aaaaaaaagh_sky | Voodoo

Back before the Great War, if for some reason you wanted to travel from Washington to Las Vegas without taking a plane or a train, you got in the car and you made for the nearest interstate, and you didn't think twice about it until your kids in the back seat started screaming at you to stop at the next hotel with color TV and a pool. But that was then, and this is now, and following the remains of the interstate blindly out of DC will get you eaten by Deathclaws if you're lucky. The safest routes follow older, smaller roads- where roads still exist at all, since DC was a massive strategic target- and they aren't particularly direct. All the direct ones go to places Voodoo and his people really don't want to be.

Fortunately, a few of the old US highways lead to places that weren't completely pounded flat by the Bomb, and some of the old state roads may have fallen to pieces but still make their presence felt, and if you have a compass and an understanding of just how far magnetic North has moved since your own time and enough patience, you can make good use of that to get to places that just might have more humans than horrors.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"'Preciate it."

The port slides shut; the doors start to wheel their way open. They're heavier than they look; one of them has an ancient warning sign on it that may once have promised horrible injuries to anyone who obstructed their closing. There are three people waiting on the other side, the man who'd been questioning Voodoo and a taller, paler pair; all of them are wearing what looks like it was probably once mine safety gear before they started reinforcing it with salvaged armor plates and the like.

The short man smiles. "Welcome to Rowlesburg," he says. "I'm Aaron. This here's Susan, and that's Duffy. Ain't had visitors in a while 'round here, I'm afraid."

Voodoo nods, pointing out each of their own trio in return.

"Josepha. Hector. Voodoo. Doesn't surprise me. You guys ain't an easy day's hike from anywhere."

Maybe that's hyperbole, but the point still stands.

"Well, we used to git traders'n such now'n again, 'specially up from Cool Springs, but the roads ain't what they used to be," says Aaron. "River washed a fair piece of the old road away, so folks'd have to go up the twenty-six and come back down from Tunnelton. Still got a fair few traders every now and again even with the extra distance, but somethin's gone wrong up Tunnelton way and it's not doin' us any favors."

He shakes his head. "Reckon you three don't much want to hear about that, though. We c'n take you to the old VFW. Joycelyn keeps the beds clean for folks passin' through."

Voodoo looks around, taking the town in. They seem like decent enough folk, but Ellen's told him about Andale, and it's hard to forget the way she talked about it. Best not to make any assumptions.

"Now you just got me curious. What got assed-up?"

"Kingwood Tunnel," says Duffy quietly. "Old, old tunnel, back when they built things super-solid and dug as deep as Vaults just to give the trains places to go."

Aaron nods. "Most of Tunnelton was folks who lived in or near that tunnel," he says. "Did a fair job keepin' it in repair, too, least as far as anyone can 'round here, but no man alive c'n stop a landslide when the mountain decides it wants to move."

"Can't get through the tunnel any more, no point tryin'," Duffy says.

"-shit. Sorry t'hear that."

He looks around, but doesn't see anything that'd be useful for moving more than a pound or so of dirt at time.

"Ain't this coal-minin' country? You guys've gotta have some pre-War excavation equipment sittin' around."

"Most of it's up Manheim way," says Aaron. "And we'd use it if we could, but- well." He glances at Duffy and Susan. "That fence and gate of ours ain't just for markin' out the city limits. Anybody shoot at y'all on your way here?"

Voodoo shakes his head. "Not so much as a potshot. You got a raider problem, then?"

"'fraid so," says Aaron. "I got no idea where they came from, but 'bout a week or two after the landslide they started showin' up and pickin' off travelers. It's about as much as a man's life is worth to try'n get into Tunnelton now. They're all over the place worse than bloatflies on a dung patch. Had to move all our farm animals underground to keep 'em safe."

Voodoo looks between Josepha and Hector. Then to Aaron.

"So I ain't been entirely honest with you folks. There's six of us and a steer, headed for the Mojave. Decided to play it safe in case you guys weren't all that you seemed. Heard of cannibals back in the Capital - it don't pay to assume, y'know?"

He holds up a hand to preemptively stop any interruptions.

"Now here's what I'm thinkin'. We're trained, we're coordinated. So long's we can find them, any fight those raiders put up against us ain't gonna be worth a piss in the wind. We take care of those raiders for you, and you guys give us your two best hogs and racks in the VFW for the night. How's that sound?"

Edited 2015-05-18 05:13 (UTC)

"Can't say I blame you for bein' on edge," says Aaron. "Fella came through here about... mmm, Susan, what was it? Year, year and a half?"

"Year and a half back," says Susan. "Maybe a little more."

Aaron nods. "Some kind of ex-mercenary. Black armor," he says. "Man was running scared from the Capital and didn't want to spend more than half the night in one place. Some of the things he said used to happen down there would turn your hair white. If that's where you're comin' from, I'd be on edge too. You gonna want those hogs for breedin' or eatin'?"

"For eatin'. Gotta get food wherever we can."

He keys his headset as he takes a topo map out of a pouch on his backpack. "Kate, Al, Fawkes, it's Voodoo. Town's cool. Come on down."

As requisitions a nearby workbench to fold out the map on:

"-oh, yeah. One other thing. Don't shoot our heavy weapons guy. He's friendly, you got my word on it. -anyway, you guys are here, and Tunnelton's here. Now give me your best guess as to where these assholes're holed up."

Aaron leans over the map and runs a finger westward from Tunnelton along the line of what used to be the B&O Railroad. "Most of 'em are here," he says, "between Tunnelton and the river, from what we've seen of it. We've been lucky they ain't tried to come south too much, or they'd hit Manheim and our animals'd be toast as soon as they could get the door open."

Voodoo grunts, eyes scanning the area marked out by Aaron. "Lots of strip mines in the area. If they're hidin' out in one of those it shouldn't be too hard to get an accurate count."

He keys his headset again.

"Al, when you get here, dump your pack, we're going out on a recon. I'll brief you when you get here."

"Will do," Al replies. "Beats getting eaten."

(Someone's been having nightmares about Wasteland wildlife lately. Or possibly Wasteland humans. But mostly wildlife.)

(Eh, it happens to the best of us. Nobody likes post-nuclear wildlife.)

To Aaron: "I'll keep the rest of my people here for now in case the raiders try anything. If these guys are undisciplined as I'm thinkin' they are, the recon ought to be done before sundown. Got anything we can hitch our steer to?"

"Sure. Old Post Office ought to do it," says Aaron. "Let's just see about- Duffy, what's got into you?"

The taller man's staring out at the path coming down from Cannon Hill, down to the bridge. He doesn't say anything; he just points.

"Hell's bells," mutters Aaron. "What the hell's got hold of your steer there, Voodoo?"

Voodoo - Under Way

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