Voodoo - Cram It

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

The North American continent is big. Not stupidly big- it's not Asia or anything- but it's still pretty damned big, especially when you're a) walking and b) periodically set upon by mutated things that want to eat you. It is probably best not to speak of the ruins of Cincinnati, or of what lurked in the landscape of thorns where Hoosier National Forest once stood, or of the stretch of road punctuated solely by massive granite sculptures of Popeye chararacters, who watched over the endless empty miles with blank gray eyes, forever.

Unfortunately that leaves the ruins of East St. Louis to talk about, and that wasn't even nice before the war.

At least a binocular sweep of the place from a nice safe distance indicates there's lights in what's left of some of the buildings, and shapes that look more human than otherwise.

Comments

[boston_bruiser]

Best to count your blessings, right?

Voodoo drops back behind the berm he was using as cover, putting the binos away in his ruck as he addresses the group.

"Movement in one of the buildings. Looks industrial. Can't tell for sure if they're armed. Doesn't look like it."

He pulls the bolt on his carbine back halfway to ensure there's a round in the chamber. There is.

"Same deal. I'm on point, Fawkes brings up the rear. We don't get shot at, we might just have a roof to spend the night under."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"I could live with that," mutters Josepha. "I really could."

Not that she's complaining about things, but damn, that walk through the remains of Popeye town was creepy. No sleep at all there.

"How bad's it look, anyway?"

[boston_bruiser]

"Lights on. Can't tell where they're getting the power from, but my guess'd be a jury-rigged generator."

It's not the best-lit building by any means - the lights are brighter elsewhere, but it's best to start small, work your way up.

"You ask me, they're fixing to stay. Good sign. Well - good-ish."

Because you can never tell with people in this world.

"Heads on a swivel, guys."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"Well, that's something."

Josepha's a little twitchy at this point, but so's everyone else, really. The lone splintered strip of metal rising skyward from a part of the westward horizon doesn't help much; it looks like it was supposed to connect to something else, something that fell a long time ago. It's just reaching for stuff that isn't there and probably won't ever be again.

But it's not occupied, as far as anyone can see, and the scorched building ahead is. Not to mention-

"Am I completely crazy, or did somebody paint 'Armoire' on the side of that building once?" wonders Hector.

[boston_bruiser]

Voodoo squints - there is, indeed, the remnants of a sign painted on the side.

"Well, if you're going nuts, I am too. -ain't they the guys with their logo on all the Cram we've been finding?"

(Jesus Christ, Cram. He never thought he'd kill for a MRE, but the stuff is just - yfgh.)

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"That's them, all right," says Kate. "I always wondered where that stuff came from."

"Wonder if they've got any left," says Al.

"After all this time? I doubt it..."

[boston_bruiser]

"Always a chance."

He clambers over some debris, checking the area as he lightly sets himself down.

"Watch yourself. Could be some nasty shit buried 'round these parts."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Fawkes says nothing; he's busy peering into the distance, and inhaling the wind with what might be a thoughtful expression- it's hard to tell with his face. Eventually the mutant says, "People have been here a while, I think. There's... something in the air that reminds me of Megaton. It might be a midden-heap. I can't tell."

"Leg trap," says Al suddenly, and points to something jagged in the shadow of a heap of rubble. "Looks old."

"People protect the places where they stay," rumbles Fawkes.

[boston_bruiser]

Old and rusted. Damn thing would probably give you tetanus before you bled out.

"We might be coming up on sentries. Eyes open."

A beat.

"Try to look-"

Well, they sure as hell can't look harmless with all the weapons they're humping across this land.

"-friendly."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

There are, indeed, sentries ahead. Well, sentry, singular- and he looks like he's maybe thirteen, tops, and a badly underfed thirteen at that. He's got the hang of holding his hunting rifle, though.

"What're you folks doing here?" he says, in that not-quite-believable voice boys use when they're trying to sound older.

[boston_bruiser]

Voodoo stops a respectable distance from the boy, one hand at his side while the other remains on his carbine's pistol grip.

"Just passing through. That gonna be a problem?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"Not a lot of people pass through heading west," the boy says, eyes narrowing. "Most people just want to pick this place over and leave."

[boston_bruiser]

"Oh yeah? Well, we ain't 'most people'."

His free hand comes to rest on his hip.

"You got a problem with us, then say so."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"It's not a problem," says the boy, "but it's- holy shit."

Guess who's just seen Fawkes.

[boston_bruiser]

They're used to this by now - Voodoo barely glances over his shoulder to confirm Fawkes is indeed there, with the steer.

"That's Fawkes. He's harmless."

He returns his attention to the boy.

"You were saying?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

The boy stares a while longer, then shakes himself off. "Wow," he says. "They don't look like that at all back home. What happened to him?"

(He forgot to do the deeper voice thing. He's a good half an octave higher pitched now.)

[boston_bruiser]

"What do you think? FEV happened."

Gesturing to the factory behind him:

"Who're you standing guard for?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

The boy gives Voodoo a blank look- 'FEV' clearly means about as much to him as 'IRS'- but glances over his shoulder at the gesture. "My family," he says. "What's left of it. Dad says we don't go any farther east until Mom's recovered."

[boston_bruiser]

With a glance to the others:

"She sick, or just tired? We've got medical supplies."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"Sick, I think," says the boy. "Maybe poisoned. I don't know which. Dad doesn't either. She drank the water about thirty miles back."

[boston_bruiser]

"Radiation exposure, probably," Voodoo says, making to move toward the factory. "Fawkes, get the RadAway off Leo and let's take a look."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"Understood," rumbles Fawkes, and he moseys over to the Brahmin.

"What were you doing coming from thirty miles away, anyway?" says Josepha curiously to the boy.

"We were coming from a lot further than thirty miles," says the boy. "Dad says you can't put too much distance between yourself and Caesar."

[boston_bruiser]

The interior of the factory is mostly taken up by centuries-old machinery, and debris covers the floor. There is a barrel here and there, but nothing to indicate they hold anything of interest. BOVINE BLOOD BATH takes up a couple of windows, and R.I.P another. Whatever metal is visible has long since rusted. Along one side, the ceiling is caved in.

"Runnin' from the Legion, huh? Where'd they chase you from?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"Two-Sun," says the boy soberly, stepping over a crudely rigged tripwire and indicating to the others that they should do the same. "We came from south of there, though. People said it was safer up north because Caesar killed anybody who tried to rob travelers in his territory. Dad saved up a whole bunch of money to pay the taxes, because people said there were a lot of those, too."

"So what happened?" asks Josepha.

"One of the Legion guys told us that we had to have twice as much money for the taxes. Then he said we didn't have to give him that much if we gave him my sister instead."

[boston_bruiser]

Voodoo glances over his shoulder at the boy as he steps over a tripwire, glass cracking underneath his boot.

"So that's when you got out of Dodge."

Right? Please say that's when you got out of Dodge.