A Glimpse of Home
Jump stood upon the summit of Indian Peak, lost in contemplation of the strange seal at her feet. The metal circle had been worn by hundreds of years of weather, but it was still legible. She knelt and ran her finger over the engravings on its surface, wondering what great battle or hero’s burial site they told of. Surely the people from before knew what a majestic, holy site Indian Peak was.
Jump was broken from her reverie by the calls of a young boy. “Jump, Jump! Warriors are coming back!” he yelled, bursting with excitement. “Come on, let’s greet them!” he called before running back down the winding trail. Jump began working her way back down the summit, limping slightly due to her injured leg.
When she finally returned to the camp, she saw a mass of prisoners entering under the watchful eye of White Legs warriors. The prisoners were worn down and covered in grime from a long march. The people appeared to be from all walks of life; Jump saw vault dwellers, farmers, and even a handful of tribals. At their head stood Cornelius and his contubernium.
The two locked eyes and met in the middle of the camp while the prisoners were herded into a stockade. “Ave, scout. How has the camp been in our absence?” Cornelius inquired, not sounding dismissive for once.
“It has been boring. My leg is almost healed, but I still won’t get to join the war!” Jump pouted.
“You don’t have to worry about that. The tribe is approaching Vault 24 at this very moment. The Timekeepers are all but defeated, as you can tell,” he said, gesturing at the prisoners behind them.
A few moments later, two warriors walked past them, dragging a destroyed robot behind them. “What is that?!” Jump gasped. The machine’s sensor node was shattered while its front armor plate was cracked open, unveiling the complex mass of electronics within.
“It is a Timekeeper war machine. They are cowards, reliant on their machines. The machines halted our attack briefly, but we soon learned how to defeat them,” Cornelius boasted. “Courageous men will always overcome some soulless machine!” A few moments after this declaration, the shaman hobbled his way over to the group, visibly upset.
“We cannot take them, that’s too many!” the shaman exclaimed. “How long do we have to feed them for?”
“Calm, elder. It will be less than a moon until my men and I take them south to Caesar. Your chief demands I return north to him immediately, so I cannot take the slaves until the war is over,” Cornelius replied.
“They are going to eat all our food, leaving us to starve!” The old man was getting more agitated, and his face was beginning to turn red despite the white paint he wore.
“My scouts and I shall gather food, venerable elder. Do not worry,” Jump replied. “The children can gather plants while I lead a hunt.” The shaman was mollified, although he continued to grumble under his breath as he left Jump and Cornelius.
A few hours later, Jump had organized the handful of scouts still at Indian Peak into hunting parties while the children began harvesting plants near the war camp. Jump set out with her loyal companion Kip and Echo, a member of her scavenging party. Kip quickly found the scent of a herd of bighorners, mutated bighorn sheep.
The dog led them through dense desert scrub before heading along a dry creek. After half an hour of walking, the creek bed slowly ended, leading into a series of bluffs. Echo spotted a herd of bighorners grazing at the top of the nearest bluff, oblivious to the hunters below them. There were three calves, a huge bull, and three females. A bull alone would provide plenty of meat for the tribe, so Jump worked to position herself downwind of the herd.
After finding a good position to lie down and stabilize her rifle, Jump took aim at the bull. She lined up a shot for its heart, paused her breathing, and slowly squeezed the trigger. The rifle barked out, and the bull fell, mortally wounded. A moment later, the hunters heard a man cry out in pain as the rest of the herd fled down the far side of the bluff.
Jump and Echo went running, Kip excitedly yapping at their heels, suddenly curious where the scream came from. When they reached the bluff, the bighorner was on its side, drawing a few ragged breaths as blood oozed from its wound. A pair of human legs could be seen sticking out from under the beast, clad in combat boots and bluish pants. The two tribals heaved the bighorner off the unfortunate man and were shocked by what they saw.
There was a man, clearly alive except for the bullet wound in his side, but he looked like a corpse! His skin looked badly burnt as it was covered in scrabs and open wounds showing the muscle beneath while his nose was almost entirely gone, and his hair was patchy.
“By the Sky Father, what are you?” Echo exclaimed as Jump applied healing powder and began to bandage the hideous man’s bullet wound. Neither of them could understand his strange language, but Jump noticed he kept repeating himself, saying something like “Al bert”.
“Help me carry him. We have to get him to the shaman, I’ve only stopped the bleeding,” Jump ordered.
“What about the bighorner?” Echo demanded.
