Chapter 40 “What’s a Deathclaw?”

John woke with a splitting headache and a cold feeling in his gut. Billy looked worse. Mitch and Carol, who had the good sense not to get drunk the night before a long walk, carried the last crates of crockery down. The clatter made his headache flare. At least they returned with coffee and a modicum of sympathy.

“Morning boys!” JoJo yelled in unison as John and Billy reached the bottom of the stairs. John winced as his head felt like the rattling machine at the outpost that sorted spent casings.

“I sure am glad I don’t have to spend my day in a walking steel box, aren’t you Jo?”

“Yes I am Jo. I can’t imagine what kind of idiot wou—”

“Can it.” John snapped, too hungover to see the funny side and knowing neither Jo knew how much more effort the older T-51 took to operate.

John looked at the packed truck and wished he’d brought the Vertibird. The removal of the engine had only allowed more to be loaded. The truck bed stuffed to the canvas cover. The heavy machine gun had been wrapped in sheets and tied underneath the chassis and the minigun sat in the cab.

John checked the thick chain used to link bollards that fenced off once lush lawns. Now they served as a tow rope, tied across the armour like bandoleers and connected to the truck.

“You ready?” John half shouted to Carol in the driver’s seat, the power armour helmet at her side. She pressed the pedal, and wrenched the hand brake up with both hands.

The first steps were the hardest, but once the chains clinked taught and momentum transferred, the truck moved at around walking pace. “Looking good Ronin!” Joanne shouted as John dragged the truck to the front of the building.

“Feeling good Tem…” John trailed off, missing his friend. He heard someone shout and raised a steel clad arm, prompting Carol to brake.

“You seen Hawkins?” Billy shouted from inside. John shook his head.

“Probably sleeping it off somewhere.” Carol headed in to look while John slipped out of the armour to throw up.

A few minutes later, as John walked down the halls, he heard a scream. John darted towards the sound, pistol in hand. He saw Billy doing the same, coming towards him, as a shaken Carol came inside.

“What is it?” John asked, already seeing Carol retreating into herself.

“Outside...body.”

“Hawkins?” Billy asked, his manner tense.

“I can’t tell.”

The body had laid behind an ammo bunker for hours. Limbs missing from above the joints, bones broken and muscle gnawed. A series of neat stab wounds ran down either side of the chest, deep enough to have torn the lungs apart. The guts had been ripped out, not enough matter around to account for what was missing. And no trace of a head, only a jagged stump of a neck remained.

“It’s him.” Billy turned away, his voice breaking. “Look at the Quantum in the blood.” John could see streaks of blue amongst the splattered red.

“Looks like a fucking Deathclaw got him.” Joanne threw her partner a knowing glance.

“What’s a Deathclaw?” John asked, almost not wanting to know the answer.

“Deathclaws aren’t real.” Mitch scoffed. “Just crazy raider stories.” John locked eyes with Billy, both thinking the same thought. Not all raider stories were crazy.

“Lets get the fuck gone.” Billy walked a few paces, leaving the others confused.

“Ain’t we gonna bury him?” Mitch seemed shocked by Billy’s callousness. He didn’t get an answer.

“Hey John.” Joanne whispered as she passed. “Stay frosty.”

Before long they were moving at a steady pace along the dry ground. The power armour stomped, the chains clinked, and no one had much to say. Joanne took point, signalling back to Jolene sat atop the truck cab who relayed instructions to John. Carol hadn’t spoken in hours, but steered and worked the brakes diligently. Mitch and Billy brought up the rear, not speaking or even looking at each other.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

The pale, almost stone like trunks of long dead trees began to line the road in the shelter of cragged hills. “We got,” Jolene translated the incoming hand signals from Joanne at the top of a nearby rocky hill. “An incline, then a good stretch of blacktop.”

“I need a minute.” John didn’t like the sound of an incline. Pulling the truck felt manageable, as long as the ground stayed flat. John easily slid back out of the armour and took the chance to stretch and sit on the bumper.

“How you doing kid?” Billy asked, handing John water.

“I never want to see that blue stuff again, but fine.” John was still passing the Quantum from his system, as were the others.

“Those bottles are gonna look great behind the bar though. If old Bob doesn’t smash them that is.” Billy’s forced smile soon dropped. “Hawkins found that bot, saved it from the scrap heap.”

“I’m sorry.” John didn’t like Hawkins all that much, but no one deserved that.

“He rubbed people the wrong way, tight fis—” Billy turned and John stood as Mitch sprinted from the dense stone like trees. Fear in his face and bright blue urine staining his canvas trousers.

“Shoot! Fucking shoot!” He screamed. John looked into the dead forest, pistol reflexively drawn.

Between the pale trunks he caught the briefest sight of movement. Something slinking, something long, something beast like. Billy saw it too, and opened up with a burst of automatic fire as Mitch stumbled past them. Jolene joined with shots cracking over John’s head as he pulled the minigun from the truck cab and let rip in a wide arc.

Noise filled the ever present deafening silence. Barrels span and bolts clacked back and forth. Rounds tore through the desiccated wood, splinters flew and long standing trees fell.

