Whale of the Wasteland - Level 3 (Patreon)

Chloe manages to survive the dangers of Vault 15 only to encounter a group of radscorpions that she's severely underleveled for. The encounter proves more harrowing than she expected, and their adventure is forced to make an unexpected detour.

Chapter 5

The Hub was two weeks south and to the west of Vault 15. The nights were long and the days were hot. Chloe had expected the wasteland to be barren, but she hadn’t been prepared for just how empty the desert was. They could walk for days without seeing so much as a shrub. They’d been walking for ten days now, and the only sign of anything living out here had been a rotten brahmin carcass and an empty pack of cigarettes blowing across the desert like a tumbleweed.

They’d managed to find a cave that morning and had settled in to wait out the daylight. Chloe took the time to maintain their weapons while Ian prepared dinner. He handed her a package of dried rations and took one for himself.

“No more pig-rat?”

“You ate the last of it on the walk here.” He reminded her. “I thought we had enough for the trip, but I guess we were hungrier than I expected,”

“I was hungrier than expected,” she admitted, around a mouthful of crackers.”I definitely ate more than half. Maybe it’s all the walking, but I’ve been ravenous lately.” 

“Probably that cushy vault life. Keep eating like that, and you’ll end up looking like people from Vault 15.”

Chloe threw her ration wrapper at Ian and smirked, turning her attention back to her gun. Ian was right, she was getting softer. Likely a combination of fat and muscle from the fatty food and daily exercise. She’d tried to ignore the slight pooch of her stomach under her overalls and just below the hem of her white tank top. One thing she hadn’t expected from the wasteland was all the good eating. 

 She’d gone hungry on the way to Shady Sands, but since meeting with Ian, provisions had been plentiful. They’d stocked up on more than enough before leaving. While water was scarce, it wasn’t so hard to find that they’d gone thirsty.

“Any more Nuka-Cola?” She asked, oiling up one of the springs in Ian’s pistol.

“Not for the last week.” He reminded her. “We could stop in Junktown. It’s just a ways west of here, and I’m sure they’d have plenty of supplies.”

Chloe wrinkled her nose and tightened a screw. “The sooner we get to the Hub, the better. Who knows how long it’ll take to find a waterchip from there? Vault 13 might not have that much time.”

Ian nodded. “Any reason they can’t drill a well or something?” 

Chloe put down her pliers and grimaced. “The people in my vault don’t know how to do that. I don’t think they want to know. They’re not big on new ideas.” 

“That’s a dangerous attitude out in the wasteland.” 

Chloe laughed. “Funny, they said the same thing about my attitude.” She considered saying more when a shadow stretched out behind Ian. Her eyes widened, and Ian spun just in time for a stinger to puncture right through his jacket and into his shoulder. He gasped and slumped, revealing three radscorpions behind him. Each nearly as large as her with wicked claws and deadly stingers.

Ignoring Ian’s limp form on the cave floor, they advanced on Chloe. With Ian’s pistol already in her hand, she fired, over and over into the closest scorpion until the clip emptied. Of the dozen shots that she fired, eight of them hit, and the creature didn’t stop skittering until several seconds after the last bullet had penetrated right between its two largest eyes on the top of its head.

She tossed his empty gun aside and grabbed hers. The second scorpion was right on top of her. Its tail pounced toward her with unexpected speed. She batted it aside with the gun and fired, over and over, directly into its head at point-blank range. Eight more shots. The monster slumped to the ground, it’s tail hitting with a thud in the dry earth.

The final scorpion continued its advance, undaunted by its fallen companions. Chloe checked the magazine. She had four more shots. The extra ammo was in Ian’s bag, and there were two hundred pounds of legs and claws between them. Chloe aimed down the sights. Trying to slow her breathing. She fired twice at the scorpion's head. Both bullets hit their mark, but neither slowed the creature’s advance. Fired again.  The golfball-sized eyes on top of the monster’s head exploded. It squealed and advanced faster.

