The experience of wandering the Mojave was all relative to the perspective. After the great fires cleansed and contaminated the Earth, the vast landscape was no longer of its tranquil nature. Wars were fought between those who couldn’t co-exist, creatures twisted by the very chemicals of death, starvation and madness stole the away the lost and pathless.
Tala rested atop a mountainous dune as her eyes — long since acclimated to the dark — studied the environment around her. Her tied back, silk-like black hair blew with the light breeze. It was a quiet night. She liked quiet.
Since dawn, she had been traveling place to place gathering whatever scraps or things left behind that she could. With the Legion victory over New Vegas, things that were available to all had suddenly gone scarce. Her pack was decently full. She could still move about freely, but the noise. The noise would give her away. There was no remedy for that.
For as long as she could remember, she had lived and breathed the harsh Nevada terrain. Being of the Mohave people, their principles of being of the land had been ingrained into her. She grew up with the language, culture, and the skills to survive the wilderness. Different from the time before the Earth turned to such a sad shade of color, the game wasn’t what her ancestral relatives were accustomed to. Her prey were those that could kill her as easily as she could a rodent. Every night before sleep took her, she wondered how it would have been to live in the past. Surely kinder than the present.
Taking a water skin from her belt underneath her long, dark brown overcoat, she took a sip of the precious liquid. It was her tribe’s most guarded secret to where they gathered fresh, unradiated water. Capping the skin, she tied it back onto her belt.
Getting ready to move on, Tala heard something from behind as she spun around with hunting rifle drawn shortly after. Her hazel brown eyes narrowed as several figures stopped dead in their tracks.
“Easy,” said the man up front. “We don’t want any trouble, miss.”
On closer inspection, Tala saw the collars latched around the necks of those behind the speaker. “You’re a slaver.”
The man shook his head. “Those devils can rot under the Mojave sun,” he said. “I’m getting these people out of Caesar’s paradise. Like I said, I’m not looking for trouble. Ask any of them.”
Before she could, another pair of footsteps slowly approached the group. Tala shifted so she could see both parties. As the newcomers drew closer, she recognized the men. “The Underground? Alex?”
The man wearing a dusty cowboy hat looked at her. A wide grin broke across his face. Tag that with his shaggy, brown hair, it was almost comical. “Well I’ll be damned! Didn’t know you were working the routes tonight, Tala.” Alex looked towards the man Tala was almost ready to shoot. “The safe house is all set up. We’ll lead you there. Gotta keep quiet though. We tagged us some happy trigger legionnaires on the way here.”
Tala blinked. “I never heard a thing.”
“Then we did a damn good job,” Alex said. “Head out with those two. I’ll bring up the rear.”
The smuggler nodded as he urged his caravan to get moving. Even after having some dealings with the Underground, Tala wondered what was in it for those who did what they did. Was it simply out of morality or did the slaves owe the group something upon their freedom? Surely it was much more preferred to try their luck out here than in Neo Roma.
“You guiding again?”
Tala leaned to her left and breathed out deeply. “Scavenging,” she said. “If you hadn’t shown up, I’d have put a round in the smuggler. Slavers are hardly the truth-doers.”
Alex grunted as he took out a cigarette. Flipping out out a lighter, he lit the end, took a long draft, then puffed out white smoke. “We could use your help. You may be a selfish bitch, but you can be helpful … at times.”
“I don’t ‘help’ out of charity.”
“It’s a human obligation. We can’t leave them in Caesar’s care! The bastards absolute bat shit crazy!”
“And he happens to have the strongest army. Alex, they pushed back the NCR. They took Camp McCarren. The only reason why they haven’t taken Nellis is because of the Boomer’s prewar weapons. If I’m going to risk my neck — literally — for people I don’t even know? ‘Human obligation’ vaporized when the world went to shit.”
Shuffling the pack higher on her back, she slung her rifle over her shoulder and felt the reassuring handle of her tribal tomahawk. A genuine tomahawk, not some second-rate replica made by some gang. “Try not to get yourself killed. Being crucified isn’t the worst thing the Legion can dish out.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Alex said as he began to move in the direction that the others went. “Stay safe out here Tala. The wastes can really screw a loner.”
—
A good hour had passed since the meeting with the Underground. Tala was en route to a nearby safe house, which the Underground frequented regularly. Due to its proximity to the front lines of the NCR and Legion, it was this region that slaves often fled and were picked up by people such as Alex.
Her relationship with the Underground was a mix. A good handful of the members hated her guts while others loved her. Their knowledge of the Mojave was limited compared to hers. Because of this, they had tried to buy her services permanently. She adamantly refused. She helped if it helped her. Otherwise, her care for the victims of the Legion — or the NCR for that matter — was minute.
When the hill marking the safe house came into view, she unslung her rifle and cradled it within her gloved hands. Mutated creatures, raiders, or gangs often roamed at night. When she began her ascent, an explosion echoed through the vast Mojave night.
She hit the ground searching for the sound. In the distance, she vaguely saw the outline of decrepit building with fires all around. The details were all unknown to her, and she didn’t have the desire to find out.
It was only when the rumble passed did she finally hear the footsteps. A lone figure ran in her direction. She rolled her eyes as she took aim. Seems like everyone’s coming out tonight.
When the figure drew closer, she took a knee and steadied the butt end of her rifle against her shoulder. “That’s close enough.”
She cased the lightly tanned man like she would any beast during a hunt. When she was younger, she made mistakes that she paid for gravely. Like her elder said, ‘only the maddened men repeat the same mistakes tenfold.’