The minigun spooled down accompanied by the dropping off magazines and the sound of reloading. “On me.” John stowed the minigun and took his assault rifle from a wide eyed Mitch. John strode over the scattered casings and shattered wood, JoJo and Billy flanking.

“Anything?” John asked, trying to keep the shock from his voice. He saw the same shock on the faces of the Rangers as they kicked over debris looking for tracks, a blood trail, any sign that the hundreds of rounds fired hit something other than air and wood. They didn’t find anything.

“What’d you see Mitch?” Joanne asked as Mitch drank straight from a bottle of vodka, his hands shaking.

“I went for a leak, something...growled.” Mitch couldn’t say more, he didn’t notice he’d pissed himself.

“How many rounds you got left in that thing?” Jolene asked, handing out fresh magazines for the assault rifles. John checked the numbered holes in the side of the ammo backpack, and then checked the attached box magazine.

“Two hundred in the pack, one fifty in the box mag.” John was the only one not surprised by the consumption of the weapon. “You think we scared it off?” John couldn’t imagine any kind of animal sticking around after that.

“No.” JoJo answered in unison, before both sat atop the truck cab, the pump action grenade launcher within reach.

Noon came and went. Joanne held a water canteen for John with a length of tubing from the medical supplies so he could drink and walk without stopping. Everyone kept their eyes open and mouths shut. Each sat in or perched on the truck John pulled, looking out something in the wastes.

A sharp whistle and squeak of hydraulic brakes brought John to a stop. Joanne jumped down and moved to a tilted billboard. The image worn to nothing by the dust on the wind, but the metal frame and ladder were still climbable. John watched the dusty road ahead, ready for any movement.

“Billy, Jo needs a blanket and rope.” Jolene shouted to the back of the truck. Billy tied the rope round a blanket and tossed one end up. A minute later Joanne signalled something John didn’t understand and lowered a bundle.

Billy flicked open the blanket then recoiled from the smell. As he turned back Joanne hit him in the face with a rifle butt, knocking him to the ground as Jolene stood over him, revolver in hand.

“What the fuck JoJo?!” Billy yelled and spat the blood from his mouth. John exited the armour in seconds and went to the blankets. Inside lay a corpse, the flesh grey and tight, rot staved off by the dry air.

“Found this.” Joanne held up the same pamphlet that John had seen inside the old building they'd just come from. “Greene River Military Academy. Sound familiar?” She made it sound like an accusation.

“So some scav got himself killed out here, what’s that got to do with us?” Billy sounded defensive.

“Open it.” Joanne tossed the pamphlet at Billy as John saw the wounds on the corpse, and noticed the deep claw marks torn into the steel billboard supports. A single piece of white paper fell out, bearing the same logo as the pamphlet with words smeared in dried blood. Joanne read them aloud so they all could hear them. “‘Don’t take the egg. She knows.’ What the fuck did you drag us into Billy?”

Billy got to his feet, shame and guilt on his face. He pulled at the side oil tank and the seemingly sealed tank opened. He put a foot long, oval shaped object on the ground and pulled back the blanket to reveal a bone white egg.

“You stupid motherfucker!” Joanne flew at Billy, enraged and throwing kicks and punches as John lifted her from the ground with an arm around her waist. “Do you know what you’ve done!? I’ve seen what these things can do!”

“We should cut you and stake you out for that thing.” Jolene sounded cold and methodical.

“No one is staking out anyone. ‘No one gets left behind’ right? That’s what you told me Rangers say.” John didn’t like any of this, and wasn’t going to leave anyone out here alone.

“Sal…” Billy couldn’t look them in the eye. “He was going to pay me and Hawkins twenty thousand for it.”

“And let me guess you didn’t ask questions beyond how much.” Joanne spat at Billy. “You greedy prick.”

“You know what those crazy bastards are like, I thought he wanted another trophy but you’re right. For twenty thousand he could make an omelette out of it for all I care.” Billy tried to explain. “We can still—” Joanne turned round John and launched herself at Billy.

“Still what, end up like Hawkins! What’s he gonna buy with his cut!”

“Hey!” A yell from the normally quiet Mitch brought their attention to the truck cab. Carol sat, gently rocking back and forth, gripped by fear that John had hoped she wouldn’t never feel again.

“Ditch the truck and armour, we go light and fast.” Jolene made a decision that went against every bit of John’s training.

“Wait…” John had an idea. “It went after Hawkins first because he handled the egg.” John thought about the extinct animals in his book. “It can smell it right?”

“Right.” JoJo answered together, glaring at Billy.

“Then we can bait it.” John saw the idea take root with the two Rangers from the desert.

“Please,” A small and frightened voice came from the cab. “I just want to go home.” Carol’s words broke John’s heart. He’d freed her in a moment of guilt driven anger, now she wanted to go back. “I’m not strong like you, I’m just a slave.”

“I was a slave too Carol.” John’s words brought her head up and surprise to her puffy and tear filled eyes.

“And you know what he is now Carol?” Joanne reached an arm into the truck cab to try and calm Carol. “A sworn knight of the Brotherhood. This is what they do.”