She did her best to line up the last shot, aiming again for the beast’s head. Still, more than four feet away, the scorpion’s tail pounced out at her faster than she’d thought possible for such a large animal. She batted the heavy stinger aside with her gun and fired wildly.

The stinger burst like an overripe fruit, and the monster shrieked in pain. It rushed toward her. And Chloe pulled the trigger again and again, but she was out of bullets. She raised her hands toward her face, expecting to be crushed by the massive, armored arthropod, but to her surprise, the beast skittered past her, deeper into the cave, squealing in fear until she could no longer see it or hear its cries echoing from deep in the cave. 

She rushed to Ian, grabbing a stimpack from one of her pockets and jamming it into his chest, next to the wound. He gasped and sat up, looking around frantically, before wincing in pain and slumping again.

“Did you get them?” He rasped, wiping the foam from his lips with the back of his hand.

“Three of them, but there might be more in the cave.” She grabbed a canteen and handed it to him. He took it and drank liberally, spilling some of the water onto his chest. 

“How many more stimpacks do we have?” 

“That was the last one.”

“That’s not ideal.” He winced. “Shouldn’t have used one after that rockslide.” 

“You need a doctor. Is there one in Junktown?” 

He nodded and pointed to the nearest scorpion carcass. “Take its tail. If we’re lucky, they can synthesise an antidote. That’ll be a lot cheaper than stimpacks.” 

She grabbed her knife and got to work, slicing through the thick, sinuous flesh of the tail. Ian managed to get to his feet and reloaded their guns. He took the tail from her and shoved it into his bag. 

“Give me a few minutes. I’m not ready to leave yet. If you’d like, you can cook up some of the meat from the radscorpions.” 

Chloe balked. “No way! You can eat them?” She considered protesting, but looked over at the broken shell of the scorpion that she’d partially butchered. The hole at the base of the tail was full of bright red muscle, segmented into sections under the layers of carapace. Her stomach growled audibly. “Well… I suppose it’s worth trying…” 

Chapter 6

Ian and Chloe were an hour outside of Junktown when Ian passed out. He’d been limping through the heat for hours and eventually had needed Chloe’s shoulder for support, but the pain and the exhaustion had beaten him, and he sank slowly to the soft, ash-strewn ground.

With a grunt, Chloe hefted him into a fireman’s carry and lumbered toward the pile of broken vehicles and sheet metal that she could see in the distance. Her thighs burned with each step, and her heart pounded in her ears, but she turned up the volume on her Pip-Boy radio and kept moving.

Just when she thought that she couldn’t take another step, she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to see Ian’s glassy, unfocused gaze. She pulled down her headphones and pushed her copper curls out of her face. 

“Got any pain meds?” He asked, his voice was dry and weak, but strong enough to inspire some confidence in her. 

“Plenty, but they’re blood thinners. We need you firing on all cylinders if you want to make it into town.” 

He closed his eyes and groaned but remained conscious. The sun had set over the wasteland, and the light behind Junktown’s walls shone like a beacon. Chloe reached the wall, but there was no visible gate. She turned southward and began circling the perimeter of the city. She steadied herself against the sheet metal with her right hand as she walked. The walls were warm from baking in the sun all day and took some of the bite out of the night’s chill spreading on her arms and midriff.

Finally, she reached a structure. Big and dark, the entrance was a short, covered passageway  into the town. Standing on the other side was a middle-aged man, bald and scarred. His polished leather armor shone in the light of the moon, and he carried a shotgun, held at the ready.

“Stop!” He shouted, raising his weapon toward them. “Identify yourself.”

“I’m Chloe. He’s Ian,” Chloe nodded sideways toward her incapacitated companion, draped over her shoulders. “We’re travellers, and he’s been injured. He needs medical attention.”

“He’ll have to keep until morning,” the man barked without lowering his weapon.

“Please! He’s been stung by a radscorpion, and he won’t last if he doesn’t get treatment.” 

