Crawlout Through the Fallout - Ch. 02

Captain Kells stopped in front of the last trader--the same skinny one who had spoken to me about Swan. He looked at his device, then at the trader, and his lip curled. "Synth. Take him."

The trader threw up his hands. "What? No, I'm human, please!"

Two of the Brotherhood--one man and one woman--stalked forward, grabbed the trader, and dragged the shrieking man into the nearby alley. The others kept their guns on us. My stomach twisted; I didn't want to just stand there while something happened but I knew if I raised a weapon, the armored warriors would gun me down. Maybe all of us. I glanced at David. His distress was obvious but when he caught my look, he gave me a sad shake of his head.

I flinched as a burst of muffled shots echoed from the alley. A moment later, the two Brotherhood emerged. One nodded to Kells, who faced us again. "Very well. You may go. Ad victoriam!" The other Brotherhood members echoed his last words, with raised fists. Then, without another word, Kells and his followers disappeared between buildings. I looked at the armored warriors but they clanked away into the ruins.

The lead security agent motioned to us. "Let's go."

"That's it?" I said. "They kill someone and we do nothing?"

"The Brotherhood only kills ghouls and synths."

"He wasn't either one."

"Third-generation synth. They are almost indistinguishable from humans." She glared at me. "Where are you from that you didn't know that?"

I didn't answer. My mind was still reeling from the sudden brutality of it all.

The woman sighed. "I don't like it but there's not much we can do about it now, other than hurry on to Goodneighbor. Let's get moving, before the gunfire draws in super mutants or something."

The caravan started moving again and I plodded along with the rest. Despite the sunshine, my good mood had evaporated.

#

I wasn't quite sure what to expect when we got to Goodneighbor. From what everyone had said, the place was a hive of scum and villainy, so I half-expected to see bodies in cages and crude warnings painted on walls, like I'd seen around several raider camps. But the streets had been cleaned of rubble and the buildings seemed in generally good repair. People walked and chatted, under the watchful eyes of heavily-armed guards.

Right by the entrance was a shop called Kill or Be Killed. I glanced inside and saw the counter clerk was some variety of robot that I had never seen before. The robot waved to us and called out, "I've got a weapon for every situation. Hunting, protection, cold-blooded murder, hot-blooded murder..." The robot's voice faded as we walked past.

The caravan leader stopped just past the shop and faced us. She peered at her watch. "It is now sixteen-hundred. Meet back here at zero-eight-hundred for the trip back. If you're not here by eight-oh-one, you get left behind. If there are any problems, I will be at the Hotel Rexford in about an hour, after I see Mayor Hancock." Without another word, she whirled and headed away.

The caravan dispersed. I fought not to look at David. Instead, I glanced around the street. Right away, I noticed a brightly-lit sign to our left. The Third Rail. The guard at the door paid me no mind, so I strolled past and entered the place. The interior was dark, though a brightly lit staircase descended just in front of me.

A ghoul stood by the staircase. He wore a black suit, white shirt, a clean round hat, and an oddly-shaped tie. Despite the rather formal outfit, he looked like he meant business. A pistol hung from his belt. He eyed me as I came in and nodded. "Ma'am."

"Hi. Uhm, it's my first time here. Do I just go down?"

He smiled and I had to admit that even on his ghoul-face, the smile made him look a lot more friendly. He pointed down the stairs. "Go right on down, talk to Charlie if you'd like to drink. Should be plenty of seats; business won't start picking up for another hour or so. Just don't cause trouble."

"Thank you." I descended, though I fought not to tremble. Hearing the bouncer refer to the bartender Charlie brought home why I was there. I paused and took a deep breath. You can do this, Beth.

The bar was decently sized but not too crowded. Pockets of people clustered in dark corners, nursing their drinks and relaxing--or at least pretending to do so. I'd slung my rifle over my back but drummed my fingers on the handle of my pistol. A handful of the patrons checked me out when I came in, though to a soul they looked away when I returned their attention. I guess trying to stare down someone--even a lone young woman who might look like prey--when they were heavily armed was bad protocol in a joint like this.

The bar was empty, so I went and sat. The bartender drifted toward me. I had never seen a robot like him, hovering in midair and his three arms waving as he approached. His eyes--or optical sensors or whatever the hell they were--were mounted on moving panels. The nearest one focused on me. "What'll it be, luv?"

