But He Stopped Pt 2

Wandering Around Like Ghosts

The silence that met me after my speech was deafening.

"Wh-What are you waiting for?" I stood, my food spilling to the dirt at my feet. "I'm offering you freedom, the tools to fight back!" I gestured wildly at their downcast glances. "Your freedom, justice, security... weapons aren't hard to find. We'd just need to train a little and-"

Paul grabbed my sleeve, pulling me back down to my seat.

"What?!" I snapped, shaking him off violently.

He nodded over my shoulder discreetly. I turned to look. Three of Vic's lackeys were walking towards us with purpose in their stride. The woman at the lead had her hands on an old fashioned sword. Pre-war.

Must have stolen it from the State House. I met her cold brown gaze, her smile hitched.

I felt dread ball in the pit of my stomach. They paused just a few feet away from us, one lumbered over the cinder blocks we had set up as makeshift seats and plopped down. His multitude of weapons and armor made him loud and clumsy. He dropped his arms over his knees and leered at us all.

"Sup drifters?" The woman sneered, hand grasping the hilt of her sword.

She hadn't broken eye contact with me yet; I felt my rage boiling.

"You." She pointed at Paul, her eyes narrowing at me, "chems. Now."

I saw the fine sweat bead along his brow as his eye twitched. "I-I don't u-u-use chems."

That made her look away from me. Surprise riddled her face, quickly replaced by doubt. She scoffed, her buddies joining her in a mocking laugh.

"Good one kid, but you're a drifter. All drifters do chems." She held her hand out, "it's part of your payment for staying here pain-free. Now, pay up."

He hesitated, his hands grasping the air as he looked around at his fellow drifters, panicked. They all looked away, embarrassed or ashamed I couldn't tell. They'd used all their wares, having nothing to give until the next trader came through.

"He doesn't have any." I growled, leaning forward, catching the woman's gaze again. "He's not lying. I'll pay his toll."

I pulled two Jet inhalers out of my jackets inner pocket and held them forward.

The woman laughed again, though it held no mirth. "No, no." She pulled her sword then, the long metallic scrape jarred on every one of my nerves as she unsheathed it. "He has to pay."

"He's a child!" I bristled, "for fucks sake!" I fished out two more Jet inhalers and a mentats tin. "This is all I've got. Just take it."

Her eyes narrowed again though she grabbed the chems from my hands.

She looked the items over, passing an inhaler to each of her comrades as she stood, "This'll do for now." She turned to pin Paul with a flourish of her weapon. "But I won't forget you couldn't pay. I'll get my chems from you one way or another."

I watched as the three of them strode off, laughing and bullshitting. Fire burned in my veins; my people, my crowd, my family, were all downcast, their appetites and moods ruined. I glared around at them, daring them to make eye contact. None of them could.

"Forget this." I stood, disgusted, "if this is the life you're willing to accept then you deserve it."

The clatter broke my high. Groggy I looked up, tilting my hat back for better view, the hot summer sky glared down. A bald head broke the angry glare of the sun.

"Paul."

"John." He nodded, stepping away.

I flinched at the sunlight, cursing from the blinding light. Paul laughed for a short second. I sat and turned towards him, my head swimming a little; annoyed but unable to help the smile on my face. It was so rare for people in our position to be happy and Paul had seemed to have a harder time smiling than most.

"Harshing my high kiddo."

"Sorry, brother." Paul shrugged, "I brought you some weapons."

I felt apprehension as adrenaline shot through me, looking around to see if we'd been spotted.

"Not in the city, Paul!" I whispered through my teeth. "If Vic catches us-"

"I know." He held his hands up, "but you haven't shown us where the drop off is."

I froze for a second, then smirked. "Of couse I didn't. Probably too paranoid."

Paul shook his head, "Drugs do that to a person John."

"Don't you start lecturing me kid!" I socked him in the arm gently.

He grinned, staggering back in exaggeration. "I'm just worried." The joking left his tone. "You're family now, you know? We all are. We look out for each other. I know you know that. Look, all I'm saying is I can see your... problem wearing on you. Even if you don't."

Annoyance washed over me. "I appreciate that Paul, bu-"

"No." He shook his head, walking away simultaneously. "Don't ruin it. Hide your weapons before they see you. I care about you, John. You're kind of like the older brother I never had. I just don't..." He hesitated, unsure. "I don't want to see you die like so many drifters before you."

I watched him turn tail and stride away with purpose. His words rattled around in my mind as I gathered the various knives and hand guns into my sleeping bag. The irony of meaning so much to someone who meant so much to me was nearly painful.

I wiped the sweat from my face, pulling my hair back into a ratty ponytail. The faint breeze cooling the sweat along my hair line and the back of my neck.

I tossed my shovel down and collapsed on top of the various bags of weapons.

Maybe Paul is right. I held up a calloused hand, examining the blisters and cataloguing the various aches and sores. I used to be able to do so much more for so much longer. When was the last time I bathed? Brushed my teeth?

I ran a tongue over my teeth, shuddering at the fuzzy feeling. "Gross."

I sighed, running a hand over my gaunt face, disgust filling me. My cheek bones were so hollow, the bags under my eyes felt like boils. Patchy stubble littered my face along with a sad, stubby beard that I'd forgotten to shave.

What is happening to me? When did I stop being... me? I threw an arm over my eyes.

Somewhere above me a crow cawed. I looked at the nuke burnt trees and grass, trying to imagine for a moment what it might have looked like before, what green grass would have felt like.

What I could have been like.

Maybe I would have gone to a college, become something more than a pathetic shell of a man that ran away from my problems. I'd run away from everything; my father, Gemma, my mother and the responsibility of caring for her, I ran away from Guy, and now I was running away from Vic.

Hiding, cowering.

So pathetic. I groaned as I stood; my everything aching, weak from abuse and neglect.

"Time to finish up and get back." I scrambled up the pit, observing the small arsenal below.

I chucked the sleeping bag down with the rest, pulling out a small blade that caught my eye, and began burying my stash again as the sun tipped down towards the horizon.

It was well after dark when I dragged my aching body back into town. I was passing by the overpass when I heard an empty tin can fall to the ground beside me. The sound was like a gunshot in the night. I couldn't stop the tense expletive that was startled out of me.

"What was that?" The voice was sharp, accusatory.

Dread filled me. Raiders.