Voodoo - Harrisburg

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

It is generally considered traditional that when any ragtag group of travelers undertakes a long journey, particularly on foot over unfamiliar territory, someone in the group will begin whining, "Are we there yet?" far too soon for the answer to be anything affirmative.

The first time the words came up in the group, Voodoo and Hector both smacked the offender on the head at the same time. It has not happened since.

At any rate, the group has been walking for a long while, and fending off interest from all the wrong sorts of people and wildlife. But there's a smell of smoke and human habitation on the wind ahead.

Comments

[boston_bruiser]

Plot twist: the smoke is from burning bodies and the habitation is a carefully crafted ambush by cannibal raiders. I mean - probably not, but if it is, the narration called it.

As the smell wafts their way, Voodoo holds up a fist and drops to one knee. Nothing too discernible or unique on the smoke just yet - no sounds, either. He turns to the group.

"Hector, you're with me. Josepha, keep watch."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Once in a while, even this world isn't entirely horrible. Once in a while.

Josepha nods, and readies her shotgun. Hector moves forward, his own weapon at the ready. "Let's go see where we are," he says. "Here's hoping they don't make too much of a stink."

[boston_bruiser]

"They won't. Not if they're smart."

Up ahead are the kind of fires you get from burning wood, dung, or trash for heat. Smoke rises languidly into the sky, and shanties stretch to a far-off riverbank. Voodoo digs into his pack and takes out his binos - stretching across the water are three bridges. Two are broken to hell and back, and the other...is not quite as broken, but it's seen much better days.

A closer examination reveals the remains of office buildings among the post-War detritus across the riverbank, of various shapes and sizes. It's going to be a fucking doozy clearing those out.

"City on the other side of the river," Voodoo mutters, stowing his binos. "Last bridge left ain't lookin' so hot. Worse comes to worst, hope you know how to swim."

He squints. This shantytown is too quiet. Too still.

"Hello? Anyone home?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

There's a whistling sound, and then a whirr of small engine technology.

Will ya look at that, one of the nearer houses just launched a wee bitty Sputnik. One that looks like it's been clear to Cleveland and back, and can't quite fly straight, but it's trying.

[boston_bruiser]

Prepare to be squinted at, Sputnik Jr. Prepare to be squinted at mighty hard.

Voodoo's weapon isn't up, yet - it's not visibly armed, and doesn't appear hostile at the moment.

"An' just what the fuck are you supposed to be?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

The bot- which is possibly about the size of a regulation NFL helmet- floats up to Voodoo's eye level, perhaps two arms-lengths' away, and emits a series of curious sounding beeps.

"By God," says Hector, "I've seen one of those things before. On a poster, from before the War. I didn't think any of 'em still existed."

[boston_bruiser]

"No shit? What is it, some kind of reconnaissance drone?"

That bot is going to get a lot more scrutiny, now. It better get out of Voodoo's face most ricky-tick if it values the total sum of its components.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"Somethin' like that. The one on the poster was on some kinda cross-country journey," says Hector. "Looked like it was trying to escape from the army, from what I recall."

The thing bobbles backward a foot or so, hovering uncertainly. It beeps twice, turns towards the building from which it came, and then turns to face Voodoo again.

[boston_bruiser]

"-get Joespha and the rest up here. Get 'em up here now."

He's already dashing for the nearest cover - this shanty won't hold up under sustained fire, but it's better than nothing. He slides into cover, carbine leveled.


"Hey! Asshole! Quit fuckin' around and show yourself!"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"Keep your pants on," comes the grumbling reply. The 'bot floats backward as a man of middle years emerges from the building, scratching his side. "Jesus. What, you've never seen a robot before? I can't be outside all the time."

[boston_bruiser]

Voodoo grunts, standing back up. He spares a glance back toward Hector, waving his hand in the universal "false alarm" gesture.

"Ain't the bot I'm worried about."

He exhales as he lets the carbine take up slack in its sling.

"Who are you? And where's everyone else?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"Name's Joe Mason," says the man. "And most of us are busy working. We might not be on the swank side of the river, but we can look after ourselves, thank you very much."

