Whale of the Wasteland - Level 4 (Patreon)

Chloe has to fend for herself in Junktown while Ian recovers, and becomes embroiled in the gang war between Killian Darkwater and the town's resident sin dealer, Gizmo. Chloe does her best to not rock the boat, but things are not what they seem.

Chapter 8

The room they’d rented in the crash house was dark, dusty, and far more hospitable than anywhere Chloe had slept in the past two weeks. The bed was large enough for both her and Ian, and she’d laid down expecting to fall asleep immediately, but after twenty minutes of staring up at the splintered ceiling, she still couldn’t seem to get any rest. She rolled out of bed, careful not to disturb Ian, and grabbed her glasses. If she couldn’t sleep, she could at least make herself useful.

She grabbed their guns, taking them over to a desk at the end of the room, and flicked on the tiny, ancient lamp at the edge of the table. She tinkered with their weapons in silence, cleaning off the carbon residue from her pistol with a piece of fabric that had likely started as a T-shirt a hundred years earlier. 

Her eyelids began to feel heavy, but she wanted to clean Ian’s weapon, too, before attempting to sleep again. She set her own pistol aside and let out a deep sigh. She closed her eyes and drifted off.

Chloe was startled awake by the sound of gunfire. She jumped, finding herself in the same room, but now with daylight streaming through the windows. Evidently, she’d spent the whole night in the chair. She stood, whincing as her stiff legs and upper back popped, and rushed to the door.

Out in the lobby, the receptionist for the night before cowered behind her desk. The pair of bullet holes in the wall above her made it clear why. She waved at Chloe and pointed toward the open door leading to the room next to the one that she and Ian had rented. 

“DO SOMETHING!” She silently screamed. 

Chloe crept toward the open door and peered into the room. A man wearing patchwork leather armor stood with his arm around the throat of a young, blonde woman and held a gun to her head. He spotted Chloe immediately, and she saw the crazy look in his eye.

“Hey, you!” He shouted. His shrill voice cracked, and his eyes were wide and bloodshot. “Come to the doorway where I can see you, or I’ll paint the walls with her brains!” 

Chloe followed his orders slowly , hands raised, palms out. “Okay, I’m here. Don’t shoot her!”

“Don’t shoot her?” He seemed confused. “I can shoot her if I want. Don’t tell me not to shoot her if I want to shoot her!” He had needle scars in his arm and the gun shook in his hand. She was barely dressed, wearing lacy, red underwear and that matched her bright lipstick. Her eyes were wide, her teeth clenched, and she flinched each time the barrel of the gun bumped against her temple.

Chloe considered for a moment if she might be able to shoot him before he could kill his hostage, but looking down, she realized that her holster was empty. Her gun was where she’d left it, sat on the desk in the room next door.

“You’re right, you’re in charge here,” she said calmly. “No one wants to hurt anyone. What is it that you want?”

That seemed to make him think. He took the gun away from the woman’s head and used it to scratch his neck. “I want… a refund! For the room, for the girl, and… and enough for me to buy another hit of psycho!”

“We can do that.” Chloe reached for the bag of bottlecaps on her belt and held it out to him. “Just let her go, and you can leave quietly.”

He loosened his grip on her neck and reached for the bag, Chloe approached, but quickly recoiled when he did. He pushed the gun against the woman’s forehead again.

“How do I know you won’t shoot me in the back on my way out?”

“Because I don’t have a gun on me.”

He frowned and nodded, pushing the woman away and holding out his hand. Chloe tossed him the caps this time, and he snatched them deftly out of the air.

“Pleasure doing business with you.” He smirked and rushed the door, pushing Chloe aside and running from the hotel and out into the sweltering sunlight. He made it only three steps out the door before a shotgun blast tore through his chest and sent his limbs tumbling down from the empty space that his torso once occupied. Lars stepped into the hotel, shotgun over his shoulder and a bemused expression on his face. His boots tracked viscera from what had previously been the junkie onto the wooden floor.

“Christ almighty, not only did you let him go, but you paid him for the pleasure of doing it. Were you born stupid, or did you learn to be that way over time?” He tossed Chloe her bag of caps.

