Melancholy
"Calm down, will you! I'm trying to shoot back!" Rick shouted through the turret as he wasted a round on one of their assailants. "If anything, drive as straight as possible, and we can get through this!"
As soon as rick popped back up through the turret, he took a hot chunk of lead in his neck. He instantly collapsed back into the humvee, clutching the wound as if he could stop the bleeding with only pressure.
Yet Elizabeth kept driving, keeping her eyes focused on the road and getting through this alive. She was concentrating so thoroughly on the roar, her father's imminent demise completely eluded her.
Though her father knew if she stopped to help him they would surely be overrun. So he decided to die with courage and honor and save his daughter in the process. Despite his neck bleeding profusely, he managed to slow the bleeding with a wrap.
He climbed back up through the turret and began firing again. His bolt action rifle shot slowly, but accurately. He was able to at least keep the men shooting suppressed, though he would never hit them. Especially not in his rapidly degrading condition.
Several miles out of the frying pan, she found herself in the freezer. The adrenaline was rapidly wearing off and she began to realize just how cold the night had become. She was glad the humvee had two functional headlights, as she was able to see the sign for the next fuel stop.
"Father, I can see the next point!" She was pointing though the windshield, with a rather large grin on her face. "It's right there, we're finally out of that mess!"
The humvee pulled in and came to a stop at a check point. The guard looked at her bullet ridden vehicle, to her, and finally at her father. "One vehicle, one passenger."
"Oh no, there are two of us." She smiled innocently at the guard, who shook his head dismissively as he waved her through.
As she left pulled off, he turned to another guard, "Crazy girl thinks that dead man is alive? She must be another lunatic. Would explain the bullet holes anyway."
As she pulled up to a fuel pump, she noticed she had to go inside to pay. Turning around, she pushed on her father's thigh, to let him know to come down. And come down, he did, in one loud thump. His lifeless body collapsed to the floor of the humvee.
"Father? Father! Talk to me, you're alright? You just fell asleep right?" She was already in denial, despite her eyes not budging from the thick red makeshift bandage on his neck from where he bled out.
Elizabeth continued consoling her father, all the while streams of tears ran down her cheeks as she admitted the truth in her subconscious. Yet, all she could do to stop herself from going into hysterics was continue talking to a dead man.
"I'll go fetch a doctor, you'll be alright father." As a light flicked on above her, his face became illuminated.
His deceased eyes appeared so full of cheer, and the ghastly smile managed to drive her off before she broke into a crying rage.
The desert nights were cold in Shady Sands.
Greg had sold off all the weapons he couldn't smuggle, as with the rest of the group. Wesley was now the most armed, having been able to smuggle his Judge. Nobody assumed the thirteen year old would be packing heat. Not in this pacifistic society.
Either way, Greg had made a fortune off of his railgun. The rest of their weapons brought in really good money as well. Except for the raider's AK, he got chump change.
"So where to now, oh fearless leader?" Gary finally admitted Greg as the leader of the group.
"Well, we can't go south, so we're going North. From there, we'll find a boat capable of traveling upriver until we can get into Colorado. From there, we'll find out." Greg didn't seem to have much of a plan, but it was better than staying in Shady Sands.
As they left town, they noticed their two vehicles had been on the train as well. That would definitely make traveling easier. The NCR was even kind enough to supply them with more fuel to help them make it to their next destination.
The night was cold, fortunately Greg had thought to use some of his money to purchase some warmer clothing. For himself, he bought an old motorcycle jacket, lined with Kevlar, as well as a dark scarf to keep his neck and ears warm. His gloves would suffice as the temperatures weren't subarctic yet.
Wesley really enjoyed his new clothes, pulling on the armored denim, modified with the necessities of a modern dystopian era. His jacket wasn't Kevlar, but it was a thick leather with metal plates concealed inside of it. It wouldn't have the same protection, but it was really the only thing that would fit him.
Gary declined to "bundle" up. As he was no longer capable of feeling temperature through his skin. Greg warned him though, that a loss in body heat could still threaten his health. Gary put him on the pay no mind list.
The raider got her own gear out of her bag, to include a blood red scarf of her own, and a leather jacket. It fit her nicely, and didn't cost Greg any money.
As the engines warmed up, then roared to life, so did their journey. They embarked and with great speeds of around fifty to sixty miles per hour. They would hit New Reno in no time. Shady Sands shrank behind them, and it was nothing but open desert.
