Chapter 122: Hopeville

Chapter 122: Hopeville

MARKED

The words were painted above another skinned corpse; unlike the other bodies, this one was nailed to the wall with huge railroad spikes. I honestly couldn't tell if the words were written in actual paint, or if it was dried blood. Neither would've surprised me.

"Friend_Courier, we must move on," ED-E chimed in from behind me. "I believe this door will lead us outside."

"Oh yeah?" I asked, gladly turning away from the grisly sight. "What, did you use some kind of sonic laser scan, or maybe some kind of multi-spectrum terrain analyzer?" ED-E hovered in front of me for a few seconds, as if staring at me in disbelief. If he had eyes, I'm sure he would've been rolling them.

"No," ED-E floated away from me, and up to a spot above the bulkhead door. "I just looked at the sign." It was a small box, hanging by a thread above the door, yet still somehow illuminated with the word "EXIT."

"Fair enough," I said with a chuckle. I pulled on the handle to activate the door's hydraulics, and was caught completely unaware by the sudden blast of wind that hit me in the face. It didn't even wait for the door to be fully open, either - as soon as there was the tiniest of cracks, there was a massive rush of dirt, sand, and grit that blasted me like it had been shot from a cannon. I have to be honest, I was exceptionally glad for the helmet... otherwise, I wouldn't have been able to see anything until the wind died down. Even so, I really had to struggle just to stay on my feet until I finally made my way outside.

Far in the distance, the sandstorm was so thick that it was like a giant blanket of brown draped over the sky. Closer to the silo's exit - where I was standing - the winds were certainly blowing harder, but the sands were thin enough to see though. The exit was at the base of a cliff, surrounded by broken chain-link fences that separated it from the ruins of an old world army town. Ruined and broken brick buildings, only one or two stories high, were the major feature here. There were a few rusted army Quonset huts here and there, and dozens of cars, trucks, and military vehicles abandoned on what was left of the roads. Most of the vehicles had been practically worn down to the frames, almost being torn apart. And, as a final capstone to this pyramid of suck... my Pip Boy's Geiger counter had started to click.

"Alright," I muttered, leaning against the doorframe so I could brace myself against the wind which had, thankfully, started to die down. "Which way do you think from here, ED-E?" As I spoke, I pulled the G-36 off my back to check the ammo. I was getting that sinking feeling in my gut again... but this time, it wasn't due to imminent violence. I looked up as I finished, and saw a pair of silvery orbs - more eyebots - flying up high over the ruins, and then I watched as they vanished into the sandstorm.

Silence.

I looked over at ED-E, realizing that he still hadn't responded to my question. He'd stopped moving entirely... and a small light was blinking at the bottom of his speaker grill.

"There's your signal..." A deep voice growled out of ED-E speaker. Even though it didn't sound like he was raising his voice to be heard, it was still loud enough to be clear over the still howling wind. "Faint... but there. Taking your chances, coming here. Just like bringing the lord of Vegas his tribute... Twenty-nine less coins than other traitors have carried, if history's true." He let out a single grim chuckle. "You and that chip... deserve each other."

"Ulysses..." I growled out, the grip on my rifle tightening out of reflex. He let out a strange sort of growl... not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh. Apparently, he could hear me. That was new. All the other times people had used ED-E to communicate with me, I couldn't talk back.

"I am. Not my given name. Close enough," He paused. "Took it from history. Found it in a book. An Old World name. Ulysses lived... long time ago. Long before the Old World set fire to itself. He made his mark... without being myth. Had to fight during a time when his world was two flags. He fought to make them one." I stared at the speaker grill in disbelief, the gears in my head already turning, remembering my conversation with Arcade and Veronica from earlier.

"Wait, you mean... you're talking about the civil war general? The one from history, Ulysses S. Grant? Not the one from Roman myth?" Much as him using my friend as a flying radio annoyed me, I was unable to quiet my curiosity. He let out a small satisfied "Hmmm..." noise.

"History. Yes. Ulysses walked a hard road. A general, like Csar or Oliver." As he spoke, I noticed something peculiar: he pronounced the name 'Ceasar' in exactly the same way Legionaries pronounced it. 'Kai-zar,' instead of 'See-ser.' That was odd. "Brahmin-stubborn like them, too. Gave him strength on the battlefield. Led his side to victory, turned two flags into one. That's when he lost. When the fighting was done, the sickness took hold." He went quiet again, and ED-E trembled, but did not move.

"So you took the name... why?" I asked. "Because of the 'two flags' reference? The war between the 'two flags' of NCR and Legion?" Was he Legion? The way he pronounced the name was one thing, but... he didn't talk like someone in Caesar's Legion...

