Fallout: Rise Of The Burned Man

Chapter VII

And hast made us unto our God kings and priests: and we shall reign on the earth. [Book of Revelation]

Graham rose with the sun, the two lights setting out across the Mojave as one before the sluggish residents of New Vegas had even though of beginning to stir. He had rested for the night in an abandoned building in Westside, thinking it foolish not to take the opportunity for sleep when he knew it could be a while before it was given again. As he crossed the baked dirt of the Mojave he wondered how long Follows-Chalk had waited for him the night before. Hours presumably, perhaps the whole night. The boy was bright at least, and it wouldn't take so long for him to understand that Graham was not going to be entering Freeside to pick him up. He would be safe with the Followers of the Apocalypse for a little while at least, even if Freeside was taken Graham was aware of Edward's attachment to his old faction. If any were to escape Nevada without retribution, it would be the Followers.

It wouldn't be possible for Follows-Chalk to accompany him as he completed his final work anyway; Graham mused as he slid the NCR Ranger helmet over his bandages. The world of the Mojave abruptly took on a red tint, the colour of the dirt deepening and the panels of the helmet sharpening the world before him. It would have been an eerie effect if it hadn't been the first time Graham had donned an NCR Ranger's gear.

No, this was not the road for Follows-Chalk; he was not a witness as Graham was. He could not comprehend the work that had to be done to save the Mojave; it would go beyond his understanding of the world. In many ways, Follows-Chalk was still a child.

Graham reached the Banana Yucca plant at the top of the hill and glanced about. It was as good a place as any to set down any gear which would attract attention when he got close to any real NCR Rangers and he folded his trousers and irregular shoes away. Leaving his pre-war SWAT jacket on, he took the bottom half of the NCR armour and the black greatcoat, the thickness of the material apparent as he straightened up and remembered how hot it had been inside the armour the last time he'd worn it.

Graham stared at the Yucca plant and the surrounding areas for a long moment, taking it in so he could trace his way back.

Then he turned his eyes to the East and walked the road to Hoover Dam.

It was a broken road, like all roads in the Mojave. It was a corpse of cracked tarmac and ruined road markings, littered with rubble, dust and stones. It was a road which had been walked by Legion, by NCR and by those not quite of either: the Courier and Joshua Graham. It was a road which Graham had walked when he had been Legion and which the Courier had walked when he had not yet fallen completely to Caesar's cause.

Graham knew when the Courier walked it for the second time, he would walk it as Legion.

A trooper pushed his goggles up his nose as they slid on his sweat, whining to his companion. "Jeee-zus. It's hot as hell out here," he swatted an insect which had landed on the back of his neck and shuffled to get a better grip on his service rifle, "Kinda makes you jealous of those Legion son of a bitches, don't it? Least they get a bit'a breeze going on."

"Lord, McDonough," his companion rolled his eyes, "Keep it to yourself, would you? I get sick enough of looking at the Dam all day, doesn't mean I want to hear your dreams of ventilation around your crotch."

McDonough threw up his hands, "I'm just sayin', maybe Kimball outta take a leaf out of Caesar's book next time he assigns the NCR a new uniform, you know?"

Another trooper walked up behind the man, snickering, "McDonough, if you want to prat about Hoover Dam in a skirt just so you get a little more air runnin' by above the knees, I'm sure it's fine by Kimball."