I stepped through the now open gates, moving just far enough into the town proper to get enough clearance from them as they slid shut behind me. Just considering the massive gates alone, i could see why no one had dared to anger the mutants living here. It would have been like kicking the nest of normally agreeable but quick-tempered wasps. Once you riled them up, there'd be no stopping them until you or they were all dead.
I couldn't blame them. Akron took enough shit just for being a community of mutants. Even though these mutants were not of the Master's Army from out NCR--New California Republic--way, nor the massive yellow brutes found near DC, they still faced significant prejudices. Oh, mind, a few of the big FEV mutants were present, and said to be smarter and friendlier than their more brutal and dimwitted kin in the ruins of Cleveland and Cuyahoga Falls. I'd also heard that there were a few ghouls on hand as well. Apparently, Akron's enigmatic leaders didn't mind either sort, as long as they kept their noses clean and worked hard, so the story went.
Turning back the way I came, I studied now closed gates. I'd never seen such a random collection of metal in all my life, yet it was very obvious to me that hodgepodge or not, they were strong, thick, and very effective. The rumor went that Akron's massive gated walls could take a direct hit from a MIRV and remain standing in a tall, silent 'Fuck you' to the attacker. Given Akron's importance as a trade hub, however, no one had ever cared to try. Also, the only thing worse than a tough crowd of angry mutants had to be a tough crowd of irradiated, angry mutants.
I had to admit that they were an impressive feat of engineering, ingenuity, and clever scavenging. Along with the aforementioned bits of destroyed robot (One panel was clearly forged from the chassis of an erstwhile Mr. Gutsy military unit) were doors from old Corvegas, panels from Quonset huts hammered flat, and even an almost intact wing from a DC-10. How they'd ever managed such massive feats of building was a mystery unto itself. 'The old Vault door would be right at home here,' I thought with a grin.
I tilted my head back and looked up at the folks manning the walls. Some of them looked suspiciously at me, but others gave me brief, curious stares before returning their attention back to the wastes beyond it served to remind me that 'normal' and 'mutant' were subjective terms,and that I, as the lone human with no mutations, was the freak here.
"Hey! Forty-Nine! Over here!"
"Huh?" It took me a moment to realize that shouter meant me, and referred, no doubt, to the large yellow "49" plastered to the back of my bright blue Vault coveralls. I looked pretty stupid, no doubt, as I turned around to face the speaker.
A tall ghoul of indeterminate age approached me, His battered old leather long coat flying out behind him like a vampire's cape in one of those old movies. Though a stormchaser hat and scarf partially concealed his face, his straggling, thin locks of graying brown hair and the fact that the visible parts of his face looked about as fresh as two hundred year old jerky gave his nature away. So too did his raspy voice as he said, "Yeah, you. Are they breeding them to be deaf as well as stupid in the vaults these days?"
"What did I do to you?" I demanded, hands on hips. "I'm here by invitation from some other grumpy son of a, err, beehive," I quickly corrected, remembering my promise to my dad. "So what are you so grumpy about, anyway?" Mind, I thought, if I looked like six week old Cram left outside to dessicate in the sun, i might be a bit bitchy, too.
The ghoul's faded gray eyes glared at me as he said, "Look, smoothskin. I got a bottle of Nuka Cola back at my table with my name on it. But am I drinking it? No, I was sent by the boss to play babysitter to a normie. So come on, kiddo. I ain't got all day, and he ain't the most patient mutant in the world lately."
"Considering you've got enough firepower on the walls to blow away a fucking behemoth, I'd say one puny normie isn't much to worry over. Is your boss that grumpy gus I heard on the intercom?' I hurried to keep up with the ghoul, whose long legs could take one step to my two.
He turned to fix me with a stern look. "Watch what you say about the boss, kiddo. He's one of the five founders of this community. He's also not in the best of moods, so watch yourself. Don't speak out of turn, don't hassle him, and if he tells you to get lost, by god, do it." His voice lowered as he grumbled, "His bark's worse than his bite, but I can't guarantee that with a normie."
I longed to get a good look around, but with my escort moving so quickly, it was hard to look and walk and keep his pace at the same time. besides, I wasn't there to sight-see. I was here on business. There'd be time to gawk at and be gawked at later. Already I could feel the curious stares of the locals, her the soft sussuruss of voices as they talked about me.
"She's funny looking.' "How do normies get by with such small ears?" "What an ugly wench!" "How does she see with only two eyes?" "She's from that Vault not far from here. Why did she come?" and so on. it took a heroic effort not to let them have it with both verbal barrels and unload my best and most epic swearing, the least of which involved 'Born from the stinkhole of a Brahmin". Besides, rude comments were just that: comments. It's not like they were shooting at me.I took a deep breath and remained calm.
"Come on, we're almost there. Then I can drink my Nuka Cola in peace," he grumbled as we passed a group of mutant children. One of them sported long, pointed ears, another had a long, fleshy tail. All of them jeered and called out names as we passed. I thought about giving them all a double salute with my middle fingers, but this was neither the time nor the place. They were still just kids, after all, and returning fire would not endear me to the locals or their leaders. They laughed as we passed, making chicken sounds at me.
