Chapter 30 “Probably the Brotherhood, or the Baron, or someone new.”

“It’s time.” Brandon checked his watch. “Rosie, check in on Janey.” Rosie accessed Janey’s optical feed. After a little fine tuning from Paul adjusting the parabolic microphone turned signal receiver, she saw a view she recognised. Janey, and now Rosie too, looked out across The Not So Grand from the same vantage point she'd used before

“You in there Rosie?” Charlie knocked on the lens sarcastically. Both her and Matt wore the full riot gear and masks, minus the helmets.

“Yeah, I’m here.” Rosie spoke through Janey.

“Check out the new decorations.” Charlie had a gleeful tone. Rosie zoomed at the dilapidated building that had served as a meeting point for the Red Hand. She couldn’t make out the row of shapes that lined the roads, spaced a metre apart and at least thirty of them. Then Rosie saw what the shapes were. Impaled on lengths of rebar, staring out with full black eyes, and wrapped in red cloth strips. The severed heads of the Red Hand.

“Bet you’re glad you can’t smell things too.” Charlie seemed pleased with her handiwork. “Fuckers stank before we left their heads in bags for almost a week.”

“Movement.” Rosie heard Matt’s voice. She dove back into Janey’s view but left her in control. Approaching from the west, as they had done before, were the same two raiders, carrying another sackful of caps.

“What the fuck man!” The first raider looked scared, the second amused.

“Fucking Filth. Good riddance.” The raider crushed a pill on the flat of his knife and snorted it, tossing his head back sharply and twitching. He poked and prodded at one of the heads with his blade.

“Who’s got the balls to take out the Red Hand?” One raider seemed alarmed.

“Who gives a fuck. Probably the Brotherhood, or the Baron, shit maybe someone new wants to make a name for themselves.”

“Yeah they’ve done that alright. No one fucks with the Red Hand.” The raiders shared a callous laugh and another crushed pill, caring little for the fate of their former business partners.

“Wait…” Finally an idea occurred to them. “We should keep the caps, I mean wh—” A cracking burst of automatic fire ripped up the blacktop in front of the raiders.

“Don’t move!” Matt and Charlie leapt from cover, faces hidden behind the riot masks and carbines levelled. “Drop the caps!” Matt snarled.

“Listen, there’s a way we can both,” One of the raiders tried to cut a deal, till Matt put a bullet past his ear. “Fuck! Take ‘em you son of…” The raider trailed off as Charlie pressed a cold muzzle to the back of his shaved head.

“You follow us, you die.” Matt managed to sound convincing.

“Hey, you do this?” The raider started to turn and another bullet sent cracking past him and into a tree. “Relax! We don’t give a shit about this Filth.”

“Probably the Brotherhood, or the Baron, or someone new.” Matt repeated the raider’s words with his own emphasis, dropped a smoke bomb, then vanished into grey fumes and the falling night.

Rosie felt her adrenaline stirring, the thrill of instilling fear in those who preyed on others transferring to her.

“Why did we do that?” Brandon asked as the waist high window hid the trembling in her leg. Rosie thought about her answer, knowing Brandon rarely had a single purpose in mind.

“Makes them afraid. If someone took out the Red Hand they could be next.”

“Fear is not the enemy, it’s a tool.” Brandon made eye contact and made sure Rosie understood. “Why did we take the caps?” Rosie paused again, trying to anticipate events set in motion.

“To stop the raiders running off with them.”

“And?” Brandon prompted her to think more.

“When they get back no one will believe them. They’ll send more raiders out to check, more of them will see, word will spread.” Rosie began to see the unfolding events. Like the chess game, move and countermove, an opponent outplayed before they’d even seen the board.

A few long hours later, Charlie strode into the reactor room. Still dressed in the full riot gear, shotgun in one hand and sackful of caps in the other. She tossed the canvas sack on the table beneath the window, scattering the chess pieces. She pulled the respirator free and moved the goggles to her forehead.

“All yours Rosie, twelve thousand and change.” Charlie held up the hand scrawled receipt and burned it with Brandon’s lighter.

“Thanks.” Rosie didn’t care about the small fortune, she enjoyed seeing Charlie excited a lot more.

“I’m going to take a shower and then I’m going to teach you a valuable skill.” Charlie held something small and rectangular that made Brandon feign a groan.

