Fallout: Rise Of The Burned Man

Chapter IV

And I beheld, and heard an angel flying through the midst of heaven, saying with a loud voice, Woe, woe, woe, to the inhabiters of the earth by reason of the other voices of the trumpet of the three angels, which are yet to sound! [Book of Revelation]

A ghoul, rotted and hideous in a cowboy hat, looked up as Follows-Chalk entered. Her face was marred, pieces of her skin missing and her appearance was similar to the hide of a rotted Brahmin corpse he had once seen down by the river. It was like the pelt of a Yao Guai, but without the fur and would have shocked Follows-Chalk completely if ghouls hadn't been described to him many times before.

"Howdy," she said, "You need the help of the Followers?"

Don't stare at the lady, he thought to himself as he raised his injured hand, which let a drop of red blood splash to the floor, followed by another. "I would like to speak with Julie Farkas."

The ghoul whistled.

"Gee whiz kid, how'd you mess up your hand like that?" she put her hands up, "Forget I asked. I'm a regular nose, not something that's so popular with the good folk of Freeside." She laughed; an unpleasant sound. Her voice sounded as though the radiation had eaten into her vocal cords as well: it was rough and grating. She gestured with her gun, which glinted in the sunlight. It looked new.

"C'mon, I'll find you a doc to fix you up," she said, "Give my legs a stretch to get out of this seat. Name's Beatrix by the way. I know right, a nice-sounding name for a bumpy looking gal like me." She laughed, "Don't know why a ghoul'd pick a name worse than his face, it's not like we haven't got enough going against us already. I ought to take it up with Rotface some time."

"Rotface?" Follows-Chalk asked, "What is a rotface?" he wondered if it was a special type of ghoul. He had heard there were ones which glowed like fire flies and exploded into showers of light if you shot them. Perhaps they were rotfaces.

"You're really not a local, are you?" she chuckled, "Rotface is a ghoul about town, he'll tell you things about the place if you throw him a few caps. Then there's Grecks, he's not such a good time guy either. Guess not every person can be such a fun-lover like me!" her smile opened up the scars in her face.

The ghoul stopped at a woman in a white coat, with kind round eyes and a mouse-coloured Mohawk. She tipped her hat to the lady. "Afternoon' Doc. Got a kid here; he says he hurt his hand." She backed away, cradling her sub-machine gun in her hands. "Go do Doc stuff, whatever you guys do."

Julie laughed. Her voice was soft and feminine; everything the opposite of the ghoul.

"Hi, I'm Julie Farkas," she said, "What appears to be the problem with your hand?"

"I have hurt it," Follows-Chalk said falteringly.

Julie took it in her soft palms and he bit his lip to keep himself from wincing; maintaining composure.

She smiled slightly; "You're a tough guy, aren't you? Ok, you appear to have caught a bullet right in your palm. Are you right-handed?"

"No."

"This shouldn't be such an issue; I'll just fix the wound up and apply a stimpak. It'll take a few weeks to heal completely, but you should be able to use that hand again in a few days." She led him towards a white canvas tent, which had a pair of bunk-beds and a table and chair inside. She pulled up one for Follows-Chalk, indicating he should sit and dropped a first-aid kit down upon the round table.

"I'm afraid we're running very low on pain killers currently, so I usually ask the patients who aren't big babies if they can go without. Is that ok?"

Follows-Chalk nodded; "Pain is not something I fear so much."

"Then you're a very brave man," Julie said with a small smile, "Ok, I'm just going to have to go into the wound with a pair of tweezers and pick out the bullet before I bandage you up, alright? Hold still, it'll be a nasty little thing to get out of you start twitching or wriggling."

Follows-Chalk nodded his understanding; the natural anaesthetic he'd been used to in Zion hadn't been much better than no anaesthetic at all and he'd picked up more injuries than most as he strayed the furthest from the camps as a training scout.

Julie Farkas began picking at the red hole, stimulating a conversation in an attempt to distract the covered youth from the pain. "So what's your name?"

"Adam."

"What a pleasant name," she said, "Where are you from, Adam? You're not from around Freeside, are you?"

"I'm," Follows-Chalk licked his lips from behind the scarf, hoping she'd think his hesitation was because of the pain. "I'm out of the Utah."

"Utah," she repeated, sounding surprised, "That's a funny distance to be travelling. You picked a bad time to come to the Mojave, anyway," she said darkly.

"Why is that?" Follows-Chalk remembered what Joshua had said; news and stimpaks. He could ask for the stimpaks after, the news would come first.

"Well, you've heard about the battle for Hoover Dam, I'm sure," she said, squinting as she strained to reach the round metal stone, "They - the Legion and the NCR - are going to have another round at it. The Legion has been building themselves up since the last defeat and I've heard their Legate is a monster," she frowned, "I just don't know if the NCR can hold them back this time. If the Dam falls, then I don't see what'll keep Caesar out of Vegas andFreeside. He'd think it's his right."

"Not spreading Legionist propaganda, are you Julie?" a blonde-haired doctor in a white coat and well-cleaned eyeglasses stepped through into the tent, "I can think of someone who would be thrilled to hear you'd swapped sides so fast."

"I'm just explaining to Adam here," with a flick of her wrist, Julie removed the bullet. "Ah! I'm just explaining to Adam here the current situation in the Mojave. He's come in from Utah."

"Well I must say his timing is impeccable," the other doctor said. He spoke very fast and Follows-Chalk struggled to keep up. "You can go on ahead, Julie, I'll finish him up."

"And there you were saying you weren't a real doctor," Julie folded her arms as she stood.

"I'm not," he said quickly, "I'm a researcher. But I think I can wrap a bandage around a gunshot wound with the best of them and," he paused, scratching the back of his neck, "There are some- more casualties which have come in."

"Oh," Julie's expression changed, "Right. I'll be right out."

"He's here. As well," the doctor made a face of a petulant child whose least favourite aunt had come to stay.

Julie nodded, another one of her wan smiles touching her lips. "Right. Perhaps he can help us with one or two of them then."

"I wouldn't bet on it," the man said grumpily as Julie left, sitting himself down across from Follows-Chalk. He smiled friendlily at the youth, "It's alright, I won't bite." He said, "My name's Arcade Gannon, I'm a researcher with the Followers here. Not strictly a doctor, but I've learned a few things in my time and wrapping a shot wound is one of them."

"Who was the person you were speaking of?" Follows-Chalk asked, "The one who Julie thought might help?"

"Oh." Arcade's voice remained light, but there was an irritable tone to it, "He drops in every month or so, come to remind us our end is nigh. Or so I like to see his visits as."

"Does he not have a name?" Follows-Chalk asked.

Arcade shrugged, "I don't suppose he needs one now. To the Mojave, he is known as the Courier."