Finally, the tall ghoul led me to the door of a house that had once perhaps been red, but with the passing of two hundred years had faded to a washed out pink. He entered without knocking, and gestured impatiently at me to follow him. I did so, and he led me to a room which in the back-when days had been the parlor. Now it was an office. One wall sported a huge map of all the local wasteland upon it. I spotted my Vault's location easily and immediately. To the immediate west was Medina, with "Raiders?" written under it. Far to the east was Ravenna, a "?" marked on it. Perhaps it was intended for future scouting. To the northeast was Cuyahoga Falls, and further north, Cleveland had been marked. Both locations bore the age-old yellow and black symbols for radiation, and the Falls was also labeled "Here be Mutants". I took that to mean the not so friendly as here sort, not that I'd been getting a warm reaction so far.
On the opposite was was a hand lettered sign with an arrow pointing down the hall. it read "Clinic" and I supposed it was where the town's doctor saw patients, tending the ill and wounded. Well, what else would they do there, Shae? Make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches? From what I'd heard, the brother of the town's de facto leader was Akron's doctor, or at least one of them. There was a leather couch here, and stretched out on it was a lanky, dark haired mutant, his long-fingered hands folded lightly atop his chest as he snored away. His ears stuck out like small satellite dishes on either side of his head. He could probably hear a mouse fart with those, I thought, and had to bite my lips to keep from grinning.
Opposite the couch were two desks, the smaller of the two with a softly glowing bottle of Nuka Cola atop it. Condensation from the bottle had first beaded then run down the bottle to form a puddle around it. I saw the ghoul glance towards it, then with effort that made him tremble a little, he pulled his attention away from it to address the mutant seated behind the larger desk.
"Here's the normie kid from the Vault, Jerry."
The one he addressed as Jerry turned my way from the schematic he was studying and fixed me with a dour stare. As I watched, he pulled off the sunglasses he wore, even in here, where the early spring's bright sun didn't quite reach.
I had to quickly rein in my surprise. He looked almost as normal as I did, except that his ears held slightly tapering points and his eyes were amber-hazel, the pupils slit like a cat's. Aside from that, and the fact that he looked about as pleased to see me as he would be to see a pile of brahmin shit on his desk, he was quite good looking. Actually, I have to admit, the unusual features enhance his looks I thought. I hoped I didn't look too idiotic for gawking at him.
A slight smile on his face made even more fascinating to me as he said, "Thank you, Edgar. I'm sorry to have interrupted your break. Better drink your Nuka Cola before it gets warm."
"Thanks, Jerry." Edgar the ghoul went to his desk. Pulling down the face scarf he wore, he opened the bottle easily with his teeth and spat out the cap. He drank down half the bottle and belched with surprising juiciness for someone so raw and dry looking.
Jerry studied me a moment, taking my measure, saying, "So. Let me get this straight. Your fucking vault hasn't answered us because your radio is broken. Presumably, it's the only one on hand. Also presumably, you're unable to fix it?"
"That is correct," I said, a trifle stiffly. I wasn't very impressed with him so far, either. I didn't care how pretty his eyes were or--, um, well. Besides, this was business. I could get laid easily enough at the Vault, and a mutant with a stroppy attitude wasn't earning my favors that easily. The partners I had at the vault were good friends, and I'd known them since we were kids.
"I see. Has your vault always made it a habit to have no back-ups for anything important on hand? Such as the shortwave radio or its component parts which allow you to communicate with us, every spring?"
"Look, I--"
He waved a hand, dismissing me. "I don't want to hear it. Go tell Mark your sob story. He and his brother are brilliant with that sort of shit. Especially his brother."
"But I came to ask--"
"Talk to Mark." His eyes narrowed, showing pinpoints of orangeish light. Something else was in them too, as he took the measure of me again, something that I didn't recognize.
"I came all this way, and you're foisting me on your second in command? I don't believe this shit.'
"Talk. To. Mark."
"Fine, I'm going," I snapped. "I didn't want to talk to you anyway, you big jerk." His eyes blazed, and his fingers twitched. He looked like he wanted to strangle me. I guess that he wasn't used to being talked to in such a manner. Especially by a woman. Maybe so, but I wasn't afraid of him. My back was up now, goddamn it, and I glared back. Just one more word out of you, jerkass, and you'll get the full measure of my verbal assault. Then I remembered my promise, and held onto my tongue. Barely.
"Edgar? Escort the lady to Mark, will you? Do take your drink with you this time. I know you've gone ages without one." I heard a fondness in Jerry's voice now. Whatever I might have thought of him, he cared deeply for his people. And, Edgar had said that Jerry was in a bad mood. Perhaps something had him worried.
Whatever it was, I wasn't going to find out just yet. Edgar nodded to me, the bottle still in his hand. In a tone far kinder than he'd used with me earlier, he said, "Come on, kiddo. Let's go see Mark." he headed out of the door. As I followed, I felt Jerry's eyes on me. The feeling wasn't entirely unwelcome. "Ugh, Shae, what the fuck?" Rudeness or not, I found him compelling, a feeling that was no doubt not at all reciprocated.
