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[font size=1" color="#FF0000]LAST EDITED ON Nov-14-00 AT 07:07AM (GMT)[p]Took me long enough, but here it is!
Aftermath
Part 6
Goris sat in his usual spot in Marcus’ home, on the floor, near a pole lamp, reading. Ever since Ella had ‘vanished’, things had been fairly quiet, although none of them dared comment on the lull in action. Peace and quiet were rare commodities, and were highly valued to the residence of Broken Hills.
The Deathclaw glanced through the half closed door to Marcus’ room and smiled. Marcus was on the bed, his back against the wall, going through some holodisks, while Trill laid on her back, head hanging upside-down off the bed, reading a book. It was one he had recommended to her, and although she was reluctant at first, she quickly became engrossed in the novel.
While he watched, Marcus finished up with the disks, and set them aside, turning his gaze to Trill. The Sheriff watched her for a long while, adoration in his eyes. Goris marveled at how quickly the two had become close, even now. It seemed like their relationship grew stronger everyday, somehow, and he was glad for them. Glad that, even in the desolate wastelands, love could still flourish.
Finally, unable to resist temptation any longer, the super mutant leaned over her, lightly kissing her neck. She giggled, and playfully pushed him away.
“Cut it out! I’m trying to read.”
“What are you reading?”
Trill held the cover up to his face, “Great Expectations.”
“I’ll say,” Marcus said with a grin. He resumed kissing her neck, more persistent this time, and she laughed at him.
“Miscreant.”
“Did you learn that word from the book?”
“No…and stop that! Seriously, I want to finish this chapter.”
“I’m pretty serious myself,” he said, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. To accentuate his point, he ran a finger down one of her sides, tracing her curves.
“No fair,” Trill said quietly, wiggling a little. He bent down to her suddenly, and kissed her roughly; it was all she could do to keep up. The book hit the floor, forgotten.
Quietly, Goris snuck to the door and pulled it closed, shaking his head. Trill would not make much progress in the novel this night. Of course, when she finally headed to her house to sleep, she might read a little more. Goris was a little confused by the fact that Trill did not stay overnight with Marcus. They were obviously very close now, and he found it odd that she hadn’t decided to do so.
Perhaps, even though they were close, they felt as though it was too soon. He couldn’t help but wonder if the recent ordeal with Ella was lingering at the back of their minds.
Muffled laughter, followed by shushing, broke Goris out of his train of thought, and he smiled in spite of himself. He marked his place, closed the book, and headed over the normally sparsely populated bar. Although he could usually tolerate their frolicking, he intended to get serious reading done, and needed quiet.
**
“Shh, he’ll hear!”
“I can’t help it! That tickled!”
“Where aren’t you ticklish? Christ.”
“I can’t think of anything,” Trill said seductively, pressing herself against the super mutant, tracing a finger absently on his chest, “But maybe you could find out.”
“Yeah?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Fine with me,” grinned Marcus, pressing her even closer, kissing her passionately, running his hands over her body. Purring, she reciprocated, peppering his neck with tiny bites and rubbing his chest. Growling with pleasure, the Sheriff’s hands found their way to the zipper on Trill’s vault suit, and slowly undid it. Her forehead pressed against his, she smiled and fumbled with his belt, keeping her gaze fixed on his eyes.
“You sure?” he asked quietly, pushing the suit away from her shoulders, revealing her breasts. He could hardly believe what was happening. God, she was beautiful.
She answered by throwing his belt into the corner.
***
First Citizen Lynette was furious. She was often furious, when people did not share her way of thinking. Counselor Maclure just looked down at her, frowning.
“She’s a menace, Counselor,” said Lynette, hardly reigning in her temper. He shook his head.
“I’m sorry Lynette, but no. She keeps her Citizenship. All she was trying to do was save a little girl-”
“Girl?” Lynette interrupted with a snort, “She was a freak of nature.”
Maclure scowled at her, displeased, “Do not interrupt me, First Citizen,” he growled, practically spitting her title at her. Lynette clenched her mouth shut, her jaw rigid.
“I am honored to have Trill as a Citizen of this Vault, and I think you should as well. I’m not going to discuss this with you further, Lynette. Dismissed.”
“But-“
“Dismissed!” Maclure barked sharply. She nodded stiffly to him, turned on a heel, and stalked out of his office, heading for her own. The Counselor merely shook his head and sighed. It was going to be a long day.
**
Lynette entered her office, and slammed it shut, overflowing with hostility. The Counselor was just as bad as ‘Citizen’ Trill herself. Neither of them seemed to understand where she was coming from, even though many others shared her sentiments towards mutants in general.
Wasn’t it blatantly obvious that they were dangerous to everything around them? Her encounter with Ella had left her badly shaken for more than a few days. Sometimes, she thought she could still feel the invisible hand on her heart, squeezing the life out of it. That encounter had only strengthened her belief that mutants were fit simply for extermination.
And Trill. Trill was her antithesis, and she hated her. Trill was the cause of a great many of her troubles lately. She had fixed Gecko’s power plant, which had stalled the plans Lynette had formulated to just take the plant over. Not only that, Trill had casually mentioned that should anything unpleasant happen to the ghouls, equally unpleasant things would happen to Lynette. Lately, the Vault had been losing more and more servants, thanks to her constant railing against ‘slavery’ and for ‘freedom’. And the worst had been the power outage. Living like a common native had not sat well with the First Citizen.
How could she deal with the situation? As long as Trill was a Citizen, she was a problem.
The First Citizen’s sighed and sat behind her desk, which was stacked with reports. She leafed through them languidly, unfocused on her task. Her eyes glanced over one of the folders and lingered. Curious, she opened it, and liked what she saw. The mercenaries that they had hired to guard the City during the outage were still around, obviously pleased with their previous pay, and wanted to know if they were needed. She examined their profiles, and a nasty smile spread across her countenance.
There were three of them, and all three were highly trained professionals, each with a small stint of training at the Brotherhood of Steel. Surely these mercenaries could handle an above average tribal.
Lynette was determined to find out.
**
Cassidy eyed the mercenaries suspiciously, trying to eavesdrop on their conversations. He didn’t like them. Not one bit. Their coin was good, but he had a bad feeling about them.
Sure, they acted jovial enough, but he could see a cold glint in their eyes, the look of hardened killers. Vault City hardly ever hired people of such caliber, and it was odd to him. Currently, the two men and one woman were the only occupants of the bar. One of the men, obviously the leader, was extremely built, with harsh angular features and a shaved head. The other man was fairly large, not so much as his friend, and he had long raven hair, tied back in a ponytail. His hair was fairly unkempt, but he was otherwise clean-shaven. Finally, there was the woman. She had a very attractive figure, and wasn’t afraid to flaunt it. Her most striking feature was her shock of bright red hair, almost orange, that sprouted bountifully from her head.
All of them looked and acted like normal people, but the old bartender knew better. He could see how alert they were, how that had made sure their weapons are easily accessible. The larger man signaled for another beer, and Cassidy served him one, keeping careful watch all the while.
The door opened, and all eyes quickly shifted towards it.
“Well I’ll be damned,” Cassidy muttered, absently wiping down the counter. In the doorway stood First Citizen Lynette, the biggest bitch on this side of the wastes.