“Where did you find them?” Brandon asked, flashing a grin for the old world object that Charlie handed him.

“There’s a boxful in storage, straight from The Tops!” Rosie didn’t know what that meant but it seemed to amuse them both. “There’s chips too, but right now I need a shower.” Charlie left as Matt and Janey entered, Paul managed to leave without making it obvious to spare Rosie’s feelings. She saw him go, his size made him hard to miss. Like John, she thought, the idea of showering with him bringing tears to her eyes. Not long now.

Matt and Janey said hello and then set to bringing in more chairs and one of the simple beds. Rosie knew right away that Matt intended to sleep down here with her. They were the only two that still slept on the low, single, canvas and steel beds. The others opted for the luxury rooms.

Rosie knew she should tell him not to. While Matt liked looking out at the cave beyond the lounge, he found the steel walls and floors of the Vault’s true face unpleasant. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to tell him to go. Rosie had felt every second drag over the last few hours. The thought of never being alone gave her comfort, she held onto it tight.

Rosie changed the dressings on her hip and wrist. The cuts on her wrist had practically healed, the bruising had gotten darker. Her hip still oozed blood, but the stitches had held and it looked clean. Lastly Rosie swapped out the iv line in her hand, feeling a crippling wave of nausea and fever and the cloudy orange liquid rushed into her veins. Tapping on the glass preceded Matt's soft tone.

“Rosie, are you...can I get you anything?” Rosie tried to answer but heaved with an empty stomach as the emetic anti exposure medication took hold. She’d learned what would happen next, and the fear of the pain almost seemed to announce its arrival. Rosie felt her stomach contort, her bowels twist and knot before evacuating.

“We’re right here.” She heard Charlie, Matt had gone to get her and now both stood facing away. Charlie had wrapped herself in a wet towel that left streaks on the thick glass.

Rosie cleaned herself up as best she could, throwing the tissue into the bucket along with the t shirt and covered it with the tight fitting lid. She pulled on a clean shirt and crawled under the blankets, sobbing and feeling humiliated as Matt took the bucket away, wearing the riot mask.

Stolen novel; please report.

“We’re right here.” Charlie’s words came as cold comfort. The tiredness, the pain, the seconds that felt like hours, all of that she could have handled. Yet the room had only grown smaller in her mind, contracting even now.

Rosie wanted to stare into the endless blue, but couldn't be monitored closely enough outside. Rosie knew that she’d brought that on herself. Just like you drove John away, she thought to herself. Letting her worst impulses overtake what she knew to be true, what she had held photographic evidence of.

Squeaking scratches on the glass drew Rosie from under the blankets. Charlie wore a t shirt like hers, and had been writing on the glass. She concentrated intently, writing backwards so Rosie could read it. She could read the words but didn’t understand the context. The puzzle drew her closer and onto the stool facing out onto the table of smiling faces.

She picked up the handset and wedged down the button, music flooded in. Rosie didn’t listen to the radio often, but now the soft voice felt like a person in here with her.

“Good afternoon my children, Lady Lucky is with you. No matter where you are. Be it the top of the Tower with me or the deepest, darkest hole in the ground. It don’t matter if you’ve known me twenty seconds or twenty years, you are all my children.” How does she know, Rosie thought, remembering the good natured woman whose help she’d refused.

“Now, my children bring me news from all over so I can bring it to you. And I have got news for you. Everyone knows that ghouls are just like the rest of us, good and bad, only today there’s a few less bad ones. It seems some brave souls have cut off the Red Hand and put their heads on fucking spikes!” An uncommon moment of silence followed Lady Luck’s excited outburst.

“Apologies children, I’ll put a cap in the jar. Hell, I’ll put in two and say fine fucking work brave souls, stay safe out there. Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition, and together my children, we’ll all stay free.” Voices sang the same words in a joyous refrain.

“I told you we’d make the radio before nightfall.” Brandon lit a cigar, holding it between grinning teeth and extending his hand to Charlie. She took a single cap from the pile in front of her and flicked it across the table to Brandon.

“Now,” Charlie stood and picked up the rectangular box, sliding out the contents. “These Rosie, are playing cards.” She made a motion like clapping, firing the cards between her hands. She laid them out with a fluid sweep across the table cloth, each spaced equally.