****
Mark wasn't there when we arrived, as we were told by the Mr Handy bot present. The unit went by the name of Belvedere, and he (I tended to think of Mr Handy units as 'he', because of their usually male names and because their voice modulators often had masculine tones) Informed us, "Master Mark is not currently available, I fear. He has, I deem, headed over to the old electronics store building. Ergtronics. You are, of course, welcome to wait for him."
"Shall we wait?" I asked Edgar. The ghoul shook his head. "Nah, if Mark is over there, he'll probably be scavenging around for parts for that old synthesizer he's working on. He'll be gone for a couple hours. Best we just head on over and talk to him there. You might get to meet his brother, Bob, too. We call him Bob 1 because Jerry has a brother named Bob, as well."
"So, would he be Bob 2 then?" I asked. What a stupid question, and of course, Edgar wasted no time in pouncing on my inane question with a sarcastic quip. "No, smoothskin, he's Bob 74. I think Jerry is right: the Vaults are breeding them stupid these days."
"Oh sure," I grouched as we left the workshop. "Just because I'm not a mutant, I'm automatically an idiot?" Fuck me for a dollar, but I'd been here for less than an hour and already the mutants had given me more shit than a rose garden in the spring time.
Edgar regarded me with cool gray eyes. "Yeah, just like all mutants are bloodthirsty, hulking monstrosities. I've seen you look at people here, Forty-Nine. we aren't monsters. We're people... just different."
"I never thought--"
He cut me off. "No, you haven't said we're monsters. Maybe you didn't even think it. But you keep gawking around like you're looking at the exhibits in a pre-war zoo."
"I--" I began, but then my shoulders sagged. "You're right. I didn't mean to stare." My eyes took in the sidewalk as we walked together as if it were suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. I sighed deeply. "My dad raised me better than that. I'm sorry."
Edgar's voice softened a little as he said, "Well, don't take it too hard, Forty-Nine. Maybe I exaggerated a little to make sure you get the point. It isn't like we haven't stared. I saw how Jerry was looking at you. I haven't seen him eye a woman like that in a while."
"It was kind of a funny look," I said. "I didn't understand it, really."
"You--" he stared at me a moment, incredulous, and seemed like he was about to say something. Then he shook his head, the look of vague surprise in his eyes fading. "Forget it. Come on, we're almost there."
I dropped the subject, though I remained curious. Bringing the topic around to another thought I had, I said, "I'm curious of something, Edgar."
"Yeah? What's that?"
"You seem nicer to me than you were at first, when we were in Jerry's office. What's different now?"
"Nuka Cola," he grunted, and would say no more. That told me all that I wanted to know right there. I'd heard of people developing mild to moderate addictions to the stuff, and when they didn't get enough of it, it made them sour and cranky. I looked at Edgar with new eyes, and while I figured we would never be the best of friends, I thought perhaps that he and I might get along after all.
We came now to an old store front. Most of the sign was gone, making it say "Erg t r on." The hand lettered sign under it said simply "Ergtronics". I heard voices as we stepped through the doorway and into the shop itself. It was an actual store, not just a free for all of scattered electronic junk. I didn't know what else I expected, really. I imagined it uses the typical post-war currency, bottlecaps, but it was also possible that the mutants--the people--of Akron had their own way of doing things.
Familiar smells reached me: the tang of copper from wire, the chemical stink of plastics, the sharp ozone smell of a burnt out motor, the slightly musty scent of ancient electronics catalogs and manuals. I loved old books, and I even had a few back at the vault. The smell of melting circuits and digital death was present as well, but so too was the hot smell of soldering irons and new electronic life and the lubricant used by Mr Handy units and other mechanicals.
Edgar led me through shelves that wound like a maze. I have expected to find that we were being stalked by some half-mechanical hybrid of man and bull, a cybernetic Minotaur. I loved all those old stories as much as I loved studying Earth's old history. One thing was for sure: without Edgar leading the way, I would surely have become lost. So i made sure to not let my curiosity get the best of me (though I dearly would have loved to touch and explore and handle everything) and kept pace with the tall ghoul.
As we drew closer to wherever it was that he led me, I caught music from a radio. The singer was lamenting having ever left his home town, and how the "birds are the wingiest" and the "bees are the stingiest". A male voice commented, "Maybe I just don't get it, but I don't really think that the 'stingiest bees' is a great selling point for a community."
A second mutant--man--replied, "Well, old songs are weird like that, I guess. At least we didn't try to make up nonsense words to convey our thoughts."
"Because we didn't have to, Mark."
"Feh. Not that anyone listened, anyway."
As we emerged into the open workbay where both men conversed, I recognized one of them as being the tall, lanky mutant I'd seen taking a nap in Jerry's office. The other man was nowhere we to be seen. The lanky one looked at Edgar and myself and nodded in greeting, saying, "We got company, big brother."
The one he'd called Mark suddenly popped up from behind some low shelves. His sudden appearance made me think of the jack in the box toys that little children back at the vault liked to play with. He stood shorter than Edgar (though that really wasn't hard, considering that the ghoul towered over me, and I was five-eight.) and his wavy brown hair seemed resistant to efforts to contain it. He had it pulled back in a short tail, but a fall of waves spilled over one side of the work goggles he wore. That, combined with the graying lab coat he wore over the remnants of an old yellow environmental suit gave me the impression of a quite mad but still affable scientist.