“Duegar?” she said authoritatively to the large man. He nodded to her, and raised his mug.
“First Citizen. I take it you have work for us?”
“Yes, but we can’t discuss it here,” Lynette said tersely, glancing at Cassidy. The bartender scowled at her, but said nothing.
“Very well,” Duegar motioned to his comrades, “Load up.”
The other two packed up their belongings quickly, leaving a generous tip for Cassidy. Although he appreciated it, it did not drive his concern away. Something about them really bothered him…and now they were working for Lynette? It was a bad sign.
**
Back at her office, the mercenaries shared glances, wondering what the First Citizen was up to. They had heard many things about her, and hiring people in person wasn’t one of them. She leafed through their files deliberately, as if she was somehow uncertain what to think of them.
Finally, she put the files down, and folded her hands over them, leaning on her desk.
“So you’re looking for work?”
“We’re always looking for work, as long as the pay is good,” Duegar replied. Lynette smiled and nodded.
“I figured as much. I need you for a more…delicate matter than guarding the city.”
“Oh?”
“Have you heard of Trill?”
Duegar chuckled and nodded, “She’s the one who offed the Enclave, right? I’ve heard of her.”
“I want her…taken care of.”
A hush fell over the room at her words.
“You want us to kill her?” said Sheia, the female of the group. She had a confused look on her face, and she glanced at her comrades.
Lynette did not speak, and instead slid a piece of paper towards them. Duegar, his eyes never leaving hers, grabbed the paper, and looked down at it. He whistled, and showed it to Sheia and Gordon.
“You really don’t like her, do you?”
“That topic is not open for discussion,” snapped the First Citizen, “Will you do it?”
“Consider it done.”
Lynette’s grim expression transformed into a bright smile, and she shook each of their hands, “I know you won’t disappoint me.”
The mercenaries filed out of her office quickly, leaving her alone with her dismal thoughts. Soon her problems would be over…but Trill’s were just beginning.
***
Goris looked through the kitchen cupboards and sighed. They really needed to restock soon, seeing as all they had left was, as always, oatmeal and suspiciously old milk. It was times like these he tempted to go out and hunt for a fresh meal, but he hadn’t done so since his days in Vault 13, when there was a whole pack to back him up.
From the kitchen, he could hear Marcus’ door open, and although his sensitive ears swiveled to the sound, he himself did not turn. He had grown used to the sounds and smells of non-Deathclaws, and they no longer alarmed him. Although it may’ve kept him sharp to resist habituating the sensations, it made life easier for him not too.
When he finally turned, he was surprised to see Marcus in his shorts…only his shorts. Normally the super mutant was bit more modest, and would at least don his pants before leaving his room.
“Good afternoon,” Goris greeted, nodding to his friend. Marcus looked astonished.
“Afternoon?”
“Yes. Did you stay up late last night?”
Marcus’ reaction to the question was a strange one and he smiled broadly, “Yeah, I’ll say.”
The Sheriff searched through the same cupboards the Deathclaw had and grumbled.
“We really need to restock. Don’t we have anything besides oatmeal?”
Goris shook his head no, and continued to watch Marcus rummage through the cupboards. He had a hint of smile on his face, and seemed to radiate mirth. Then, he heard the door open again. This time, he went with his instinct and turned toward the kitchen entry. There Trill stood, wearing one of Marcus’ old shirts, rubbing her eyes sleepily. Marcus turned to greet her as well, a bright smile on his face.
“Morning,” she mumbled, shuffling over to him. She too had a faint smile on her face. Goris slowly began to understand what had happened between the two of them.
Marcus, one hand on a cupboard door, bent down and kissed her. It was more than a casual kiss, and gave Goris yet another clue as to what had transpired the night before. They pulled apart, and Marcus ruffled her already disheveled hair affectionately.
She batted at his hand with minimum effort, quickly smoothing out her black tresses, and leaned on the counter.
“Hope you want oatmeal,” Marcus said, holding up the aged box of meal. She made a face at his suggestion.
“Ugh,” she replied, yawning and stretching, hiking the shirt up to mid thigh. Goris tactfully backed out of the kitchen, into the living room, and let his hearing take over.
“I think that shirt looks a lot better on you.”
“Yeah?”
They were silent for a few moments, and Goris strained to pick up any secretive whispers. He knew he was behaving like a, as Marcus had put it, ‘gossip’, but he couldn’t help but be curious. Still unable to hear anything, the Deathclaw gave in to temptation and leaned around the corner.
What he saw wasn’t scandalous or gossip-worthy. It was…touching. Marcus had Trill in a big bear hug, and she was doing her best to return the favor. Both of them seemed to be content to hold each other. Goris, before he could be noticed, retreated back into the living room and smiled to himself. Things seemed to finally be settling down. For a little while, at least.
The moment he thought it, a loud shriek erupted from the kitchen, followed by the baritone laughter of Marcus. His laughter was quickly replaced by a yelp, and scolding, and Goris heard the both of them skitter back to his room via the bathroom, where they broke down into laughter again.
Smiling ear to ear, a fearsome expression for a Deathclaw, Goris headed for Lenny’s. He figured he ought to make himself scarce before anything else happened.
**
Marcus lay on his back, absently running his thick fingers through Trill’s black hair. She lay half on him, half off, resting her head on his chest, her eyes closed, slowly drifting off in response to the rhythmic motion. The Sheriff looked at her for a while, marveling at the previous nights transgressions.
At first, he had been nervous that she would be to jaded to enjoy the experience. The tribal had used her body as a bargaining chip more than once in the past, and was not new to the experience. Marcus himself was guilty of indulging in pleasures now and then, although he had sworn off it of late. It was for these reasons he had found their coupling so much more enjoyable…it had felt as though it was the first time for both of them.
She yawned and shifted a little, raising her eyes to look at him. Noticing he was looking at her, she smiled, and wiggled her fingers in a small wave. He merely chuckled in response. They lay in comfortable silence for some time, gazing at each other.
It would not be the last time they did so.
***
“This is insane, Duegar! Why did you accept that job?”
“You saw the pay, right?”
“Yeah, but…this is Trill! The chick that took out the Enclave…the ENCLAVE Duegar! You know, the guys who wouldn’t hire us because ‘we weren’t up to their standards’?”
“I know,” the burly man said with a grin, looking up from his current task of cleaning his weapon.
Sheia rolled her eyes, and did the same, making sure it was in top condition, “You’re crazy.”
“Quit whining, Shei’,” Gordon scolded, the only one who wasn’t currently doing any work, “If we pull this gig off, we won’t have to work, like, ever again.”
“That’s a big IF.”
“You’re overestimating her, I think. She’s just one woman…and she had friends. Besides, if you were her, wouldn’t you start to relax a little?”
“No.”
Duegar smiled and shook his head, “I’m asking the wrong person.”
Sheia grinned back at him, and snapped the barrel of her gun back into place, content it was in top condition. Gordon nodded agreement.
“So…are we ready to discuss our game plan?”
“Ready as we’ll ever be.”
“Alright. Now, from what Lynette told us, she’s living in Broken Hills-“
“Broken Hills…that place with all the super mutants?”
Duegar shot Sheia an irate glare, “Sheia…could you shut up for five minutes?”
