Take two: part deux
Here is the rewritten chapter one of "Letters from home" I've trimmed and fleshed out certain areas. Others have been completely redone. it's been tweaked and tuned, reformatted and smoothed out. I've actually had to cut the content of the chapter in half but I believe the break off is well placed.
To give credit where credit is due: My Dad helped tremendously. With his twenty years in the navy and knowledge of survival skills, he's helped me achieve a wonderful level of realism. Not only that, but his knowledge of good storytelling helped me to fine tune the chapter into what it is now. He is well on his way to being a co-author! anyway here it is.
Letters from Home
Chapter one: "The Lone Wanderer"
By: JellicleJessie
Pairing: not in this chapter
Rating: R (language... for now...)
Dusk was falling over the Capital Wasteland. The settlement of Megaton was already cast in the shadow of it’s high metal walls. Strings of lights and neon signs flickered to life as the night crept in. The last rays of sunlight filtered through the patchwork walls of Moriarty’s Saloon, casting a ruddy glow off of it’s interior. The day had dragged on as usual, the same haggard faces drinking themselves to death for lack of anything better to do. Gob idly wiped down the bar, listening to the radio crackling happily in it’s corner.
With a breath of desert air and a wisp of dust, Amber entered the bar. Gob brightened as soon as he laid eyes on her, the worried tension draining from his posture. She flashed him a dazzling smile, her teeth appearing stark white against her dust smeared face. He could tell that she hadn’t bothered to go home. As the door rattled closed behind her, he could see the thick film of dust that coated her from helmet to boot. She crossed the meager distance to the bar and sat across from him, dropping her pack unceremoniously in the process. The patchwork satchel clattered to the floor, heavy and bulking with scavenged goods.
“Welcome back.” He rasped kindly, picking up a glass to polish. Amber pushed her goggles up onto her forehead, her bright green eyes fixing onto his. She murmured her thanks and ordered a drink, as he was turned away she slid a folded sheet of paper onto the scarred surface of the bar.
“Did I miss anything interesting?” She asked casually, thanking him for the shot. He shrugged, a quirky, familiar movement. She raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile tugged at her lips. For a moment he looked confused, she flicked a suggestive glance towards the bar. Following her cue, he caught sight of the paper.
“what’s this?” he asked carefully, picking it up. Amber took a moment to throw back the shot before answering.
“It’s from Carol.” she answered, after a sharp hiss of breath through her teeth. With a quick glance at Moriarty’s door, he let out a rough chuckle and slipped the letter into a pants pocket. Amber had done as he asked, and mentioned Gob to Carol when she finally stumbled upon Underworld. He managed a lopsided smile in thanks, though Amber could see the unvoiced gratitude burning in his eyes. She waved it off, it had been a small favor.
“Don’t mention it, I can get a letter back to her if you’d like.” she answered his silent thanks. After a moment of welcome silence, Amber ordered another drink. As he refilled her glass, Gob noticed a sliver of gauze peeking out from under her right sleeve. A worried look crossed his face as he passed the glass back to her. Amber took a startled look to her injured arm and gave a weak smile.
“You’re hurt… why didn’t you go see Doc Church first?” he asked after a moment. She half shrugged, obviously her right shoulder was in pain. Her attempt to dissuade him failed and he pressed her for more. Amber had seen that look a thousand times, tell me more. she sighed heavily and ran a hand through her rosewood hair. Suddenly she looked tired, something she usually tried to hide.
“I ran into a gang of those Talon Company fucks, one of ‘em stabbed me in the shoulder. I plan on seeing Mr. Sunshine later, believe me… I just wanted to get that letter to you as soon as I could. I figured it’d be a nice surprise…” she finished with a crooked smile. Amber knew that Gob couldn’t be angry with her, that was alright, she was angry enough with herself for the both of them. It was the constant worrying that bothered her, made her seethe with self-loathing every time she was reckless.