"So we do, Bob. I'm Mark." He came around the corner of the shelving unit and looked me over. "So you're the normie everyone's been buzzing about?"
"That's me," I said, wondering if either brother was suddenly going to get grumpy with me. When that didn't seem imminent, I volunteered, "Pleased to meet you both. My name is--"
Bob cut me off, saying, "Friendly and well-mannered? Not bad, for a normie. Welcome to Akron, spud. One thing though..."
"Everyone who comes to this town, they earn their names," Mark said. "So until you'd earned that right, expect a lot of "Hey normie!" or "Hey, spudess."
I took a deep breath. Complimenting me on my manners (they obviously didn't know me very well, and the vault vixen whose tongue could turn living plants black was struggling valiantly to free herself to give these two chuckleheads a good dose of "Fuck you and the brahmin you walked in with" and "Suck my dick if I had one" or that perennial favorite of mine "Fuck your mother and die") on one hand, then telling me that I had to earn the right to be called by my own given name? Inconceivable.
Before I could say anything, Edgar volunteered, "I've just been calling her Forty-Nine, since she comes from the vault." He smirked, and his own amusement made the two mutants grin.
"I think I like 'Spud' better," Bob offered. "They grow under the ground, and so do people from the Vault."
Mark snickered. "Good one. Maybe later we can stuff her in a sack and store her in the root cellar." Both brothers laughed at his wit, and Edgar joined in, his raspy wheezing in counterpoint to the two mutants' hearty guffaws.
Unimpressed, I folded my arms across my chest and leaned against the counter. "Oh, hah hah. We came here for a reason."
"Figured as much," Mark said. He worked on pushing his goggles up on his forehead. "Everyone has to be somewhere. So, what's going on? I figure Jerry sent you over here. He's been in a mood lately."
I saw his eyes for the first time now, and again, I had to catch myself from making any outward show of surprise. They were completely, totally blue: the whites, irises, and pupils, all varying shades of blue, from indigo (the pupil) shading out towards ice blue (the sclera). I wondered, briefly, how having such unusual eyes affected his vision, and forwent asking him. Staring was rude, and I figured that asking would be even more rude.
He smiled then, saying, "Weird, huh? In the times before--way before the war--I was legally blind. I couldn't go anywhere without my glasses. Not even to the fucking bathroom. I'm still technically blind, spud. Just now I can see in the infrared and ultraviolet spectra. Paints pictures as clear as day. The goggles--" he gestured to the elaborate set of eyewear that now perched on his forehead--" let me see outside of those spectra. Nowhere near as sharp, though, but sometimes it's necessary." He left the goggles up, and from his expression and his sardonic smile, I guessed that the young mutant (mind, older than me, from what I'd seen so far, of all of them) had shown me to test my reaction.
Perhaps I'd passed that test, for Bob 1 said, "So, what's going on, spudess? Why have you people over there in the Vault been blowing us off for the past three days? Jerry's been in a mood over that because he was starting to think that the mutants had wiped you off the map, or something, and we'd be next."
"That's why the gates are shut?" I asked. I got no immediate answer, so I simply launched into explaining that I'd been trying to repair the damn radio for the past week and a half. "It shorted out on the 12th of March," I explained. "I'm pretty much the resident Vault techie, so everyone shoves that shit my way. 'Fix the radio, Shae.' 'Fix the jukebox, Shae.' 'Fix my vibrator, Shae.' Okay, I made that last one up, but you get the point."
"Yeah, we do." Bob bit the insides of his cheeks. Mark's shoulders shook a little. Now he added, "Well, Jerry's pretty much the big boss around here. We're all co-founders, but his word is usually the final one. Mind, I am not exactly without power around here, either. But if you want those gates opened, you're going to have to soften his mood."
"How would I go about that?" I asked.
"He loves wine," Bob 1 said. "There aren't many he doesn't already have, but I'm picking if you brought him a bottle of 1950 Barolo Giacomo or one of the Chateau Moutons he goes on about he'd be a lot more friendly."
"A what now? Seriously? The gates needed to be opened before trading season begins, and you want me to go find some obscure bottle of alcohol that might or might not be available? My people need to trade, Mark. Not to mention what could happen when the Outcasts roll through here and find the gates closed, and--"
Mark only smiled. "Well, the Outcasts aren't going to waste resources blowing down our gates. They've been struggling. Last year, they dropped a shitload of caps with Alan and his people for repairs and ammo. As for you, I suggest that you hop to it and bring back that wine."
'This is blackmail." I couldn't believe it. "Is this because we didn't answer you guys? Come on. We've been trading partners for two decades now. You have to know we wouldn't just--"
"No. It's strong negotiations" Mark glanced at his watch. "It's getting late. Edgar, take her to Millie's Place and get her fed, and rested. You can head out tomorrow, spud."
Bob 1 added, "It's not about your radio problems. There's things going on that we can't get into. We aren't at liberty to say what. You'll just have to trust us."