The shapely woman’s full lips formed a pout, and she sat back in her seat. Sheia had quite a few misgivings about their current job, and usually Duegar valued hers, and Gordon’s, input on jobs. Why not this one? Sure, the pay was phenomenal, but she didn’t think it covered the risks involved in attacking a super tough tribal, in a setting filled with super mutants that were more than likely her friends. It didn’t help that Duegar had had a ‘private’ meeting with the First Citizen before they left…a meeting he refused to speak of.
“Anyway, she’s living in Broken Hills. Now obviously, the super mutants might be a bit of a problem, especially the Sheriff…he’s a tough bastard, from what I hear. Thankfully, he won’t be a problem if things go well.”
Pausing to gauge their reactions, Duegar waited for one of them to speak up. Gordon did, “How do you figure?”
“Trill and the Sheriff are quite the couple, it seems.”
“What!?”
“Where did you hear that?”
“Overheard some of the Vault nerds talking about them awhile back, when the power was still out. Anyway, as long as we nab Trill before he can react, I don’t think he’ll be a problem…at least, until we kill her.”
“That’s the part I’m eager to hear about. How are we even going to get close enough to kill her?”
“Preferably when she’s alone. We’ll probably have to stake the place out for awhile.”
There was a groan from his comrades. Neither of them enjoyed waiting, which tended to be why Duegar was in charge. He had incredible patience.
“Seems all we do is covert ops now,” muttered Sheia. She herself preferred to charge in, guns blazing, and let God sort out the mess afterwards. Gordon had a similar approach, although he tended to be a bit more cautious than his female counterpart.
“Quit your bitching, this is a sweet gig!” argued Gordon, although his voice betrayed his apprehension. Duegar patted him on the back.
“That’s the spirit. Now get packed, I want to leave at sundown.”
His charges quickly obeyed despite their reservations, and soon they were ready to commence operations. They left early, and arrived on the outskirts of Broken Hills close to dawn. Setting up a small camp, so that they looked no better than average vagrants, the mercenaries waited.
**
Goris talked with Lenny for a good portion of the day, and realized the poor old ghoul had probably been feeling neglected of late. Although running the doctors office kept him fairly busy, nothing terribly major had happened recently, and he had a lot of free time.
They were both surprised by a visit from Zauis, however, and look at the mine foreman curiously as he entered.
“Hey Goris, Lenny,” said the super mutant, nodding to both of them respectively.
“Hello, Zauis.”
“Hi there.”
“Have either of you guys seen Marcus?”
“No, I can’t say I have.”
Goris was silent for a moment, and opted for a half-truth, “I have. He…had a late night, organizing shipments.”
“Glad to hear it, seeing as he was supposed to get them to me an hour ago. Is he home?”
“Yes, he should be, but,” Goris trailed off, hoping Zauis wouldn’t pursue his lack of information.
“Great, thanks,” said Zauis, quickly turning to leave. Goris wondered if he should stop him, and thought better of it. When he was gone, Lenny gave him a suspicious look.
“What’re you tryin’ t’cover up, eh?”
“What do you mean?” replied Goris, trying to look as innocent as possible. He had a feeling it wasn’t working to well.
“Marcus ‘s hardly ever late, ev’n if’n he’s been up late. What was ‘e really doin’?”
Goris refused to meet the ghoul’s eyes, and struggled to think of a response. Would Trill and Marcus appreciate him telling everyone what they were up to in their time alone? He knew that as soon as Lenny knew, every ghoul in town would soon know, which would in turn mean everyone in town did.
“I really can’t say, Lenny…sorry,” Goris offered, tentatively meeting the ghouls rheumy eyes. Lenny sighed ad shrugged.
“S’alright, I uner’stand,” he said, sounding more than a little hurt that his friend wouldn’t share confidential information.
“Sorry,” the Deathclaw repeated.
Lenny favored the scholar with a lopsided smile, “Don’t worry b’out it. I’m sure new’ll get out ‘ventually.”
Goris chuckled at the statement and nodded in agreement, feeling better. The ghoul had a good point. He bid his friend good day, and headed back for Marcus’, passing Trill on the way. She smiled at him and waved cheerily, and he returned the gesture. Before he could speak to her, she breezed by, obviously in her own world. He watched her for a few moments, and then continued on.
Upon arriving to the Sheriff’s place, he was surprised to find Marcus and Zauis talking in low tones; both of them had boyish grins on their faces. Goris could only assume what they were talking about, and wondered why Marcus felt obliged to share his, for lack of a better word, conquests with the mine foreman. Of course, the two of them had been friends for a long time, so he supposed he shouldn’t be terribly surprised. Nevertheless, he had a feeling a certain super mutant would be catching heat from a certain tribal in the near future.
Noticing his approach, Zauis and Marcus quickly changed the subject, and the mine foreman took the shipment holodisks from the Sheriff, as if it was what they had been talking about all along. Zauis nodded to his friend, slapped him on the back, and headed back to the mine.
“Afternoon, Goris.”
“Good Afternoon,” said the Deathclaw, letting himself into the house, holding the door for Marcus. Goris headed for the bookshelf, chose one of his favorites, and sat down in his usual spot, watching Marcus out of the corner of his eye. The super mutant sat down on the couch, a distant smile on his face, and he stared at the ceiling.
“Got any plans for today?” Goris wondered, trying to make some small talk. He was met by silence. Puzzled, Goris looked up at the Sheriff.
“Marcus?”
Nothing. A small smile crept across Goris’ face.
“You know, you’re on fire.”
When this elicited no response, the Deathclaw grabbed a stray bottle cap and hucked it at the super mutant. It hit him squarely on the check, and he yelped in surprised.
“What the hell?” Marcus turned to the smiling Deathclaw, “Why did you do that?”
“Had to get your attention somehow.”
“Huh?”
“You are ignoring me.”
“Oh,” Marcus rubbed the back of his neck absently, “Sorry, guess I’m a little preoccupied.”
Goris smiled and nodded knowingly, looking uncharacteristically smug. Marcus frowned at him.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I think you know.”
Feigning innocence, Marcus shrugged, “Not really.”
“Trill didn’t sleep on the couch last night.”
Marcus shifted uncomfortably on the couch, and fought not to smile at the thought of the beautiful tribal. The longer the Deathclaw stayed in human society, the more he picked up on things…at first Marcus had been amused, but now it was a little annoying.
“No, she didn’t,” he tactfully agreed. Two could play at this game!
The two were silent for awhile, each regarding the other suspiciously, trying to gauge what the other knew. Finally, Marcus sighed and caved in.
“Please, just don’t tell Typon…”
“Tell him what?”
“You don’t know?” the super mutant admonished.
“Know what?”
Marcus cursed loudly, realizing that he had backed himself into a corner. Being outsmarted by the Deathclaw was far from enjoyable. Goris took a few steps closer to him, a curious -and triumphant- expression on his face. Wishing much pain and suffering to whomever thought that intelligent Deathclaws were a good idea, Marcus told Goris what exactly had occurred.
By sundown, most of the residence of Broken Hills had all the details.