The man stared her down, not saying a word. 

“I’ve got caps and food. I’ll give everything I have if you let me get him to a doctor.” 

The man lowered his gun and scowled. “Just get him inside. Go straight to the hospital directly behind the security station and don’t cause trouble.” 

She sighed, thanking him, and limped inside. 

“And keep your guns holstered,” he shouted after her. “I’ll be telling my guards to keep an eye on you.

Within the walls of Junktown, things were quiet aside from the bellowing of some brahmin. The town was quiet, but men in leather armor patrolled the streets and watched Chloe closely as she passed. The hospital was a large grey building of solid construction. Chloe guessed that it had been built before the war. Perhaps Junktown had even been built around it.

The door was unlocked, and she stepped inside. The interior was illuminated by electric lights and was very clean. Medical equipment hung from the walls and ceilings, and an operating table dominated the center of the room, but as far as Chloe could tell, she and Ian were the only ones there. .

She  laid him onto the operating table and did her best to elevate his chest above his shoulder with a pillow, and then began searching for a doctor.

“Hello!” She called, voice echoing through the interior of the building. “I’ve got a man here that needs help.” She listened for a response, but all she heard was the hum of machinery and power tools. She followed the noise into an adjoining room. It too was empty. “Doctor? Is anyone there?” 

The mechanical noise was louder here. She kicked aside a large rug on the floor, revealing a trap door. She grabbed the handle, wincing at the pain in her overtaxed legs, and lifted it open. Immediately, a terrible, metallic scent hit her. Gagging, she turned her face away, half tempted to leave. But Ian needed help. She needed to find a doctor.

Reluctantly, she peered down the hatch. There was a staircase leading down into a secret room. Chloe was inclined to draw her weapon, but pushed that thought aside. She was here to save a life, not to take one. She took a few cautious steps down the stairs until a man entered her field of view. He stood, with his back to her, carving at something on a table in front of him with a buzz saw. Blood sprayed up from the table. 

“Doctor?” She called out again. Louder this time. He paused. The hum of the saw stopped, and the man turned to face her. He wore goggles, which were coated in blood. He lifted them. His eyes were the only part of his face that wasn’t covered in gore. In one hand, he held the circular saw and in the other, a severed human arm. At first, he appeared angry, and she thought he might attack her, but then he looked surprised. 

“You’re not Gretch.” He spat at her. “Who are you?” 

“There’s a man upstairs who needs your help.”

“That’s not what I asked, cretin,” he snarled. “This area is off limits to the public. Now, state your name and your reason for being here.”

“Chloe.” She started. “My friend needs treatment. We were attacked by a radscorpion. He’s been poisoned.” 

“Stung. Not poisoned. Did you bring a sample of the venom?” 

She reached into her bag, pulled out the Scorpion’s tail, and held it out to him.

He reached out with the hand holding the severed arm. He paused, then turned  and placed the arm onto the table.  Then he accepted the tail.

“Why are you cutting up bodies down here?” She asked.

He glared at her. “I’m a medical doctor. I study human remains.” 

She looked around the small room. The floor was covered in blood. It painted the walls and the ceiling. Bodybags hung on racks, and a blood-soaked icechest sat on the floor. Gore seeped from under the lid, and the smell of death hung in the air. There were streaks in the viscera on the floor, as if someone had slipped, or been struggling.

She looked back at the bloodstained man in the labcoat. He carried a submachine gun on his hip, and his free hand hovered above the holster. She looked at his face, met his gaze, and behind his goggles, his clear eyes narrowed.

They drew simultaneously and pulled their respective triggers. A spray of three bullets whizzed past Chloe’s head, one close enough to make her hair move. She fired once, a single shot. The doctor’s head burst just like the radscorpion’s tail. 

The doctor’s corpse fell to the ground, slipping in the gore, adding new streaks  to the carpet of muck. Chloe stood for a moment, unsure what to do, when she heard a voice from behind her.