“how- how bad is it?” he asked quietly. She jerked her head to the left, a sign she hadn’t heard him. Gob swallowed, concerned for one of his only friends. He asked her again, raising his voice to accommodate.
“Not horrible, hurt’s like a bitch but I’ll manage. I’ve had worse.” she replied quietly. Gob nodded stiffly and resumed wiping the bar, anything to ease the worried tension. Amber tried not to notice the vicious way Gob was scrubbing at the decrepit counter. Looking around, she noticed that the sunlight had faded. She tossed back the half forgotten shot and sighed again.
“Gob-” she placed her hand over his to stop his relentless cleaning, “-it’s really not that bad. My dad was a doctor remember? I left that vault with more than a little knowledge in first aid, and I can handle this small stuff.” she didn’t go into details, she knew he didn’t want to hear. Amber still glowed at the fact that he hadn’t flinched at her touch. That was something she appreciated more than any thanks he could give. After a moment he relaxed and nodded throwing in a half mumbled ‘yeah’ for good measure.
“Speaking of, heard anything about him yet?” Gob asked, desperately trying to change the subject. Though grateful, Amber couldn’t suppress the pained look that crossed her face. After a moment it was replaced with a slightly sad smile.
“Nothing recently, my leads ran cold a few weeks back… I’ve just been so busy, you know?” she trailed off, there really was no need to explain herself. Gob simply nodded, he knew how hard she was taking it. He couldn’t quite understand why she’d chosen him, why she talked to him about her well hidden sorrows. Still, he was fond of the young waster, she helped him forget about Moriarty for a while.
Amber stayed for a long while. They spoke, but not much. After a time, a welcome silence settled over them. Gob went about his normal duties to the bar, while Amber sat and quietly hummed along with the radio. She couldn’t quite count how many nights had tapered down like this. The bar was her only refuge, Gob her only “friend”, and Amber couldn’t think of a better way to forget about the things she’d seen. Slowly, the other patrons of the bar slipped into the night, until only Amber was left.
The silence was broken when Moriarty stalked out of his office. Gob visibly tensed and Amber swore under her breath. It was no secret that she disliked the proprietor of the saloon. He came to a swaggering halt behind gob, glaring coldly at Amber. She returned his gaze with disdain, then looked defiantly at Gob. He flashed a nervous half-smile and continued polishing the mug in his hand. Amber knew that Gob was in for it as soon as she left. Moriarty cleared his throat loudly, Gob half turned to glance at his boss. Ignoring the ghoul, he meandered around the ancient counter to loom over Amber.
“’s getting’ a wee bit late don’cha tink? I’d say ‘s bout time ye was headdin’ home lass.” his thick accent couldn’t hide the thinly veiled loathing Amber knew he felt. Slowly, she turned to face him, leaning her elbows languidly on the bar behind her. A smug look twisted her young face into something even the most hardened raiders had come to fear. She swung one leg wide, crossing the other, clipping his chest with the heel of her boot. His false smile only twitched at the corners from the insolent contact.
“Is it? I hadn’t noticed.” she remarked casually, staring him down. They remained locked in a battle of wills for a long moment. With her unusual perception, Amber could see the rage boiling just below the surface. Without breaking the gaze, she picked up the forgotten drink and tossed it back. Her smirk turned into a grimace, no longer playing his game. She knew her little show would cost Gob dearly once she left, but Amber had to keep up appearances. Placing the glass back on the bar, she turned away. A quick, apologetic glance at Gob and then she picked up her pack.
Standing, she spun to face Moriarty, a look of triumph tinged his smug expression. Throwing one strap over her shoulder, Amber barely flinched under the weight of the pack on her injured arm. With a last, burning glare at Moriarty Amber strode out of the bar. The metal door rattled shut behind her and she was gone. For a moment, Gob looked at the door. Once he was sure Amber was out of earshot, Moriarty leapt on the ghoul.