***
“How much longer are we just going to sit on our asses?” Sheia demanded, preventing Duegar from leaving his tent. It had been at least 2 weeks since they had been ‘observing’ Broken Hills, and her limited patience was worn thin.
“Until I feel comfortable with their patterns,” he said flatly, far from amused by her insolence. Usually she would grudgingly comply with his orders, but lately she had become less and less cooperative. He knew why, of course. They all did, and Duegar feared it would tear them apart. He refused to discuss his meeting with Lynette. In doing so, he was betraying the tenuous trust the mercenaries had formed in their time working together. But Duegar knew that if he told them, they would be even less cooperative.
Duegar pushed past the angry red head, and headed for the small observation post they had set up. Sheia stared after him with a murderous glare, wishing looks could kill. Gordon approached her, and put a hand on her shoulder.
“Hey, settle, Shei’. I’, pretty fed up myself, but he’s the boss.”
Sheia frowned and scowled at Gordon, but said nothing. Gordon started to speak again, but he was cut off by a loud curse from Duegar. The two subordinates shared a glance, and dashed over to the observation post.
“What is it?”
“Fuck…that damn tribal changed her schedule again.”
Shiea sighed in aggravation and disgust, “I’m telling you, this waiting around is pointless! Just snipe the bitch and get it over with!”
Duegar gave her a sharp look, and the glint in his eyes made her next scathing comment catch in her throat. He turned back to the binoculars, a grim look on his face.
Things were falling apart.
**
Trill hurried away from Marcus, and too her own home, fighting back the horrible nausea that threatened to overtake her. She felt terrible. She had for the past few days. It was starting to frighten her.
The tribal burst into her home, and dashed for the bathroom, hardly making it to the toilet before her stomach up heaved its contents. She gripped the edge of the bowl weakly, and spat, trying to clear her mouth of the horrible aftertaste of bile.
What’s wrong with me? she thought, flushing the toilet quickly. Normally she would’ve gone straight to Lenny’s, but she had a feeling it was more than just a flu. Trill wiped her mouth on her sleeve and stood, shakily, and headed for her kitchen.
She thought about making herself some breakfast, but then decided against it. The mere thought of food made her stomach churn. Trill left the kitchen, and sat on her couch, letting herself sink into the plush upholstery.
Alone, she could no longer fight off her rising dread. She hated being sick, especially if she was uncertain why she was sick…and even more so if she had a slight idea why. And she did. Trill knew that she should’ve seen Lenny the first morning she had felt ill…but she hadn’t. She had merely pretended to be fine, although Marcus hadn’t been fooled. He had asked her to see Lenny, and she lied that she would. She knew he was worried about her, and that she left before he woke up would make him worry even more.
Trill longed to be able to speak to the Village Elder, to seek guidance.
Another wave of sickness washed over her, and she doubled over, clutching her stomach. This time, she fought back the urge to vomit, and won. Cold sweat beaded on her forehead, and she panted softly. I can’t put it off any longer, she thought.
The tribal rose from her couch and walked to Lenny’s. It was still very early, and she wondered if he was even awake. She stood in front of the door, torn. Was ignorance bliss? Or would it kill her?
Suddenly, the door opened and Lenny peeked out, giving her a strange look.
“Yer up early! What brings ya t’my door?” asked Lenny, motioning her inside. She entered, and sat on one of the benches he had in his office.
“I…I don’t feel good…I threw up this morning. For the past few mornings, actually.”
Lenny raised an eyebrow, but his gesture was lost in his disfigured face. Trill would not meet his eyes.
“Well, let’s run s’m test an’ have a look see,” he said, heading for some of his equipment. She followed him into the backroom, and sat on the edge of the cold steel table. He fiddled around with some things, and approached her with a syringe.
“Roll up yer sleeve, Trill,” he said gently. She complied and he carefully drew some blood from the crook of her arm. Taking the syringe away, he quickly pressed a piece of gauze against the wound and had her hold it.
He took the syringe over to a small machine that had Val-tec written in faded letters on the side. Carefully, he placed a drop of her blood on a slide, and fed it into the machine. The ancient technical wonder began to whir and click as it analyzed her blood. Trill fidgeted uncomfortably on the table, her legs swinging back and forth.
A small beep alerted the ghoul that the analysis was complete, and he whistled as the results displayed.
“What?” Trill asked, trying to see the readout herself. She braced herself for the answer.
“Yer’ rads’r way above normal…some rad’way’ll clear it right up.”
She exhaled, but found that her mental burden didn’t lift, “Anything else?” she pressed.
The old ghoul squinted at the readout again and nodded, “Says yer hormone levels are el’vated, whate’r that means,” he said with a shrug, “Could be the rads.”
As he spoke, he headed for a large metal cabinet and produced a dose of Rad Away for her. She took it somewhat reluctantly, but did not inject it into her system. Instead, she thanked him, gave him a small hug, and headed back to her house. He looked after her curiously, but decided to shrug it off. There was always something strange going on with that girl, and he knew he couldn’t keep up. Nevertheless, her strange behavior bothered him, and he turned back to the readout to study it further.
**
Trill sat on her couch again, the pack of Rad Away next to her. The orange liquid floated lazily in its plastic pouch, as if it were trying to assure her that it would make all her problems disappear. What effect would the purging medicine have on her system as a whole? She had never thought about it before, and now that she did, she realized she had no idea.
The Chosen One tentatively picked up the pouch, and rolled up her other sleeve, fingering the syringe. She thought suddenly of Ella as she did so, and immediately wished she hadn’t. Did Ella’s mother fancy Rad Away when she was taking drugs?
Stop it, she scolded herself, stop it right now.
“Why am I acting like this?” she breathed aloud, barely audible. Asking the question aloud brought up the answer she had been mulling over the past few days, and she closed her eyes.
She was pregnant.
The thought seemed to hit her like a physical blow and she exhaled shakily. There…she had admitted it. But she still felt uneasy. What effect would the Rad Away have on the development of the child? Of course, she argued with herself, if you die of radiation, what difference would it make?
Resigned, she stuck the syringe in her arm and squeezed, praying she hadn’t doomed the tiny life inside her. As the amber fluid pumped through her system, she felt the sickness abate, and she sighed softly, relieved.
There was a light tap on her door, and she called for whomever it was to enter. It was Marcus.
“Hey,” he said cautiously, closing the door behind him, “Are you OK?”
She nodded, and motioned to the now empty pouch of Rad Away, “Lenny said I had radiation poisoning.”
Marcus frowned and sat next to her. As a super mutant, he was immune to all but the most intense of radiation. It bothered him that she was so susceptible to it. He drew her close and hugged her for a moment, and noted that she was decidedly distant.
“Is something wrong?” he asked, giving her a quizzical look. She looked up at him for a moment, and lost herself in his clear green eyes. How could she tell him? How would he react? Deep down, she was overjoyed by the pregnancy…but how would he react? He was far from enamored by children. He seemed to sense her distress, and held her close again.
“Hey, you don’t have to talk about if you don’t want…just know that I’m here for you, OK?
She nearly broke down at his statement, and buried her head in his chest, “Oh, Marcus…”
“Yeah?”
“Marcus, I-“ Trill’s confession was cut off as a loud explosion ripped through the air, shaking anything that wasn’t nailed down to the floor.
“What the fuck was that?”