She glared at him. “You didn’t have to kill him. He wasn’t in his right mind. He was sick.”

“And he’d have used the money you gave him to get sick all over again, maybe kill somebody next time.” He scraped his boot on a raised floorboard, leaving a roll of red paste on the edge of the splintering wood. “You alright, Sinthia?” He nodded toward the blonde woman in the lingerie.

“Up yours, Lars.” She raised her middle finger at the lawman, and he returned the gesture. He knocked on the reception desk, nodded to the woman behind the counter, and loped out of the front door of the Crashouse.

Chloe turned back to Sinthia and repeated Lars’ question. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” She sniffed, crossing her arms and glaring down at the floor. “He didn’t hurt me or anything. I knew he was going to be trouble, but Gizmo doesn’t like it when I turn down clients.”

“Is Gizmo your… pimp?” Chloe had struggled to find a better word, but came up empty-handed.

Sinthia shot Chloe a pitying expression. “Gizmo runs the gambling, the drugs, the booze, and all the rest of the sin in this town.” The pitying expression then shifted to annoyance. “You’d figure with all the money I bring in for him he’d be able to afford to send some protection.” 

“He sounds awful.”

Sinthia laughed. “No kidding. But the choice is either him or Killian, and Killian doesn’t appreciate the kind of work that I do.”

Chloe had to admit, it didn’t seem like much of a choice. She made a mental note to avoid Gizmo and returned to her room. She grabbed her gun before checking on Ian. His face was pale and covered in sweat, but the wound where the radscorpion had stung him had closed, and the bright red veins surrounding the wound had receded. Chloe administered another stimpack to his shoulder, and his body relaxed.

He’d probably need another day of bedrest before they were ready to set out again. She figured she could buy some supplies and maybe even find some leads on where to find the waterchip. She looked down at her bag of caps and noticed the fleck of blood that stained the canvas. The sooner this adventure was over, the sooner she could get back to her vault and away from the horrors of the wasteland.

Chapter 9

Chloe had gotten used to operating nocturnally due to the scorching desert sun. She was surprised to find the streets of Junktown, which had been so quiet the night before, now bustling with people. The majority of the activity was focused between Killian’s general store and Gizomo’s Casino, a few blocks north. Chloe wasn’t overeager to visit either establishment, so she turned her attention to the only other major business in the town. 

Just outside of Gizmo’s territory sat a seedy little bar called the Skum-Pitt. It was still early in the morning, and the tables and stools sat mostly empty aside from one man who wore a heavy leather coat and a gas mask. He stared at Chloe from his spot in the corner as she walked in and took a seat at the bar. She found herself staring back at him. The tinted lenses of the gas mask gave away nothing, and she had a hard time determining if he was sizing her up or merely looking in her direction.

She was interrupted by the bartender, who dropped an empty mug on the counter in front of her.

“Welcome to the Skum-Pitt. I’m Neal, what’s your poison?”

“Got any Nuka-Cola?” 

“Nuka-Cola coming up!” Much to Chloe’s surprise he pulled a tall bottle full of thick dark liquid out from under the bar and pumped several thick squirts of the stuff into the bottom of the mug, where it pooled in gooey streaks on the glass. He then retrieved a hose from the bar and filled the mug with seltzer, stirring the entire mixture with a spoon before pushing it toward her.

She took a cautious sip, and then another more eagerly. 

Neal grinned. “Pretty good right? Just like on the old holo-tapes! All this–the hose, the concentrate, the whole damn building–took me a while to get up and running, but worth the effort.” 

Chloe gulped down the rest of the cola and slammed the mug on the counter, letting out a large belch.

“So worth it! Can I have another, and maybe something to eat?” 

“Coming right up! Trish, two meat skewers for the broad in the overalls.” He finished pouring her a second soda and Chloe downed it eagerly.

“Thanks, Neal! You’re pretty good with old tech. I don’t suppose you’ve ever heard of a waterchip?”

