A Bath Would Be Nice

Richard Ryan's pov

Blood spat into my face when a stray bullet nipped my savior's side. She twirled into the dust when both reaction and instinct took over. We needed to stay down or we'll get shot. Shoving the robot off of me, I leapt to a pipe pistol in the dust and jumped back after grabbing it. Still prone, I leaned up the dead robot as cover and started dropping opponents one by one. Only going for headshots, I only missed two or three times. After taking down four raiders with a pipe pistol the others got spooked and tactically retreated. Once they rally, they will come for us.

I could feel it.

Crawling over to Cait I draped her arm over me and started dragging her in the path towards the monorail system. We still had a lot of wilderness to cover before we were actually there. Cait grimaced after her foot slipped on a stone.

"I can walk all by myself Tex. It's just a flesh wound."

"Where's the duffel?"

"I gave it to your power armor friend, George, Ashman- whoever he is."

"Have you had your daily fix yet?"

"What-?" She groaned, but there was surprise there, "I-I don't know what you are talking about."

"Just come on!" I spat.

"You're bleedin' too you know."

"I don't have time to bleed."

My nerves hadn't noticed it yet, but I knew shrapnel or a bullet was in my shoulder. I'm thinking it's just metal debris from when bullets struck the robot I used for cover. Won't know for certain until I get my clothes off and the adrenaline fades.

Cait seemed like she was correct about her wound. I cause or catch more wounds than I fix but from my expertise I think she'd be fine. The bleeding is bad though, I might shove dirt or some other plug into our wounds and run the risk of infection so we don't pass out from blood loss. I've done it several times and only almost lost an arm once.

I was dragging her through the dust for what seemed like half an hour before bullets whizzed past my head. Instead of hitting the deck like I intended, we stumbled in our footing and tumbled down a ravine. The adrenaline and blood loss was catching up with me and all Cait could muster was a weak grunt when she hit the bottom next to me. With much effort I tried to get up but my vision was blurring before a boot put me back down.

"I'm gonna carve you up!" A Raider spat, "Wolfboy!"

Three Raiders circled Cait in the dust. Their eyes practically starved for the curves under her corset. Cait spat into the dirt and groaned, "Well? Do your worst already! You stupid rube!"

"Well love," one lesser Raider handed him a wrench, "if you insist."

Everyone froze from the unique sound, a metallic growl that only belonged to one creature. The beast was one that wasn't sentient. No, it was the sound of a death machine spinning into motion. It was the sound of the Ashmaker getting ready to kill.

The bullets sprayed out so fast that the sound blended into a purr. Our opponents were turned into spaghetti toppings from the waist up and George yelled, "Howler! You alright?!"

I picked a stray bone fragment out of my brow and shouted, "Yeah! Would you kindly toss us some Stimpaks!"

He hoofed over, minigun and duffel in tow. He was out of his power armor, the sun flashed on the blonde brute's locks as he stimmed both of us. Stretching my back, good as new, I tossed him the spare core I stole saying, "We're even."

"You still owe me for Goodneighbor."

I laughed and replied, "Boy, you owe me for talking Fahrenheit down after the Bobbi No-Nose incident."

He smirked, "I could get you in trouble and you know it."

George was one of the few people who knew of my feelings for Cait. Me and Ruven have been at odds ever since he had a fling with her in Goodneighbor. However, I was an adult. I knew that Cait and her boy toys were none of my concern but… my heart doesn't agree with my head.

"But you value your life so hush."

"Any others following?"

I glanced back at the stumps and remains of Raiders and deduced aloud, "Nah, where's the power armor?"

"Ran out of juice in the amusement park's parking garage."

"So we're close?"

"Good," Cait groaned, "I'm itchin' for a bath and a cold one in the nearest waterin' hole."

She and I were nearly covered head to toe in gore and blood splatters after the ordeal a moment ago. Dust stuck and smeared into a bloody mud on our clothes, skin and faces. While walking I casually flicked a tooth off of Cait's shoulder and she cast me a look.

Was I imagining things? Or were her green eyes burning into mine? Hope was a foolish thing to entertain. I hoped my father loved me but he cursed me even as he bled to death. I hoped Cait would turn my way but she instead sucked Ruven's dick to get off. We didn't speak until the wall of the parking garage sheltered us from the dust and wind.

"You never did say whether or not you ever clean that thing or not."

"You would smell if I didn't."

Crap.

"I would smell? The hell-?" She laughed and I corrected,

"It would smell Cait. It would smell. That's what I meant."

We were walking towards the power armor & our Geiger counters started clicking. RadThunder roiled in the distance. A RadStorm was blowing in, the Glowing Sea not far from our area.

"Wait, you do clean it! Ho-ho! Wait till the boys hear about-"

A metal rock clunked at the foot of the stolen power armor. In an instant we all were under cover when the grenade exploded and lasers and bullets followed. It happened quick, but the Chinese stealth troops years ago were quicker. The experience and training from 200 years ago came to me like I finished it last night.

I yelled at Ashman, "Throw me the M1!"

He unzipped the bag and tossed me the rifle I found in a random Raider camp. A ratty looking but trusty rifle with "BoS The Belt" etched into the stock by knife point. He tossed me some stripper clips and I jammed one into the internal magazine. Releasing and letting the chamber smack shut, I glanced to Ashman and nodded. I was ready.

He prespun the minigun expertly, got up and threw out some lead. The sound in the somewhat enclosed space was deafening and my ear rung as I looped around for a flank. Nothing attracted aggro more than a big guy with a minigun with incendiary ammo so I passed around almost unnoticed. I ran halfway up the incline to the second floor and went prone. From my nook in the building I clearly saw the baddies and started mopping up where they were entrenched.

Eight rounds later, eight silhouettes dropped and my gun pinged. The only two survivors retreated while I reloaded. Once it was safe, I groaned and rolled over. Picking at my filthy face I wondered when we were going to catch a break.

That only fluttered through me before I picked myself up by my bootstraps and got up. Moping was never my style. We have had a horrible day so far however. Nowhere for me in this godforsaken wasteland was home; except where my squad called home and that was Sanctuary. Now it's been put to the sword or worse… the torch.

Walking down the incline, I saw Ashman nudge a mangled piece of metal with his boot. Cait was already looting for supplies off the dead. I addressed George, "Is it fried?"

"It's toast."

Cait asked casually, raising her voice but not looking at us as she gathered items, "Aren't those tin cans supposed to be bloody unstoppable? What's the hold up?"

"Pop a firecracker near your hand and get burned a little. Close your fist around one and it'll mess up your hand."

"Da hell does that mean, Plato?" Cait asked.

"When the armor was open it was vulnerable to the grenade. The wires were partially melted when I lit it on fire at Sanctuary but now the wire harnesses, solenoids and the software controlling the hardware are garbage."

"Can you repair it?" I asked.

He shook his head. "No time or tools."

"Cait," I half yelled, "find out who our ambushers were?"

"I don't know!" She came back dragging something, no—someone. She tossed him, a gunner conscript, in between us, "Ask him yourself."

The young man was maybe fourteen or fifteen. No armor, just a tan wife beater and combats. The kid's shoes had holes in them and a bruising eye.

"Found him playing dead. Little runt thought he would get the jump on me."

Cait's been in a hundred plus fights, or so she says. She only lost one and that was to me but I haven't seen anyone else more capable of taking care of themselves even if they were caught off guard. The kid didn't have a wound on him and I asked,

"Let me guess, gunner conscript?"

He spat in my direction as his reply. I smiled, this should be fun. I have a talent for making the unwilling talk.