To be Continued....MUAHAHAHAHA!
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Aftermath
Part 6
Goris sat in his usual spot in Marcus’ home, on the floor, near a pole lamp, reading. Ever since Ella had ‘vanished’, things had been fairly quiet, although none of them dared comment on the lull in action. Peace and quiet were rare commodities, and were highly valued to the residence of Broken Hills.
The Deathclaw glanced through the half closed door to Marcus’ room and smiled. Marcus was on the bed, his back against the wall, going through some holodisks, while Trill laid on her back, head hanging upside-down off the bed, reading a book. It was one he had recommended to her, and although she was reluctant at first, she quickly became engrossed in the novel.
While he watched, Marcus finished up with the disks, and set them aside, turning his gaze to Trill. The Sheriff watched her for a long while, adoration in his eyes. Goris marveled at how quickly the two had become close, even now. It seemed like their relationship grew stronger everyday, somehow, and he was glad for them. Glad that, even in the desolate wastelands, love could still flourish.
Finally, unable to resist temptation any longer, the super mutant leaned over her, lightly kissing her neck. She giggled, and playfully pushed him away.
“Cut it out! I’m trying to read.”
“What are you reading?”
Trill held the cover up to his face, “Great Expectations.”
“I’ll say,” Marcus said with a grin. He resumed kissing her neck, more persistent this time, and she laughed at him.
“Miscreant.”
“Did you learn that word from the book?”
“No…and stop that! Seriously, I want to finish this chapter.”
“I’m pretty serious myself,” he said, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. To accentuate his point, he ran a finger down one of her sides, tracing her curves.
“No fair,” Trill said quietly, wiggling a little. He bent down to her suddenly, and kissed her roughly; it was all she could do to keep up. The book hit the floor, forgotten.
Quietly, Goris snuck to the door and pulled it closed, shaking his head. Trill would not make much progress in the novel this night. Of course, when she finally headed to her house to sleep, she might read a little more. Goris was a little confused by the fact that Trill did not stay overnight with Marcus. They were obviously very close now, and he found it odd that she hadn’t decided to do so.
Perhaps, even though they were close, they felt as though it was too soon. He couldn’t help but wonder if the recent ordeal with Ella was lingering at the back of their minds.
Muffled laughter, followed by shushing, broke Goris out of his train of thought, and he smiled in spite of himself. He marked his place, closed the book, and headed over the normally sparsely populated bar. Although he could usually tolerate their frolicking, he intended to get serious reading done, and needed quiet.
**
“Shh, he’ll hear!”
“I can’t help it! That tickled!”
“Where aren’t you ticklish? Christ.”
“I can’t think of anything,” Trill said seductively, pressing herself against the super mutant, tracing a finger absently on his chest, “But maybe you could find out.”
“Yeah?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Fine with me,” grinned Marcus, pressing her even closer, kissing her passionately, running his hands over her body. Purring, she reciprocated, peppering his neck with tiny bites and rubbing his chest. Growling with pleasure, the Sheriff’s hands found their way to the zipper on Trill’s vault suit, and slowly undid it. Her forehead pressed against his, she smiled and fumbled with his belt, keeping her gaze fixed on his eyes.
“You sure?” he asked quietly, pushing the suit away from her shoulders, revealing her breasts. He could hardly believe what was happening. God, she was beautiful.
She answered by throwing his belt into the corner.
***
First Citizen Lynette was furious. She was often furious, when people did not share her way of thinking. Counselor Maclure just looked down at her, frowning.
“She’s a menace, Counselor,” said Lynette, hardly reigning in her temper. He shook his head.
“I’m sorry Lynette, but no. She keeps her Citizenship. All she was trying to do was save a little girl-”
“Girl?” Lynette interrupted with a snort, “She was a freak of nature.”
Maclure scowled at her, displeased, “Do not interrupt me, First Citizen,” he growled, practically spitting her title at her. Lynette clenched her mouth shut, her jaw rigid.
“I am honored to have Trill as a Citizen of this Vault, and I think you should as well. I’m not going to discuss this with you further, Lynette. Dismissed.”
“But-“
“Dismissed!” Maclure barked sharply. She nodded stiffly to him, turned on a heel, and stalked out of his office, heading for her own. The Counselor merely shook his head and sighed. It was going to be a long day.
**
Lynette entered her office, and slammed it shut, overflowing with hostility. The Counselor was just as bad as ‘Citizen’ Trill herself. Neither of them seemed to understand where she was coming from, even though many others shared her sentiments towards mutants in general.
Wasn’t it blatantly obvious that they were dangerous to everything around them? Her encounter with Ella had left her badly shaken for more than a few days. Sometimes, she thought she could still feel the invisible hand on her heart, squeezing the life out of it. That encounter had only strengthened her belief that mutants were fit simply for extermination.
And Trill. Trill was her antithesis, and she hated her. Trill was the cause of a great many of her troubles lately. She had fixed Gecko’s power plant, which had stalled the plans Lynette had formulated to just take the plant over. Not only that, Trill had casually mentioned that should anything unpleasant happen to the ghouls, equally unpleasant things would happen to Lynette. Lately, the Vault had been losing more and more servants, thanks to her constant railing against ‘slavery’ and for ‘freedom’. And the worst had been the power outage. Living like a common native had not sat well with the First Citizen.
How could she deal with the situation? As long as Trill was a Citizen, she was a problem.
The First Citizen’s sighed and sat behind her desk, which was stacked with reports. She leafed through them languidly, unfocused on her task. Her eyes glanced over one of the folders and lingered. Curious, she opened it, and liked what she saw. The mercenaries that they had hired to guard the City during the outage were still around, obviously pleased with their previous pay, and wanted to know if they were needed. She examined their profiles, and a nasty smile spread across her countenance.
There were three of them, and all three were highly trained professionals, each with a small stint of training at the Brotherhood of Steel. Surely these mercenaries could handle an above average tribal.
Lynette was determined to find out.
**
Cassidy eyed the mercenaries suspiciously, trying to eavesdrop on their conversations. He didn’t like them. Not one bit. Their coin was good, but he had a bad feeling about them.
Sure, they acted jovial enough, but he could see a cold glint in their eyes, the look of hardened killers. Vault City hardly ever hired people of such caliber, and it was odd to him. Currently, the two men and one woman were the only occupants of the bar. One of the men, obviously the leader, was extremely built, with harsh angular features and a shaved head. The other man was fairly large, not so much as his friend, and he had long raven hair, tied back in a ponytail. His hair was fairly unkempt, but he was otherwise clean-shaven. Finally, there was the woman. She had a very attractive figure, and wasn’t afraid to flaunt it. Her most striking feature was her shock of bright red hair, almost orange, that sprouted bountifully from her head.
All of them looked and acted like normal people, but the old bartender knew better. He could see how alert they were, how that had made sure their weapons are easily accessible. The larger man signaled for another beer, and Cassidy served him one, keeping careful watch all the while.
The door opened, and all eyes quickly shifted towards it.
“Well I’ll be damned,” Cassidy muttered, absently wiping down the counter. In the doorway stood First Citizen Lynette, the biggest bitch on this side of the wastes.
“Duegar?” she said authoritatively to the large man. He nodded to her, and raised his mug.
