Mulky
CASAX-5
- Joined
- Jun 28, 2019
- Messages
- 41
- Thread Author
- #1
The nearing portal storms didn't give me enough time to sleep. Admittedly, the bed was comfy enough for me to get an hour worth of rest; but other than that, it didn't help me much. I stood there, looking out into the windows as the northern mountains glow green; brightly lit upon the pitch-black environment. The Nuclear Fallout of the northern wastes still captivates the eyes of many that seek the truth of what happened. Only fools would dare go out there. To the East, the bright orange and red lights of Horose can be seen; yet it seems too indistinct when you don't hear the music playing due to the sound bouncing off the thick walls of the convertible house. Looking to my right only bears less of sight, with the roads completely covered in darkness, with radiation storms pouring down on the ground; and us safely covered under the protection of the roof above our heads. It gets worse every day, it makes you think whether or not the life of an exile truly is worth it. Then again, you'll do anything to survive, but so will those that you encounter out in the wasteland.
What the old lady said kept me up, I don't meddle much with wastelander affairs, and I most importantly won't be meddling with some random old lady's worries out in a sea filled with varying treasures to gather followed by years worth of food and rations as a free giveaway for those worthy enough to withstand the horrors of the old refuge and brave enough to do the dirty work of the mainlanders. Walking out into the open isn't a work that bears much price and food for a day's worth of hunger, and yet I'm left with no choice but to take a gander and go with that type of life. If it wasn't for those eggheads back at Black Mesa, we wouldn't be having a hard time trying to make a living out of what remains from that of the fallen civilization. Now, I'm left here with a choice to make, get a hold of myself - or let my conscience get in the way of survival.
Either way, I have to get a hang of myself and find a safe route out into a nearby settlement. Horose is five hours away, and I'll need a vehicle if I'm rooting to get there early in the morning and not waste time.
Taking a walk out into the corridor right outside my room gave me an impression of walking around a pitch-black mansion. The corridor was filled with the scent of burnt wax; and as you walk, the floor creaks with every step you create. A horrific house to live in, especially for a convertible. There was no electricity in this region of the wasteland. Without a source of light other than my Geiger-counter, I took a stroll into the nearest door to the right of my room with the bright orange glow of a candle-lit light escaping through the gap below the door. On second thought perhaps, I shouldn't be walking on some random house in the middle of nowhere, but if I want to help this old lady, then I need to know what's in it for me - If this gut feeling is correct, then maybe she knows something about the person I'm trying to find. There I go, either way, taking a gander and a peek into whatever is inside the room - and as I open the door to the blooming smell of scented rose-like candles and the bright lit-up candles climbing into whatever unlit area is near to its bright flames, I catch the glimpse of what seems to be a small figure holding at the grills of the rusty windows; staring right at me with seemingly no eyes.
My eyes widened in a concoction of fear and surprise - yet before I can even react, someone touches me on my shoulder. My neck's hairs stood up in a frightened bodily response, my fingers twitched for a moment and I immediately flinched upon receiving contact. My right hand slid down as fast as it could to my torso - my first instinct was to grab my rifle - yet the lack of anything left me defenseless. I ran out a meter in front of me, looking down at the door. My body dies down immediately upon seeing her. It was utterly horrifying, my arm hairs rose in suspense during the moment, and the thought of being defenseless led me to perhaps one of the worst moments of my life. Each breath I take up to this moment was fast; breathing through my mouth as my eyes wore a bloodshot expression. My fists gripped in aggression as I lost control of my mouth.
"Can't you just fuckin' back off for a moment and stop sneaking up on people like that?! Are you out of your fuckin' mind?"
"O-Oh! I-I'm s-"
"W-W-W-What? Fuckin' sorry? Do you realize that I could've shot you if it weren't for me leaving my rifle in my room?""I-I'm s-sorry! I didn't know -- I thought you heard me coming over from my room, I h-"
"J-Just! ... Please. Just -- leave me alone for a second."
