I've had quite a bit of feedback about my Fallout stories. So as promised here is another. There will be more in the future and hopefully in a timely manor. Please comment/vote.
Mac
***
Agatha's door flew open and three men rushed in. They were hauling a fourth wounded man. Fear flooded Mur's gut at the sight of the men's body armor. Unique black combat armor with a white bird's claw painted on the left breast. Talon Company. Mercenaries for hire and reputedly the worst of the worst.
They gently set the wounded man on Agatha's bed. He groaned a bit but that was it. Mur could see that he had some kind of wound in his upper left leg. Probably a bullet considering they were mercs and this was the wasteland. It had been treated and was wrapped in gauze. It wasn't bleeding profusely but it was oozing and infection could set in quickly in the radiated ruins of the old world.
"We need med supplies." One of them commanded Agatha.
Agatha who'd been playing a new piece of music for Mur, set her violin down and stood up, crossing her arms over her chest.
"You're not welcome here." She said stubbornly.
The man pulled his pistol out of the holster on his hip and pointed it at her.
"Damn it old woman, don't make me fucking kill you!"
Mur stood up and put her hand on Agatha's shoulder and squeezed.
"I've got medical supplies in my pack." She said to the man pointing the pistol at Agatha. "It's probably enough to keep your friend alive until you get where you're going."
"Fine. Get them." He commanded her, holstering his gun. "And hurry up about it."
Mur grabbed her pack off of Agatha's table and pulled out her small med kit, all under the scrutiny of the intense man. She brought the kit over to the men standing by the bed.
"Which one of you is the medic?" She asked.
"You're looking at him." One of them said, pointing down at the wounded man.
Mur wrinkled her nose and bumped the man who'd spoken. He moved out of the way and she bent over the injured man. He was classically handsome with a strait nose and knife blade cheekbones. The all American man that you saw on all of the old war posters. She could picture him leading men into battle and killing commies.
She gently pulled the bandage back to have a look. It actually looked pretty good.
"It's been treated." She said mainly to herself.
"Yeah. Conn took care of it before he passed out." The man who'd moved away told her. "He used all of his stims to start the healing process."
Mur nodded. Stimpacks were good for healing but most people usually forgot to save at least one just in case of infection. She reached out and touched his forehead and pulled her hand back quickly, he was so hot. She popped open her med kit and injected him with a stimpack. And then another one just for good measure. She gently changed his bandage and then covered him with a blanket.
"You need to give him twenty four hours or so to get back on his feet." Mur told the intense man, assuming that he was leader of the small company.
He nodded and then looked over at Agatha.
"Caravans?"
"Nothing for a few days." Agatha said with an eye roll.
"Check the attitude old woman, I'm barely holding onto my temper as it is." The intense man growled.
"I'm going to go out and tend my garden." Agatha said and stomped toward the door. "Come on dear."
"The girl stays." The intense mad said leaving no room for argument.
Agatha huffed and threw her hands up in the air, exiting the small shack.
"Sit."
The intense man barked the order at Mur and she went and took her place at the table again. He sat in Agatha's vacated chair and the other two just plopped on the floor next to the bed. Their hands rested on their guns and they looked like sentries guarding their fallen comrade.
"So, uh are you Agatha's grandkid or something?" The man who'd moved asked.
"She's one of those damn vault dwellers." The intense man said before she could answer.
"How do you figure that commander?" The third man asked looking her over.
"It's that lily white skin." He reached out and lightly ran a finger over Mur's nose. "Have you ever seen a sunburned nose on a Wastlander?"
"I never have." The third man said thoughtfully and then asked, "So what's it like in a vault?"
Mur shuddered a bit. Just thinking about the vault made her break out in a sweat.
"Go into a large bunker and never come out." Mur told the men.
"Man that would suck." The third man said. "I'm Drake by the way. Drake Robertson."
"I'm Beck Sloan." The man sitting next to him said. "And that's Commander Wyatt Thane. And of course you met Connor. He's Wyatt's brother."
Wyatt just leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes.
"Don't get chummy with the vault dweller." He told the men and then changed his mind, opening his eyes to look at Mur.
He looked nothing like his brother. He was handsome in a square jawed harsh kind of way. His skin was darkly tanned, as per wasteland standards, and his hair was black. His eyes were a bit disturbing though. They were a turbulent blue gray that didn't seem to match the rest of him.