“First Citizen. I take it you have work for us?”
“Yes, but we can’t discuss it here,” Lynette said tersely, glancing at Cassidy. The bartender scowled at her, but said nothing.
“Very well,” Duegar motioned to his comrades, “Load up.”
The other two packed up their belongings quickly, leaving a generous tip for Cassidy. Although he appreciated it, it did not drive his concern away. Something about them really bothered him…and now they were working for Lynette? It was a bad sign.
**
Back at her office, the mercenaries shared glances, wondering what the First Citizen was up to. They had heard many things about her, and hiring people in person wasn’t one of them. She leafed through their files deliberately, as if she was somehow uncertain what to think of them.
Finally, she put the files down, and folded her hands over them, leaning on her desk.
“So you’re looking for work?”
“We’re always looking for work, as long as the pay is good,” Duegar replied. Lynette smiled and nodded.
“I figured as much. I need you for a more…delicate matter than guarding the city.”
“Oh?”
“Have you heard of Trill?”
Duegar chuckled and nodded, “She’s the one who offed the Enclave, right? I’ve heard of her.”
“I want her…taken care of.”
A hush fell over the room at her words.
“You want us to kill her?” said Sheia, the female of the group. She had a confused look on her face, and she glanced at her comrades.
Lynette did not speak, and instead slid a piece of paper towards them. Duegar, his eyes never leaving hers, grabbed the paper, and looked down at it. He whistled, and showed it to Sheia and Gordon.
“You really don’t like her, do you?”
“That topic is not open for discussion,” snapped the First Citizen, “Will you do it?”
“Consider it done.”
Lynette’s grim expression transformed into a bright smile, and she shook each of their hands, “I know you won’t disappoint me.”
The mercenaries filed out of her office quickly, leaving her alone with her dismal thoughts. Soon her problems would be over…but Trill’s were just beginning.
***
Goris looked through the kitchen cupboards and sighed. They really needed to restock soon, seeing as all they had left was, as always, oatmeal and suspiciously old milk. It was times like these he tempted to go out and hunt for a fresh meal, but he hadn’t done so since his days in Vault 13, when there was a whole pack to back him up.
From the kitchen, he could hear Marcus’ door open, and although his sensitive ears swiveled to the sound, he himself did not turn. He had grown used to the sounds and smells of non-Deathclaws, and they no longer alarmed him. Although it may’ve kept him sharp to resist habituating the sensations, it made life easier for him not too.
When he finally turned, he was surprised to see Marcus in his shorts…only his shorts. Normally the super mutant was bit more modest, and would at least don his pants before leaving his room.
“Good afternoon,” Goris greeted, nodding to his friend. Marcus looked astonished.
“Afternoon?”
“Yes. Did you stay up late last night?”
Marcus’ reaction to the question was a strange one and he smiled broadly, “Yeah, I’ll say.”
The Sheriff searched through the same cupboards the Deathclaw had and grumbled.
“We really need to restock. Don’t we have anything besides oatmeal?”
Goris shook his head no, and continued to watch Marcus rummage through the cupboards. He had a hint of smile on his face, and seemed to radiate mirth. Then, he heard the door open again. This time, he went with his instinct and turned toward the kitchen entry. There Trill stood, wearing one of Marcus’ old shirts, rubbing her eyes sleepily. Marcus turned to greet her as well, a bright smile on his face.
“Morning,” she mumbled, shuffling over to him. She too had a faint smile on her face. Goris slowly began to understand what had happened between the two of them.
Marcus, one hand on a cupboard door, bent down and kissed her. It was more than a casual kiss, and gave Goris yet another clue as to what had transpired the night before. They pulled apart, and Marcus ruffled her already disheveled hair affectionately.
She batted at his hand with minimum effort, quickly smoothing out her black tresses, and leaned on the counter.
“Hope you want oatmeal,” Marcus said, holding up the aged box of meal. She made a face at his suggestion.
“Ugh,” she replied, yawning and stretching, hiking the shirt up to mid thigh. Goris tactfully backed out of the kitchen, into the living room, and let his hearing take over.
“I think that shirt looks a lot better on you.”
“Yeah?”
They were silent for a few moments, and Goris strained to pick up any secretive whispers. He knew he was behaving like a, as Marcus had put it, ‘gossip’, but he couldn’t help but be curious. Still unable to hear anything, the Deathclaw gave in to temptation and leaned around the corner.
What he saw wasn’t scandalous or gossip-worthy. It was…touching. Marcus had Trill in a big bear hug, and she was doing her best to return the favor. Both of them seemed to be content to hold each other. Goris, before he could be noticed, retreated back into the living room and smiled to himself. Things seemed to finally be settling down. For a little while, at least.
The moment he thought it, a loud shriek erupted from the kitchen, followed by the baritone laughter of Marcus. His laughter was quickly replaced by a yelp, and scolding, and Goris heard the both of them skitter back to his room via the bathroom, where they broke down into laughter again.
Smiling ear to ear, a fearsome expression for a Deathclaw, Goris headed for Lenny’s. He figured he ought to make himself scarce before anything else happened.
**
Marcus lay on his back, absently running his thick fingers through Trill’s black hair. She lay half on him, half off, resting her head on his chest, her eyes closed, slowly drifting off in response to the rhythmic motion. The Sheriff looked at her for a while, marveling at the previous nights transgressions.
At first, he had been nervous that she would be to jaded to enjoy the experience. The tribal had used her body as a bargaining chip more than once in the past, and was not new to the experience. Marcus himself was guilty of indulging in pleasures now and then, although he had sworn off it of late. It was for these reasons he had found their coupling so much more enjoyable…it had felt as though it was the first time for both of them.
She yawned and shifted a little, raising her eyes to look at him. Noticing he was looking at her, she smiled, and wiggled her fingers in a small wave. He merely chuckled in response. They lay in comfortable silence for some time, gazing at each other.
It would not be the last time they did so.
***
“This is insane, Duegar! Why did you accept that job?”
“You saw the pay, right?”
“Yeah, but…this is Trill! The chick that took out the Enclave…the ENCLAVE Duegar! You know, the guys who wouldn’t hire us because ‘we weren’t up to their standards’?”
“I know,” the burly man said with a grin, looking up from his current task of cleaning his weapon.
Sheia rolled her eyes, and did the same, making sure it was in top condition, “You’re crazy.”
“Quit whining, Shei’,” Gordon scolded, the only one who wasn’t currently doing any work, “If we pull this gig off, we won’t have to work, like, ever again.”
“That’s a big IF.”
“You’re overestimating her, I think. She’s just one woman…and she had friends. Besides, if you were her, wouldn’t you start to relax a little?”
“No.”
Duegar smiled and shook his head, “I’m asking the wrong person.”
Sheia grinned back at him, and snapped the barrel of her gun back into place, content it was in top condition. Gordon nodded agreement.
“So…are we ready to discuss our game plan?”
“Ready as we’ll ever be.”
“Alright. Now, from what Lynette told us, she’s living in Broken Hills-“
“Broken Hills…that place with all the super mutants?”
Duegar shot Sheia an irate glare, “Sheia…could you shut up for five minutes?”