"Uh... beer?"

"Right away." He pulled a bottle, popped the top, and handed it to me. I left a few caps on the bar, which must have been enough, as he scooped them up without question. I decided to wait a few moments before attempting the questions.

A few more of the caravan crew came in, including David. I noticed he took a spot in the corner where he could monitor the room. The others came to the bar, ordered, and retreated. I caught a couple of guys at a table watching David closely. I wondered if they were the ones Valentine was worried about.

I nursed my beer. Back in Ratchet Falls, almost all of our alcohol--mostly vodka--was distilled from razorgrain, and every variety of the local booze had been utter swill. The one in my hands wasn't bad. The label said it was called Gwinnett Pilsner.

Charlie floated my way. "Need another?"

No one was near me, so I screwed up my courage. "I'm new in town. Is there any work available?"

"Sorry, luv, I can't help you. I'm a bartender, not a bloody newsbot."

"I was wondering if Clio was hiring."

Charlie froze. His whole body vibrated. A second later, a soft unaccented voice said, "Subroutine terminated. Primary system rebooting, reloading personality matrix."

My pulse sped up, since I knew I only had a few seconds. "What can you tell me about Charlene Baxter?"

'Initiate Charlene Baxter paid her tab and left Goodneighbor eight days ago," Charlie droned. His voice had gone to a straight metallic monotone. I glanced around, hoping no one was paying attention but it looked like no one was.

"Alone?"

"With Symington DeLaurier."

"Do you know where they went?"

"The Point." Charlie shivered. "Reboot complete." His voice reverted to the accented tone it had held before. "Need another?"

"Sure, one more." I paid for another beer but my mind was on the facts: left eight days ago, Symington DeLaurier, the Point. Eight days ago, Symington DeLaurier, the Point. He'd called her an Initiate. I didn't know if that was significant so I committed that to memory too. I tried not to rush through my beer but now that I had the information I needed, I really just wanted to get out of there before someone decided to--

The lights dimmed and a woman in a shimmering low-cut red dress emerged from the back and strode to the small stage to the left of the bar. Her black hair hung straight over flawless alabaster skin. The dress clung to her hourglass figure--at least, what portion of her body it actually covered.

I took in her figure and angelic face and admitted the new arrival was nothing short of a fucking goddess. I snorted and told myself it was too bad that I wasn't attracted to women. If I were, I would have wanted her badly. She saw me looking at her and smiled. I smiled back and returned to my beer.

The goddess took a position on the stage and on cue, music began playing. It was a steady, confident tune. She opened her mouth and the softest, most sultry voice poured out:

Like an earthquake, starting to roll

I felt my world shake, out of control

Like a world war starting to brew

Baby, it's just you.

Like a cyclone, wild and extreme

I got my mind blown, stalking your dreams

Waking up without a clue

Cause baby, it's just you.

I sat transfixed, unable to move, staring at the singer. On an objective level, I had found many other women attractive and could appreciate any person's natural good looks. But something about this one suddenly intrigued me. My skin flushed and my stomach tightened. I'd never thought of another woman that way and I admit, I was confused as hell. I wrenched my eyes from the lovely vision and stared into my beer, which was followed by quickly draining the bottle. The cool drink did little to settle the heat in my abdomen. I flagged down Charlie for something stouter this time. He brought it and I took the whole thing in one gulp before I found the courage to raise my eyes.

The lovely vision on stage caught me looking and winked in my direction. Face flaming, I tore my attention away again. She continued singing but every time I mustered the courage to look at her, she glanced back to me. Her eyes sparkled with... something that made my knees shake. Every note of her sexy voice reverberated in my ears.

A hand fell on my right forearm. Annoyed to have my attention diverted, I frowned and glanced up.

A man in his forties stood there. He possessed an ugliness that extended beyond his sallow complexion and cruel, greedy eyes. He aimed an oily grin at me. "Enjoying the show, little lady?"

I squinted at him. "Huh?" I admit, not my most eloquent response.

"You're a little pink in the cheeks. Maybe it's the booze, or maybe the presence of a big strong man."

Even in the haze of my alcohol buzz, I realized he had no idea what effect the singer had on me. The guy was just making small talk, in the course of his crude flirting. Even at my horniest, this guy was nothing I wanted. I wrinkled my nose. "Not interested."

His hand tightened on my forearm. "Don't be like that."

