, cybernetic hounds and stimpaks, it was plainly obvious that Big MT was a lot ahead of the curve compared to the rest of the world.
Morgan and Duane followed the Courier and discovered the pathway didn't take them far. The single hallway ended at a small ramp that led up towards a single metal door which had a sign over it reading 'Think Tank'. At the bottom of the ramp were four elevators with two located in either wall. They followed Six into one of the elevators. Morgan saw the elevator had seven buttons for seven floors, including an underground level. Six pressed the button for level three.
As the elevator door closed and slowly took them up to the third floor, Six started talking. "Levels two and three of the Dome consist of the living quarters for the Big MT scientists and employees. While the Think Tank's main lab takes up most of the three floors of the building, the architects built the living quarters around floors two and three. Saved on money and wasted space."
"They didn't seem to be hurting for money by the look of this place" commented Morgan.
"You'd think that but they often had to make budget cuts. Big MT was privately owned and didn't have the aid of the government."
"Why wouldn't the government fund Big MT if they're capable of creating so much amazing technology?" Morgan asked, genuinely confused.
"Less red tape. The Think Tank's experiments weren't always the most morally sound and so the government wouldn't have approved of most of them. Best I keep that knowledge to myself, for both of our sakes" told Six, giving Morgan no room for argument.
Morgan looked down at his son and then back at Six, wondering how bad the experiments were if Six didn't want to mention them. Surely not on the same level as the Wildfire Virus?
Six continued with the introduction to Big MT. "The fourth floor is where you'll find the canteen. It can fit over a hundred people at the same time. The kitchens have all the cooking equipment you might need to cook your food. If you want to try your hand at cooking, that's the place to do it."
Morgan nodded, happy to have someplace to cook meals for himself and his son.
"Fifth floor is the infirmary. Any injuries can be fixed up there by the resident doctor and his orderlies."
"You have a doctor here?" asked Morgan in surprised awe.
"In a manner of speaking." Neither father nor son could see the grin hidden beneath the Courier's helmet. "Floor six is the Sink, my quarters."
"And what about this floor?" Duane asked, pointing to the bottom button which read '-1'.
"Storage. It's where all of Big MT's supplies are kept. Food, clothing, electrical supplies, luxuries, armoury, everything" answered Six. "Just as a heads up, nobody can access any floors or rooms unless I give them the green light. I'll be adding you two to the system at some point today but you won't be allowed access to either the Sink or Storage."
Morgan nodded in understanding and patted Duane on his right shoulder. "Of course."
The elevator arrived on the third floor and the door slid open, revealing a long hallway with metal doors lining both walls. Each door was marked with a different number and was directly aligned with a door on the opposite wall. Morgan noticed how the hallway curved the further away it went. "It's as Six said. The hallway curves around the building in a complete circle" he thought, guessing that if he walked the hallway in one direction, he'd only loop back here.
"Including the second floor, there are nearly a hundred and fifty rooms, all once occupied by Big MT employees. Scientists, doctors, engineers, soldiers, etc."
"And where are all the employees now?"
"Dead."
Closing his eyes, Morgan sighed deeply. "Of course they are."
Father and son followed Six down the hallway, all while wondering which room would be theirs. It didn't take them long to stop before one of the identical metal doors. Morgan noticed how this door didn't have a number on it but instead was marked with a name. "Dr. Klein" he read. Morgan looked over to the left of the door and saw how the next four doors were also marked with the names of scientists.
"And this is where you two will be sleeping" informed Six who then pushed a button on the panel.
The door sunk to the floor, revealing to Morgan and Duane where they would be living from now on.
"Wow!" was the excited cry of Duane when he set his sights on his new home.
Luxurious would be the word Morgan would use to describe the room. Every inch of the floor was covered in a lush red carpet that was so clean it was like nobody had ever stepped foot on it. The walls were bare, showing only the silver of the metal walls. Pushed to the right corner of the large room was a king-sized bed dressed in clean beige sheets. To the left was a comfortable-looking beige couch in between two beige sofa chairs which surrounded an old and odd-looking television. To their right, there was a rectangular wooden table that could sit six comfortably. On top of the table, there was a gift basket filled with unfamiliar treats and a letter that read 'Welcome!'. There were also metal doors on either side of the room.
"While most employees got simple rooms, the Think Tank was allowed special privileges. Luxurious rooms are one such privilege. The door on the right is the bathroom." Six kneeled to Duane's level. "And that door leads to your room, Duane. Why don't you go and have a look?"
As excited as he was to see his new room, Duane looked up at his father to wait for permission. When Morgan gave his permission with a nod, Duane all but ran towards his room with excitement expected of a child.
"Six, this is too much" admitted Morgan, feeling a little intimidated by the obvious luxury shown. Everything was so clean and very expensive looking. The table alone looked like it cost more than his house. And now that he looked up, he saw the glass chandelier hanging from the middle of the ceiling. He dreaded thinking how much that must've cost. "Won't Dr. Klein be angry with you for giving us his room?" he asked, recalling that Six mentioned the luxury rooms were given to the Think Tank, the only other people living in Big MT.
"Dr. Klein doesn't care. He never once used this room, nor has the rest of the Think Tank scientists. Their work is their life so they have rooms set up in the main lab" Six explained while waving off Morgan's concerns. Yesterday, he asked Klein if he could offer his luxury suite to the Jones family. Klein said he hadn't even been aware he had such a room, which ended that conversation.
Morgan still thought it was too much but when Duane ran out of his room while excitedly talking about how amazing it was, any doubts fled his mind. His son had a roof over his head, thick walls between him and the dead, food and water. That was all that mattered. Heating, electricity and a gift basket full of sweets were added luxuries. They were probably better off than a majority of people still alive today.
