Chapter 53 “You see what I see.”

John made his way into Shadowtown. The latest group of evacuees in tow. In the months since the first group arrived, dozens more had followed. Each heading out to make life for themselves. The groups would be split, half going to Beverly and half going into town.

He left the evacuees with one of Lady Luck’s contacts and made a quick exit. Having learnt that a clean break was best for everyone.

He walked through the market, busier than it'd been in weeks. He picked up the few things he needed and stopped in to ask a favour from the Brother’s Hood. “Here's one of our team now, right on time.” Styx threw him a look, pulling him into the sales pitch. “Everything done?”

“Sure is…Boss.” John knew to keep things vague.

“Good.” He turned back to the potential client. “You let us know when the shipment’s ready.” Styx gladhanded the man out the door. “I need a favour.” The charm and smile vanished.

“I need a favour too.” John replied. He groaned as Styx held out his fist.

“One, two, three.” Styx held his hand out flat. John held out his fist, losing the game Styx taught him.

“I know you’re cheating.” John had never won. “I just don’t know how. Go ahead, ask.” Styx nodded to Acheron.

“Guy that just left needs an escort for grain shipment from Bakersfield. Been a few caravans gone missing so he’s hired us. If this goes well, might be a regular thing. Could use an extra pair of eyes.” Acheron asked.

“Sure, I’m in.” John would have helped either way, but a few days in the field sounded great.

“Oh, that’s good, but we wanted you to ask Rosie.” Styx had a deadpan delivery.

“Fuck you Styx. You ask her.” He shot back.

“I’m not asking her, she scares me.” Styx hadn’t enjoyed volunteering for Rosie’s knife throwing party tricks. “What’s your ask?

“My friend Grant. He’s had a rough stretch of road. He’s new in town and needs a job. Thought maybe you could use someone to watch the shop.” John thought Grant would do well, plus make a few caps for when his family joined him.

“We can do that.” Styx turned, facing out to the market. “A shop, two employees. Next, the world.” He let out a villainous laugh, covering it with a cough as a customer entered.

The next morning, John stood with Rosie by the side of the road. She’d leapt at the chance to get out for a couple of days. In the distance, John picked out the shape of power armour. Styx stopped as they met, taking off his helmet.

“This is John, our head of transport. And Rosie, our chief technology officer.” Styx introduced them to the client with the elaborate titles he made up. John said hello and made small talk. Rosie headed for the bot drawn carts and Acheron, bringing up the rear without armour.

“We ready?” Styx called out from the front.

“One min, Boss.” Rosie answered sarcastically, tinkering with the crude Protectron bots. She and Acheron huddled over her pipboy, hiding it from the client. “Ready.” The bots started clanking forward at nearly double the previous speed.

Blood red leaves had begun to bloom again. Sounds of flapping and rustling back among the trees. Styx told some of his milder stories to entertain the client. Acheron making well timed corrections over the comm that only they heard. Rosie took point most of the day. Disappearing and reappearing through the trees.

She picked out a spot to camp. John saw a hint of worry in her face as they arrived, hoping to have chosen wisely. The old brick building lay off the road. Three walls and half a roof with good sight lines, more than adequate.

John got a fire going. Rosie and Acheron made a sweep. Styx took a heavy pan and lined it with bacon grease. He layered dough, meat and vegetables, then put a lid on the pan and placed it in the fire. Rosie let John see her eye roll. Her doubts vanished with the first bite.

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They broke camp at dawn, reaching Bakersfield shortly after. Styx signalled John to stall the client, then moved double time to sell what they’d brought.

John followed the client, trying and failing to distract him with conversation. They reached a bustling building on the edge of the field. People queuing and leaving with sacks of grain. He thought the queue might hold them up, only for someone to point them round back.

Two teenagers loaded sacks onto the carts. John tried to stand tall and put on his mercenary face. “Ain’t you gonna help?” The client asked.

“...Yeah.” John folded instantly, already feeling rude for waiting this long. Somehow he knew Styx would find out. He leant his assault rifle against the wall, took off his duster, and got to work.