“You! Come’ere you.” he reached across the counter and fisted Gob’s threadbare shirt. The bartender didn’t put up a fight, merely let his owner drag him forward. “You make sure this place is spotless before you lock up. Then we can chat bout your current debt. And don’cha be thinking that ‘lil lass’ll be savin’ your worthless hide.” He spat. Gob nodded stiffly in reply. For good measure, Moriarty yanked on his shirt, roughly slamming the ghoul into the bar. Gob’s head came down hard on the rusted metal surface. The blow briefly knocked him out, causing his knees to buckle.
He pushed himself up off the floor, avoiding Moriarty’s glare. He mumbled a submissive ‘yes sir’ and waited for Moriarty to leave. With a satisfied chuckle, Moriarty swaggered back into his office. Once sure he was gone, Gob pulled himself up. He gingerly laid a ragged hand on his head, already feeling the knot forming under the remaining skin. He was glad Amber hadn’t backed down, if he appeared as a weakness to her, Moriarty would exploit it without a second thought. Making sure his footing was good, Gob began to lock up the bar.
---
The deafening slam echoed in Amber’s ears as she leaned heavily against the wall of the saloon. She knew Gob understood, knew he was a weakness that she had to hide. Still, the horrible sound caused her knees to go weak. After a moment she unhitched herself from the wall and staggered away into the night. With all of her “daring-do” out in the wastes, Amber sometimes forgot how bad things were at home. Still, if she did anything about it, and she sorely wanted to, it wouldn’t be home for much longer.
The large, pale moon provided ample light as she traversed a corroded bridge. The silent sentinel of the wastes, glowing above as it had been for eternity. Earth’s constant companion, always watchful in the dark of night. Amber idly wished she had someone like that, someone to watch her back in what was left of the world. Following the rusted walkway sunken into the crater wall, Amber glanced out over the town. A few shadowed figures made their way home, but for the most part Megaton was sleeping.
Amber’s house loomed over her, a welcome sight after so long on the road. She opened the salvaged door and trudged inside. The breath of slightly less sweltering air was pleasant as she dropped her pack in one corner. Too tired to cook, Amber pulled a mirelurk cake and a bottle of Nuka-Cola out of her bag. Food in hand, she flopped unceremoniously into the nearest chair. She ate quickly, it had been hours since her last meal. the telltale hum of Wadsworth’s propulsion jets came from somewhere upstairs.
As if on cue, the Mister Handy unit came drifting down the ramshackle stairs. He swiveled his optical sensors in her direction, she retorted with a crooked smile. Taking it as a hello, the robot went about his duties, leaving her in peace. After a moment to enjoy sitting down, Amber staggered to her feet and grabbed her pack from the floor. An awful din erupted from the living room as she emptied the contents of the bag. Food, meds, ammo and other miscellaneous items skittered across the carpet. She deftly sorted the heap of junk into several smaller piles. Amber made a quick inventory of her ammo and meds, setting aside empty magazines to be reloaded.
Stuffing the scavved goods back into the bag, Amber gathered up her weapons, ammo and meds and retreated to her room. She opened the bottom drawer of the desk and dropped the meds inside. Turning on the table lamp, Amber set her 10mm on the work surface. With nimble fingers, she swiftly field stripped the firearm, taking it apart enough to clean the mechanisms and oil everything lightly. With a patch of steel wool she scrubbed away any rust or corrosion building up outside.
Clean, Amber checked the condition of the parts. Finding a few on the verge of death, she rummaged around in the middle drawer to find replacements. Using the tools scattered across the desk, she replaced the damaged parts. That done, she reassembled the gun and checked the action, dry firing it once or twice. Satisfied, she set the cleaned gun to her left and began working on her assault rifle. In routine succession, Amber cleaned and repaired her main weapons. She would need to stop by Moira’s to see if she could scrounge up more shotgun parts, but that could wait until tomorrow.