Her eyes almost immediately grew a saddened joust of a tear. This expression of hers wasn't the same as the much more aggressive one that I've met outside the house - the one that doesn't hesitate to put a slug on your chest. I didn't mean to be aggressive - it came out of my mouth, almost as if I had no control. I took a deep breath; my hands rose up to my face as I covered my eyes, taking another deep breath as I try to relax. There I was, standing in the middle of a candle-lit room with a heartbroken mistress in the door, looking at me with a guilty expression on her face even though it was not her fault. I can't fathom in my stomach to apologize - even though it was the right thing to do. I wanted to say just that tiny "sorry" yet I couldn't. I lowered my hands, taking one last deep breath before giving a loud sigh within the room. She waddled backward lightly, scared as if I'm going to hit her - I took a glimpse of this and walked backward, almost as if apologetically.
She seems to be holding a small wooden box for me, locked with a small padlock like those used on small gates. It was the first thing that I caught a glance of - before she seemed to hide it away from my sight. My curiosity got the better of me, and such I asked her.
"... What's that? What do you need this time?"
"I-I've had this on my husband's cabinet. He left this for Amelia, she had the key. Now that she's gone ... I don't know what to do about it."
She hands it over to me just as easily, it seems that losing a family member has you holding at the tip of the blade just to get them back. The same can be said for the rest of the people back in the mainland to the East coast, but nevertheless, it's not on my part to judge. My hands flicked down near my torso; grabbing the box as she hands it over with care. It is clear that perhaps this box is an heirloom of sorts kept by her husband - although as the flags and patriotic images from below in the living room suggests that he might be a veteran of war - perhaps the Vietnam War? Nevertheless, I grabbed it and held it close as I inspected the lock. It's a simple one, a simple lockpicking tool would be able to open it.
"Do you want to see what's inside?"
"O-Only if you can open it."
My eyebrows wrinkle as I look down upon the inscriptions. 'UNICA-'01' it reads. A slight implication of curiosity sparked on my eyes as I laid my hand against the bottom of the box - and such I flip it over to see what seems to be a small badge. A golden; albeit cracked open, Arizona Ranger badge. Quite ... Iconic, to say the least. I grabbed it, looming at it as it easily broke off from the innards of the box - almost as if it was made to fit. I immediately gave her a glance of the badge, taking it off her eyes as I look at it once more; rather examining it.
"This his'?"
"I think that's his pa's. His pa was a ranger in Arizona, cop. Don't know what's in that, but he cherishes the olden cowboy style the most."
"Don't figure I open this up and find a bunch of sentimental photos, don't I?"
"Maybe, but he keeps his family photos on a separate photo book - I don't know what he keeps in there. I only knew of that box when he ... Well ... Y-You can keep it though if you can open it."
As to not further disrespect her and her dwindling few happy memories, I nodded. I listened as I lowered the badge down into my jacket's pockets - placing the box down on the nearby table embedded within the room. I didn't get much of a cleaner look at the room, yet it seems that the room is that of her daughter's, evident of the small toy box and a large pink pony near the window grills. I take a look over at the left corner of the room and see nothing but cabinets gathering dust and dirt as time passes by. A gloomy sight, followed by the inexplicable shiny wooden converted floor around the second floor - with the room excluded from the shiny glow as dirt filled the ground followed by cobwebs springing across some of the leftover boxes. I could only sigh at the sight. It's not enough for me to go sacrifice my life on the line for someone's daughter whom I have never met my whole life - let alone even know of.
I then took a look around, looming down at some of the photos of their family. Her daughter seems to be at around 25 years of age if my experience at guessing ages seem to prove me right. I looked down at her daughter's drawers, spun backward by a swarm of cockroaches drooling out upon opening it. Guess the local pest wildlife now needs somewhere to hide with their turf being taken away by a bunch of alien freaks now, huh? Nevertheless, I catch a glimpse of a notebook halfway burnt, if I decide to try and find her, then I'll need all information that I can get. I stashed it away at my messenger's bag alongside some of the books I've found out in the wasteland that some egghead might be interested in. I then immediately find a tossed-out photo of her and what seems to be the family's father crossed out with a large red cross and scribbled away by black ink. Seems to be a broken family.
"She hate daddy?"
"They never got along peacefully. After she grew up and started going with her friends before the incident, she became more stubborn than ever and started hating on her pa."
"Much of a delinquent then?"
"She never was this aggressive ... A couple of months earlier, she found this woman walking around the highway, all torn up. We thought she was crazy!"