With the carts piled to near breaking, they headed north out of town. The Eight easier going for the carts. Rosie appeared with a paper bag stuffed with pastries, flour and jam smeared on her face. Styx concluded a deal early, losing out and throwing John a look. Acheron emerged from cover up ahead, and they were on the road again.

“Hold up.” Styx called a stop, everyone regrouped around the carts. “We’re coming up on the Grand. These scumbags ain’t exactly morning people, but all the same.”

“I think we have another problem.” John remembered walking this road before. “The bridge up ahead is out.”

“Hear that Styx, John says the bridge is out.” Acheron had a wry grin.

“Well then, we’re screwed.” Styx said sarcastically before heading on.

Acheron took off to cover the Grand. Rosie set up at the top of the bridge. It took all the noise filled torque the armour could muster to drag the carts up the gradient one by one.

At the top John saw the gap, now spanned with an improvised bridge. Metal train tracks cut to length and bolted together. Diagonal beams welded top and bottom. Rough hewn planks filling in the gaps.

Styx went first, stomping across without hesitation. He dragged the carts over next. The bridge groaned and flexed, but held. “We put it in last month.” He took off his helmet to take in the view.

“Impressive.” John replied, glad to avoid the Grand.

“Hardly. We’ve built ones with a bigger span than this whole bridge.” Styx planted his feet and John shoved the first cart onto the slope. “Stick with us kid, you’ll learn all kinds of things.”

With carts back on flat ground they made good time. Things became more familiar to John. They soon came to the mostly collapsed Not So Grand motel, where John had spent his first night above ground. Something caught his eye, lining the road.

He thought them lanterns at first, until he drew closer. Frost and insects had stripped what flesh remained, leaving impaled skulls to bleach in the sun. Slack jawed and cracked, some fallen to the blacktop. Staring with hollow eyes, left as a warning to all who saw.

“They must have pissed off someone.” Styx let out a long whistle, impressed with the macabre tableau.

“They fucked with Recon.” Rosie half whispered. She brought her boot down onto a broken skull, shattering it like glass and grinding the fragments. Rosie set off walking. Styx looked back at John, pale and wide eyed.

“Don’t fuck with Recon.” John said as he passed. His anger stayed with the severed heads of those who’d hurt Rosie.

“Hold up.” Acheron called a stop over the comm. He emerged from the forest a few minutes later. “You should see this.”

They left the bots at the carts with the armour in sentry mode, and headed off the path. The smell hit him first. The acrid, rotting stench of death.

At his feet lay a pack brahmin. Slaughtered, stripped of cargo and crudely butchered. “Been here a few days.” Acheron had a look of disgust. “We picked up a trail, Tornado’s on it.”

“Listen, if we find something…” Styx trailed off as the client raised a hand.

“There’s a reason I hired you. The Brotherhood knows how to deal with animals. I’ll wait with the carts.” He walked back to the road, happy to leave things to the professionals.

“John, open the feed I just sent.” Rosie spoke over the comm. A window opened in his view. “You see what I see.”

“Yeah.” John didn’t share her excitement, but welcomed the chance to put down a pack of raiders.

John knelt in the dirt. He shaped the earth to match the terrain. Added a magazine and a rock for the buildings. John could feel Styx and Acheron communicating without talking. Rosie returned, adding to the map.

“Last house left on the block.” Rosie stood and gave a report. “Movement inside, counted another dozen outside. No one on watch, but they’re well armed. No cargo, all hostiles.”

“We need a distraction.” John studied the model. “Get them looking one way, hit them from the other.”

“Could run a damsel in distress.” Styx regretted his joke instantly.

“Do I look distressed to you?” Rosie shot back, hand resting on her sword.

“What about a strike?” John suggested, trying to shift focus.

“Set them up and knock them down.” Acheron stepped over the map as he thought. “That’ll work.”

“I need one alive.” Rosie had a coldness to her voice.

“Acheron and I will take positions here and here.” John pointed to the raised ground on either side of the house. “Styx, Tornado, on your go we’ll open up then displace. Get them firing at nothing, give you a clear shot down the middle.” John realised he’d taken charge. He expected it to feel uncomfortable, it didn’t.

“I want to move the client down the road, give us an hour.” Styx headed back to the road. Rosie handed off her antique rifle to Acheron and went with him.