The shapely woman’s full lips formed a pout, and she sat back in her seat. Sheia had quite a few misgivings about their current job, and usually Duegar valued hers, and Gordon’s, input on jobs. Why not this one? Sure, the pay was phenomenal, but she didn’t think it covered the risks involved in attacking a super tough tribal, in a setting filled with super mutants that were more than likely her friends. It didn’t help that Duegar had had a ‘private’ meeting with the First Citizen before they left…a meeting he refused to speak of.
“Anyway, she’s living in Broken Hills. Now obviously, the super mutants might be a bit of a problem, especially the Sheriff…he’s a tough bastard, from what I hear. Thankfully, he won’t be a problem if things go well.”
Pausing to gauge their reactions, Duegar waited for one of them to speak up. Gordon did, “How do you figure?”
“Trill and the Sheriff are quite the couple, it seems.”
“What!?”
“Where did you hear that?”
“Overheard some of the Vault nerds talking about them awhile back, when the power was still out. Anyway, as long as we nab Trill before he can react, I don’t think he’ll be a problem…at least, until we kill her.”
“That’s the part I’m eager to hear about. How are we even going to get close enough to kill her?”
“Preferably when she’s alone. We’ll probably have to stake the place out for awhile.”
There was a groan from his comrades. Neither of them enjoyed waiting, which tended to be why Duegar was in charge. He had incredible patience.
“Seems all we do is covert ops now,” muttered Sheia. She herself preferred to charge in, guns blazing, and let God sort out the mess afterwards. Gordon had a similar approach, although he tended to be a bit more cautious than his female counterpart.
“Quit your bitching, this is a sweet gig!” argued Gordon, although his voice betrayed his apprehension. Duegar patted him on the back.
“That’s the spirit. Now get packed, I want to leave at sundown.”
His charges quickly obeyed despite their reservations, and soon they were ready to commence operations. They left early, and arrived on the outskirts of Broken Hills close to dawn. Setting up a small camp, so that they looked no better than average vagrants, the mercenaries waited.
**
Goris talked with Lenny for a good portion of the day, and realized the poor old ghoul had probably been feeling neglected of late. Although running the doctors office kept him fairly busy, nothing terribly major had happened recently, and he had a lot of free time.
They were both surprised by a visit from Zauis, however, and look at the mine foreman curiously as he entered.
“Hey Goris, Lenny,” said the super mutant, nodding to both of them respectively.
“Hello, Zauis.”
“Hi there.”
“Have either of you guys seen Marcus?”
“No, I can’t say I have.”
Goris was silent for a moment, and opted for a half-truth, “I have. He…had a late night, organizing shipments.”
“Glad to hear it, seeing as he was supposed to get them to me an hour ago. Is he home?”
“Yes, he should be, but,” Goris trailed off, hoping Zauis wouldn’t pursue his lack of information.
“Great, thanks,” said Zauis, quickly turning to leave. Goris wondered if he should stop him, and thought better of it. When he was gone, Lenny gave him a suspicious look.
“What’re you tryin’ t’cover up, eh?”
“What do you mean?” replied Goris, trying to look as innocent as possible. He had a feeling it wasn’t working to well.
“Marcus ‘s hardly ever late, ev’n if’n he’s been up late. What was ‘e really doin’?”
Goris refused to meet the ghoul’s eyes, and struggled to think of a response. Would Trill and Marcus appreciate him telling everyone what they were up to in their time alone? He knew that as soon as Lenny knew, every ghoul in town would soon know, which would in turn mean everyone in town did.
“I really can’t say, Lenny…sorry,” Goris offered, tentatively meeting the ghouls rheumy eyes. Lenny sighed ad shrugged.
“S’alright, I uner’stand,” he said, sounding more than a little hurt that his friend wouldn’t share confidential information.
“Sorry,” the Deathclaw repeated.
Lenny favored the scholar with a lopsided smile, “Don’t worry b’out it. I’m sure new’ll get out ‘ventually.”
Goris chuckled at the statement and nodded in agreement, feeling better. The ghoul had a good point. He bid his friend good day, and headed back for Marcus’, passing Trill on the way. She smiled at him and waved cheerily, and he returned the gesture. Before he could speak to her, she breezed by, obviously in her own world. He watched her for a few moments, and then continued on.
Upon arriving to the Sheriff’s place, he was surprised to find Marcus and Zauis talking in low tones; both of them had boyish grins on their faces. Goris could only assume what they were talking about, and wondered why Marcus felt obliged to share his, for lack of a better word, conquests with the mine foreman. Of course, the two of them had been friends for a long time, so he supposed he shouldn’t be terribly surprised. Nevertheless, he had a feeling a certain super mutant would be catching heat from a certain tribal in the near future.
Noticing his approach, Zauis and Marcus quickly changed the subject, and the mine foreman took the shipment holodisks from the Sheriff, as if it was what they had been talking about all along. Zauis nodded to his friend, slapped him on the back, and headed back to the mine.
“Afternoon, Goris.”
“Good Afternoon,” said the Deathclaw, letting himself into the house, holding the door for Marcus. Goris headed for the bookshelf, chose one of his favorites, and sat down in his usual spot, watching Marcus out of the corner of his eye. The super mutant sat down on the couch, a distant smile on his face, and he stared at the ceiling.
“Got any plans for today?” Goris wondered, trying to make some small talk. He was met by silence. Puzzled, Goris looked up at the Sheriff.
“Marcus?”
Nothing. A small smile crept across Goris’ face.
“You know, you’re on fire.”
When this elicited no response, the Deathclaw grabbed a stray bottle cap and hucked it at the super mutant. It hit him squarely on the check, and he yelped in surprised.
“What the hell?” Marcus turned to the smiling Deathclaw, “Why did you do that?”
“Had to get your attention somehow.”
“Huh?”
“You are ignoring me.”
“Oh,” Marcus rubbed the back of his neck absently, “Sorry, guess I’m a little preoccupied.”
Goris smiled and nodded knowingly, looking uncharacteristically smug. Marcus frowned at him.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I think you know.”
Feigning innocence, Marcus shrugged, “Not really.”
“Trill didn’t sleep on the couch last night.”
Marcus shifted uncomfortably on the couch, and fought not to smile at the thought of the beautiful tribal. The longer the Deathclaw stayed in human society, the more he picked up on things…at first Marcus had been amused, but now it was a little annoying.
“No, she didn’t,” he tactfully agreed. Two could play at this game!
The two were silent for awhile, each regarding the other suspiciously, trying to gauge what the other knew. Finally, Marcus sighed and caved in.
“Please, just don’t tell Typon…”
“Tell him what?”
“You don’t know?” the super mutant admonished.
“Know what?”
Marcus cursed loudly, realizing that he had backed himself into a corner. Being outsmarted by the Deathclaw was far from enjoyable. Goris took a few steps closer to him, a curious -and triumphant- expression on his face. Wishing much pain and suffering to whomever thought that intelligent Deathclaws were a good idea, Marcus told Goris what exactly had occurred.
By sundown, most of the residence of Broken Hills had all the details.
***
“How much longer are we just going to sit on our asses?” Sheia demanded, preventing Duegar from leaving his tent. It had been at least 2 weeks since they had been ‘observing’ Broken Hills, and her limited patience was worn thin.