My irritation burned through part of my inebriation and sexual fervor. I lowered my hand to my pistol and caught the man's confidence slip a little as I did so. I spoke slowly, making sure to pronounce my words clearly. "Take your hand off me."

The guy's lip curled but before he could say anything, another voice said, "Cochran, leave her alone." A hand fell on Cochran's shoulder, turning him aside and revealing a small, unassuming-looking man who probably wouldn't get a second glance most of the time. As I inspected him, the man's eyes met mine, chilling me. There was a hollow emptiness behind his stare. It was the look of a someone who had seen too much and retreated into themselves... the look of a killer.

Cochran sneered. "Piss off, Macready."

Macready lowered his arm from my assailant's shoulder. "She doesn't want your attention, man."

I wrenched my arm out from underneath Cochran's grip. "That's right, I don't."

"Of course you do, bitch. You just don't know it yet. Right, boys?"

Five men shoved their seats away from their tables and stood. All wore mismatched clothes and carried a variety of slapdash weapons.

Patrons around the room tensed. The singer kept right on singing. Charlie paused serving drinks and observed us. I glanced at David; he sat on the edge of his seat, like he wanted to spring forward and save me, but he stayed in place. The two guys who had been watching David regarded the spectacle with wide eyes.

For his part, Macready didn't display the slightest sign of panic or fear. He flicked his eyes at the men who'd stood. "Cochran, you never were the sharpest knife in the drawer. You do not want this."

"Get bent, little man."

Macready shook his head. "Gentlemen?"

Another four men got up, eyeing the first group with disdain. As opposed to the first five, these four all carried cleaned, shiny pistols and wore a matching style of body armor.

The bar fell completely silent, save the singer's seductive crooning.

I slid off the barstool. Every instinct told me the shit was about to hit the fan.

Cochran looked at me, back to Macready, and laughed. "Fuck this." He made to push past Macready and took a sudden swing at him. The smaller man ducked, replied with a punch to the gut, and a follow-up to the jaw. Cochran staggered backward. One of his men snarled and reached for his pistol. Macready pulled his, dodging left and firing. The other man yowled and fell back.

In an instant, the entire room erupted in gunfire.

I ducked beyond the back end of the bar, near the stage. Bullets skipped off the wooden surface. Over the din, I heard the shrieks of the wounded and Charlie yelling they were all in violation of some city ordinance. Footsteps pounded across the floor above us. I huddled in the corner, praying none of the stray rounds had my name on it.

A pair of hands encircled my arm. I spun, reaching for my pistol, but before I could raise it, I found myself staring into the deepest, most intriguing cornflower blue eyes. I froze. A floral scent assailed my nose and she was so close I could actually feel the heat coming off her in waves. My mouth opened and closed like a landed fish but I couldn't get a single word out.

"Come on," she whispered. I almost cried; even speaking and not singing, her voice was more melodic and beautiful than it had any right to be.

She half-dragged me through a curtained-alcove just behind the stage and slammed shut a metal door, plunging us into darkness. The staccato roar of gunfire fell to a muted series of pops. I was unsure of what to do, so I stayed still. A few seconds later, the flare of a wall-mounted lamp pierced the gloom. The woman beckoned to me. "This way, we'll slip out the back."

"What--"

"Standard procedure," she said, smiling. "Whenever trouble breaks out in the Third Rail, I'm to go back to my apartment to stay safe, until Ham and his boys can put things right."

"Ham?"

"The ghoul in the fancy suit, who was watching the front door. He's tough. He'll come down with a bunch of Hancock's goons and take care of things."

My thoughts flashed to David. "They won't kill everyone, will they?"

"No, only the ones that refuse to stop shooting" She headed for a door on the opposite wall.

I followed. "I'm Beth."

"Magnolia."

She led me into an alley, then past an armed ghoul in a suit and carrying a machine gun, who nodded to her, and up a narrow staircase. Magnolia produced a key and unlocked the door. She gestured inside; her smile made my knees shake. "Come on in."

"I... uh..."

"It's fine, we'll be safe here. I promise I don't bite." She raised an eyebrow. "Unless you want me to."

Shaking, I walked past her into the room. Her apartment was small but ornately-decorated. Various trinkets lined the shelves. My eyes fell on a comfortable-looking bed in the corner. It looked luxuriously big for one person--or cozy for two.

