aaaaaaaagh_sky: (Canada - Bear warning)
[personal profile] 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.

Date: 2015-06-19 04:07 am (UTC)
boston_bruiser: (speak clear and speak quick)
From: [personal profile] boston_bruiser
"Good. You'll be my number two on this."

He walks over to Leo, digging through the first aid kit and coming out with some gauze and dressings, alcohol wipes, a tourniquet, med tape, and a pair of disposable gloves. Some of it came in a kit with the RadAway - some came from Bar.

"Pete?" he calls out, tucking his Mechanix into his pocket before snapping the disposables on. "We good to go?"

Date: 2015-06-19 04:25 am (UTC)
boston_bruiser: (RTFU)
From: [personal profile] boston_bruiser
"Okay. We're comin' up."

With a motion for the rest of the group to stay where they are, Voodoo clambers up the ladder. The family clustered together at the top is sort of Hispanic and sort of Asian - it's hard to tell. All have the appearance of being chronically underfed, with Dad (or so Voodoo's guessing) looking relatively healthy. Mom looks like absolute shit.

"Evenin', everyone," Voodoo says. "I'm Voodoo, this is my buddy Fawkes. We're here to help."

He nods to the mother. "Your boy says you're sick. Think I got a pretty good idea of what's causing it, but just so we can make sure, why don't you tell me what's been goin' on."
Edited Date: 2015-06-19 04:33 am (UTC)

Date: 2015-06-19 05:01 am (UTC)
boston_bruiser: (sitrep)
From: [personal profile] boston_bruiser
"And so you guys loaded up on as much as you can, and then the puking and the fatigue started a few hours later. Am I on the right track?"

It's the skin that draws his attention more than anything else. He remembers, a few months before Bar swapped his world out - the president of Ukraine had a nasty case of dioxin poisoning during the primaries. Poor son of a bitch's skin looked almost just like this.

He lays the back of his hand on her forehead - it's a fever of respectable severity, but it could be a whole lot worse.

"Ordinarily, I'd say it was rads. But that don't account for why her skin's the way it is. How'd the water taste? -make a fist for me, hard as you can." He takes his index and middle fingers and starts searching for a good vein along the length of her arm.

Date: 2015-06-19 05:16 am (UTC)
boston_bruiser: (derp derp derp)
From: [personal profile] boston_bruiser
"Mhm. They did."

He tears open a pouch containing an alcohol swab. "I got good news and I got bad news. Good news is you've got some radiation sickness. That, we can make go away. Just gonna put an IV of RadAway in you, let it drip for a while, and that fever'll go away. Nausea, too."

He takes the swab to the crook of one of her elbows, cleaning away the grime and dirt as best he can. "Bad news is you've got dioxin toxicity along with it. That, we can't make go away. It binds to fat molecules in your body, and we ain't got anything to flush it out with. About the only thing I can say for that is that you won't die from it. It'll be some major-league suck, but if it was gonna kill you, it would've by now. Might take months, might take years, but you'll recover."

Satisfied with the results, he removes the catheter from its packaging. "Okay, here we go. -Fawkes, get the bag ready?"
Edited Date: 2015-06-19 08:52 am (UTC)

Date: 2015-06-19 03:09 pm (UTC)
boston_bruiser: (actually quite handsome)
From: [personal profile] boston_bruiser
It's easy enough to fix a tourniquet just up the arm from the crook - loose enough to slip a finger under, tight enough to make the veins show. Complications do not present themselves throughout the rest of the process, and soon enough, the tubing is secured to Anne's arm with med tape as the RadAway drips into her system. The stock of Voodoo's carbine, once it's affixed properly and extended, makes for a satisfactory field-expedient IV stand, relieving Fawkes of having to hold it up.

"Okay, that should do it. Way this works is the RadAway binds to the radiation particles in your body and passes them out your bloodstream through your kidneys and bladder, so in a hour or so you're gonna wanna piss real bad." He rolls the disposable gloves off his hands, tossing them in a corner. "Just let someone know when you do, and we'll help you up. You might get some headaches or stomach pains as it takes effect, but they won't last."

He slips his Mechanix back on, his attention focused on the dad now.

"This place with the water. It have a name? Any recognizable signs, landmarks, shit like that?"

Date: 2015-06-19 03:31 pm (UTC)
boston_bruiser: (herp)
From: [personal profile] boston_bruiser
Voodoo bites back a where did you come from? as Marian speaks up. Instead, he nods. "'Times Beach', huh? We'll keep an eye out."

A tower should make for a pretty hard-to-miss landmark, in any case.

"Meantime, we'll get you folks on your feet again. Ain't got much to spare, but you look like you need it more than we do. Some Rad-X, for starters, plus some water - clean water, we tested it - and army rations we found at a base a while back. Trust me, those things last forever. Won't taste good, but you won't be left hungry."

He nods to the father. "I'll trust you to split it up as appropriate between Pete and, uh - what's your name, kiddo?" he asks, nodding to Marian.

Date: 2015-06-19 03:42 pm (UTC)
boston_bruiser: (looking to the side)
From: [personal profile] boston_bruiser
Voodoo's expression turns into one approximating a not bad. "So you're the one who shanked that Legion dude. Pete told me about you. Good job, kiddo."

Then, to the father:

"Whatever you can spare," he says. "We ain't gonna be assholes about it."

Date: 2015-06-19 04:03 pm (UTC)
boston_bruiser: (Default)
From: [personal profile] boston_bruiser
With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Voodoo takes the satchel and opens it to reveal -

-Cram. So. Much. Cram. Cram to the brim.

(Twenty caps, too, but it's mostly just ALL THE CRAM.)

"We'll take it," Voodoo says, securing the satchel to his ruck. "I can barely stomach this shit, but it'll last us a while."

A quick glance out the window reveals a sun a few minutes away from dipping over the horizon. "Almost twilight. Mind sharin' the place with us for the night? We could use a roof over our heads. We'll head west at first light, if nothin' happens overnight."

Date: 2015-06-19 04:16 pm (UTC)
boston_bruiser: (sitrep)
From: [personal profile] boston_bruiser
"I'll relieve him. The rest of my people'll rotate guard duty throughout the night."

As he adjusts his posture:

"Meantime, you mind tellin' us the details of your escape from the Legion? The version your boy gave was long on time-saving, short on useful intel."

Date: 2015-06-21 12:57 am (UTC)
boston_bruiser: (Default)
From: [personal profile] boston_bruiser
"Start with when you entered their territory and go from there."

Voodoo leans back against a nearby box, making himself comfortable as he can - this might take a while.

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