[boston_bruiser]

Voodoo gives a grunt that seems to mean good enough.

"Mason. You wouldn't happen t'know the river's name, would you?"

Possibly it is asking too much for it to be the Potomac.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"That's the Susquehanna. Long way out of your home territory, huh?" says Joe. "What brings you to Harrisburg?"

[boston_bruiser]

Susquehanna. Damn it all to hell. Not a name he recognizes.

"Trying to get to D.C. Map and compass led me here."

He sighs, rubbing at a temple. "Look, you'd be the first person to say 'yes' in about - fuck, I don't know, thirty miles - but do the words 'Brotherhood of Steel' mean anything to you?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Joe taps one forefinger against his chin, thinking. Eventually he shakes his head. "Not in a long time," he says. "There was a trader who passed through here heading west a while ago. Had a number of bottles and other trinkets in addition to the usual goods for sale. I remember Nitt asking her about one of the bottles- it had a marking on it, something with gears and wings and a sword. She said something about it being from a Brotherhood. That what you're looking for?"

[boston_bruiser]

"Yeah, that's it. That's their - whatchamacallit - their sigil."

Another sigh as he rubs his forehead.

"What's waiting for us if we cross that bridge?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"A lot of mess in the city," says Joe. "They make people from this side of the river carry a pass if they're going to spend any time downtown. The big market's in Steelton- you turn right once you're off the bridge instead of left. If you're looking for scavving, Triple-T-Town's east of Steelton. Folks're still coming out of the factory ruins there with good hauls most days. You don't start hitting real no-man's land for a couple of miles south- just keep your ears peeled for drums. Those never mean anything good."

[boston_bruiser]

It's pretty run-of-the-mill post-apocalypstik talk. Sure, Voodoo pays attention, but that doesn't mean any of it is particularly new or surprising to him at this stage in the game.

-well. Until Joe starts talking about drums. Then Voodoo's back gets straighter and his squint gets narrower.

"Drums?"

A beat.

"Like war drums?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"As far as we're concerned they are," says Joe, scowling. "Those Vault assholes use 'em to sound off for their idea of parties, and when they get to partying it's just this side of an active war."

[boston_bruiser]

-huh.

Voodoo reaches into his vest and pulls out a map and a grease pencil. (Some rest stops on the old highways hold untapped bounties yet.)

He unfolds the map, handing the pencil over to Joe. "If you know anything like a location - you mind markin' that Vault on this map?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"Sure," says Joe, scanning the map. Eventually he finds a spot some distance from the word 'Lancaster' and makes a familiar-looking circle marking. "Right about there. Try not to piss them off."

[boston_bruiser]

"Never happen. 'less they do it to me, first."

He walks with Hector back to the group, setting the map down in front of them.

"Okay," he says, taking a knee, "here's the plan. There's a market in Steelton, across the river. We're gonna hit that up, resupply as best we can. I think each of us has got enough loot right now to at least get a mag or two for our primaries - if you don't, let me know. You want any explosives, any area-of-effect weapons, anything that goes boom, you bring it up with me first. After that, we'll hit up Triple-T Town, see what kind of salvage we can get out of the factories. "

He taps the circle Joe marked on the map. "Our next target's here. Some kind of Vault, designation as yet unknown. Best-case scenario, the natives are peaceful, we trade salvage for weapons, ammo, tech, and medical supplies. Worst-case, they're all fuckin' bonkers and we put 'em outta their misery. After that, we head down to D.C. 90-something miles left. We hustle and we can make it in three, maybe two days."

He looks over the group. "Questions? Comments?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"I don't suppose they sell cattle at this market?" Kate says hopefully. "A pack animal would make things easier."

"Don't be ridiculous, Kate," says Josepha. "Do you have any idea how much a steer costs?"

"Well, I can hope, can't I?"

Josepha sighs and glances to the men before looking to Voodoo. "No," she says, "I think we're good. No questions."

[boston_bruiser]

"Good."

The map is folded up and tucked into his vest once more.

"Fall out."