Next, she opened a drawer of the filing cabinet and grabbed a few bags of loose ammo. Setting the various clips and magazines aside, Amber checked the condition of the ammo and counted out a combat load. With practiced efficiency, she reloaded the magazines and a few spares. She returned the ammo to it’s drawer and sighed. For a moment she took stock of her finished work, guns cleaned, repaired and reloaded. She ran a grimy hand through her dust clogged hair with a sigh.
Finished with her guns, Amber trudged downstairs, into the small bathroom she’d added to the house. After a quick look in the cracked mirror, Amber was taken aback by how haggard she looked. With a frown she stripped herself of the combat armor and took a shower. The hot water helped relax her aching muscles, she took extra time to thoroughly wash her hair. Stopping the water, Amber took a moment to wring out her waist length hair. She stepped out of the shower and grabbed a threadbare towel from the hook on the opposite wall. Wrapping it around herself, she adjourned to her room to change.
Clean, dry and changed, Amber sat on her rusted bed, the ancient springs squealing in protest. As she settled into the slowly growing pile of teddy bears, Wadsworth hovered just outside the doorway.
“Come in Wadsworth.” She said wearily. After a moment he drifted into the room.
“Madame, I couldn’t help but observe that you have been in a rather dour mood as of late. May I be so bold as to inquire upon the cause?” he asked in that maddeningly proper English accent. She nodded slightly and formed her answer.
“I was up at Moriarty’s earlier, delivering a letter to Gob from his mom. Then Moriarty showed up, total joy kill, and tossed me out. Gob got it bad tonight, I can feel it in my gut… I can’t be the only waster in this godforsaken place that gives a damn… can I?” she had meant the question rhetorically, but she could almost hear the whine of silicon synapses firing up. After a moment he made his reply.
“Statistically no, Madame, you cannot be the only one who ‘gives a damn’. I fear however; that ones such as yourself -in this case persons who view Ghouls as equals- are few and far between in the wasteland. Still, mustn’t give up hope, else I fear your mood will considerably deteriorate.” He answered at length. Amber merely stared. It had probably been the most appropriate, well thought-out answer he had ever given her. Hell if it didn’t make her feel batter too. Shaking her head weakly, Amber let out a dry, humorless laugh.
“Thank you Wadsworth, I feel… better.” She replied wearily. Taking it as the end of the conversation, Wadsworth bobbed slightly and excused himself. As he floated away, Amber was still slightly shocked at his sudden display of insight. She turned off the lights and crawled into bed. It took her a long while to fall asleep. The silence of the house allowed her mind to play back the sounds of gunfire and screams. Eventually she drifted off into a black and dreamless sleep.
---
‘The high pitched beeping was her only warning of the landmine. She dived away, landing her shoulder heavily into her partner’s side. He let out a shocked, rasping cry as they toppled behind a pile of rubble. The beeping should have gotten faster, warning of the mine’s imminent explosion, yet it remained at a steady pulse. Disoriented, Amber looked to the man she had tackled.
“What are you doing?!” he shouted, his withered voice sounded strangely familiar. She studied his face for a moment, but the wicked play of shadows from a nearby fire made him impossible to recognize. A rough hand shoved her off, the forearm attached was missing tissue and some of the muscles were exposed. She sat up and held her head with one gloved hand, her wrist felt oddly light. The beeping of the mine still echoed off of the tunnel walls, why hadn’t it gone off yet?
“the mine…” She replied dazedly. A dry chuckle came from the shadowed figure before her. She looked at him again but still couldn’t make out who he was. The shadows moved and encased her, the beeping was replaced with the sound of crickets. The fire and shadowed figure remained. Amber looked about her, dizzy from the change. Around them the wasteland stretched for eternity. The moon, bright and full, was bigger than she’d ever seen before. The multitude of stars seemed to be forming kaleidoscopic patterns against the inky night sky.
Amber gazed into the fire for a moment, the last echoes of his laugh fading into the vast night. The flames seemed to move like liquid, slow and flowing. Creating patterns of colors that no true fire had. She paid close attention to a winding streak of deep burgundy for a long moment.
