2600 parole (15 min. di lettura)
One More Tomorrow di Frankie Carle
Gazes fixed on the sky, bodies motionless, whole minutes pass.
With disbelief, the group watches the cloud thin out and turn into a single, homogeneous grayish background.
Fred Zinjan on his part has seen plenty of small nukes being lauched throughout his long and ghoulish life: breaking the general stillness, he stretches, takes a deep breath and, with his now iconic partial smile, addresses the humans in the group, “Mr. Sanderclive, Chemistry Man…you have some Rad-X, don’t you?”
From behind the anti-gas mask, right before the sweet drugs that have just entered his system bring him back to that awful reality, a terrified Bittercaps stutters: “Look ghoul, I…I only have Calmex….”
Leo Sanderclive shrugs but with a closer look one can catch the ex-soldier’s concentration in analyzing the situation and assessing the danger.
Fred then turns to the Mr. Handy:
“Hey tin can…”
No response from the automaton.
“Tin can…with the red eye…”
Still no response.
“Hey, non-protein thing!”
“Ooooh, you were talking to me! Just say it! Now… isn’t that the area where your new friends lived? What exactly were they growing?”
“Look, I don’t really know. Only sure thing is you will find well-cooked food there… The question is, are we safe now? Do you know if there are other settlements in the area or, more importantly, potential raiders?”
“Me? I…let’s see…” replied Band3r “…I was actually sleeping. And I’ve been sleeping for…actually I don’t even know how long I’ve been sleeping. The memory is quite damaged, I’ll have to work on that and I’ll get back to you.”
Lastly, Fred turns a now unenthusiastic look to the Supermutant: “Lee, Lee, do you even have any information? Furthermore, are we safe from that mushroom cloud, or should we get a little farther away?!”
The green giant grimaces, “Mmmmh, that’s why I’ve always kept as far as possible from humans…. Nearby I haven’t seen any settlements, just a few passing groups. Regarding that cloud over there…”
Band3r interrupts “Judging by the size of the mushroom, the power of the explosion, and what appears to be the area affected by the shock wave, considering that we were not reached by radiation…I can tell you that the bomb’s strength was around 100 tons. Nothing more than a small toy, if you ask me.”
All eyes are fixed on the Mr. Handy.
After a few moments of disbelief, Fred starts again, “Well, I understand we’ll have to camp out in this big building to spend the night, and then figure out what to do.
No need to rush now… those poor people, there’s nothing more we can do for them…”
Leo adds: “I don’t think they had some kind of shelter down there… and I’m not going to verify that. I’m just curious to know where that bomb came from.”
Band3r approaches the ex-soldier and places one of the metal arms on his shoulder “I don’t know how to tell you this but…I don’t think you can save the bomb anymore…I’m sorry.”
Closing his eyes and sighing deeply, Leo starts moving in the direction of the building, “Let’s secure the building and set up a makeshift camp. Let’s recover for a moment: Bittercaps and I will then stay here, away from the radiation, while anyone who wants can go and see…the crater.”
Marshall Lee‘s perpetually sullen gaze softens as he turns to the other Supermutant, Sloth, and hastens to say, “Yes, but he’s staying here, with you. And you had better take care of my little brother!”
Leo feels his blood run cold, but he does not lose his composure and keeps walking…while poor Bittercaps starts being more and more agitated.
The rooms of what, at one time in the distant past, would seem to have been something called a “post office” turn out to have become home only to cockroaches and skeletons, locked in unnatural and sometimes ambiguous positions.
After planting and activating the turrets they recovered from the Parentis, Marshall Lee, driven by a feeling of affection for that gentle supermutant, more similar to him than any he had ever met before, turns to Sloth: “Sloth, listen here, I entrust these humans to your Superhero custody!”
Sloth’s face brightens up and he assumes the superhero pose so quickly learned from Fred Zinjan, before sprinting inside the post office. A few heavy thuds and a creepy clang of sheet metal can be heard, which suddenly alarm the entire group; Sloth then returns with pieces of metal shelves strapped to his chest to the cry of “Super Sloth!”.
After that little moment of dread, the group enjoys a meal entirely provided by the Parentis’, and with the sun high in the sky, those in the group with some form of radiation resistance set off toward their destination.
