Chapter Four--I Luv Ur Gun

"Yeah... I guess I have that affect on people," I said, feeling a bit small now.  Edgar stared at me a moment longer, then shrugged.

"No time to worry over it now, Forty-Nine.  Just try to check your mouth, okay?  Do you have a weapon?"

"Yeah, it's a 10 mm, here on my belt."  I put my hand on the weapon.  Edgar snorted in amused derision.  "Yeah, that will do... if we were only going to encounter a few angry rats.  Listen, I don't know what that vault of yours was thinking--"

"I guess they were thinking that I wouldn't be sent out to fetch everything but twenty yao guai butts," I interrupted.

He gave me another look.  "As I was saying," he continued, sounding almost as grouchy as Jerry now, "I don't know what that vault of yours was thinking, kiddo, but that thing won't help much against anything besides small vermin.  I don't have anything to spare, so we're going to have to stop by and see Alan.  He handles all the armaments here in town.  Guess it makes an odd sort of sense.  In his former life, he played the drums with their band, and now he deals with another sort of percussion altogether."  He chuckled a bit.  "He's usually up and about at this hour, too.  Let's see if he can spare us any goodies."

****

The former drummer turned armaments specialist looked me over thoughtfully.  Like the others, Alan was barely in his mid to late thirties, but of course was much, much older than that.  His demeanor came across as aloof, slightly cool, but his nod to Edgar was friendly enough.  He didn't seem to have much in the way of mutations, other than the slight point in his ears.  He had a hawklike profile. The latter wasn't so unusual, but that his eyes had a slightly golden, iridescent cast to them.  "So you're the normie everyone's been on about?  Yeah, Jerry had some things to say about that yesterday."  He smirked slightly.  "Hadn't seen him so irked in a while.  He isn't used to anyone pushing his buttons, and kid, you pushed them all just to see where the elevator would go."

"Yeah, so I heard."  I shuffled my feet, feeling off-kilter.  Word sure travelled fast in this town.  Who needed Three Dog from out DC way when the mutants could spread gossip amongst each other faster than fire could spread in a paper factory?  I had to wonder if they shared some kind of low-grade telepathy, though of course they could have gathered and talked last night, as Edgar said they might.

"Well, what can I do for you this morning?  As you can see--"  he waved an arm at the collection of empty shell casings on the bench here "--I'm a little busy getting these casings filled.  So unless you have some business to conduct..."

The smell of gunpowder hung in the air, and for the first time, I noticed the big signs with the bright black and yellow lettering proclaiming "EXPLOSIVE" and "HIGH EXPLOSIVES NO SMOKING" and just in case someone couldn't read, graphics of explosions and ammunition cooking off.  I could get that he was busy, but what I didn't get was why he was doing it all himself.  Looking at the bench, it amazed me to discover that not one single grain of powder or shot had been scattered, and yet when we'd come in, he'd been right in the middle of filling them.  That sort of precision was unheard of to any but a Mr Handy unit.  As I watched, while he awaited Edgar's answer (I was keeping my mouth shut now) he quickly and with incredible precision filled a few more casings.  Not a single bit was spilled as his deft fingers worked.

Edgar said, "This kid doesn't have a proper weapon, and she's supposed to go a few step and fetch jobs for Jerry and Mark.  Well, she has one, but it ain't worth a heap of shit at a brahmin farm."

"Ah, I see."  He finished what he was doing, then stood up.  He eyed me carefully, studying just about everythig about me, except maybe my dress size (and maybe that, too).  Finally, Alan nodded.  "Yeah, I got something for you, all right.  Can you handle a rifle?"

"Sure."

"How about submachine guns?"

"Those too.  I'm a decent shot," I assured him.

"Well, I don't have either of those to spare," he said, which made me wonder why he'd even asked me.  I restrained myself from rolling my eyes.  Were all of them intent on giving me a hard time?  Probably.  He stood up from the bench and went over to one of the gun racks.  "You look like you can handle this.  Mind, I want it back.  This isn't a present, normie."  He took a double-barrelled shotgun from the rack, then went over to a shelf full of boxes and pounches and the like.  He selected two drums of ammo and brought it all it over to me.

"Come with me to the firing range," he said.  "I want to make sure you aren't going to get thrown on your ass when you fire this thing."

"I've fired these before--"I began, but his sharp look cut me off.  "Okay," I finished, almost meekly.  These mutants, good people or not, weren't people to fuck with or argue with.  I was starting to finally get that.  I wasn't going to let myself get pushed around, but I sure as hell didn't want to fuck this up.  I followed Alan to the firing range, Edgar following behind, silent as smoke.