“what mine? Are you alright Amber?” He said, a twinge of worry edging his rough voice. Amber squeezed her eyes closed but the play of firelight danced through her eyelids. ‘What is going on…’ she thought idly, trying to pull reality back together. Opening her eyes again, only the man and the fire remained, every thing else was blackness.
“Amber? What’s wrong?” the worry was almost tangible in his voice, he leaned closer. Even though she could make out his body, his face was still obscured by phantom shadows. Still clinging to his features, though they had no source. The beeping returned, louder than before. The fire dimmed and the figure began to fade. Panic gripped her, she reached out a gloved hand towards him.
“Who are you?” she managed to choke out before the beeping became unbearable. Before he could answer, the figure faded completely. Leaving Amber alone in the void with the deafening beeps. Looking up the stars still waltzed to an inaudible tune, forming patterns that both captivated and frightened her.’
Amber woke with a start, bolting upright, soaked in sweat and breathing heavily. The beeping of her Pip-boy was deafening in the silent house. Roughly untangling the thin blanket from her legs, Amber shakily got to her feet and turned off the alarm. A dream? She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a dream. Three Dog’s morning rant drifted through the house from the old jukebox. She set her Pip-boy down and sighed, running a hand through her damp hair. Shaking off the last remnants of the dream, Amber laid out on the cold metal floor. Tucking her feet under the edge of the desk, she began doing sit-ups.
After ten minutes or so, Amber stopped. She would have done push-ups next, but her arm was not well enough to handle the strain. An old routine, she had been doing these exercises for years. Getting up, she bounded downstairs into the cramped bathroom. After a good nights rest, the girl in the mirror looked young and refreshed. She quickly brushed the tangles out of her hair and bound it in a loose bun. She had planned for a few days in town, a few days to rest and re-supply. A few days to plan her next trip into the wastes.
As she headed back to her room she passed by Wadsworth on the stairs. He greeted her cheerfully and she returned it with a smile. Grabbing a Nuka-Cola from the “pristine” machine on the landing, she found herself gazing at the open door of the spare room. Amber really had no use for it. Returning to the present, she opened the frosty drink and strode into her room.
The sunlight streaming through the patchwork walls of her house was warm on her skin. Setting her drink on the desk, Amber took a moment to herself to stretch. There were satisfying pops from her ankles and lower back as she arched languidly towards the ceiling. As she finished with a satisfied sigh, she began humming along with the radio. Turning back towards the desk, Amber grabbed her Pip-boy and clasped it around her wrist. The familiar weight was welcome as she took a seat. Flipping over the day planner she’d bought from Moira, Amber ran her gaze over the map.
She’d been meticulously copying the map on her Pip-boy to paper for some time now. Never a braggart, Amber had been told she was quite the artist. She pulled up the map screen on her small computer and began to copy it to paper. On her last trip she’d discovered several new locations, Amber transcribed them as closely as she could. The plans for her next trek into the wastes ran through her mind. First to Rivet city to re-supply and say hello to Flack and Shrapnel. Then to underworld to deliver Gob’s reply, then home.
Amber twisted the stud in her right ear idly, a short trip, two weeks at most. She briefly tried to think of anything else she needed to do. Coming up with nothing, she traced the mental routes to her destinations. Picking out the safest camps and a few places to scav along the way. She grabbed a slip of paper and a pencil from one of the drawers, writing down her plan. Two weeks, she’d tell Gob three, just in case. Still, she wasn’t due to leave for a couple of days, so she could enjoy some downtime at home. Amber pushed herself away from the desk, taking the last swig from her Nuka-Cola, now only slightly cool.
She changed into a worn, patchwork hoodie and cargo pants. Tucking the pant legs into her boots, she clipped her knife onto her gun belt and slipped her 10mm into it‘s holster. After meandering downstairs, she threw the empty bottle into an open crate in the small kitchen. She mentally went over her checklist for today: Gob, Moira, and a little visit with Stockholm. Happy with her errands, Amber left her house.