“Wow. Great shooting.” 

She whirled, gun poised to shoot,  but it was only Ian standing at the top of the stairs. He raised his hands above his head. 

“Whoa whoa! I surrender. Don’t shoot.”

Chloe turned back to the dead doctor and then rushed over to a nearby sink to puke. Ian came up behind her and offered her a towel from his bag.

“First time killing someone?” He asked.

She shook her head, remembering poor Albert. “Second.”. Wiping her face, she shuddered as she reholstered her gun. “What are you doing up?” 

“Found some stim-packs upstairs. I came when I heard the shooting. Guess you had it handled.” Ian did look better, but he was still pale with dark circles under his eyes, and red spider veins spread up from his neck and across his cheeks. 

“You’re still sick.” She said, regaining some composure.

“He’ll be fine,” a third voice called from the stairwell. They both turned to see the bald guard from before. He raised his shotgun toward them, and his already scarred face was covered in more and deeper lines as his brow furrowed in anger. “You and your friend will have plenty of time to recover in a jail cell.” 

Chapter 7

Junktown's jail was more of a shack containing a bench, a cot and a lone wooden table bolted to the floor. Ian lay on the bench, using the bedding from the cot to keep the damp off while Chloe sat on the table.

“Well, you’re not getting worse,” she offered after examining him. “You just need bed rest and fluids.”

“I don’t suppose that the guard will get me a xander root tea.”

Chloe got up and examined the door. The lock was basic, and she could probably crack it with a little effort, but she wasn’t sure she could sneak past him, and Ian was in no condition for a fight.

While she was pondering this, the door swung inward, bonking her in the nose and knocking her glasses askew as she fell back. The man who had entered looked down at her, puzzled but unfazed.

“Sorry about that. Try not to break our locks. They’re damn expensive to replace.” He reached down and helped her up, and she readjusted her glasses to get a good look at the visitor. He was tall and wellkept, with grey hair cut short. The scars on his chin and browline hinted at hard living. The guard who had arrested them stood behind him, looking over his shoulder in cold disapproval. He knelt to examine the door, and seemed almost disappointed to find that it hadn’t been tampered with. 

“I’m Killian Darkwater. I run the general store up the way. I try my best to keep this place safe from the riff-raff,” he looked over at Ian and cocked an eyebrow. “Is he going to be okay?” 

“He’s stable, but somewhere dry to sleep wouldn’t hurt.”

“You bet. I’ve been to see Doctor Morbid’s lab. We found a lot of missing people stashed away in there… well, what’s left of them anyway. Seeing as he was clearly some sort of psycho murderer, I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you didn’t intend to off him when you arrived.”

Chloe smiled and let out a relieved sigh. She was about to say something when he stopped her.

“Hold on, don’t get too comfortable. Most drifters don’t commit a murder fifteen minutes after coming through the gate. Lars here and his guys will be keeping a close eye on you while you’re here. It’s probably best for everyone if you keep your head low while your friend recovers and then be on your way. Does that sound fair?”

“Fair,” Chloe confirmed, nodding emphatically.

“Good. Lars will escort you to the hotel. Don’t take this personally, but I hope we never have to see each other again.” He turned from the cell, and the bald guard–Lars–stepped aside to let him through.

Chloe offered her hand to Ian to help him out of his cot, and the two followed Lars out of the jail. It was late into the night, and the sky was dark, turning the buildings into tall, shapeless voids. When they reached the hotel, called the “Crash House,” Lars led them inside and pointed them toward a tall, slim woman standing behind the counter.

“Hey, Lars,” she said.  “Hope you’re not bringing me trouble makers.”

He scoffed. “They’ll be well behaved if they know what’s good for them.” 

The woman rang up the room and handed Chloe a key in exchange for a handful of bottlecaps.

“Your room is right across from the desk,” she said. “If you need anything while you’re here, feel free to ask someone else.”