บท 150: Vol. III Chapter 24 Old friends New Faces (Part 2 of 2)
Chapter 24 Old friends, New Faces
Virgil's route back led him by a section of still standing highway. He climbed the on ramp and perched on the boot of a car. From here he could just make out the roof of The Grand. Still lost to savage raiders.
Virgil often thought of what he could do to drive them out. Ranging from shutting off the power to burning it down. Ultimately, leaving them in place served the greater good.
They fought amongst themselves for control. It served as a buffer, drawing the worst of what remained away. And anyone looking for Burton Blake would have to deal with chem fiends, armed to the teeth. Human trafficking, forced prostitution, gang violence. All existed before. At least now it had been contained.
Virgil turned his back to the view, pushing on towards home. He'd accepted that it wasn't worth the risk to so much as visit anywhere linked to Burton Blake. There was no way of knowing what data or hard copies still existed. Which meant assuming it all did. Not to mention who had access. Still, he thought of a place he'd like to see. A place not officially connected to him at all.
The Not So Grand Motel survived, much to his surprise. The wooden frame had rotted, collapsing one of the three sides. The lobby had been picked clean, even the glass booth had been taken. Yet a few rooms remained, and one still had the windows intact.
Virgil tried the handle, finding it locked. Lock picking had become a valuable skill, not that he needed it for this door. A simple piece of bent wire and a little force popped it open. He found what he expected inside. A sideboard with a broken tv on it. A table and single chair next to an old bed.
He sat on the chair, turning it so he could see outside. Something felt off about the room. Some detail didn't fit. "No dust." Shaw gave him the answer.
"Someone's been in here." He realised, then he thought about the route he'd taken. "Someone's still here." He drew his pistol, looking around the room with fresh eyes.
Virgil knelt, aiming and shining a light under the bed. He pulled a canvas pack out, tipping the contents onto the bed. "Nuka Cola and fifty year old candy." Shaw paced round the bed. "No booze or cigarettes. No real food, not even any water."
"It's a kid." He holstered his gun and turned to the shut washroom door.
"Hey kid." Virgil tapped lightly on the door. "I didn't mean to scare you. Listen, it's not safe here, come on out and we'll find your parents."
"Go away!" A frightened voice yelled from inside the washroom.
"Struck a nerve did we." Shaw observed.
"I've got a gun! I'll shoot if you come in! Just go away!" He heard the sound of a hammer being cocked, suddenly followed by a loud pop.
Fearing for the child, Virgil shoved the door open. The child panicked, firing three more times before he grabbed the gun with his prosthetic. "Gimmie that before you hurt yourself!" He took the thirty eight automatic away. The first shot had missed. He'd blocked the second with his metal arm. The third hit him in the shoulder.
"Please don't eat me!" The child threw up their hands, shrinking into the corner.
"I'm not going to eat you, kid. We don't do that." He checked the wound in the mirror. The round went straight through the strap of his ballistic fibre vest.
"Are you going to bite me and turn me into one of you?!" The terrified child asked. He felt himself scowl at the stupid rumours about people like him, but he knew it wouldn't help.
"No. Again, we don't do that." He crouched to be on their level.
"My name is Virgil, what's yours?"
"Elizabeth." Between the short hair and oversized coat she looked like a boy.
"Where are your parents, Elizabeth?" He asked softly.
"Momma got...sick. She wouldn't, she's...gone." Tears rolled down, leaving clean lines in the dirt on her face.
"I'm very sorry. Do you have any other family?" Virgil asked, trying not to push her.
"My Daddy, he used to go to The Grand, until one day he just didn't come back. When Momma...I went looking for him." Her voice broke, her lip trembling.
"Get her out of here Burton, now." Shaw barked. Virgil ignored him.
"I found him on a bench outside, but he wouldn't wake up either. Except he wasn't sick." She began to sob.
"Burton!" Shaw demanded his attention. Virgil ducked out of the room, ready to choke Shaw, until he heard voices outside.
Virgil peeked through the net curtain. "I'm tellin' ya, I heard shots. Pop, pop, pop!" A dirty, twitching raider approached, leading two more. All armed and all wired. He darted back to the sobbing child, taking his small transistor radio and earpiece.
"Elizabeth, I want you to wait right here, and listen to this." He turned the volume up and handed her the radio. Her face lit up with delight as she put the earpiece in.
"Burton!" Shaw yelled. He peeled out of the washroom and shouldered his carbine in one fluid motion. He saw the door handle turn and fired, splintering wood and hitting flesh.
"Fuck!" Someone screamed following a heavy thud. A figure moved into view through the window and Virgil fired another precise burst.
Automatic fire ripped into the room, tearing up the bed and walls. Virgil crawled to the door, peering through the hole he'd made. A single raider remained, running and firing a submachine gun wildly. The crazed raider ducked behind a car, swapping out the drum mag on his grease gun style weapon. Virgil steadied his aim, resting the suppressor on the shattered wood.
