I know there's a definite bias on this board towards Fallout fan art, but I couldn't help posting this anyway.
"Not even saying goodbye?" he said.
The ground shook with his slow, measured steps. Marcus couldn't exactly sneak up on anyone in the wasteland. The space shuttle rocking on its blocks was a dead giveaway.
Lila began to say something, but closed her mouth and shook her head. She saw the sunlight beating down on the shuttle's metallic skin and the metallic ocean beyond it. The Hubologists flitted around the shuttle like mantises. It had been hours since she sat down on the empty oil drum, and would take hours still to move her off it.
She held a red planchet in her hands, turning it round and round. A key jangled off one end.
"Everyone else thinks you disappeared," said Marcus.
Lila snorted. "Let 'em think that."
A shadow fell over Lila's vision. Marcus stood tall enough to blot out the wasteland sun. He tightened the vise on his shoulder, locking his scrap metal armor back into place. The Hubologists circled their mystical aircraft, scribbling on clipboards, conversing with each other in jargon. Lila set the planchet down in front of her and looked at it.
"They're going to figure out that their fearless leader's been splattered all over the walls of their base and then I'm gonna have to go," said Lila.
Silence from the supermutant. Lila drew her knees to her chin on the oil drum's top and stared out to sea.
The sun drifted lazily through the sky. The scientists from the Hub obsessed over their machine. Brown irradiated waves slopped the dirty coastline. Lila took it all in, drinking now and again from a battered flask. After a late afternoon swallow of brackish water, she thumbed over the yellow numerals punched into the flask metal. She raised it to Marcus, and held her arm out for minutes. He looked out on the water. Did he even remember she was there? She snorted again and capped the flask.
She threw the damn thing as hard as she could. It plopped in the sand, just another random pile of junk to catch the sunshine.
"Damn you, Vic," she muttered.
Marcus said nothing.
"You and your tribal-trash bartering shit. If you sold that piece of Vault crap to some other village..."
"If he sold the flask to another village," Marcus rumbled, "you and Arroyo would be dead of starvation."
"If he sold the flask to another village," Lila rumbled back, "Arroyo and I wouldn't be on an oil rig in the middle of nowhere."
"You're not on the rig," said Marcus. "That's the entire point."
Silence again.
Lila climbed down from the barrel and retrieved the flask. She threw it in the air and caught it, watching the light sparkle off it. She missed a catch, knelt to retrieve the flask from the sand, and the Hubologist scientists watched her stand up. She tossed the flask a few more times, eyeing the men and women gathered around the space ship. Suddenly, the flask sailed through the air and bounced off the plane's wing. Angry voices filled the air, and the scientists came towards her. In her mind's eye, Lila saw her sawed-off pistol wedged in the seat of the Highwayman.
The Hubologists slowed to a stop, gaping at Lila. She turned her head and her body followed. The Rockwell launcher rested on Marcus' shoulder, and his free hand held a mortar. Lila skipped to the flask on the broken pavement under the rocket, and skipped back to Marcus' protection.
"It's not loaded," said Marcus, out of the corner of his mouth.
Lila tripped.
The scientists returned to their work, and Lila returned to her drum. The silence stretched into the late afternoon.
"Do you remember where we buried Vic?" said Lila.
No answer.
"We should have put up a stake or something. We weren't anywhere. He just dropped. I mean, you and I can be under the sun forever. But he just dropped."
"He was old," said Marcus.
"You're fuckin' old. I should've left him with Valerie."
"He wanted to come with you."
"I should've left YOU in Broken Hills."
Marcus turned to her. The bazooka swung on his shoulders and caught the fading sun. "Did I ever tell you why it's Broken Hills? No? I didn't break the hills for uranium ore. Those hills were already broken. There's a fragile peace that holds that town together. Humans and ghouls and mutants rebuilt some ghost town on some leg of a caravan route. It gave us something to do."
"I gave you something to do in New Reno and you didn't listen to me."
"I told you, mutants are sterile."
"You're just too fuckin' old."
"Don't sass your elders."
Lila grew quiet, then started again in a smaller voice. "I asked Vic to stay in the city, visit with Val for a while. He said that too. Being out in the wasteland, that was his thing. That was his thing to do."
