Fallout: Fury Blood

Chapter 7: Orange Colored Sky

Inside the cavern, all he could hear was the distant drip of precious water, and the rasp of his own labored breathing. The air was thick with heat, and there was little light, only a fire torch in the centre of the small space, but it was too far for him to reach in his state. It flickered teasingly at him, creating dancing shadows on the rocky walls that threatened to delude him.

He was naked, he couldn't see it but he could feel it, the cold rock pressing into his skin on an uneven, jagged surface, bruising to his bones. He tried to shift, but his hands were tied firmly behind his back and ankles secured together. He just wanted to find a comfortable position.

"Look, if Meek keeps bitching about it then I'll have one of her pets thrown into the Dark Blood. That should shut her up for good, unless she's finally gotten a taste for violence, in which case, tell her I'd be more than happy to show her a few ways to have a good time, if you catch my meaning."

He knew that voice. Third Degree. That man was cruel and brutal and insane. His face stained the memory, along with his eyes and his voice, ominous and grating. There was no escaping his malice.

"I think Meek would still like to talk this over with you herself," said another man in the distance. "I've never seen her this fidgety before. It's giving me the creeps just watching her prance about her cave, whispering under her breath like that."

Third Degree roared in irritation. "Fucking fine, I'll go see what she has to say! This woman's going to be the death of me, I swear!" The other man snickered, but Third Degree didn't sound like he appreciated that, as the damp sound of bone fitting flesh echoed through the rocks. "Don't fucking laugh at me! I'm in charge here while the commanders are away, remember? I'm sure they'll understand if I had you thrown into the Dark Blood, too. They'd probably like it, 'cause you're a little fucking rat!" Dull thuds of boots hitting guts came next, and it seemed to go on forever.

If only he could just get into a comfortable position, then he may be able to endure Third Degree, to face down his wrath like he had once done to other raiders. But back then, he had his brothers and sisters by his side. Now he was alone. The Brotherhood didn't have his back. Not down here.

"Ah! There you are, Initiate boy! I missed ya!" It was Third Degree, picking up the torch and walking straight toward him with a toothy grin that made him want to dredge up his bile. "Gets a bit lonely down here sometimes," Third Degree went on, kneeling before him. "I like having someone to talk to, share my feelings with, but I have this habit of accidentally severing their fingers and having a munch in front of them. Nasty, I know, but my mother taught me bad habits."

Third Degree trailed his grubby hand over the Initiate's face, swiping across the hairline almost tenderly, then brushing it down his face as if he were trying to smear his dirt there. "Such a young little face, still has his baby fat. I bet those cheeks are full of juicy blood. What a crime for the Brotherhood of Steel to send you out fighting to get all scarred and calloused up. Should have kept you locked up inside their airship, safe and chubby, ready to suck off the soldier-boys at the end of the day. But now look at you. It's their fault you got stuck with me, Initiate boy. They sent you out as their fodder, to soak up our bullets so the big boys could charge in fresh and ready. They didn't give a shit then, they don't now. I'm all you got."

The Initiate could smell Third Degree's stale breath this close. Decayed teeth. Metallic blood. Rotting flesh. His hand seized him by the face, fingernails digging into his cheeks. His crazed eyes loomed closer and his breath was suffocating.