"If this wasn't so fucking important to the survival of my Vault and others," I ground out, "I wouldn't be in much of a mood to give two shits in an outhouse. .As it is, you've got me over a barrel. So yeah, Edgar, take me wherever I'm going, before I lose my sweet and friendly manners." I turn to head out, but not before saw the brothers Mothersbaugh exchange amused looks. The strains to a song about someone named Jonee followed me about the door.
Turning back the way I came, I studied now closed gates. I'd never seen such a random collection of metal in all my life, yet it was very obvious to me that hodgepodge or not, they were strong, thick, and very effective. The rumor went that Akron's massive gated walls could take a direct hit from a MIRV and remain standing in a tall, silent 'Fuck you' to the attacker. Given Akron's importance as a trade hub, however, no one had ever cared to try. Also, the only thing worse than a tough crowd of angry mutants had to be a tough crowd of irradiated, angry mutants.
I had to admit that they were an impressive feat of engineering, ingenuity, and clever scavenging. Along with the aforementioned bits of destroyed robot (One panel was clearly forged from the chassis of an erstwhile Mr. Gutsy military unit) were doors from old Corvegas, panels from Quonset huts hammered flat, and even an almost intact wing from a DC-10. How they'd ever managed such massive feats of building was a mystery unto itself. 'The old Vault door would be right at home here,' I thought with a grin.
I tilted my head back and looked up at the folks manning the walls. Some of them looked suspiciously at me, but others gave me brief, curious stares before returning their attention back to the wastes beyond it served to remind me that 'normal' and 'mutant' were subjective terms,and that I, as the lone human with no mutations, was the freak here.
"Hey! Forty-Nine! Over here!"
"Huh?" It took me a moment to realize that shouter meant me, and referred, no doubt, to the large yellow "49" plastered to the back of my bright blue Vault coveralls. I looked pretty stupid, no doubt, as I turned around to face the speaker.
A tall ghoul of indeterminate age approached me, His battered old leather long coat flying out behind him like a vampire's cape in one of those old movies. Though a stormchaser hat and scarf partially concealed his face, his straggling, thin locks of graying brown hair and the fact that the visible parts of his face looked about as fresh as two hundred year old jerky gave his nature away. So too did his raspy voice as he said, "Yeah, you. Are they breeding them to be deaf as well as stupid in the vaults these days?"
"What did I do to you?" I demanded, hands on hips. "I'm here by invitation from some other grumpy son of a, err, beehive," I quickly corrected, remembering my promise to my dad. "So what are you so grumpy about, anyway?" Mind, I thought, if I looked like six week old Cram left outside to dessicate in the sun, i might be a bit bitchy, too.
The ghoul's faded gray eyes glared at me as he said, "Look, smoothskin. I got a bottle of Nuka Cola back at my table with my name on it. But am I drinking it? No, I was sent by the boss to play babysitter to a normie. So come on, kiddo. I ain't got all day, and he ain't the most patient mutant in the world lately."
"Considering you've got enough firepower on the walls to blow away a fucking behemoth, I'd say one puny normie isn't much to worry over. Is your boss that grumpy gus I heard on the intercom?' I hurried to keep up with the ghoul, whose long legs could take one step to my two.
He turned to fix me with a stern look. "Watch what you say about the boss, kiddo. He's one of the five founders of this community. He's also not in the best of moods, so watch yourself. Don't speak out of turn, don't hassle him, and if he tells you to get lost, by god, do it." His voice lowered as he grumbled, "His bark's worse than his bite, but I can't guarantee that with a normie."
I longed to get a good look around, but with my escort moving so quickly, it was hard to look and walk and keep his pace at the same time. besides, I wasn't there to sight-see. I was here on business. There'd be time to gawk at and be gawked at later. Already I could feel the curious stares of the locals, her the soft sussuruss of voices as they talked about me.
"She's funny looking.' "How do normies get by with such small ears?" "What an ugly wench!" "How does she see with only two eyes?" "She's from that Vault not far from here. Why did she come?" and so on. it took a heroic effort not to let them have it with both verbal barrels and unload my best and most epic swearing, the least of which involved 'Born from the stinkhole of a Brahmin". Besides, rude comments were just that: comments. It's not like they were shooting at me.I took a deep breath and remained calm.
"Come on, we're almost there. Then I can drink my Nuka Cola in peace," he grumbled as we passed a group of mutant children. One of them sported long, pointed ears, another had a long, fleshy tail. All of them jeered and called out names as we passed. I thought about giving them all a double salute with my middle fingers, but this was neither the time nor the place. They were still just kids, after all, and returning fire would not endear me to the locals or their leaders. They laughed as we passed, making chicken sounds at me.
Finally, the tall ghoul led me to the door of a house that had once perhaps been red, but with the passing of two hundred years had faded to a washed out pink. He entered without knocking, and gestured impatiently at me to follow him. I did so, and he led me to a room which in the back-when days had been the parlor. Now it was an office. One wall sported a huge map of all the local wasteland upon it. I spotted my Vault's location easily and immediately. To the immediate west was Medina, with "Raiders?" written under it. Far to the east was Ravenna, a "?" marked on it. Perhaps it was intended for future scouting. To the northeast was Cuyahoga Falls, and further north, Cleveland had been marked. Both locations bore the age-old yellow and black symbols for radiation, and the Falls was also labeled "Here be Mutants". I took that to mean the not so friendly as here sort, not that I'd been getting a warm reaction so far.