Lila eyed the planchet. She dropped off the drum again and handed the flask to Marcus. "Keep a hold of this for me. There's something that I've got to go do." She trudged off towards Shi-town.
"Not even saying goodbye?" Marcus asked after her.
She turned back. Even in that late of day, she still shielded her eyes to look at him. The last of the sunlight glowed in her eyes.
"But that would mean that I'm never coming back." Lila grinned. She about-faced and kept walking.
Marcus had a seaside view of the tanker. He heard the engine grind to life and watched the decades-old supports break away. He never moved, even when the Valdez vanished on the horizon.
He was still there when the warhead exploded and the night fogged with smoke and metal.
The tanker never came back.
Cassidy had opened a bar in old San Francisco. The night before he left, long after the last patron stumbled into the street, they split a bottle of rotgut.
"So where do you think she is?" said Cassidy.
Inwardly, Marcus cursed the man. A body of sixty and a liver of twenty. Outwardly, he shrugged. "Not in heaven. I don't think there's a heaven anymore. Not since they irradiated all the angels."
Cassidy raised his glass. "To heaven."
"To something," Marcus replied, raising his own glass. His eyes, distant with liquor, snapped into focus as the words left his mouth.
Lila's followers had vanished into smoke months ago. The New California Republic tempted Goris south long before the Valdez set sail. Later, Myron and the car headed north and never returned. Marcus missed the car. And here and there over the blasted landscape, the wind and weather ate away corpses of friends and followers, perhaps lovers.
And Lila had gone west.
As dawn broke, the city of San Francisco glittered next to the stagnant ocean. Rather than take the safe way off the peninsula, Marcus climbed the inland ridge before sunrise. Midway through his climb, a sudden flare of light and pillar of smoke caught his attention. The space ship hadn't climbed higher than the sun before it exploded into fragments. Marcus shook his head at the presumption. Perhaps the irradiated angels pushed the craft back to the earth. The Shi would grind the Hub remnants to paste, he knew. Perhaps others would gather, looking for something, anything, to give them hope.
Marcus headed east.
"Not even saying goodbye?" he said.
The ground shook with his slow, measured steps. Marcus couldn't exactly sneak up on anyone in the wasteland. The space shuttle rocking on its blocks was a dead giveaway.
Lila began to say something, but closed her mouth and shook her head. She saw the sunlight beating down on the shuttle's metallic skin and the metallic ocean beyond it. The Hubologists flitted around the shuttle like mantises. It had been hours since she sat down on the empty oil drum, and would take hours still to move her off it.
She held a red planchet in her hands, turning it round and round. A key jangled off one end.
"Everyone else thinks you disappeared," said Marcus.
Lila snorted. "Let 'em think that."
A shadow fell over Lila's vision. Marcus stood tall enough to blot out the wasteland sun. He tightened the vise on his shoulder, locking his scrap metal armor back into place. The Hubologists circled their mystical aircraft, scribbling on clipboards, conversing with each other in jargon. Lila set the planchet down in front of her and looked at it.
"They're going to figure out that their fearless leader's been splattered all over the walls of their base and then I'm gonna have to go," said Lila.
Silence from the supermutant. Lila drew her knees to her chin on the oil drum's top and stared out to sea.
The sun drifted lazily through the sky. The scientists from the Hub obsessed over their machine. Brown irradiated waves slopped the dirty coastline. Lila took it all in, drinking now and again from a battered flask. After a late afternoon swallow of brackish water, she thumbed over the yellow numerals punched into the flask metal. She raised it to Marcus, and held her arm out for minutes. He looked out on the water. Did he even remember she was there? She snorted again and capped the flask.
She threw the damn thing as hard as she could. It plopped in the sand, just another random pile of junk to catch the sunshine.
"Damn you, Vic," she muttered.
Marcus said nothing.
"You and your tribal-trash bartering shit. If you sold that piece of Vault crap to some other village..."
"If he sold the flask to another village," Marcus rumbled, "you and Arroyo would be dead of starvation."
"If he sold the flask to another village," Lila rumbled back, "Arroyo and I wouldn't be on an oil rig in the middle of nowhere."