Neal rubbed his chin. “Like a computer chip? Not a lot of that kind of thing here in Junktown, sorry. If anyone has one, it would be Killian.”

Trish the waitress arrived with two skewers of cubed meat and set them down on a paper tray in front of Chloe.

“I was worried you might say that. I didn’t make the best impression with Killian on my way into town.”

Neal snapped his fingers and pointed at her. “You’re the one that popped Doc Morbid. Hot damn, I didn’t know I was serving a hero. No charge for the food or drink.”

Chloe experienced the strange sensation of blushing while also having the blood drain from her face.

“You heard about that?”

“Hell yeah! I knew that guy was up to no good! You should have seen how much he charged me to get my finger sewn back on.”

Suddenly Chloe wasn’t feeling hungry anymore. She finished the last few bites of one of her meat skewers and wrapped the remaining one in some newspaper that was sitting on the counter before shoving it into her pocket.

“Yeah… Hey, thanks for the info! I’ve gotta be headed out.” She dropped a few caps on the counter for him and Trish. Neal saluted her and the picked up her mug to clean it with his cloth as she staggered out of the bar and back into the desert sun.

She felt nauseous, and not from the meat or the three sodas that sloshed around in her belly. She stumbled and decided to squat, rather than risk a fall. She put her head between her knees and focused on keeping her lunch in her stomach. For a few tense seconds, she could hear her heart beating in her ears. Then she heard something else.

It was a loud snuffling sound, right by her ear. Something wet pressed against her cheek, and she turned to see a large, furry snout invading her personal space. She stood up and the snout followed her. It was connected to a dog, and a big one at that. He was dark grey and had wide pale eyes that gazed pleadingly up at her.

At first she didn’t know what to do. She had never seen a dog in person before and this one seemed to want something from her. He barked and she took a step back. He followed, apparently not angry. His mouth hung open and his tail wagged. He barked again and came closer, sniffing at the pockets of her overalls. Finally it occurred to her what he wanted.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out the kebab she’d been saving and tossed it to him. Immediately the dog snatched the meat out of the air and brought it to the ground, chewing on it, growling playfully as it tore bits of meat from the skewer.

Not eager to risk being bitten, she carefully reached out and touched the dog between the shoulder blades. He didn’t seem to mind. His fur was coarse and dusty, but also warm and comforting. In seconds she had completely forgotten about Doctor Morbid and his amazing exploding head.

She pet the dog gently, and his tail began wagging again. For several minutes they sat in the street together while he devoured what was left of her lunch. As he neared the end of the morsel, a shadow passed over them. The dog looked up and growled, placing himself between Chloe and the man that approached. 

She looked up. Standing over her was a tall man wearing polished metal armor. He had dark eyes and long black hair that was slicked back over his ears. He stared at her unspeaking. He didn’t carry a weapon, but he had a dangerous look about him, and his hands were balled into fists.

“Can I help you?” Chloe asked. The man didn’t respond. Instead, he held out one of his fists.  He opened it up, revealing a small card held between two of his fingers. Chloe took the card and opened it. Inside, a note had been written in sloppy block letters.

“Gizmo wishes to thank you for saving the life of one of his whores. He requests that you have dinner with him tonight at Gizmo’s Casino. Wear something nice.”

Suddenly Chloe was nauseous again.

Chapter 10

Killian Darkwater’s shop was clean, organized, and well stocked. In those respects it was in scant company of the California wasteland. Guards outside kept the riff raf out allowing Killian to run all other operations from inside. He had just completed an audit of his ammunition inventory when Chloe stepped through the door followed closely by Lars, who kept his hand on the butt of his shotgun.

“She wanted to see you, Mr Darkwater. She said it has to do with Gizmo.”

Killian waved her in and indicated for Lars to wait outside. Chloe stepped forward and handed him the card. Killian lifted a pair of reading glasses from around his neck and held them up to examine the invitation.

“Looks like Gizmo heard about your little misadventure with Sinthia this morning. I shouldn’t be surprised. That girl can’t keep a secret.” He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Did Izo give this to you? Big guy, doesn’t talk much?”  

Chloe nodded. 