---
Outside, the morning sun was bright and warm. Thankful for the break in the heat wave, Amber started off towards Moriarty’s. the multitude of footsteps of Megaton’s settlers clattered over the rusted walkways. Cromwell’s careening rants could be heard everywhere, bouncing off the metal walls and reaching out to the people of the small town. Amber was glad that he and his ilk could still worship the bomb, even after she’d disabled it. She descended the steps haphazardly sunken into the earthed ramp to her house.
The Plaza was lively that morning, well, as lively as megaton ever got anyway. She waved to Jenny Stahl as she climbed the ramp to Craterside Supply. Making sure to tread lightly over Doc Church’s roof. Billy Creel was just coming out as she approached the battered storefront. Amber stopped for only a moment to make pleasantries, then continued towards the bar. She knew them all, Billy, Jenny, Moira. She’d even had a few strange conversations with Confessor Cromwell when nothing else could console her. Still, she wasn’t really friends with any of them, she didn’t really know any of them.
Amber knew Gob, and Simms and she liked them well enough, but she didn’t really know anyone. Coming up on the covered walkway to the bar, Amber ran into Simms. The Sheriff was her kind of person, he knew what had to be done and he also knew what was right. He gave her a firm handshake as greeting and she returned it.
“Off to the bar Amber?” He remarked casually.
“Yeah, I’m in town for a few days so I thought I’d hang out with Gob for a while.” she replied idly. A scowl crossed his face briefly, probably ill thoughts about the proprietor of the Saloon. Amber knew the feeling but said nothing.
“It’s right saintly the way you treat that poor boy, God knows he needs it.” he said after a moment. She found it odd that everyone referred to Gob as “boy” Amber had a sneaking suspicion that he was older than every megaton settler combined. She shrugged it off. They chatted about nothing in particular for a few minutes and Simms made to take his leave.
“Oh, I almost forgot. Moira was looking for you the other day, something about the guide? She asked that I mention it when you got back to town.” he said, not without a hint of apprehension. Amber stifled a chuckle at his reluctance of the town eccentric. Saying her goodbyes, Amber walked into the Bar.
Moriarty was berating Gob in full swing. Even from her position at the door, Amber could tell he was three-sheets-to-the-wind. How she hadn’t heard the din from outside baffled her for a moment. She stood quietly by the door, fighting the urge for the knife on her belt. Amber hadn’t really been paying attention to the “conversation” until a flash of white caught her eye. Moriarty had Carol’s letter clenched in his fist, all at once a fierce anger boiled up inside of her. Neither of them had noticed her yet, Moriarty had his back to the door and Gob was carefully staring at his shaking hands. Amber cleared her throat loudly, stopping Moriarty mid rant.
“G’mornin lass. Ye might want to be commin’ back a bit later. As ye can see, I’m a li’l busy with certain employees-” he spat the word “-and I’d hate t’ drag ye into it.” he finished with a vicious grin. Amber folded her arms over her chest, gripping her sleeves tightly to fend off the need for her knife, or the want for the gun on her hip. Her face blank, she stared him down. Her icy glare finally made his smug grin falter.
“That-” she began, pointing to the sheet in his fist “-Belongs. To. Gob.” each word was soaked in venom. He took a startled look at the paper he had been clutching tightly, and laughed roughly.
“This? This is an inventory sheet, nutin’ more.” he replied silkily. No dice. Amber knew it was the letter, she had heard more than a few words of Moriarty’s ranting. She told him so and he paled.
“Is there a problem? If you have some issue with me delivering letters between Gob and his mother than you should take it up with me. Surely you can’t begrudge a man for missing his family? I’m sure even you miss you family sometimes.” the last sentence had been a lie, Amber had mulled the thought that, knowing Moriarty, he’d probably sold his mother for a bottle of scotch. But the effect was the same, the threat she posed was just enough to make him back down. Still Amber felt like she was pushing her luck.