“Leave it! You can come back with more hunters after we get back,” Jump said. She then took one of Echo’s spears and drove it into the ground. She tied a strip of fabric to the haft, marking the site of their kill. The two then set out, with Echo taking hold of the man’s upper body, and Jump his legs. The going was rough as Jump’s injured leg pained her and caused her to stop briefly. The final push through the scrub proved the hardest, but the scouts pushed on despite the branches clawing at their legs.
When they finally reached the camp, almost all the hunters and gatherers had already returned and were preparing what they gathered. “Help, help! Someone is hurt!” Jump called out, spurring the White Legs into action. The shaman was roused from his meditation and gathered his medicinal herbs while the others brought the strange man to a well-lit hut, placing him on a crude wooden table.
Jump shooed the tribals from the room since they only wanted to ogle the hideous man in the hut. She took his hand, silently willing him to cling to life. “The shaman is almost here; he will help you,” she babbled while the strange man weakly opened his eyes. He muttered something in response, but it was faint as a whisper. A few moments later, the shaman opened the flap and entered, leaning heavily on his staff. Another tribal rushed in, her arms filled with medicinal herbs and bandages.
“He is an Old One! Where did you find him?” the shaman demanded of Jump, turning his stern gaze on her. The apprentice deposited her load and rushed from the tent once more.
“He was standing behind a bighorner, and I shot him!” she exclaimed. “Please save him! I do not want this man to die because of me,” she continued, visibly upset at the thought.
“It is alright child, I will do everything I can for him,” he said. At this point, the apprentice returned, bearing a bucket full of water. “Now go, child, sleep. I will care for this man. Someone will come when he is better,” he continued, pointing Jump toward the exit.
The scout left as ordered and absentmindedly walked to her own tent, climbing into her bedroll. She slept, but it was the restless, anxious sleep of a worried mind. Several thoughts went through her head, foremost among them the possibility of killing an innocent man…killing the tribe’s enemies in war was good, but the strange man was not an enemy. Another thought nagged at her; how did the shaman know what this strange man was?
When Jump awoke, she felt the soft light of a new morning filtering through her tent, giving her body a faint yellow glow. She resisted opening her eyes a few moments, relishing the comfort of her bedroll. However, the thoughts soon returned, driving her to check on the strange man. As she walked through the camp, few were stirring. A handful of people were preparing the morning’s cook-fires while a few hunters were returning with their haul from the traps.
Jump reached the tent where the strange man was and paused briefly. She feared the man might be dead but had to know. She steeled her mind and gently lifted the flap, stepping inside. The shaman slept in the corner on a bundle of furs while the strange man was still on the table. His chest gently rose and fell, relieving Jump greatly. His wound had obviously been bad though, as bloody bandages were strewn all about the ground.
Jump seated herself in the corner and patiently waited for the shaman to wake up. After quite some time he finally did, slightly shocked to see the scout back in the tent. “Help me up, child, and then we can talk,” he whispered. The two left the tent and seated themselves on the ground twenty paces away.
“Will he live?” Jump immediately demanded, the concern clear on her face.
“I have done all I can, and it is in the gods’ hands now,” the shaman replied. “But I think there is a good chance. I was able to remove the bullet, and he made it through the night.” Jump was clearly relieved but needed more answers.
“You know what he is, don’t you, venerable elder?” she inquired, thirsting for knowledge. The shaman hesitated for a moment, clearly collecting his thoughts.
“He is an Old One, a man from before the Harrowing. In exchange for eternal life, their bodies become like a corpse. Most say it is a curse, some say it is a blessing. Regardless, he knows secret, terrible things from the Old World,” the shaman finally offered.
“What tongue does he speak? I do not understand him but want to,” Jump pleaded, desperate to know more.
“It is something the Outmen call In-glisch,” the shaman said, pronouncing the strange word hesitantly. “It is the tongue of the Legion, as well as those to the west, on the shores of the Great Sea. I know only a few words, but it was enough to know the man’s name is Albert.”
“Thank you, venerable elder. Has Cornelius left already?” she inquired with a hint of urgency.
“I do not think so, child. He planned to leave tomorrow,” the shaman said. “Why the change in topic?”
“I must go to see him! Thank you!” Jump called out as she excitedly rose and ran off to find the servant of the Bull. The shaman shook his head, concerned at this sudden need to know the Old World…
Note: So, a new character is introduced. I hope you don't mind the adventure at home. It can be hard to write battle scenes that are unique and interesting, so I'm trying to save them for critical moments. This also allows me to develop my characters and the Fallout world, so hopefully you enjoy!
We should learn more about this mysterious man, but I'm willing to answer any questions now if interested. Thanks for following along, and I look forward to your thoughts!