“Say stop.” Charlie ran her finger above the cards till Rosie said stop. “Paul, show her the card, I'll turn around.” Charlie turned her back and Paul showed Rosie the card. Charlie gathered up the cards and cut them in two, Paul placed her card in the pack and they all watched Charlie’s nimble fingers reorder the cards. She split them in two and riffled them back together, she cut them one handed, folding them pack into a neat pile.

“Blow.” Charlie put the cards near the glass. Rosie rolled her eyes and blew. Charlie flicked the cards and lifted the top one. “Is this your card?”

“No.” Rosie didn’t understand.

“Well, blow harder then.” Charlie held the cards out again and Rosie indulged her. She lifted the top card again and pressed it against the glass.

“That’s it! The three rhombuses!” Rosie exclaimed in wide eyed delight, completely baffled as to how Charlie picked out her card from a deck of at least fifty.

“The three of diamonds Rosie.” Charlie corrected her, then took her seat. “Alright the name of the game is Vegas Hold ‘em.” Charlie flicked cards around the table, Matt holding Rosie’s against the glass without looking at them.

“Wait, how did you know my card?” Rosie’s question brought only laughter.

The card game lasted for hours. Paul and Matt had gone bust, with most of the caps ending up in Charlie’s pile.

“Raise ten.” Rosie watched as Matt pushed a quarter of her remaining caps into the middle.

“Call.” Brandon matched her bet, as did Charlie, who turned over the second card in the centre. Rosie looked at the middle of the list Charlie wrote.

“Raise ten.” Rosie made the same bet, as did Brandon and Charlie, then the last card got turned over.

“All in.” Rosie committed her remaining caps after another glance at her cards and the middle of the list. Brandon went all in with his remaining caps.

“Poor, sweet, simple Rosie. You’ve not got the ace, and your eyes have been darting back and forth, looking at the middle of the list, you've got two pair.” Charlie matched the bet, barely making a dent in her pile.

“Call.” Brandon turned over a pair of jacks. Charlie flipped over a pair of aces, giving her three of a kind.

“Full house!” Rosie beamed that her bluff of looking at the middle of the list had worked.

“Well done.” Brandon sat back amused, his caps divided between Rosie and Charlie.

“Sneaky Rosie. Very sneaky.” Charlie winked, pleased with her progress. “After this I’ll teach you to count cards.”

“Can you teach me the magic trick?” Rosie still couldn’t work it out and it maddened her in a most enjoyable way.

“If you win.” Charlie dealt the cards, not taking her eyes from Rosie.

Rosie slept for the next fourteen hours straight, the maximum the system would allow in her current state. She woke to find Charlie asleep in a chair on the opposite side of the glass. Rosie’s movement woke her.

“Thanks for staying.” Rosie felt bad for keeping Charlie from her bed.

“My pleasure.” Charlie stood and stretched her stiff muscles. “Show me.” Rosie knew that meant the medical screen on the pipboy. “Good, real good. Toss me out that shirt.” Rosie balled up the shirt she’d been wearing and Charlie ran a Geiger counter over it. “Hit the shower.” Charlie slammed the door button and Rosie bolted. Within seconds she’d cleared the Vault, made it up the stairs and threw herself into the shower.

Rosie scrubbed her skin raw, she’d have done anything not to go back into the narrow room. She threw on a clean set of black fatigues and didn’t bother with her boots.

For this first time in sixty eight hours Rosie felt like she could breathe. The fresh air tasted sweet and the setting sun warmed her skin. She couldn’t resist running, digging her bare feet into the soft earth. As she walked back, her hip bleeding and her muscles stiff, Rosie saw Paul laying out food onto a blanket. The smell wafted on the breeze, reminding her she hadn’t eaten in days.

Matt had brought cakes and pastries from Andrea a day or two before, Rosie demolished them. Throwing back dark and bitter coffee to counter the stale sweetness. Charlie appeared and set to burning the sheets, clothes and paper while wearing a riot mask. Rosie noticed they hadn’t hesitated to give her the luxurious and soft bedding, knowing full well it would need to be burned.

Rosie let out an echoing belch after finishing her third sweetroll. Paul laughed almost as loud. “Here, eat this and follow me.” Paul gave her a hunk of crusty bread and started walking to the treeline.

“Cleanse the palette right?” Rosie sprayed crumbs as she spoke.

“Correct, but it’s also good bread.” He tore off a piece of crust for himself.