“O’course not lass, ‘s only that he was read’n it on the job ‘s all. And I try to run a respectable establishment, which is difficult if your employees sit ‘round all goddamned day read’n le’ers from home.” he whined, not a pleasant sound coming from him. However, it was enough to make him leave poor Gob alone while she was there. After all, repeat business was the key to his industry. Thrusting the crumpled sheet into Gob’s hands, Moriarty strode defiantly into his office. Gob gave an appreciative look to Amber as he took up his usual spot behind the bar.
“…Thanks Amber.” he rasped quietly. As she sat at the bar, Amber couldn’t help but notice the nasty looking shiner that Moriarty had left him with. She gently squeezed his hand as he began wiping down the countertop. Gob froze for a moment at her touch, but didn’t flinch. He managed to giver he a broken smile as she ordered a drink. As Gob poured the shot, Amber stared blankly at a spot just over his right shoulder. With a nod of thanks, she tossed back the whisky, enjoying the warmth spreading down her throat and stomach. With an exasperated sigh, she placed the glass gingerly on the bar.
“Are you ok?” she asked at last, toying with the empty glass. He glanced back at her as he stowed the caps in the register. Gob’s gaze faltered at the pained look she gave him, he wanted to tell her it wasn’t her fault, she wouldn’t believe him. After a moment he nodded and picked up a mug to clean. The silence was thick with regret, Amber had an almost tangible tenseness about her. Gob could feel the self loathing radiating off of her, he had to say something.
“I’ve had worse…” he said at last “this’ll be gone in a few days… it doesn’t hurt much anyway…” he finished cautiously. The words were familiar, she glared at him askance he shrugged it off. Amber knew he was lying, it was written on his face, and in the way his shoulders tensed up, as if she might hit him. Looking to change the mood, Amber groped for another subject.
“Gob-” she began idly “-are you a pre-war Ghoul? Like Carol?” it wasn’t much, but it was something. The change in subject made him ease up, Amber could see the tension leave his ridged posture. He let out a ragged sigh and ran a hand through his patchy hair.
“Yeah… I’d been back from Anchorage for about a year when the bombs hit.” the name struck a chord. Suddenly, Amber saw the bartender in a new light.
“Anchorage? You were in the Army?” her sudden interest brightened him up a little, but she could sense apprehension at the subject. Still, her display of childlike curiosity forced a dry laugh from the Ghoul. He shook his head wryly as he picked up another glass.
“No- well, technically…” he answered vaguely. Amber quirked her head at his reply.
“How can you technically be in the Army?” she asked with a twinge of sarcasm. He tried to suppress a smile.
“I was in the Navy, up until Uncle Sam decided to grab every serviceman sitting on his duff and transfer them to the front line. Before I got swapped, I was up in a P-3 looking for Chinese subs.” he replied plainly. Amber said nothing, stealing a glance at her, Gob was surprised to find that he had her rapt attention. Leaning her elbows on her bar, she gaped at him, wide eyed. A keen interest burned her stare into him. “What? Why so interested?” he asked, ever so slightly defensive. Amber looked away quickly, with -and he found it hard to believe- a hint of a blush tinting her cheeks.
“I…um, I’m a- I’m a bit of a military history buff.” she admitted meekly. “I’ve read everything I can get my hands on about the pre-war military. It’s just that… I never thought I’d get to talk to someone with firsthand experience.” she added quickly. Gob laughed nervously, but not unkindly. She let out a breathy chuckle, still looking away.
“Well, at the time we were running out of men. The draft dodgers had fled to Mexico -since we’d annexed Canada by then- and the war was winding down. Still, the Reds kept coming, even though China was running out of resources and money. So one day, the crew and I get back from a twelve hour flight and find this guy coming up with letters for us. Telling us that we’re in the Army now, new orders, new stations. I got sent to Lakehurst for power armor training.” he paused then, hoping that would be enough. Amber sat and listened intently. Her piercing stare sort of gave him the creeps, yet it felt oddly satisfying to have someone listen to him.