Alan led me to a target, a stuffed effigy of a snarling beast that vaguely resembled a Deathclaw.  He pulled a set of headphones from a peg on the wall and gave them to me, and a set of goggles as well.  He gave some to Edgar as well, and took some for himself.  As I put the goggles on, he said, "Listen to me, normie.  I am one of the kindest and gentlest mutants around.  Ironic, I suppose, considering I work with death dealing devices.  We're all good guys here.  Jerry gets grouchy when he thinks any of us are being fucked with.  We aren't sending you out to hit a wasp's nest with a stick.  That isn't our way, and that's why I'm giving you this to use.  You bring it back in one piece, or I will know why.  Understood?"

"Yes, sir," I said, meekly again.  I thought for a moment that I was going to cry. I took a fair amount of teasing at home, but for some reason I took everything much more personally from these people. I wasn't as tough inside as I tried to present, with my language and sass. I didn't want him to see my eyes, so I busied myself with inserting the drum home.

His tone softened some as he said, "Just 'Alan' will do.  Now show me that you can handle this thing as well as you say you can."

I took a deep breath and raised the shotgun to my shoulder.  Taking another deep breath, I stared down the sights, thumbed off the safety, and slowly squeezed the trigger.  Even with hearing protection, the gun bellowed like an angry brahmin. At the same time, it kicked hard enough into my shoulder that it hurt, the force jolting through my shoulder and down my arm. I kept a good hold of it, but damn, that was one hell of a kick. I'd handled shotguns before, but this was one bad motherfucker.  It meant business.  I decided to nickname it Shaft, after a character in an old holotainment tape that I was fond of.

"Not bad," Alan said, nodding towards the effigy.  I'd blown a sizeable hole in the first several layers of the chest.  "I tried to approximate the correct skin and muscle thickness of an adult Deathclaw when I made that.  I doubt you'll run into many, depending on where you're going, but it's best to be prepared."  Sounding more grim now, he said, "I don't think that I need to tell you what this will do to a human, mutant or otherwise."

"No argument here," I said, putting the safety back on.  I eyed the shotgun, grinning.  "I love your gun," I said.  I knew damn well how that sounded once it was out of my mouth, but I didn't care.  This was a good moment.

That made Alan grin for the first time as Edgar laughed.  "You're all right, normie," he said.  "Get back in one piece.  Both of you."

"We plan on it,"  Edgar said.  Alan got up and went over to a small table.  Switching on the radio, which was in the middle of one of those really old pre-war songs, he said, "Roads ought to be safe, for now.  Last time the Brotherhood of Steel was in the area, they said that they'd wiped out a nest of Raiders at the old hospital.  I doubt there's anything left worth grabbing there, but it's always worth a look.  As for what Jerry wants, Medina is likely your best bet.  Most of the other towns around here are full of Super Mutants and radiation. I wouldn't even bother with Cleveland, unless you have a rad suit, spudess.  Not that it's an issue for Edgar--Ghouls thrive on that shit.  Of course, you might try up at the old mall.  We haven't picked everything out of there yet, and if you think creatively, you might find good stuff in unexpected places."

"Make a mental note of this, Forty-Nine," Edgar told me.  "Alan knows what's what around here."

He smiled.  "I like to think that I do, so I'm glad someone agrees."  He rummaged through a filing cabinet, then returned with a battered softbound book the size of a road atlas.  Which in fact it was.  He put it on the work bench and flipped through it until he found what he wanted.  "Edgar knows the way," he said, pointing to Akron on the map.  "But you need to be prepared for anything.  If you leave via the western gate--you came in via our south one--you can follow West Market Street northwest.  Eventually it turns into Medina Road, Highway 18.  Now, most of the bridges and overpasses are still in fair shape, but it might be a good idea, also, to cut straight as the crow flies, if all you want to do is get to the town."

"The problem with that as I see it is that first of all, there's fewer scavenging opportunities," I mused.  "Second, we'd end up disturbing more of the local wildlife, like yao guai and shrub boars.  Not sure what would be tougher: the mutated bears, or the mutated boars."

"Or the human animals along the road, possibly," Edgar said.  He turned to me, saying, "These are the sorts of things that any leader has to think about when keeping his people safe, smoothskin.  Where the enemies are, food sources, sites for medical supplies, what the roads are like.  Come spring, we have no idea what the roads will even be like.  If they deteriorated over the winter, caravans can be delayed for days, if not longer.  That's why the radio communications are so vital.  So when your vault didn't answer us, the bosses--" he nodded to Alan "--get concerned.  We don't have time to play nice around here, so I'm sure you can see why Jerry gets tetchy and Mark is messing with you.  It's like when you accidentally startle someone and they smack you  for it.  Stop taking it personally, play along, and before too much more time has passed, people might let up on you.,"

Alan nodded.  "Listen to Edgar.  He was here surviving in the ruins before we even woke up.  He won't steer you wrong.  He's absolutely correct.  I don't know what things are like in your vault, normie, but here, if someone older and wiser gives you a hard time, they're getting the measure of you.  Take my advice, and dodge the shots.  Don't fire back."  He gave me a stern look.  "Especially don't fuck with Jerry.  He's a good man, but his store of patience is short these days."