"Of course, out of good faith, we put her in the guest room and gave her some food and water. Treated her wounds, gave her new clothes, she was entirely wrecked inside out, it's almost as if -"
"She ran away.""Of course, out of good faith, we put her in the guest room and gave her some food and water. Treated her wounds, gave her new clothes, she was entirely wrecked inside out, it's almost as if -"
"Yeah! Almost as if she ran away from a bunch of slavers ... Anyway, sweet Amelia started talkin' to her, and she only talked to Amelia. I tried talkin' to her, but nothin'. Only speaks to Amelia."
"Mmm." I scoffed.
"Then, one day, she got all banged up and started acting weird until she left?"
"E-Exactly."
I can hear the hesitation in her voice. She slowly teared up, it was indeed mysterious enough for someone to just leave without any warning and start acting not like themselves. I looked out into the window briefly, I had almost forgotten the image of something staring at me right outside. Still, my body froze before I had even gotten the thought of walking towards the window and checking it out. I could not fathom the image of something stalking me out in the middle of nowhere. Any exile, wastelander, scavenger, raider, or slaver would be scared of something stalking them in the middle of the night. I looked back at her, nodding as I grew more and more suspicious of the whole ordeal. I need some time to think, I gave her a nod as I took the box down towards my room. I snatched down a small unused and rust-filled oil lamp from the corner of the room.
"Mind if I take this to the guest room?"
"Just try not to burn down the house, a'ight?"
I gave her a nod and continued out past her and into the corridor, holding out the oil-lamp as my Geiger counter rings radiation warning every three-seconds or so. The rain is getting stronger. Tomorrow, it might be worse. I wonder how most people are able to survive in the wasteland, despite it being six years into Nuclear fallout. Nevertheless, I had to move on. I have a job to do, and some z's to catch. I grabbed the oil lamp and went back into my room. The door creaked close as I locked it down with a small chair from the drawers beside the bed, placing down the oil lamp in the desk right beside me and let it burn up for the rest of the night.
The night grew tired and such the skies turned a bright overcast. I looked out of the window as my eyes grow tired. It seems I've only gotten at least three or four hours of sleep from that tireless night. It's quite early, and the sun is still trying to climb up into the skies. I took a look down at my wristwatch, '06:31', need to get myself straight, can't waste any more time. My hands threw up right into my face, scratching against my eyes as I remove some dirt that had gathered on my face during the storm - it probably shook up the ceiling hard that it shook the dirt off the ceiling and let it cover down on my face whilst I slept. I immediately threw myself up, flicking my eyes closed as I gather my thoughts and the things I need to do to get myself straight up the nearest settlement. I only have a couple of hours down on the line, and I need to move fast.
My feet slouched down into the ground as my right hand threw up to the side. The oil lamp ran out it seems. I don't need it anymore, the bright overcast outside is enough for me to look around without the need for an alternative light source. My feet scratched down against my boots, and as such, I started tying it over to my feet. I grabbed my gas mask, the locked box, as well as my rifle and moved out towards the corridor. The floor creaks as I move past the dirt on the corridor; much more did it creak when I started walking down the stairs on what can only be described as an OSHA safety hazard. I flopped down into the empty living room, looking out into the backyard where a small table is lying dormant. I flicked myself out into the backyard, opening the door net and taking a walk into the sandy soil.
Now that the highways are seemingly lit up by a more reliable source of light, the backyard served as an observation point for me to decide where I should walk out next. I walked away from the makeshift picket fences and out into the rocky plains where a slope can be seen moving up. I took a small trek up through the rocks and found myself a couple of meters above the ground. I grabbed over my binoculars to take a clear look out into the open.
To the west, a small workhouse can be seen guarded by makeshift fences and walls; most likely a raider outpost or something of that sort.
To the east, a group of what seems to be Antlion Soldiers running amock the dead cattle from a farm. Corpses of days old cattle from the looks of it. It seems that they have been taking some precautions for the incoming storms. They never were this strong, and perhaps tonight's will be worse than the previous one last night. Just like the horde of a bunch of insects, they're preparing for the long haul.
To the northeast, Horose can be seen with its large inner hanger and a crashed Aeroplane repurposed to be the center of the village. Large domes and grain silos towering can be seen a couple of kilometers away, yet barely.
The highway up north might be my best bet if I'm going to try and stray away from the hostiles around the area.