On the opposite was was a hand lettered sign with an arrow pointing down the hall. it read "Clinic" and I supposed it was where the town's doctor saw patients, tending the ill and wounded. Well, what else would they do there, Shae? Make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches? From what I'd heard, the brother of the town's de facto leader was Akron's doctor, or at least one of them. There was a leather couch here, and stretched out on it was a lanky, dark haired mutant, his long-fingered hands folded lightly atop his chest as he snored away. His ears stuck out like small satellite dishes on either side of his head. He could probably hear a mouse fart with those, I thought, and had to bite my lips to keep from grinning.
Opposite the couch were two desks, the smaller of the two with a softly glowing bottle of Nuka Cola atop it. Condensation from the bottle had first beaded then run down the bottle to form a puddle around it. I saw the ghoul glance towards it, then with effort that made him tremble a little, he pulled his attention away from it to address the mutant seated behind the larger desk.
"Here's the normie kid from the Vault, Jerry."
The one he addressed as Jerry turned my way from the schematic he was studying and fixed me with a dour stare. As I watched, he pulled off the sunglasses he wore, even in here, where the early spring's bright sun didn't quite reach.
I had to quickly rein in my surprise. He looked almost as normal as I did, except that his ears held slightly tapering points and his eyes were amber-hazel, the pupils slit like a cat's. Aside from that, and the fact that he looked about as pleased to see me as he would be to see a pile of brahmin shit on his desk, he was quite good looking. Actually, I have to admit, the unusual features enhance his looks I thought. I hoped I didn't look too idiotic for gawking at him.
A slight smile on his face made even more fascinating to me as he said, "Thank you, Edgar. I'm sorry to have interrupted your break. Better drink your Nuka Cola before it gets warm."
"Thanks, Jerry." Edgar the ghoul went to his desk. Pulling down the face scarf he wore, he opened the bottle easily with his teeth and spat out the cap. He drank down half the bottle and belched with surprising juiciness for someone so raw and dry looking.
Jerry studied me a moment, taking my measure, saying, "So. Let me get this straight. Your fucking vault hasn't answered us because your radio is broken. Presumably, it's the only one on hand. Also presumably, you're unable to fix it?"
"That is correct," I said, a trifle stiffly. I wasn't very impressed with him so far, either. I didn't care how pretty his eyes were or--, um, well. Besides, this was business. I could get laid easily enough at the Vault, and a mutant with a stroppy attitude wasn't earning my favors that easily. The partners I had at the vault were good friends, and I'd known them since we were kids.
"I see. Has your vault always made it a habit to have no back-ups for anything important on hand? Such as the shortwave radio or its component parts which allow you to communicate with us, every spring?"
"Look, I--"
He waved a hand, dismissing me. "I don't want to hear it. Go tell Mark your sob story. He and his brother are brilliant with that sort of shit. Especially his brother."
"But I came to ask--"
"Talk to Mark." His eyes narrowed, showing pinpoints of orangeish light. Something else was in them too, as he took the measure of me again, something that I didn't recognize.
"I came all this way, and you're foisting me on your second in command? I don't believe this shit.'
"Talk. To. Mark."
"Fine, I'm going," I snapped. "I didn't want to talk to you anyway, you big jerk." His eyes blazed, and his fingers twitched. He looked like he wanted to strangle me. I guess that he wasn't used to being talked to in such a manner. Especially by a woman. Maybe so, but I wasn't afraid of him. My back was up now, goddamn it, and I glared back. Just one more word out of you, jerkass, and you'll get the full measure of my verbal assault. Then I remembered my promise, and held onto my tongue. Barely.
"Edgar? Escort the lady to Mark, will you? Do take your drink with you this time. I know you've gone ages without one." I heard a fondness in Jerry's voice now. Whatever I might have thought of him, he cared deeply for his people. And, Edgar had said that Jerry was in a bad mood. Perhaps something had him worried.
Whatever it was, I wasn't going to find out just yet. Edgar nodded to me, the bottle still in his hand. In a tone far kinder than he'd used with me earlier, he said, "Come on, kiddo. Let's go see Mark." he headed out of the door. As I followed, I felt Jerry's eyes on me. The feeling wasn't entirely unwelcome. "Ugh, Shae, what the fuck?" Rudeness or not, I found him compelling, a feeling that was no doubt not at all reciprocated.
****
Mark wasn't there when we arrived, as we were told by the Mr Handy bot present. The unit went by the name of Belvedere, and he (I tended to think of Mr Handy units as 'he', because of their usually male names and because their voice modulators often had masculine tones) Informed us, "Master Mark is not currently available, I fear. He has, I deem, headed over to the old electronics store building. Ergtronics. You are, of course, welcome to wait for him."