"Victor is here with your supplies," told Six, having spotted Victor and two other securitrons rolling up the hallway with boxes in their arms. "I'll give you time to settle and unpack your belongings. If you meet me at the canteen at two, I'll have lunch ready and waiting."
"There's no need for that. You've already done so much" said Morgan who believed he needed to start doing something for the Courier to repay him.
Six raised his hands. "I'll hear no complaints. I'll see you two later." Pointing at Morgan with finger guns, Six walked around the securitrons who rolled into the room.
"Any place in particular you'd like us to set these down, partner?" asked Victor, holding up three boxes of supplies in his arms.
"Oh! Umm..." Morgan gave the suite a quick scan before pointing at the couch. "You can leave them there."
"Sure can do!"
Of the two hours he had to spend, Morgan spent half of it checking out the rooms. He checked out Duane's room which was meant to be a guest room. It had the same carpet and walls as the main room with a double bed on one side. On the other side was a table, a swivel chair positioned in front of said table and on it was an archaic computer. Duane was sitting on his bed, happily reading a comic that the Courier left for him on the bed. The comic's title read 'Kid Wacky's Zany Hi-Jinks'. Morgan never heard of it before but it kept Duane happy and distracted so he let it go.
He then looked to see what the other door led to and discovered it was the bathroom. The white tiled floor and wall practically sparkled, they were that clean. There was also a sink, toilet, shower and even a bathtub. Morgan twisted the bath's hot water knob and was delighted to see water pour out of it. He then laughed when he put his hand under the tap and felt the heat of the water. A month with no running water had been hard for him. He could see himself enjoying a hot bath later tonight.
More than happy with everything in the bathroom, Morgan took a gander at the contents of the gift basket the Courier left them. He read the labels as he picked up every item. "Fancy Lads Snack Cakes? Sugar Bombs? Nuka Cola? Where'd he get this stuff?" Morgan wondered, putting the bottle of cola back into the basket. He had never seen these brands before. Maybe they were European?
That was when Duane walked into the room, comic rolled up in his hand. "Daddy, can I have that?" he asked, pointing to the bottle of Nuka Cola.
"After dinner," told Morgan who then checked the clock on the wall. "Which is only twenty minutes away so go into the bathroom and wash your hands and face.
"Okay."
After five minutes of tidying themselves up, Morgan and Duane walked to the door of the room, eying the panel. "Was it this button?" wondered Morgan, pressing what he hoped was the button to open the door. To his relief, it was as the door slid to the floor.
Father and son walked down the hallway before entering one of the four elevators and pressing the button to take them to the canteen. It seemed that Six put them into the system because within moments, the elevator door opened and they found out that the elevator took them straight to the canteen. Said canteen was massive in size, with familiar steel floor and walls decorating much of it. Over fifty rectangular steel tables filled the room with uncomfortable-looking chairs surrounding them all. To their left was a self-serving area that he guessed was where employees would line up to be given food. Behind that was a doorway with no door and a gap in the wall. From the sizzling he could hear, it must be the kitchen. "It's almost like we walked into a prison cafeteria," Morgan thought, seeing a similarity.
"Six! We're here!" announced Duane with a shout, his voice echoing noisily across the large and empty room.
"Good! Take a seat and I'll be with you shortly!" The Courier's voice came from the direction of the kitchen.
Following Six's orders, they took a seat at the only table with three sets of knives and forks. They didn't have to wait long because the Courier was soon walking out with a tray in his hands. When Six placed the tray on the table, Morgan felt the need to weep, the sight before him was that beautiful.
Steak. Two of the three plates on the tray had a nice big juicy steak on them with mashed potatoes and steamed vegetables. There was even a boat of gravy. The third plate was for Duane since it was smaller and instead of steak, it had a big piece of steaming lasagna. Just the smell alone was enough to make their mouths water.
"I thought some meat would be the way to welcome you" told Six who sat down across from father and son. He then offered both a glass of cold clean water which they both happily accepted.
For the first time, Morgan got to see the Courier outside of his armour. He didn't wear a helmet and instead wore a sleeveless black coat that sported a blade spade with the number '21' emblazoned on the back of it. Under that, he had on a brown shirt with a bandoleer draped across his chest, black pants with knee pads and black boots. It was slightly more civilian than his armour but it still looked like Six was ready for a fight, at least in Morgan's eyes anyway.
Just as he was about to dig into the steak, Morgan felt Duane poke him to get his attention.
"Prayer?"
For once, Morgan had been tempted to ignore the need to pray before eating but the concerned gaze of his son changed his mind quickly. "You're right." He turned to Six. "You mind if we have a quick prayer before eating?"
Six shrugged, not caring. "Sure thing. If that wh-" However, they were interrupted when a voice spoke through the Courier's Pip-Boy.
"zzzzzz -ixzzzz -ickzzzzz -lpzzzzz -ntazzzz"
Six started pressing buttons on his Pip-Boy. "Rick? That you?" He was getting interference but that shouldn't be a problem.
"zzzz -uozzzz -zzzzz -opyzzzzz"
Pressing a button on his Pip-Boy before slowly twisting a knob, Six tried to fix the interference.
"Courier Six, are you getting this? Over." The static finally cleared and Rick's voice could be heard as clear as day.
Six brought the Pip-Boy to his mouth so he could speak through its microphone. "This is Six, I'm reading you loud and clear." He never realized how his voice didn't just bring a sense of relief to Rick but to six other people with him.