“Anyway, after training, I went up to Alaska and spent three years up there. Let me tell you, it’s fucking cold up there!” his attempt to end the conversation seemed to work, Amber stared pensively at her empty shot glass for a moment.
“I’d never peg you for a soldier.” she said after a moment. He shrugged, putting down the mug he’d been cleaning for nearly twenty minutes.
“it… changes you, combat. When you’ve killed that many people… you’ve got nothing left to prove. People take it differently, buddy of mine shot himself. Than again, poor bastard had a rough week. Mom died of the plague, little brother killed in the riots, wife died in childbirth -the baby too- and he just didn’t have time to process it, what with the Reds breathing down our necks. I can’t really say I blamed him, but the Army had figured I’d had enough. They sent me home after that.” he answered, caught up in the memory. Amber nodded sullenly, she knew what combat could do to a person.
‘But… what made you come down to D.C.?” Amber asked as he refilled her empty glass. Again he shrugged, a quick movement. Gob rubbed the back of his neck, thinking of a good answer.
“Couldn’t tell you really, I guess I thought that someone higher up must’ve survived. Guess the soldier in me was looking for orders… besides it’s better than Jersey.” his sudden attempt at humor caught her off guard, she laughed despite herself. Again, he flashed her a crooked smile. The radio interrupted their reverie, as Three Dog loosed a crackling howl and started a new report on Amber. He talked about Arefu and Meresti and, thankfully, failed to mention Vance. Gob flashed her that look, the look that said: tell me more.
“well…” She began.
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After a few days in town Amber prepared to leave. She’d gone to see Doc Church, who’d grudgingly patched her up. She’d let her arm heal for a day or two, in the meantime she was able to get more shotgun parts from Moira. Another assignment for the guide was lined up, but it would have to wait until her next trip. Her shoulder was feeling better, but hadn’t had time to fully heal. Still, Amber had to leave, the cramped town was smothering her. She went through her mental checklist, head tilted in thought. Removing her hands from her hips, she went to work.
Amber collapsed her sniper rifle, strapping it to the side of her pack. The combat shotgun was strapped to the other side. Laid out across her bed were the rest of her supplies. Opening a side pouch, Amber recounted her ammo and stowed it carefully inside. In another pocket, she placed a number of Stimpaks, a few rolls of gauze and some extra Rad-away. While tossing a few bottles of water into the main pack, Amber slipped a box of bobby pins into a pouch on her belt. The main bag was barely filled with three days rations, spare parts for her guns and a set of tools for repair. She tucked in a roll of duct tape for good measure. Before she forgot, Amber jammed a roll of toilet paper on top of everything. Even tough-as-nails-kill-everyone-and-let-God-sort-em-out wasters need to heed the call of nature every once in a while.
After checking and rechecking her supplies, Amber secured the pack with a satisfied nod of her head. It was more than enough to see her safely to Rivet City, where she could easily re-supply before heading to Underworld. On that note, she reached into another pocket on her belt, checking to see that Gob’s letter was safely stored away. With another self satisfied nod, Amber clipped her assault rifle to the tactical sling she’d made. Letting the sling take the weight of the gun, it hung in front of her, ready to be grabbed while still leaving her hands free. Making one last mental check, Amber shouldered her pack and pulled her goggles down over her eyes.
As she trotted downstairs the grey pre-dawn light cast an eerie glow off the metal walls. She gave wadsworth his usual instructions: keep it clean and kill anything that comes in, unless I’ve told you otherwise before. Absolutely sure that everything was accounted for, Amber set off. Closing the door quietly behind her, she made her way to the gate. Not a soul was out that early, except for Stockholm, who gave her a slight wave from his perch on the gate. She nodded in reply and opened the heavy barricade just enough to slip out. It rattled closed behind her and she set off, into the Wastes.