I dragged myself down on surface-level once more, sliding across the rocks as I trek down back into the backyard. I need to finish something first before I leave. I then strode down towards the backyard's small bench. I got myself a seat and opened up my backpack. I waltzed my hands through the varying items I have stored and took the box away; lifting it from the clanking metals and MREs stored on my pack. I then followed it by the retrieval of my small lockpicking tool, a small tool used back then in the old world for robbery and thievery - now used to find 'treasures' like an absolute madman in this wasteful land.
A simple touch-up here and there; and the lock dropped into the soil below me with a quick tick! My right hand scattered up into the top of the wooden acrylic box, placed against a thumb space in which the lock was gently placed upon.
With excitement filling up my face, I immediately saw myself opening up the box and seeing what seems to be a small black-colored cloth, covering an item stashed in a brightly red-colored satin scarf. I found myself looking down a small white-colored note written clearly in the scratched bond paper. Inside, only initials can be seen as well as a small 'inheritance' note to someone, most likely towards Amelia.
"To you,
I know I may have lacked whatever it is that you required from me when I was still here - but know this. I don't deny any accusations you may have told others of me, and most certainly, won't deny the lack of a father to my only daughter. I'm sorry, my dear Ana."
Albeit it might be for Amelia, but the name doesn't check out. I stash the note down into my jacket's pockets and found myself uncovering the item from within.
To my surprise...
I find myself holding what seems to be a revolver of unknown type. Something I have not seen myself before, yet oddly familiar with. My right hand slowly lowered down towards the grip of the revolver, finding myself reading an inscription embedded on the side of it. '6 UNICA' is inscribed on the side near the chamber, 'MATEBA' written down near the barrel of the firearm. An oddly familiar name, something that I've heard of before but certainly something that I am not that acquainted with. The design of it is just too ... Bulky, yet I still held it up to my face to inspect it. Oddly enough, my first thought was the probability of it using a type of ammunition I am yet to acquire. I then slowly dragged out a small utility bag on my side filled with .44 ammunition to see if it fits right on through.
And my luck exceeds me, it does fit right on through. I see now why this is such a firearm to hide away from anyone. Perhaps a limited edition like those made by companies for veterans? Or perhaps just a prized possession? Whatever it may be, this firearm is now mine to handle. The prized firearm made its way down into an empty holster on my belt - tucked securely and deep within safe reach on my holster. A simple click and it locks in. Hopefully, however, it would make a difference surviving out here in the wasteland.
And as I thought I was alone, the floor right outside the patio creaked; and there I saw the old lady staring at me. Her arms, crossed with a bloodshot expression curled against her eyes. A dead look staring right through me - questioning me. She had herself lean in a zigzagged pole holding the patio's roof down, taking a deep breath, and giving me a stern look as she saw the box opened. Although speechless; I can feel that hope is glistening through her body now that she had seen a valued possession opened by a stranger she tasked with a risky objective. Looking down, I saw myself closing the box and not showing her the note left within it. I looked down on the ground and pushed out of the bench to meet the old lady on the porch. I looked up at her; gasmask tied into my face and no longer showing any sign of complexion around my outfit.
"I told you to be gone by morning."
"If I'm not here to help."
That simple phrase gave her hope. Her dead look turned into a hopeful stare - and with such, her eyes jolt up with joy and gratefulness as she walked towards me, but before she can even walk a meter closer - she rose her right hand's index and went back inside as if to retrieve something. Her stance at me changed just by that single phrase. I wonder how powerful hope can truly be in this new world. She walked towards the house, with my left outside - wondering what it is she has to give me before I walk away. I found myself waiting idly on the bench, looking down at the box and wondering where this small favor for a stranger will take me.
A minute passed, and as such, the old lady returned with a small offering in hand - a small packet filled with canned beef and corned beef. The packaging; colored and preserved under the same design of the tin cans littered in the living room when I first came through. I found myself packing some food for the long haul, I'll certainly need it. The old lady gave a nod as I accepted her offer; perhaps I treated her too harshly. I just hope this is worth it. I gave her a nod as well as a handshake as soon as I retrieved the package and stuffed it into the trusty duffel bag I had.
It was only a matter of time before I soon saw myself walking the wasteland once more, and off into the Northern roads. Off into another hopeless stride. Off into the wasteland once more where I might take another person's life for the first time. Where I risk my life for some strangers I've met on the road.
But perhaps this ... Unoccasional behavior of mine giving favors for other people might prove useful in the road up ahead. Perhaps.
Only time will tell.
Long Way Home - Chapter II | Inspired by the Fallout series.