He continued rubbing, until his head lifted with a realization. “Wait, this could be just the opportunity we need to take him down! Chloe, have you ever worn a wire before?” 

“Whoa, whoa! I don’t want to get involved in a gang war here.” She took a few steps back toward the door.

“Gang? Gizmo’s the one with the gang. I’m just…” He gestured with one hand for a moment as he searched for the words. “Trying to carve out a decent place for people here. Besides, you don’t have a choice. If Gizmo wants to see you, he’s not going to let you refuse his offer.”

“So he’s dangerous?" Chloe balked. Another few steps toward the exit. 

“Gizmo? No. The guy can’t even stand up on his own. He’s not a threat to anyone, but he does have a lot of influence. He’s tied to a dozen different crimes around the city ranging from theft to murder. You’ll be fine as long as you don’t piss him off or have something that he wants.” Chloe didn’t find that enormously reassuring.

“So my options are go see Gizmo tonight, or risk him sending one of his goons after me.”

“Nah. He’d probably go after your friend. Easier target.”

Chloe huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “ Aren’t you supposed to be the law around here? Can’t you do something?”

 “I suppose I could lock you in jail as protective custody until your friend is strong enough to travel.” Chloe winced at that. She didn’t want to spend another moment in the dark, damp, junktown jail cell. Chloe sighed. “What’s your plan?”

“Simple. You go to dinner, let him take you into his office, and then you slip a bug into his desk. He threatens you or confesses to doing anything illegal at dinner, my boys and I move in and arrest him, and you and your friend get to go on your merry way.”

“And what if Gizmo catches me spying on him?” 

“Oh, well that’s simple!” Killian smiled wide and placed his hands on his hips. "Don't get caught.”

Chapter 11

Gizmos’s casino was a vast, sprawling monster built from sheet metal and other salvaged parts. A giant neon sign reading “Gizmo’s” spun near the entrance, and guards stood outside the door wearing custom tanned leather armor. Chloe felt naked in comparison. The kneepads and sturdy leather of her overalls had been traded for an outfit assembled from the boxes of pre-war clothes that Killian kept in his shop.

She wore a belted blouse and skirt combo made from acrylic felt that was altered to match Chloe’s vault-dweller sensibilities. It was hardly daring compared to what the other patrons at Gizmo’s were wearing, but Chloe wasn’t used to having her legs exposed, and the heavy fabric did nothing to mitigate the desert heat. She was sweating and shivering all at the same time, and she felt like a complete disaster as she marched her way into the lion's den.

Patrons played roulette and craps while laughing and sharing drinks. Others hung out on the periphery, diligently feeding slot machines that had been altered to accept bottlecaps. More guards ushered Chloe toward the back and through a large set of double doors. 

  Gizmo's office was dimly lit and hazy with cigar smoke. Salvage and reupholstered furniture lined the walls and a massive, antique wooden desk sat at the far end of the room. Behind it sat Gizmo himself.

Chloe failed to stifle a gasp. Gizmo was the fattest man she had ever seen. His immense bulk was piled behind the desk, soft and lumpy, like a mountain of mashed potatoes. Between the straining buttons on his suit were glimpses of cellulite-dimpled flesh, and his barely contained gut spilled out onto the desk in front of him, oozing across the surface.

He smoked a cigar, holding it gingerly in one hammy hand and bringing it up to his jowly face to blow smoke rings. He was hairless, down to his eyebrows, and his bald head showed no sign of stubble nor peachfuzz. This level of obesity would have been difficult to achieve even during the plenty of the old world. In the harsh scarcity of the wasteland, his sheer girth stood as a testament to excess and selfish hoarding of resources. 

He smiled at Chloe, raising his eyebrows and causing folds to form in the fat on his forehead, heightening his resemblance to a segmented pile of mush. He waved her over to a chair in front of him, and Chloe sat down, cautious, desperately trying to hide her shock and horror. She was aware that she was doing a poor job, but Gizmo seemed unbothered.