After walking a few minutes amidst irradiated air, Band3r, Fred, and Marshall find themselves in front of the blast area: Fred recognizes the remnants of the homes where he found himself no more than a couple of days before, piled on stacks of broken trees, swept away by the force of the explosion; pieces of cars, containers, bathtubs, household appliances, and other small treasures from post-apocalyptic zones create perilous sculptures, a few dozen feet from the crater center.
It is Marshall Lee’s heavy hand, resting on Fred’s shoulder, that wakes him up from zoning out: standing at the crater’s rim, he glumly observes the total absence of trap doors or openings for fallout shelters. The two exchange a nod of understanding, then turn in unison in the direction of a tall pile of debris: from the carcass of what must once have been a luxury Corvega, atop the pile of debris and junk, comes the only living sound in the area: the yelp of a dog.
Fred frowns his wrinkled forehead, trying to recall for a moment the presence of animals at the settlement; finding no immediate answers, he puts aside his other useless musings and launches himself to rescue what appeared to be a helpless creature, followed closely by the Supermutant.
At the base of the unstable pyramid, the heroic ghoul pauses for a moment to analyze the path, then sprints off in an acrobatic dance that takes him just over six meters high, with pieces of wood and wreckage plummeting after every step. As he reaches the top in front of the Corvega, he distinguishes the silhouette of the quadruped squeezed inside the collapsed metal of the trunk, which had probably protected the creature from the explosion but now threatened to become a grave. Thanks to the trusty axe and all the strength left in his two-hundred-year-old body, Fred’s immense effort is enough to unhinge the trunk and welcome the dog with a satisfied look.
As B4nd3r’s processors are being richly entertained by the roiling scene of his new traveling companion, two of his three eyes turn sharply in the direction of the radioactive fog that populates the decrepit clearing, a hundred meters from their position.
The robot remains almost motionless for several seconds with all sound sensors active.
A quick data analysis confirms the system hypothesis: that buzz, or rather, the buzzes it had picked up, were not produced by something mechanical, but by something that populated planet Earth well before the Age of Atomic Bombs.
Something that now, however, seems to be a few sizes larger.
Fred barely has time to spot the crooked leg of the quadruped, other than several cuts and lacerations before realizing that the ground is collapsing under his feet.
Marshall Lee mumbles an “Uh oh…” and starts to open his arms, trying to intercept the trajectory of the ghoul that vainly tries to jump on other falling debris.
“If you’re done there, we may have to move,” announces the Mr. Handy.
“Wha-” the ghoul does not have time to finish the sentence.
The cacophony of shattered wood and bent metal grows louder and louder as the imbalanced structure finally collapses to the ground.Band3r stares at the companions with the prehensile arm pointed toward the clearing.
The huge Supermutant holds the ghoul, who in turn clutches the wounded dog.
They stare at him silently and with conspicuous breathlessness, then turn toward the indicated area.
Silhouettes begin to stand out, floating a meter above the ground and displacing the fog with their wingbeats.
Squinting, Fred jumps down from Lee’s grasp.
“Give me the dog,” suggests the latter.
“Legs!” shouts Fred.
The automatic turrets placed around the post office activate, causing Bittercaps and Leo Sanderclive to gasp, while they were focused on searching the building for something interesting, with little result.
“Cease fire!” shouts a voice from the same side they had come from.
Despite his many years of military training, Leo is lightning quick to head for cover near one of the windows oriented toward the new arrivals; peeking his head out, he shouts to the new arrivals to identify themselves.
Meanwhile, a worried Bittercaps has his heart in his throat over Sloth’s jolt caused by turret fire, and he tries to calm the supermutant down, with rather convinced caresses, and a few sweet words, “It’s all right Sloth…keep doing your drawings…So Sloth yes, show how good you are.”
“Identify yourself!” repeats Sanderclive, but this time the response comes over dry and immediate: “This is Paladin Sarah Miller, of the Brotherhood of Steel, Washington Division. We are trying to reach the explosion area and this is the only viable road. I repeat, cease fire!”
Bittercaps crosses his gaze with that of the former Enclave soldier and for a moment glimpses concern on his face, then from outside an ultimatum reaches them: “We have no hostile intentions, but I repeat it for the last time. Cease fire or we will be forced to open fire in our turn.”