"You motherfuckers are dead!" The raider sprang from cover, screaming and spraying bullets. Virgil fired once, stopping the gunfire and screaming with a headshot. The body hit the blacktop, silence returned. So quiet it felt as if the gunfire never happened.
Virgil stayed low and crawled back to the washroom. Elizabeth had made herself small, wedged into the corner of the tiny room. Hands pressed tight over her ears. "Is it over?" She asked, wide eyed and whispering. Before he could answer, a bright spot light flooded the room.
"Don't move." She nodded and he pulled the washroom door shut.
Virgil peered through the hole in the front door, the light blinding him.
"They're good." Shaw noted, sitting by the window. "Trained."
"Who's in there?" A rasping voice shouted. "Identify yourself." It sounded like an order.
"Your friends started this!" He told a half truth, he wasn't going to risk a child's safety. "You want what they got, fine by me." He reloaded as loud as possible.
"Relax." A man's shadow fell upon the wall, hands raised and drawing nearer. "We don't shoot our own." The light shut off. Virgil stood, stepping out with his carbine levelled. He aimed at the figure. Assault rifle hanging over a tactical vest. Face wrapped in strips of red cloth. Black eyes without fear.
Virgil felt guns pointed at him from the dark. "You serve?" The masked figure asked, gesturing to his metal arm.
"Army engineers." He lied convincingly.
"Bullshit!" The masked figure struck a sardonic tone. "Two in the chest and one in the head for these dumb fucks." He wiped blood off his boots on the bodies. "And a single headshot on a moving target. No mechanic I've met shoots that well with two arms."
"What's your point?" Virgil kept his carbine steady.
"Like I said, we don't shoot our own." The masked man lowered his arms, stepping closer to the muzzle of the gun and extending his hand. "Higgins, Sean. Colonel. Special Operations Command."
"You remember him don't you, Burton." Shaw paced round the man he'd known. Virgil remembered the name. Higgins had been the sort of soldier they'd send out with orders to bring back severed heads for identification. Now he'd been empowered and unleashed onto a world he'd thrive in. He'd also been the man that saved Clara when the bombs fell. "Be very fucking careful." Shaw warned.
"Nash, Virgil. Defence Intelligence." Virgil lowered his weapon and put out his hand. "Retired." That seemed to amuse Higgins.
"Retirement would be a waste of our gift, brother." He lit a cigarette and offered Virgil one. "You took a hit, my medic can patch you up."
"It's just a flesh wound. Lucky I guess." Virgil played along.
"Indeed we are brother." Higgins stared at him, slowly taking a drag of a cigarette. "Listen Virgil, these meatbags were here to deliver a package for us. Doesn't look like they can do that now." He flicked the cigarette at the dead body.
"I gave them every chance." Virgil took half a step back, trying to create space to draw.
"Relax. I don't give a fuck about this scum." Higgins seemed more amused than anything else. "I do, however, have a schedule to keep." Higgins paused, pretending to weigh his options. "Tell you what, you deliver my package and we'll call it even."
"Alright." Virgil agreed like he had a choice.
"Good man. There's an old hotel two klicks down the road, know it?" Virgil nodded. "Fucking dump. Take the package there, maybe stop for a drink. Maybe take a look around. I'm sure an experienced D.I.A. man would notice all kinds of things."
"Alright." Virgil quashed his panic. "Where's this package?"
Higgins raised a bony hand and gave a signal without looking. Virgil heard boots scuffing the ground as two more masked figures dragged a shackled man. They threw him at Virgil's feet. One eye swollen shut, the other glaring. Clothes bloodied and stained. An explosive collar digging into his neck.
"Here it is." Higgins had an inhuman coldness in his voice. "You good to go?" He held out the crude detonator.
"Fucking rotten bas—" Virgil kicked the shackled man in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him.
"Shut the fuck up!" Virgil played up the part. He turned back to Higgins and took the detonator.
"Tell them the Red Hand sent you." And with that Higgins melted back into the night.
Virgil bundled the shackled man into the room and put him in the chair. "Elizabeth, it's alright. Come out, I need your help." The frightened girl edged into the room, still clutching the radio. "Go in my pack, get the first aid kit and the torch, quickly now." He gave her something to do, knowing it would help her.
"Sorry I kicked you." Virgil tried to reach the shackled man. "I'm going to take the collar off. Don't move." The man nodded, too confused to do anything else. "Elizabeth, shine the light here." The light bounced around as her hand trembled. Virgil undid the screws on the metal box, revealing the explosives.
"You see what the dullards do without superior minds to lead them." Mr. House paced, disgusted and ranting. "Slavery. Such barbarism."
"I'm trying to concentrate here." The two other people in the room froze. Virgil began separating wires with tweezers from the first aid kit. "What's your favourite colour, Elizabeth?" He asked to distract them both before cutting the wires to the blasting cap.
"It's disarmed." Virgil let out a sigh and lit a cigarette. "Let me pick those locks." The man shifted round. "Elizabeth, light please." He didn't need the light, but her hands had stopped shaking.
"Betsy." She said with half a smile. "No one calls me Elizabeth."