"You're not on the rig," said Marcus. "That's the entire point."
Silence again.
Lila climbed down from the barrel and retrieved the flask. She threw it in the air and caught it, watching the light sparkle off it. She missed a catch, knelt to retrieve the flask from the sand, and the Hubologist scientists watched her stand up. She tossed the flask a few more times, eyeing the men and women gathered around the space ship. Suddenly, the flask sailed through the air and bounced off the plane's wing. Angry voices filled the air, and the scientists came towards her. In her mind's eye, Lila saw her sawed-off pistol wedged in the seat of the Highwayman.
The Hubologists slowed to a stop, gaping at Lila. She turned her head and her body followed. The Rockwell launcher rested on Marcus' shoulder, and his free hand held a mortar. Lila skipped to the flask on the broken pavement under the rocket, and skipped back to Marcus' protection.
"It's not loaded," said Marcus, out of the corner of his mouth.
Lila tripped.
The scientists returned to their work, and Lila returned to her drum. The silence stretched into the late afternoon.
"Do you remember where we buried Vic?" said Lila.
No answer.
"We should have put up a stake or something. We weren't anywhere. He just dropped. I mean, you and I can be under the sun forever. But he just dropped."
"He was old," said Marcus.
"You're fuckin' old. I should've left him with Valerie."
"He wanted to come with you."
"I should've left YOU in Broken Hills."
Marcus turned to her. The bazooka swung on his shoulders and caught the fading sun. "Did I ever tell you why it's Broken Hills? No? I didn't break the hills for uranium ore. Those hills were already broken. There's a fragile peace that holds that town together. Humans and ghouls and mutants rebuilt some ghost town on some leg of a caravan route. It gave us something to do."
"I gave you something to do in New Reno and you didn't listen to me."
"I told you, mutants are sterile."
"You're just too fuckin' old."
"Don't sass your elders."
Lila grew quiet, then started again in a smaller voice. "I asked Vic to stay in the city, visit with Val for a while. He said that too. Being out in the wasteland, that was his thing. That was his thing to do."
Lila eyed the planchet. She dropped off the drum again and handed the flask to Marcus. "Keep a hold of this for me. There's something that I've got to go do." She trudged off towards Shi-town.
"Not even saying goodbye?" Marcus asked after her.
She turned back. Even in that late of day, she still shielded her eyes to look at him. The last of the sunlight glowed in her eyes.
"But that would mean that I'm never coming back." Lila grinned. She about-faced and kept walking.
Marcus had a seaside view of the tanker. He heard the engine grind to life and watched the decades-old supports break away. He never moved, even when the Valdez vanished on the horizon.
He was still there when the warhead exploded and the night fogged with smoke and metal.
The tanker never came back.
Cassidy had opened a bar in old San Francisco. The night before he left, long after the last patron stumbled into the street, they split a bottle of rotgut.
"So where do you think she is?" said Cassidy.
Inwardly, Marcus cursed the man. A body of sixty and a liver of twenty. Outwardly, he shrugged. "Not in heaven. I don't think there's a heaven anymore. Not since they irradiated all the angels."
Cassidy raised his glass. "To heaven."
"To something," Marcus replied, raising his own glass. His eyes, distant with liquor, snapped into focus as the words left his mouth.
Lila's followers had vanished into smoke months ago. The New California Republic tempted Goris south long before the Valdez set sail. Later, Myron and the car headed north and never returned. Marcus missed the car. And here and there over the blasted landscape, the wind and weather ate away corpses of friends and followers, perhaps lovers.
And Lila had gone west.
As dawn broke, the city of San Francisco glittered next to the stagnant ocean. Rather than take the safe way off the peninsula, Marcus climbed the inland ridge before sunrise. Midway through his climb, a sudden flare of light and pillar of smoke caught his attention. The space ship hadn't climbed higher than the sun before it exploded into fragments. Marcus shook his head at the presumption. Perhaps the irradiated angels pushed the craft back to the earth. The Shi would grind the Hub remnants to paste, he knew. Perhaps others would gather, looking for something, anything, to give them hope.
Marcus headed east.