“So you’re the one who helped my Sinthia.” He stated, matter of fact. His heavy cheeks caused his words to slur, and he breathed heavily between syllables. “Then again, you also blew away old Doc Morbid. I was getting a cut of his business. That’s gonna set me back. I suppose we can call it even.”

Chloe gaped. “You were helping him sell body parts?” 

Gizmo laughed. “No. The medical side of things. Healthcare is a great way to make caps. People will pay anything to get a limb reattached or a tumor removed.” 

Izo entered from a room on the left, carrying a cloche. He set it down on the desk between them and lifted the lid to reveal two plates, piled high with spaghetti noodles, smothered in red sauce, and seasoned with capers. Even through the tobacco smoke, it smelled divine. “Ever had a BlamCo Spaghetti dinner? Best food in the wasteland. I pay top dollar for every box my salvagers can find.”

Gizmo grabbed his fork, twirled the spaghetti around it dexterously, and popped a third of his massive serving into his mouth. Chole attempted to mimic the motion, but each time she tried the noodles just slid back onto the plate.

Gizmo chewed thrice and swallowed once. His mouth was again free to speak. “I’m a businessman. I like making money because it lets me buy the things I like. Food, sex, power. None of those come cheap.”

Chloe had managed to get a fork full of spaghetti to her lips, but the mention of sex startled her and the slippery noodles plopped back down onto her plate. She did her best to maintain her composure, attempting to twirl the spaghetti around the fork again.

“You’re special, Chloe. Not many in the wasteland can appreciate such a generous figure. It must have taken some work to grow so soft.” 

“What?” Chloe balked around the mouthful of pasta that had actually made it to her mouth. It was delicious, but what Gizmo was saying didn’t make any sense. 

“Don’t play dumb with me, Chloe. No one gets fat in the wasteland by accident. What’s your poison? Brahmin steaks? Bloatfly sliders? Gecko kebabs? Come work for me, and I can get you anything you crave. We’ll have you bursting out of your vault suit by the end of the month.”

Chloe blinked. “I’m not fat…” She trailed off, looking down at the bulge of her stomach in her dress. Suddenly the past two weeks fell into perspective. She’d gone up two notches in her tool belt. She’d eaten through all of their rations without even thinking about it, and how could she forget the two dozen bottles of Nuka-Cola she’d littered across the wasteland in half as many days of travel?

Suddenly she felt huge. Even sitting across from Gizmo’s prodigious girth she couldn’t help but feel gargantuan. Gizmo was right. No one got fat in the wasteland by accident. So how had she managed it? She cast her thoughts back further. The porky, former residents of Vault 15, the growth hormone that they’d put in their water supply, and the fight that she’d had with the extra large pig-rat in a puddle at the bottom of the vault’s elevator shaft.

“Motherfucker.” she said aloud, standing up from Gizmo’s desk. 

Gizmo laughed.“Not my first rejection. Though watch your tone with me in the future.” 

“Uh. no it’s not that. Um… I need to go. I just realized, I think I need to see a doctor.”

“What’s the rush?” He snapped his sausage fingers and Izo came up behind her, grabbing her by the arms, and pinning them to her sides. “You were spotted in Killian’s store earlier. I was willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, but people this eager to leave usually have something to hide.” 

“Wait, that’s not–”

Izo grabbed her shirt collar and ripped it open, exposing her blouse, which failed to cover the lower roll of her tummy. Killian’s bug was taped to the fabric, visible for everyone to see. Izo ripped it from her shirt and tossed it to Gizmo.

“A wire?” He smeared, dropping it on the table and smashing it beneath his fist. “This changes things Chloe. We were even before. Now you’re going to have to make it up to me.”

Chloe was about to yell something, she wasn’t sure what, but Izo clamped a hand over her mouth. She struggled, but the man’s arms were as thick as tires, and as firm as rebar.

“Take her to the bedroom and hook her up to the machine,” Gizmo barked. “So long Chloe. You’re about to learn how I managed to grow this impressively obese! I would have preferred you participated willingly, but this way has its own appeal.”

Izo dragged her away, her feet kicking against the hardwood floor. Her muffled screams were drowned out completely by the gamblers reveling in the next room.