"War..." he scoffed. "Call it that. Our part in it. Ulysses wasn't made for the flag he followed. Wasn't made for peace. That's the lesson. If you follow a symbol to the end... ask yourself what that means." He grunted out a cough. "More than that... ask what happens after the end."

"I'm not interested in what happens after the end," I pointed at ED-E, in an attempt to point at Ulysses. Could he see me? I didn't know. Too many questions... Let's focus on something simple first. "What I want to know right now is how you're speaking through ED-E." Ulysses was completely silent for quite a while. I almost thought I'd gotten him to give me my friend back.

But no.

"You... you gave it a name." It was like he couldn't understand what he'd just heard. "The robot with you... all of them are machines. Radios. Old World tech reshaped with new hands. Historians. Couriers, carrying messages. Seen them as I've walked the Divide, tending other machines..."

"But... ED-E's not from the Divide..." Is he? "The recording of Whitley I heard, he... he mentioned the east coast..." Ulysses just laughed. It was a grim, unpleasant sort of thing. I didn't like it.

"That one..." he continued. "Sealed inside the Hopeville silo. Woke up when the tank cracked. It wandered. Explored. Sign America is waking up, too. Found its way to Primm... and breathed its last. Until you gave it purpose again." I went stiff. That was an interesting piece of information. Was he lying about that? Before I got a chance to think any more about this worrying development, Ulysses growled again. "I wonder... what is it to you? Tool? Slave? Weapon?"

"Friend," I said forcefully. Ulysses seemed to be at a loss for words, yet again. I shifted the grip on my G-36, and continued. "You know, you went to a lot of trouble to lure me here. I think you should start by telling me who you are - not your name, but who you are - and what you want." ED-E wobbled in place, but still didn't move.

"I'm a Courier..." Ulysses began. "Courier Six... was Courier Six. Like you... and not like you. In all the ways that matter. Spent too many years looking for you. Now? Letting you... come to me. Thought that Chip you carry would end you. But... no. You got lives in you. Hard to kill. Storms, bullets... sand and wind. Yet still you walk." He paused. "For now."

"Yeah, I already figured out that much..." I said, trying to keep cool. "You were meant to carry the Chip instead of me."

"Meant to..." he said, grunting out a 'hmph.' "No. Never 'meant' to. The Chip was always your burden. Weigh you down long enough to let Death catch up to you... but you survived. There was Death in that package, and while the Chip is important to Old World ghosts... no. No, you are more dangerous than that Chip ever could be. Maybe why you found each other. Little piece of the Old World, speaking to you. Waiting for you to wake up the Old World with it."

"I don't believe in fate," I said, scowling at him. It was useless even if he could see me, since I was wearing the helmet, but it made me feel better. "Fact is, you refused the job. Why? Because you knew Benny was coming after it? To set me up to die?" I asked.

"We all have Death following us," he said softly. "Only question of how close." The way he was speaking about death and following and all that... it reminded me of Boone. It was an eerily familiar sensation that sent a shiver up my spine. "You dodged it - for a time. You're good at that. Talent for it. With that Chip weighing you down... a burden. Lets Death move a little faster without me pulling the trigger..."

"So, you do want me dead then? Is that why you invited me here?" I looked around, suddenly acutely aware that any place in the ruins beyond the broken chain-link fence that was higher than two stories would have a clear line of sight to my current position for any rifle with a respectable range... after a few seconds, when the shot didn't come, I turned back to ED-E. "Why wait? What's stopping you?"

"Promises to keep. To others..." he said quickly. Almost too quickly. Like it was rehearsed. "And the wasteland is dangerous enough. Left to the land, the land has its way. And... if I wanted you dead, we would have met sooner." Ulysses grumbled something under his breath I couldn't quite hear, but then spoke up again. "Not sure that's the way this ends. Might be that History needs to have its say. If not... then messages will do."

"... what?" I asked, not entirely certain of what he was talking about. Hell, I wasn't even sure if I was loud enough to be heard. My only response was ED-E finally moving forward. But the movements were careful and measured, sticking at a fixed height above the ground, rather than bobbing up and down at a height above my head. Ulysses was still controlling him. The eyebot moved past me, and seemed to stare out at the ruins.Follow current novels on novelb((in).(com)

"America sleeps ahead of you. Its nightmares filled with quakes. Storms. You'll need to find your own path." The Ulysses-controlled ED-E spun in place, and looked directly at me again. "That means waking America's spears up from their slumber. Warheads set off the collapse. Warheads could open the gates again. You're... resourceful. This machine, robot with you. It can help you find the warheads you need to destroy. And their trigger. The detonator. The way ahead is below. The tools are there. The rest? Up to you." That sounded ominously final, but I didn't yet have all the answers. Not yet. So I rolled the dice.