Within minutes the collar and shackles lay in a pile on the floor. The man rubbed his neck, the skin raw. "Thank you." The man put out his injured hand in gratitude. "Wayne."
"You're welcome Wayne." Virgil shook the man's hand. "Can you walk? I need to get the kid somewhere safe."
"I can make it." He got to his feet, unsteady but standing.
Virgil turned his attention to the girl, still transfixed with the radio. "How do you fit all that music in such a tiny box?" She asked as if it were magic.
"It doesn't work that way, this just plays the signal from the tower." He tried not to patronise her. "That's where I live, that's where I'm going. And I want you to come. You'll be safe there, and we'll find you a real home." He tried to give her the illusion of a choice, but wasn't going to leave her.
"Okay." She looked down at her feet, smart enough to see the only option.
The sun climbed as the three of them walked down the eight lane blacktop. Wayne left them in the afternoon, insisting they wait. Heading for the hippy farming commune Virgil thought to be a rumour. He returned with a jar of moonshine and a leg of venison, a reward Virgil took gladly. And something that Virgil hadn't seen for many years. Magic mushrooms. He took them gladly too.
"So, explain it again." Betsy hopped along, dodging the cracks in the road.
"We play a record at the tower. A machine converts the music into energy that spreads out through the air. And your radio turns it back to music." Virgil couldn't help but smile. Betsy still seemed awed by the small radio that hadn't left her hand all day.
"And anyone with a radio can listen whenever they want?" She asked.
"The people that run it keep it on air day and night. I'll introduce you." She stopped and stared at him.
"You know the people on the radio?!" Betsy looked shocked, as if she hadn't truly believed the voices from the tinny box were real.
"Kid, I built the damn radio." He saw how much that impressed her.
"Wow." She ran past him and turned, walking backwards. "How did you come up with that then?" For a moment he considered taking credit for inventing the radio, but couldn't do that to one of his boyhood heroes.
"Actually radio was invented by a man named Tesla, about three hundred years ago. I have a book you can read." He saw her enthusiasm dim.
"I don't know how to read." Betsy looked down at her feet, kicking at the loose surface in frustration.
"You'll learn, don't worry." He felt a moment of pity for the girl. "You're smart enough to survive out here. A little thing like reading won't slow you down." He noticed something ahead, just visible in the fading light. "First lesson. See that sign." An old road sign had been repurposed, writing added with red spray paint. "That says Shadowtown three miles."
"What does that mean?" She asked nervously.
"That means we're almost home."
Night had fallen by the time they reached home. Virgil went straight to the best place he could think of for Betsy, and knocked on the door. "Hey Bill." Virgil corrected himself. "Will." He looked exactly like his father. "I met this little lady on the road. She needs a hot meal and a warm bed for the night." Will smiled and knelt, talking to Betsy.
"You're in luck lady. Arrived just in time for dinner." Will stepped aside, offering a place at his table. "Junior, come say hi." He called to his son.
Betsy seemed hesitant, clinging onto Virgil's good hand. "Betsy, I've known Will his whole life. He's a good man, like his father." Betsy nodded and gingerly stepped in, until a boy her age appeared and set her a place at the table.
"I'll get the paperwork done tomorrow. Take this." Virgil handed Will the leg of venison and turned to leave.
"Wait!" Betsy darted from the table. "This is yours." She held out the radio.
"Keep it. I'll build another." He threw her a wink and left them to dinner.
Virgil made it through his front door. He dropped his pack, stowed his carbine. Then slumped into his tattered chair. He rewarded himself with a cigarette and half a jar of shine, keeping the two apart. Soon he drifted into an easy sleep for the first time in days.
He woke to the sound of laughter. Suzette sat at desk, an old Vault-Tec bobblehead in the centre. She tapped the smiling head and giggled as it bobbled. "Where'd you find that?" He didn't want it in their place.
"Went on a run." Suzette smiled, her wide eyed attention drawn by something else. As she left the desk, Virgil saw an empty bowl.
"Have you eaten?" He asked, trying to find where Suzette had put his pack.
"I made soup, saved you some." She began tracing her fingers along the painted flowers on the dressing screen. He checked the stove and found half a pan of vegetable soup. With the hallucinogenic mushrooms thrown in.
Virgil took a packet of instant pudding mix from the cupboard and lit a few candles. "Suzette, look at this." He sprinkled a pinch of powder onto the flame, watching it sparkle in green and blue. Suzette became transfixed instantly. "I want you to know that everything is fine. Those mushrooms you ate, they were magic." She sniggered.
"Were you going to plant them and grow a beanstalk?" She joked, not grasping the meaning.
"No honey, magic mushrooms, Daytripper, LSD." He saw the realisation hit her.
"Chems?!" She gasped. Suzette had always been a straitlaced type. He calmed her with more sparkling powder. "What are we going to do?" She asked, unnerved but steady.
"Well, I'm going to eat my soup." He took a huge spoonful of the laced soup, much to Suzette's shock. Quickly followed by raucous laughter from them both.
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