"All right."  Well.  I certainly felt like a schmuck now.  I'd been raised to be strong and stand up for myself.  It was hard for me to bite my tongue when someone seemingly wanted to give me a ration of shit for their own amusement.  Now it was beginning to make a bit more sense.  The founders had sense and brains enough not to burn their bridges with their trading partners, but it was obvious to me that they could run one poor normie in circles and make me their bitch if they felt that I deserved it.  They were smart enough to know how to do it without pissing off my vault.;  So I could let the dings to my pride pass--as I'd been struggling to do--or I could let them get my back up.  This would be a struggle, though.  Knowing a thing was different than applying that thing.

To that end, I said,  "I keep hearing something is going on--"

Alan cut me off.  "Let us deal with it, normal.  If Jerry and Mark want it known, they'll tell you."  He looked me over, and not unkindly, added, "You look like you have a big heart.  I'm not a bad judge of character.  But let me say this:  some things change a person forever.  Mutate them, you could say.  If you get mixed up in things here... you may never be the same again."

I nodded.  I din't know what he meant by that. But wasn't that what life's experiences were about, anyway?  Before I could say anything, a voice on the radio announced, "Good morning, kids.  This is your old friend Big Dog with a public service announcement.  Seems we got ourselves a visitor, a normie.  Just remember: normals are people, too.  Not as cool or interesting as mutants, of course, but people all the same.  That is all.  And now, we have another song from the five guys who made our little slice of paradise a reality.  And this one ain't for the kiddies, folks.  I Been Refused.  I am, as ever, your old pal Biiiiiiig Daaaaaawwwwg, bringing you the news and the truth about De-Evolution, no matter how much it hurts."  A chuckle.  "No relation to Three Dog, of course."

I listened, of course, curious to hear it, and oh dear God.  those lyrics!  "Damn," I muttered, turning redder than the warning sign near the missile launchers.  "I thought my mouth got salty."  I was grinning, though, as I said it.  Nothing prettied up about it:  that song was raw and blunt.  and why not?  Sex was one of our most primal urges, not only for reproduction, but for connection, for companionship.  The song wasn't funny at--it was coarse and angry, and carried the bitter sting of rejection with it. Not merely rejection, it was full of the sense of being thwarted and denied basic dignity.

What was funny was their response to my reaction. Edgar and Alan laughed, the ghoul damn near doubling over and Alan laughing so hard tears ran down his face.  "You're all right,"  Alan told me again.  "I bet they don't use language like that in the Vaults, eh?"

You don't know me very well, do you? I thought.  "Are all your songs like that?" I asked, still grinning a little.  He shook his head.  "Nope, just the early stuff.  We got a bit more clever and polished about it later on.  Maybe Big Dog will play one of those some time."  He nodded to me.  "Go on about your business, spudess.  I got work to do.  Come see me when you get back, though.  I might have something for you."

"You heard the man, Forty-Nine.  Let's get moving."  He looked at me, then nodded to the map.  "So...what shall it be?  Follow the road and check out the mall, or cut through as the crow flies and go straight for Medina?"

"Well, given all that we've just discussed, I'd prefer to avoid the local wildlife.  It's Spring, and doubt there's newborns.  That will make the mothers extra testy.  Besides, nature has take too many hits at the hands of humanity over the years,  I say keep to our own places, like the roads, and if we need to defend ourselves, we will."  I smiled a little.  "Besides, my dad always taught me that there are no real shortcuts in life."

Alan looked at me and nodded, his face unreadable.  Edgar nodded too, though I heard the smile in his voice as he said, "A very wise man.  Well, if we want to hit the mall in the next couple hours, we best get moving.  Come on, Forty-Nine."

****

It took us over half an hour of steady walking to reach the west gates.  The mutants stationed on the wall eyed me curiously, but no longer seemed so suspicious of my presence.  They gave us a brief nod of acknowledgement, then the massive gates pulled open, letting us out of the city.  We began heading steadily northwest, the noise of metal on hard-packed earth and ancient asphalt as the gates closed behind us the only sounds that morning.

As we drew further away, however, I heard the harsh calls of crows and occasionally the chirping of songbirds.    Dad had told me that the plants and the birds would have recovered first, and Nature seemed to bear this out. Life certainly did find a way, I noticed, seeing weeds growing up already in the cracks of the road and hearing the shuffle and snorting of various small animals in the underbrush.

"Be alert, smoothskin," Edgar cautioned. "This might look all peaceful and friendly, but it's more the Earth's territory than our own anymore. Don't go thinking that just because the woods haven't encroached this close to town that there won't be big critters about. Sometimes yao guai will come sniffing right up to the gates. We try and scare them off with a warning shot, since the bosses don't want us harming wildlife unless it's food or self defense, and even in the second case scaring them off is preferable. Thing is, sometimes it just pisses them off."