The door closed behind me and Magnolia sashayed past. "I see you've noticed the bed. That's my favorite spot too."

"Uh, yeah." I forced the words out but my brain shrieked, What is wrong with me?

I tried to fight through the mental fog. I didn't understand why I was so taken with her. First off, I was only sexually attracted to men--at least, that was what I thought right up until I'd heard her sing. Second, I had a job here in Goodneighbor that I needed to do and this felt like a massive distraction. And finally, Magnolia's room was crowded with interesting objects and valuables--the type of stuff I was normally tripping over myself to claim as salvage--and I wasn't even looking at it.

All I could think about is what it would be like to kiss her.

Magnolia sat on the bed and crossed one long leg over the other. She pulled her shoulders back which had the effect of pushing her large breasts forward.

I swallowed hard.

She smiled and patted the bed next to her. "You can come sit next to me, Beth."

"N-no, that's okay," I stammered. "I'm fine right here."

Magnolia tilted her head and pointed. "If you'd like a drink, the fridge over there works."

"Fridge?"

"Refrigerator. An icebox. It keeps my food and drink cold." She smiled again. "Perks of being the star entertainment at the Third Rail. There's bottles of whiskey and rum, clean glasses are on top. Help yourself--and please pour me a rum while you're at it."

I opened the icebox and shivered anew as cool air poured over my skin. I grabbed the bottle labeled "Rum,' along with two small tumblers from the top of the box, and poured. I returned the bottle to its shelf, closed the icebox and walked to where Magnolia sat. My hands shook and I fought not to slop the alcohol everywhere. I extended the drink to her.

She took it from me. Her finger brushed over my hand--and I swear I started leaking right then and there.

I don't understand this. My nipples are as hard as they have ever been and I want to fling her down and grind my crotch in her face. What the hell is going on?

Magnolia raised her drink. "Bottoms up."

She even made a simple toast sound like a come on. I slammed it home.

She stood, took the empty glass from my unresisting hands, and placed both glasses on a small table, then faced me again. She was only a few inches away, her blue eyes staring into mine. "Beth?"

I flinched. "What?"

"I have to admit, I was ready another dull evening. I did not expect to see someone like you when I came out for my set."

"Someone like me?"

"Someone so attractive and desirable." Her hands caressed mine, rubbing back and forth with her thumbs. The gentle strokes of her touch set my skin on fire... and I was shocked to feel the first twinges of an orgasm building deep in my abdomen. Magnolia's hot breath skittered over my cheeks and I moaned. She continued. "But the moment I saw you, I wanted you. You're so adorably sexy."

I fought for breath, for words, for control. But all I could do was stare at her.

"You want this too, don't you? Since you first heard me sing."

"I... I..."

Her face was only an inch from mine. "Just tell me you don't and I'll stop. But I think you do, don't you?"

My voice fell to a whisper. "Yes."

She leaned to me. I tensed, breath caught in my throat.

Her warm, soft skin touched mine. I responded without thinking, massaging my mouth into hers. Our lips danced against each others. Her breath poured into my lungs like a nourishing flood, feeding a desire I couldn't even define in my mind. Her tongue poked into my mouth, caressing the edge of my teeth. After a second, Magnolia pulled her head back.

My head swimming, I gawked at her.

A small smile appeared. She said, "Wow. That was very nice. Best kiss I've had in a long time."

I stood mute, unsure what even to say.

Magnolia ran her hands down my arms, to the pistol on my belt. "Why don't we get rid of these?"

Even though something in my mind shrieked that I should not let her take my weapons, I did. She unbuckled the belt, pulled the rifle from my shoulder, and placed them both to the side. She cocked her head. "You're shaking. Are you cold?"

"Nervous."

"Why?"

"I've... never, uh..." I bit my lip. "I mean, with another woman. I don't even like women. I mean, I do but not this way."

"It's okay," she whispered. She brushed a stray bang from my face, then reached behind and pulled the leather band holding the bun of my hair in place. She brushed it out with her fingers, letting my hair tumble across my shoulders and halfway down my back. Her voice was just a breath, just the sense of her exhaling, but as sultry as it had been all evening. "You're beautiful, do you know that?"

"So are you."

We kissed again. This time, I slid my arms along her sides and around her back. She wrapped hers around my shoulders. Our breasts pressed together. The warmth of her body beat at me and I started to shake even harder.