“Here we are.” Paul stopped at a patch of disturbed earth and started to dig.

“It’s not a Radscorpion is it?” Rosie asked, remembering the last thing she’d dug up.

“Better.” Paul flicked away the loose earth revealing a flat stone around a foot long. “Don’t touch it, still hot.” He levered the stone out on the shovel and Rosie felt hungry again. “So you leave the rocks in the fire all night, then you bury them with a wrapped stag leg between them. Seasoned and scored, obviously.”

“Obviously.” Paul had taught her that. He wrapped the exposed tip of leg bone in a cloth and held it up, juices dripping and sizzling onto the hot rocks below. With his free hand Paul flicked the blade out from his alloy knife and effortlessly carved free a thick strip of succulent meat. The colour went from a charred brown to a vibrant pink.

Paul inspected it for a moment, then lowered it into his mouth, tearing it in half. Rosie all but snatched the other half from him and they both stood in silence, apart from the chewing. The seasoning had permeated every bit of the meat, the slow cook had made it softer than Rosie thought possible, it practically melted.

“Do the others know you made this?” Rosie asked without a hint of shame.

“Yeah.” Paul sighed. “But meat always shrinks a little when you cook it.” They shared another strip as they walked back to the blanket on the grass, taking their time.

They found Matt and Brandon sitting outside, pouring whiskeys for them all. Charlie joined them and they ate. Rosie and Paul eating third helpings. Rosie noticed, between gorging herself on slow cooked stag, with tato relish on flatbread, how it made Matt sad. She guessed the cooking technique may have been one of his old ways that she admired.

Rosie enjoyed one of, if not the finest, meals she’d ever had. Happy to be under stars once again and away from the headache inducing fluorescent lights. Happier still to find herself able to share an embrace.

Paul threw a cloth over the picked clean bone as Janey approached, her fondness for what she called deer only growing as saw more of them.

“Janey, can I see your back?” Rosie asked. Janey turned at the waist in an inhuman way, her feet and face still pointing at Rosie. She ran her hand over the back armour plate, feeling for any dents, there were none, just scrapes and scratches in the black paint. “I’ll give that a coat of paint tomorrow, you’ll look good as new.” Rosie felt that would be the very least she could do. The red light in the centre of Janey’s head began to blink rapidly as she processed something.

“The integrity of the armour has not been compromised. I would prefer that the markings remain.”

“Oh...alright.” The response caught Rosie off guard and she remembered scoffing at the idea of Janey liking things.

“Why?” Brandon asked, keen to hear the reasoning behind the answer. Janey turned her head slightly.

“Matthew has markings on his abdomen that cannot be removed.” Janey helped perform the life saving surgery on Matt that left two neat scars on his side. “He wears them with pride as they were acquired aiding others and they serve as a reminder.”

“I told her that weeks ago.” Matt had a look of disbelief and pride.

“Forty three days ago at fifteen twenty.” Janey clarified Matt’s vague statement. She and Rosie shared a digital level of precision. “I do not need a reminder as I am incapable of forgetting, but I would prefer to wear the markings I acquired in the aiding Admin Rosie.” Rosie started to cry and flung her arms around the metal torso.

The others laughed, not in a mocking way, more that they understood the affection they all shared for the killer robot that at times seemed very human.

“Thank you Janey.” Rosie spluttered between sobs. The robotic arms hinged over the shoulders and made what passed as a hugging motion.

“Gratitude is not required. My three law protocol dictates I cannot let Admin or Principal Charlie come to harm…” Janey paused for a moment as the red light blinked. “However I would do the same were it not a function of my programming.”

Rosie sat being gently mocked for hugging a robot, by everyone except Matt, and enjoying the cocktail Charlie made her. Brandon started handing out shots of the good vodka, leaving Rosie till last.

“Rosie, three days ago when Charlie brought you in...we didn’t know if you would make it.” Brandon rested a hand on her shoulder, as if making sure she had made it. “I set a plan in motion to get John and bring him here. What do you say to you and I finishing it?”

“Yes.” Rosie didn’t even think about it.

“It’s not without risk.” Brandon made sure she understood that.

“He’d do it for me.” With her mind clear she knew that John would do anything for her, and she him. Brandon held the shot glass up, prompting the others to do the same.

“Then let's drop in on some old friends.”