I blinked. "Your bosses?" In my defense, I hadn't had a decent cup of coffee since yesterday morning. Edgar gave me a sidelong look. "No, the yao guai. You get enough sleep last night?"

"Enough, I guess." I fished my sunglasses out and put them on. Despite my hat, the morning sun was getting into my eyes now. "Given everything going on it's a damn miracle I slept at all."

"Mmhmm. Well, my pack has some basic camping gear in it, just in case we make it all the way there and have to stay overnight. I mean Medina proper," he explained. "Which we might need to do. At any rate, the Mall isn't terribly far. Maybe an hour's walk more."

"Not bad, I guess. At least I'm not going alone." I smiled, feeling a little shy and unsure as I said, "I know a boring smoothskin might not be your choice for a traveling partner, Edgar, but I'm glad you're along."

"Well, when you aren't going out of your way to be as aggravating as possible, you're not so bad yourself." I heard the smile in his voice again.

"Me? Aggravating? Well, I never!" I did my best to look very put out and offended. Edgar snorted, causing his face scarf to billow out slightly as he said, "With a mouth like that, I'd be more surprised if you hadn't than if you had!"

I blushed all the way under my hat as I said, "Sir, a lady's love life or lack thereof is no one's business but her own. Not that mine's terribly exciting."

It wasn't. The friends I'd had special 'benefits' with weren't bad in bed, from what I could tell, meaning I'd had some fun, but I'd always felt like there was something that I was missing out on. Love was part of that, but I was also thinking of the all-out screaming, scratching, making the walls shake ecstasy I'd heard the older ladies talk about when they didn't think they were being overheard. Once I'd heard one of them mention what else Officer Thompson might be willing to do with those handcuffs of his. Another mentioned "not minding a bit if he wanted to do a cavity search" on her. Since I'd still been pretty young at the time, when they'd seen me walking by, they'd quickly changed the subject to the latest holotainment tapes. So I never did find out about what possible use handcuffs might have with sex.

Edgar said nothing. I let the subject drop. This wasn't a social stroll around Akron: we were on a scavenging mission, and needed to stay alert as possible. With that in mind, we were both quiet as we walked, and stayed that way, both of us keeping close watch for human and animal threats.

As we got further to the northwest along West Market, the grasses and live or half-dead trees on either side of us grew more thickly. This was definitely a place in which to keep our eyes open for trouble. "Follow my lead, Forty-Nine," Edgar said. He had noted it, too. "If I ready my weapon, you do it too. No arguing, no questions. Got it?"

"Yes," I said. I forwent asking him anything, and he added, "If I say 'Fart' you say 'How loudly?'"

"Got it, Edgar."

"Good." He lowered his voice. "occasionally, we get slavers traveling the road, trying to go through Akron. The bosses don't normally get harsh, even with normies, but the orders are to shoot slavers on sight and if there's slaves, free them Usually the slavers try and pass themselves off as BoS with prisoners, but you can always tell. BoS is very clean-cut, polished, their stuff in good shape. Slavers passing themselves off look rough and scruffy, crude. Then there's hunters." I heard the disgust in his voice.

"What's wrong with hunters?" I asked. "Are you a vegan, Edgar?"

He shook his head. "Not 'hunter'. 'Hunters'. the Hunters specialize in long pig. Human meat," he said. Seeing the horrified revulsion on my face, he said, "What's worse is they try passing it off as scrub boar. That's another group that gets run off at the gates. I knew what they were like, so I was able to warn Jerry and the others. We take care of our people in Akron, so no one was tempted to buy from them anyway, but you can bet that their asses are persona non grata. Rest assured, I know the difference, too."

"How?" I asked, sickened and fascinated both.  I tried to both listen and keep my eyes open for threats.   We were passing by an old Corvega stalled on the side of the road. Behind it was the rusting hulk of a Nuka Cola truck. The truck was slightly atop the Corvega, and both listed at a tipsy angle, making it look as though both had chosen to indulge in a bit of drunken humping.

As Edgar scanned the tall grass on the other side of the road, he said, "They like to sample their own wares," he said, his voice thick with revulsion. "Makes them smell badly, for one. Second, they're kind of twitchy, some of them. Human meat makes some folks ill, damages their brain and nerves. And third--"

A bullet suddenly took Edgar's hat off. Any lower, and it would have removed his head, instead. The shot had come from the tall grass on the other side of the road. Edgar grabbed my arm, nearly pulling it out of joint. Run!" he growled, and made for cover with me in tow, pulling me along with him to take cover behind one of the stalled vehicles.

"Third," he said grimly as he unslung his rifle and thumbed off the safety, "They're shooting at us now."