"Shall we wait?" I asked Edgar. The ghoul shook his head. "Nah, if Mark is over there, he'll probably be scavenging around for parts for that old synthesizer he's working on. He'll be gone for a couple hours. Best we just head on over and talk to him there. You might get to meet his brother, Bob, too. We call him Bob 1 because Jerry has a brother named Bob, as well."
"So, would he be Bob 2 then?" I asked. What a stupid question, and of course, Edgar wasted no time in pouncing on my inane question with a sarcastic quip. "No, smoothskin, he's Bob 74. I think Jerry is right: the Vaults are breeding them stupid these days."
"Oh sure," I grouched as we left the workshop. "Just because I'm not a mutant, I'm automatically an idiot?" Fuck me for a dollar, but I'd been here for less than an hour and already the mutants had given me more shit than a rose garden in the spring time.
Edgar regarded me with cool gray eyes. "Yeah, just like all mutants are bloodthirsty, hulking monstrosities. I've seen you look at people here, Forty-Nine. we aren't monsters. We're people... just different."
"I never thought--"
He cut me off. "No, you haven't said we're monsters. Maybe you didn't even think it. But you keep gawking around like you're looking at the exhibits in a pre-war zoo."
"I--" I began, but then my shoulders sagged. "You're right. I didn't mean to stare." My eyes took in the sidewalk as we walked together as if it were suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. I sighed deeply. "My dad raised me better than that. I'm sorry."
Edgar's voice softened a little as he said, "Well, don't take it too hard, Forty-Nine. Maybe I exaggerated a little to make sure you get the point. It isn't like we haven't stared. I saw how Jerry was looking at you. I haven't seen him eye a woman like that in a while."
"It was kind of a funny look," I said. "I didn't understand it, really."
"You--" he stared at me a moment, incredulous, and seemed like he was about to say something. Then he shook his head, the look of vague surprise in his eyes fading. "Forget it. Come on, we're almost there."
I dropped the subject, though I remained curious. Bringing the topic around to another thought I had, I said, "I'm curious of something, Edgar."
"Yeah? What's that?"
"You seem nicer to me than you were at first, when we were in Jerry's office. What's different now?"
"Nuka Cola," he grunted, and would say no more. That told me all that I wanted to know right there. I'd heard of people developing mild to moderate addictions to the stuff, and when they didn't get enough of it, it made them sour and cranky. I looked at Edgar with new eyes, and while I figured we would never be the best of friends, I thought perhaps that he and I might get along after all.
We came now to an old store front. Most of the sign was gone, making it say "Erg t r on." The hand lettered sign under it said simply "Ergtronics". I heard voices as we stepped through the doorway and into the shop itself. It was an actual store, not just a free for all of scattered electronic junk. I didn't know what else I expected, really. I imagined it uses the typical post-war currency, bottlecaps, but it was also possible that the mutants--the people--of Akron had their own way of doing things.
Familiar smells reached me: the tang of copper from wire, the chemical stink of plastics, the sharp ozone smell of a burnt out motor, the slightly musty scent of ancient electronics catalogs and manuals. I loved old books, and I even had a few back at the vault. The smell of melting circuits and digital death was present as well, but so too was the hot smell of soldering irons and new electronic life and the lubricant used by Mr Handy units and other mechanicals.
Edgar led me through shelves that wound like a maze. I have expected to find that we were being stalked by some half-mechanical hybrid of man and bull, a cybernetic Minotaur. I loved all those old stories as much as I loved studying Earth's old history. One thing was for sure: without Edgar leading the way, I would surely have become lost. So i made sure to not let my curiosity get the best of me (though I dearly would have loved to touch and explore and handle everything) and kept pace with the tall ghoul.
As we drew closer to wherever it was that he led me, I caught music from a radio. The singer was lamenting having ever left his home town, and how the "birds are the wingiest" and the "bees are the stingiest". A male voice commented, "Maybe I just don't get it, but I don't really think that the 'stingiest bees' is a great selling point for a community."
A second mutant--man--replied, "Well, old songs are weird like that, I guess. At least we didn't try to make up nonsense words to convey our thoughts."
"Because we didn't have to, Mark."
"Feh. Not that anyone listened, anyway."
As we emerged into the open workbay where both men conversed, I recognized one of them as being the tall, lanky mutant I'd seen taking a nap in Jerry's office. The other man was nowhere we to be seen. The lanky one looked at Edgar and myself and nodded in greeting, saying, "We got company, big brother."
The one he'd called Mark suddenly popped up from behind some low shelves. His sudden appearance made me think of the jack in the box toys that little children back at the vault liked to play with. He stood shorter than Edgar (though that really wasn't hard, considering that the ghoul towered over me, and I was five-eight.) and his wavy brown hair seemed resistant to efforts to contain it. He had it pulled back in a short tail, but a fall of waves spilled over one side of the work goggles he wore. That, combined with the graying lab coat he wore over the remnants of an old yellow environmental suit gave me the impression of a quite mad but still affable scientist.
"So we do, Bob. I'm Mark." He came around the corner of the shelving unit and looked me over. "So you're the normie everyone's been buzzing about?"