Open desert, and bandits! A rocket screamed past Greg's vehicle as the raider narrowly avoided it. The rocket directly impact'ed Wesley and Gary's four wheeler and exploded violently. Greg didn't have time to see if they were okay, instead he and the raider ducked behind their vehicle.
She had a large buck knife. Unless she could throw it great distances, it wouldn't do them any good. Greg had a balisong knife. A pretty little trinket capable of shooting at close range, and stabbing at even closer range. At this range, useless.
He didn't know if they had more rockets, and if they did, what could he do? "Just wait here, they're going to have to come in closer eventually." Greg spoke into the raider's ear.
She made no argument about that.
He could feel her body heat as close together as they were sitting. This began to distract Greg, up until the point of hearing hysterical laughter. Greg dared a peek, and saw a ridiculous looking man in a priest's garb. His hair was a mess, and his grin was rather sadistic and never ending.
The worst part was, the sudden onslaught of forty five caliber, auto cocking pistol ammunition, exploding from two Thompson sub machine guns. That, and the follow up of his men taking random pop shots at them.
"Great, of all the times to not have decent weapons." Greg muttered to himself.
"Hey, can you go away, and come back later? We're really not in the mood!" The raider next to him shouted as loud as possible.
"Oh, sure! Why not, that's completely agreeable!" The mad priest screamed back.
And when things seemed like they couldn't get any worse, the sound of a chaingun picked up. Of course, it took Greg a moment to realize, that chaingun was on their side.
Almost in unison, Greg and the raider asked themselves aloud "is that Kelvin?"
And it was. Kelvin had engaged the mass of enemy combatants who were either torn to shreds by gratuitous amounts of five millimeter ammunition, or ran off screaming.
This act put a look of disdain on the mad priest's face. His comrades were bursting into red clouds of gore all around him. Yet, he calmly bowed, turned around, and walked off over the hill. It was either the power of some kind of god, or sheer luck that he wasn't stuck by a single round.
"Behold!" One last remark from the mad priest, "The power of the Atom!"
A desperate moan came from the other wrecked four wheeler. Somebody was injured.
"Hurry, you have to come quick!"
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- Chapter Ten
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Elizabeth panicked. Small arms fire began impacting the side of her humvee, some even penetrating the thin metal doors. She swerved around the road frantically trying to evade their bullets.
"Calm down, will you! I'm trying to shoot back!" Rick shouted through the turret as he wasted a round on one of their assailants. "If anything, drive as straight as possible, and we can get through this!"
As soon as rick popped back up through the turret, he took a hot chunk of lead in his neck. He instantly collapsed back into the humvee, clutching the wound as if he could stop the bleeding with only pressure.
Yet Elizabeth kept driving, keeping her eyes focused on the road and getting through this alive. She was concentrating so thoroughly on the roar, her father's imminent demise completely eluded her.
Though her father knew if she stopped to help him they would surely be overrun. So he decided to die with courage and honor and save his daughter in the process. Despite his neck bleeding profusely, he managed to slow the bleeding with a wrap.
He climbed back up through the turret and began firing again. His bolt action rifle shot slowly, but accurately. He was able to at least keep the men shooting suppressed, though he would never hit them. Especially not in his rapidly degrading condition.
Several miles out of the frying pan, she found herself in the freezer. The adrenaline was rapidly wearing off and she began to realize just how cold the night had become. She was glad the humvee had two functional headlights, as she was able to see the sign for the next fuel stop.
"Father, I can see the next point!" She was pointing though the windshield, with a rather large grin on her face. "It's right there, we're finally out of that mess!"
The humvee pulled in and came to a stop at a check point. The guard looked at her bullet ridden vehicle, to her, and finally at her father. "One vehicle, one passenger."
"Oh no, there are two of us." She smiled innocently at the guard, who shook his head dismissively as he waved her through.
As she left pulled off, he turned to another guard, "Crazy girl thinks that dead man is alive? She must be another lunatic. Would explain the bullet holes anyway."
As she pulled up to a fuel pump, she noticed she had to go inside to pay. Turning around, she pushed on her father's thigh, to let him know to come down. And come down, he did, in one loud thump. His lifeless body collapsed to the floor of the humvee.
"Father? Father! Talk to me, you're alright? You just fell asleep right?" She was already in denial, despite her eyes not budging from the thick red makeshift bandage on his neck from where he bled out.