“Until I feel comfortable with their patterns,” he said flatly, far from amused by her insolence. Usually she would grudgingly comply with his orders, but lately she had become less and less cooperative. He knew why, of course. They all did, and Duegar feared it would tear them apart. He refused to discuss his meeting with Lynette. In doing so, he was betraying the tenuous trust the mercenaries had formed in their time working together. But Duegar knew that if he told them, they would be even less cooperative.
Duegar pushed past the angry red head, and headed for the small observation post they had set up. Sheia stared after him with a murderous glare, wishing looks could kill. Gordon approached her, and put a hand on her shoulder.
“Hey, settle, Shei’. I’, pretty fed up myself, but he’s the boss.”
Sheia frowned and scowled at Gordon, but said nothing. Gordon started to speak again, but he was cut off by a loud curse from Duegar. The two subordinates shared a glance, and dashed over to the observation post.
“What is it?”
“Fuck…that damn tribal changed her schedule again.”
Shiea sighed in aggravation and disgust, “I’m telling you, this waiting around is pointless! Just snipe the bitch and get it over with!”
Duegar gave her a sharp look, and the glint in his eyes made her next scathing comment catch in her throat. He turned back to the binoculars, a grim look on his face.
Things were falling apart.
**
Trill hurried away from Marcus, and too her own home, fighting back the horrible nausea that threatened to overtake her. She felt terrible. She had for the past few days. It was starting to frighten her.
The tribal burst into her home, and dashed for the bathroom, hardly making it to the toilet before her stomach up heaved its contents. She gripped the edge of the bowl weakly, and spat, trying to clear her mouth of the horrible aftertaste of bile.
What’s wrong with me? she thought, flushing the toilet quickly. Normally she would’ve gone straight to Lenny’s, but she had a feeling it was more than just a flu. Trill wiped her mouth on her sleeve and stood, shakily, and headed for her kitchen.
She thought about making herself some breakfast, but then decided against it. The mere thought of food made her stomach churn. Trill left the kitchen, and sat on her couch, letting herself sink into the plush upholstery.
Alone, she could no longer fight off her rising dread. She hated being sick, especially if she was uncertain why she was sick…and even more so if she had a slight idea why. And she did. Trill knew that she should’ve seen Lenny the first morning she had felt ill…but she hadn’t. She had merely pretended to be fine, although Marcus hadn’t been fooled. He had asked her to see Lenny, and she lied that she would. She knew he was worried about her, and that she left before he woke up would make him worry even more.
Trill longed to be able to speak to the Village Elder, to seek guidance.
Another wave of sickness washed over her, and she doubled over, clutching her stomach. This time, she fought back the urge to vomit, and won. Cold sweat beaded on her forehead, and she panted softly. I can’t put it off any longer, she thought.
The tribal rose from her couch and walked to Lenny’s. It was still very early, and she wondered if he was even awake. She stood in front of the door, torn. Was ignorance bliss? Or would it kill her?
Suddenly, the door opened and Lenny peeked out, giving her a strange look.
“Yer up early! What brings ya t’my door?” asked Lenny, motioning her inside. She entered, and sat on one of the benches he had in his office.
“I…I don’t feel good…I threw up this morning. For the past few mornings, actually.”
Lenny raised an eyebrow, but his gesture was lost in his disfigured face. Trill would not meet his eyes.
“Well, let’s run s’m test an’ have a look see,” he said, heading for some of his equipment. She followed him into the backroom, and sat on the edge of the cold steel table. He fiddled around with some things, and approached her with a syringe.
“Roll up yer sleeve, Trill,” he said gently. She complied and he carefully drew some blood from the crook of her arm. Taking the syringe away, he quickly pressed a piece of gauze against the wound and had her hold it.
He took the syringe over to a small machine that had Val-tec written in faded letters on the side. Carefully, he placed a drop of her blood on a slide, and fed it into the machine. The ancient technical wonder began to whir and click as it analyzed her blood. Trill fidgeted uncomfortably on the table, her legs swinging back and forth.
A small beep alerted the ghoul that the analysis was complete, and he whistled as the results displayed.
“What?” Trill asked, trying to see the readout herself. She braced herself for the answer.
“Yer’ rads’r way above normal…some rad’way’ll clear it right up.”
She exhaled, but found that her mental burden didn’t lift, “Anything else?” she pressed.
The old ghoul squinted at the readout again and nodded, “Says yer hormone levels are el’vated, whate’r that means,” he said with a shrug, “Could be the rads.”
As he spoke, he headed for a large metal cabinet and produced a dose of Rad Away for her. She took it somewhat reluctantly, but did not inject it into her system. Instead, she thanked him, gave him a small hug, and headed back to her house. He looked after her curiously, but decided to shrug it off. There was always something strange going on with that girl, and he knew he couldn’t keep up. Nevertheless, her strange behavior bothered him, and he turned back to the readout to study it further.
**
Trill sat on her couch again, the pack of Rad Away next to her. The orange liquid floated lazily in its plastic pouch, as if it were trying to assure her that it would make all her problems disappear. What effect would the purging medicine have on her system as a whole? She had never thought about it before, and now that she did, she realized she had no idea.
The Chosen One tentatively picked up the pouch, and rolled up her other sleeve, fingering the syringe. She thought suddenly of Ella as she did so, and immediately wished she hadn’t. Did Ella’s mother fancy Rad Away when she was taking drugs?
Stop it, she scolded herself, stop it right now.
“Why am I acting like this?” she breathed aloud, barely audible. Asking the question aloud brought up the answer she had been mulling over the past few days, and she closed her eyes.
She was pregnant.
The thought seemed to hit her like a physical blow and she exhaled shakily. There…she had admitted it. But she still felt uneasy. What effect would the Rad Away have on the development of the child? Of course, she argued with herself, if you die of radiation, what difference would it make?
Resigned, she stuck the syringe in her arm and squeezed, praying she hadn’t doomed the tiny life inside her. As the amber fluid pumped through her system, she felt the sickness abate, and she sighed softly, relieved.
There was a light tap on her door, and she called for whomever it was to enter. It was Marcus.
“Hey,” he said cautiously, closing the door behind him, “Are you OK?”
She nodded, and motioned to the now empty pouch of Rad Away, “Lenny said I had radiation poisoning.”
Marcus frowned and sat next to her. As a super mutant, he was immune to all but the most intense of radiation. It bothered him that she was so susceptible to it. He drew her close and hugged her for a moment, and noted that she was decidedly distant.
“Is something wrong?” he asked, giving her a quizzical look. She looked up at him for a moment, and lost herself in his clear green eyes. How could she tell him? How would he react? Deep down, she was overjoyed by the pregnancy…but how would he react? He was far from enamored by children. He seemed to sense her distress, and held her close again.
“Hey, you don’t have to talk about if you don’t want…just know that I’m here for you, OK?
She nearly broke down at his statement, and buried her head in his chest, “Oh, Marcus…”
“Yeah?”
“Marcus, I-“ Trill’s confession was cut off as a loud explosion ripped through the air, shaking anything that wasn’t nailed down to the floor.
“What the fuck was that?”
To be Continued....MUAHAHAHAHA!
I'm an evil, evil bitch, aren't I? >
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