Leo stares in silence at Bittercaps, who gesticulates convulsively and chokes out words to keep a low tone of voice, and manages to catch at least one ‘No,’ something about the building and then his finger pointed dryly at the supermutant behind him.
“Okay!” shouts Sanderclive “We will let you through, but do not approach the building. Stay where we can see you and continue on past.”
With that said, he turns to give instructions to Bittercaps, who in response curses, reminding Leo that he is not in his service. Then, with Sanderclive continuing to stare at him unblinkingly, he gives Sloth one last pat on the shoulder, before proceeding to the turrets.
Leo’s hand remains on the plasma pistol holster as he peers out the window.
For a moment the two allies hear the same voice giving orders, “Initiate, go out into the open as agreed and keep your hands in full view. I’ll cover you.”
In response, “But! But why me, I don’t want to get killed!”
“Because you are the Initiate, do as I say and move your ass!”
Sanderclive sees a silhouette pushed out of cover from a hovel without a hint of delicacy, and taking a few steps down the street with hands raised: the guy is wearing combat armor with the typical Brotherhood of Steel gray, on his belt is a laser pistol, but far more striking is his terrified look.
After a few interminable seconds he turns his head slightly to his back, without taking his eyes off the building, then says, “And…what now?”
A second figure emerges from behind the hovel and advances with determined steps, grumpily moving aside the Initiate with an annoyed shove.
“Ouch!”
The woman shoots him a dirty look from behind her Vertibird pilot sunglasses, while her raven hair, largely graying with age, is moved by a slight breeze. Paladin Sarah Miller pauses for a moment to stare out the window from which Sanderclive’s face can be seen: she is a woman of advanced years, of medium height, dressed in Brotherhood armor and looking proud. One of the shoulder straps is missing, giving a glimpse of skinny but strong arms, as well as full of scars; over her shoulder she carries a laser rifle with optical sights and on her belt a pistol with spare cells.
Miller keeps on staring at the window with a dismissive pose, shifting his weight to one leg and without uttering a word.
A grimace opens on his weather-scarred face, revealing the smile of someone who can place a laser rifle beam through a flea’s ass at two hundred meters.
“Initiate. Elvise. Focker. You are such a chickenshit.
I wonder how the hell they accepted you into the Brotherhood–but more importantly, how they assigned you to me!”
Meanwhile, Bittercaps is paralyzed, mesmerized by the veins running across Sloth’s taut calf, when a mechanical buzzing sound makes him squint. Slowly turning his head, he finds himself staring at a large metal sphere equipped with antennas intent on analyzing the room. He begins to burn himself with fear, as the eyebot starts coming dangerously close to the green whopper; cold sweat starts running down his spine.
In a choked voice he calls his ally’s attention, “Hey…hey…Sanderclive! Leo! A metal thing came in through the window. It’s, it’s…it’s flying near Sloth! Oooohh shit!”.
The former soldier, made aware of the new presence in the building and spotting the typical Brotherhood equipment Bittercaps was talking, shouts outside.
“Hey, you! Is the eyebot yours?”
The two Brotherhood members start looking around gradually faster and cursing, then Miller sighs, “Damn it! Yeah, they stuck me with that thing. If you let us in, I’ll get it back–“
“No,” “No!” She hears back from the two survivors one after the other.
“Well then you’ll have to handle it. But mind you: it’s still the property of the Brotherhood of Steel…””Leo, I have no idea how this thing works. Do I shoot it?”
“No!” retorts Sanderclive.
“Can I push it?”
“But it floats! How the hell–leave it alone, I’ll be right there.”
As the two debate how to handle the situation, Paladin Miller sighs, removing the laser pistol from the Initiate’s holster with a lightning gesture, and tries again to intervene, “I have disarmed Focker. I can send him inside to retrieve the robot so you will be finally able to get rid of us. Okay?!”
After a moment’s hesitation, Sanderclive authorizes the intervention. He then turns to his group, aiming to avert a potentially disastrous situation “Okay. So, Sloth, have you seen the pretty balloon going around the room? Here, a clown will now come in and take it back, okay?”
Meanwhile, the eyebot goes out the window independently, causing everyone inside and outside to curse, minus Sloth.
“Oooh…bye-bye balloon.”
Main characters and creatures