"Wait, hang on..." I said aloud, kicking myself as soon as I opened my trap; the longer I spoke with Ulysses, the longer my friend would be trapped. "If... if we share history, then before going forward... I want to know the past."

"Who are you, who do not know your history?" Ulysses said with a strange... I didn't know what to call it... melancholy? Reverence? Disdain? His voice was so raspy, and so seemingly drained of emotion, it was hard to get a read on his intent. "You came all this way for answers. Only currency I have. Nothing else to be gained." He paused, as if thinking. "Could turn around. Walk away at any time. But... if history matters to you, you'll need to earn it. Any logs of mine I have already cast away in the Divide. They're lost to you. For now? Find the trigger for the warheads, buried in Hopeville. Use it to keep moving - and stay alive."

"ED-E," I hissed. "Vanish." As I spoke, I pressed the button in the center of my belt with a click. There was an electrical crackle above my head, and ED-E disappeared behind a stealth field; I became transparent as well seconds later, after the multi-colored rainbow miasma washed over me. Cautiously, slowly, I started backing up again. I only stopped when I felt I was adequately hidden behind the overturned truck cab.

That may seem a bit redundant, considering I was technically invisible. But I didn't want to take any chances, since I had no idea what was coming. There was a solid minute where nothing at all happened. I hid behind the truck, still as a statue, eyes fixed on the red dots on my HUD's motion tracker inching closer...

A humanoid figure wearing an NCR uniform walked into view... except it wasn't quite an NCR uniform. It looked bloody and torn, and seemed to be held together with a patchwork of scraps. Not just cloth scraps, either, but metal as well, like bent and warped street signs. In his hands was an assault rifle - an AR15, or maybe an M16, only with scrap metal bolted around the barrel instead of the usual wooden furniture.

Five more figures marched into view behind the first. Two of them appeared to be more NCR soldiers... and the last three were dressed in what appeared to be Legion armor. They weren't trying to kill each other. Like the first one I'd seen, their armor was bloody, and held together with scraps. But there was one thing that stood out when I looked at all of them: their heads were all exposed, and what I saw was not skin.

Red.

I stared in disbelief at the six figures. Understanding and comprehension washed over me, followed swiftly by horror. None of those dead bodies in the silo had been skinned after they died. They'd been walking around with their skin ripped off and all their muscles exposed.

What. The. Fuck.

I couldn't understand how they were still alive and walking around. It didn't make any sense whatsoever... and yet, there they were. The six of them converged on the deuce-and-a-half that was crashed in the ditch... except it soon became clear that it wasn't the truck they were interested in, but the warhead. None of them said anything.

The first one approached the warhead on the ground, and pressed a red hand against the side. He dragged his hand across the outer casing of the nose cone, and looked at the others, giving them a silent nod. His hand left a bloody print on the side of the warhead. None of them seemed to be paying any attention to the radiation... leaking...

Ghouls. They were ghouls. They had to be. That's how they were still alive - radiation heals ghouls! The radiation must be what's keeping them alive and walking, despite the fact that none of them appear to have any skin. Still didn't explain why they were all skinned, but I latched onto the ghoul thing as hard as I could. It was something I understood, and something I could wrap my head around.

I watched as the five of them worked in silence, surrounding the warhead, and covering it in ropes, cables, and... what was that, cargo netting? The first one I'd seen didn't help, but he made gestures, directing the other three as they surrounded the warhead with straps. He was clearly the one in charge.

Within moments, the bloody ghouls had the warhead completely surrounded by ropes and tie-down straps - and I really did mean bloody. Every part of the warhead that they touched was covered in streaks of quickly drying blood...

Grind.

Three of them at the base of the warhead grabbed several ropes each, and pulled at the same time. The last two moved to the other side, and started pushing. Slowly, the warhead began to move as it was dragged out of the ditch. The one in charge looked on as they worked. Even with all of them working together, dragging the warhead was slow going. It left an absolutely massive groove in the dirt as they pulled it free. But the fact that they were able to even move it at all was astounding: it looked like it must have weighed several tons.

After several minutes of work, they'd finally cleared the overturned truck, and carried on dragging the warhead down the broken road. The one in charge stood in place, watching as the five of them disappeared around the bend. And then he started looking around, glancing over his shoulder and turning around...

I tensed up, gripping the rifle in my hands tightly. He approached the overturned deuce that I was hiding behind, and stopped when he got to the flag marker. He leaned in close, and that gave me a chance to get a good look at his... well, he didn't really have a face anymore.