Elizabeth continued consoling her father, all the while streams of tears ran down her cheeks as she admitted the truth in her subconscious. Yet, all she could do to stop herself from going into hysterics was continue talking to a dead man.
"I'll go fetch a doctor, you'll be alright father." As a light flicked on above her, his face became illuminated.
His deceased eyes appeared so full of cheer, and the ghastly smile managed to drive her off before she broke into a crying rage.
The desert nights were cold in Shady Sands.
Greg had sold off all the weapons he couldn't smuggle, as with the rest of the group. Wesley was now the most armed, having been able to smuggle his Judge. Nobody assumed the thirteen year old would be packing heat. Not in this pacifistic society.
Either way, Greg had made a fortune off of his railgun. The rest of their weapons brought in really good money as well. Except for the raider's AK, he got chump change.
"So where to now, oh fearless leader?" Gary finally admitted Greg as the leader of the group.
"Well, we can't go south, so we're going North. From there, we'll find a boat capable of traveling upriver until we can get into Colorado. From there, we'll find out." Greg didn't seem to have much of a plan, but it was better than staying in Shady Sands.
As they left town, they noticed their two vehicles had been on the train as well. That would definitely make traveling easier. The NCR was even kind enough to supply them with more fuel to help them make it to their next destination.
The night was cold, fortunately Greg had thought to use some of his money to purchase some warmer clothing. For himself, he bought an old motorcycle jacket, lined with Kevlar, as well as a dark scarf to keep his neck and ears warm. His gloves would suffice as the temperatures weren't subarctic yet.
Wesley really enjoyed his new clothes, pulling on the armored denim, modified with the necessities of a modern dystopian era. His jacket wasn't Kevlar, but it was a thick leather with metal plates concealed inside of it. It wouldn't have the same protection, but it was really the only thing that would fit him.
Gary declined to "bundle" up. As he was no longer capable of feeling temperature through his skin. Greg warned him though, that a loss in body heat could still threaten his health. Gary put him on the pay no mind list.
The raider got her own gear out of her bag, to include a blood red scarf of her own, and a leather jacket. It fit her nicely, and didn't cost Greg any money.
As the engines warmed up, then roared to life, so did their journey. They embarked and with great speeds of around fifty to sixty miles per hour. They would hit New Reno in no time. Shady Sands shrank behind them, and it was nothing but open desert.
Open desert, and bandits! A rocket screamed past Greg's vehicle as the raider narrowly avoided it. The rocket directly impact'ed Wesley and Gary's four wheeler and exploded violently. Greg didn't have time to see if they were okay, instead he and the raider ducked behind their vehicle.
She had a large buck knife. Unless she could throw it great distances, it wouldn't do them any good. Greg had a balisong knife. A pretty little trinket capable of shooting at close range, and stabbing at even closer range. At this range, useless.
He didn't know if they had more rockets, and if they did, what could he do? "Just wait here, they're going to have to come in closer eventually." Greg spoke into the raider's ear.
She made no argument about that.
He could feel her body heat as close together as they were sitting. This began to distract Greg, up until the point of hearing hysterical laughter. Greg dared a peek, and saw a ridiculous looking man in a priest's garb. His hair was a mess, and his grin was rather sadistic and never ending.
The worst part was, the sudden onslaught of forty five caliber, auto cocking pistol ammunition, exploding from two Thompson sub machine guns. That, and the follow up of his men taking random pop shots at them.
"Great, of all the times to not have decent weapons." Greg muttered to himself.
"Hey, can you go away, and come back later? We're really not in the mood!" The raider next to him shouted as loud as possible.
"Oh, sure! Why not, that's completely agreeable!" The mad priest screamed back.
And when things seemed like they couldn't get any worse, the sound of a chaingun picked up. Of course, it took Greg a moment to realize, that chaingun was on their side.
Almost in unison, Greg and the raider asked themselves aloud "is that Kelvin?"
And it was. Kelvin had engaged the mass of enemy combatants who were either torn to shreds by gratuitous amounts of five millimeter ammunition, or ran off screaming.
This act put a look of disdain on the mad priest's face. His comrades were bursting into red clouds of gore all around him. Yet, he calmly bowed, turned around, and walked off over the hill. It was either the power of some kind of god, or sheer luck that he wasn't stuck by a single round.
"Behold!" One last remark from the mad priest, "The power of the Atom!"
A desperate moan came from the other wrecked four wheeler. Somebody was injured.
"Hurry, you have to come quick!"
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