"That's me," I said, wondering if either brother was suddenly going to get grumpy with me. When that didn't seem imminent, I volunteered, "Pleased to meet you both. My name is--"
Bob cut me off, saying, "Friendly and well-mannered? Not bad, for a normie. Welcome to Akron, spud. One thing though..."
"Everyone who comes to this town, they earn their names," Mark said. "So until you'd earned that right, expect a lot of "Hey normie!" or "Hey, spudess."
I took a deep breath. Complimenting me on my manners (they obviously didn't know me very well, and the vault vixen whose tongue could turn living plants black was struggling valiantly to free herself to give these two chuckleheads a good dose of "Fuck you and the brahmin you walked in with" and "Suck my dick if I had one" or that perennial favorite of mine "Fuck your mother and die") on one hand, then telling me that I had to earn the right to be called by my own given name? Inconceivable.
Before I could say anything, Edgar volunteered, "I've just been calling her Forty-Nine, since she comes from the vault." He smirked, and his own amusement made the two mutants grin.
"I think I like 'Spud' better," Bob offered. "They grow under the ground, and so do people from the Vault."
Mark snickered. "Good one. Maybe later we can stuff her in a sack and store her in the root cellar." Both brothers laughed at his wit, and Edgar joined in, his raspy wheezing in counterpoint to the two mutants' hearty guffaws.
Unimpressed, I folded my arms across my chest and leaned against the counter. "Oh, hah hah. We came here for a reason."
"Figured as much," Mark said. He worked on pushing his goggles up on his forehead. "Everyone has to be somewhere. So, what's going on? I figure Jerry sent you over here. He's been in a mood lately."
I saw his eyes for the first time now, and again, I had to catch myself from making any outward show of surprise. They were completely, totally blue: the whites, irises, and pupils, all varying shades of blue, from indigo (the pupil) shading out towards ice blue (the sclera). I wondered, briefly, how having such unusual eyes affected his vision, and forwent asking him. Staring was rude, and I figured that asking would be even more rude.
He smiled then, saying, "Weird, huh? In the times before--way before the war--I was legally blind. I couldn't go anywhere without my glasses. Not even to the fucking bathroom. I'm still technically blind, spud. Just now I can see in the infrared and ultraviolet spectra. Paints pictures as clear as day. The goggles--" he gestured to the elaborate set of eyewear that now perched on his forehead--" let me see outside of those spectra. Nowhere near as sharp, though, but sometimes it's necessary." He left the goggles up, and from his expression and his sardonic smile, I guessed that the young mutant (mind, older than me, from what I'd seen so far, of all of them) had shown me to test my reaction.
Perhaps I'd passed that test, for Bob 1 said, "So, what's going on, spudess? Why have you people over there in the Vault been blowing us off for the past three days? Jerry's been in a mood over that because he was starting to think that the mutants had wiped you off the map, or something, and we'd be next."
"That's why the gates are shut?" I asked. I got no immediate answer, so I simply launched into explaining that I'd been trying to repair the damn radio for the past week and a half. "It shorted out on the 12th of March," I explained. "I'm pretty much the resident Vault techie, so everyone shoves that shit my way. 'Fix the radio, Shae.' 'Fix the jukebox, Shae.' 'Fix my vibrator, Shae.' Okay, I made that last one up, but you get the point."
"Yeah, we do." Bob bit the insides of his cheeks. Mark's shoulders shook a little. Now he added, "Well, Jerry's pretty much the big boss around here. We're all co-founders, but his word is usually the final one. Mind, I am not exactly without power around here, either. But if you want those gates opened, you're going to have to soften his mood."
"How would I go about that?" I asked.
"He loves wine," Bob 1 said. "There aren't many he doesn't already have, but I'm picking if you brought him a bottle of 1950 Barolo Giacomo or one of the Chateau Moutons he goes on about he'd be a lot more friendly."
"A what now? Seriously? The gates needed to be opened before trading season begins, and you want me to go find some obscure bottle of alcohol that might or might not be available? My people need to trade, Mark. Not to mention what could happen when the Outcasts roll through here and find the gates closed, and--"
Mark only smiled. "Well, the Outcasts aren't going to waste resources blowing down our gates. They've been struggling. Last year, they dropped a shitload of caps with Alan and his people for repairs and ammo. As for you, I suggest that you hop to it and bring back that wine."
'This is blackmail." I couldn't believe it. "Is this because we didn't answer you guys? Come on. We've been trading partners for two decades now. You have to know we wouldn't just--"
"No. It's strong negotiations" Mark glanced at his watch. "It's getting late. Edgar, take her to Millie's Place and get her fed, and rested. You can head out tomorrow, spud."
Bob 1 added, "It's not about your radio problems. There's things going on that we can't get into. We aren't at liberty to say what. You'll just have to trust us."
"If this wasn't so fucking important to the survival of my Vault and others," I ground out, "I wouldn't be in much of a mood to give two shits in an outhouse. .As it is, you've got me over a barrel. So yeah, Edgar, take me wherever I'm going, before I lose my sweet and friendly manners." I turn to head out, but not before saw the brothers Mothersbaugh exchange amused looks. The strains to a song about someone named Jonee followed me about the door.
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