He didn't have lips, a nose, eyelids, or even ears. Pieces of his skull were visible beneath the exposed muscles and tendons holding everything together. Droplets of blood occasionally dropped off the bottom of his chin. His eyeballs were like shriveled grapes shoved into the middle of deep, sunken pits, drained of all color until nothing was left except grey.

Right, enough gawking. Time to get the fuck out of here, while his attention is on the blue graffiti. Cautiously, I took a single step back-

In that precise moment, the wind died down, and the sound of my boots shuffling against the gravel made a noise like I was smashing a boulder into smaller boulders with a hammer. His attention snapped to my direction, and brought hehis rifle to bear.

The wind started howling again, muffling the bark of his rifle. The bullets ricocheted against the ground, kicking up dust that was carried away by the wind... but I wasn't there. He crept forward, rifle at the ready, his head darting back and forth with measured, precise movements. He leaned against the front grill, in the same way a special forces soldier would take cover against a wall immediately before a door breach maneuver.

In a flash, he came around the front of the deuce, firing again. None of the bullets hit anything except the ground and the rubble scattered around. Cautiously, he started moving again... and completely missed me. I was staying perfectly still, keeping myself as flat as I could against the ruined chassis of the deuce. The broken, grey metal and odd angles of the twisted transmission helped to break up my transparent outline, and made me even less noticeable than normal.

He must have missed me by only about a foot and a half. As soon as his back was turned, I sprang into action, because I knew I wouldn't get another chance. I reached out, grabbed him by the meaty neck with my cybernetic hand, and stabbed him in the back with the combat knife I usually kept strapped to my boot.

His whole body shuddered, and his jaw opened wide; the sound he made was a raspy gasping, sucking noise. His rifle fired wildly for a few seconds before the recoil knocked it out of his hand, sending it clattering to the ground. I clenched my cybernetic fist around his neck as hard as I could, and pulled; a bloody chunk of his windpipe came free, and I shoved him forward away from me.

I fully expected the walking corpse to fall flat on his face, but he didn't. He doubled over and staggered, but remained on his feet. He turned back on me, mouth wide open and neck gushing blood like a waterfall. He lunged at me with clenched fists; I deflected the blow into the deuce, and blood sprayed everywhere. His bloody fist impacted the fuel tank, and dented it like it'd been hit by a sledgehammer, turning it completely concave.

I reared back, and hit him in the side of the head with a shimmering fist; the swift movement and the blood were causing the transparent effects to falter slightly. It probably didn't matter, though, because he dropped like a sack of bricks after my fist clobbered him.

I wasn't going to take any chances. I pulled Roscoe off my hip, buried the muzzle against the skull and fired: three rounds into the back of his head. I stood over the body, and kept the pistol aimed at him. For all I knew, he'd be like the Ghost People in the Madre, and just get back up again.

But he didn't move. A pool of blood started collecting directly under the hole in his neck, and smaller blood pools appeared near all the exposed muscle. I let out a sigh of relief, holstering Roscoe, and pressing the button on my belt with a click. A shimmering miasma washed over me, and I was suddenly fully opaque again.

"Cessation of hostilities complete!" Sue chirped happily. "That was fun!"

"Yeah... fun..." I grunted out, trying to catch my breath. "It's not often I can get the drop on somebody who looks... well, looks like that." I reached down, and pulled the knife out of his back, wiping off the blood from the blade. There was an electric pop, and I looked up in time to see ED-E rematerialize.

"Hey, buddy," I said, sliding the knife back into its boot sheathe. I gestured at the corpse lying at my feet, face-down in the dirt. "What do you think? Zombie kill of the week?" I chuckled, in a feeble attempt to mask how unnerved I was... and then I stopped, when I realized ED-E wasn't saying anything, and was in fact completely still.

Fuck, not again.

"So..." Ulysses voice growled out of ED-E's speaker. "You've seen the Divide's... new inhabitants."

"What are you talking about?" I growled out, clenching my fists. ED-E floated methodically through the air, and came to a stop directly over the dead body. The speaker pointed directly down.

"They're not natives... most of them. Came with duty. Purpose. Ready to kill each other." ED-E swiveled in place, to look at me again. "The Divide was stronger. Left marks on them. Not Bear. Not Bull. Sandstorms flayed them. Radiation marked them. Made them equal in History's eyes. The Marked Men. As vicious as the storms, these shadows of Legion, of NCR." ED-E floated backward away from me... and Ulysses said one last thing before giving me my friend back:

"Silhouettes of things to come."