Saturday, March 28, 2015

Beth


Well, shortly after my return to the US, I came into contact with Beth from Vagabond. As you know, I decided to donate some of my extra funds to her.  It's a good cause after all, and I don't need that money.  I spent some time with her while I tried to piece together what I knew about Sam. Beth is very kind.

Let me just go on record now that there is absolutely no privacy in a van.  It's a little cramped, but I've been in smaller before.  Scuba, that's her dog, is a fun little fellow.  At first he was very wary of me, but not so much anymore.  She makes sure that he's properly taken care of.  I hope that my donations will help him as well.

She asked me a loaded question one night. I thought she had been sleeping, but apparently not.  "Whose names are those?"

She had overheard me as I recited the names of the dead. I keep a personal tally of everyone who I've killed since I started running. That's 14 people whom I have personally killed. It's a reminder of what I once was, and what I don't ever want to become again. I have an eternity to live with my choices, so I don't want to remember myself as a killer.  I told her this.

She looked confused when I said "eternity." So, I explained my situation to her. Everything that I have done and has happened, I told her about. She's a good listener actually. She sat in silence, soaking it all in. "So, you can't die? That must be very lonely sometimes. Are there others like you?"

I told her that there are, but that I've avoided them. I have a unique perspective on everything. I've dealt with so many Fears. I've served a Fear. I've been a Runner. I'm now immortal. All of that mixed together...I don't know what I am anymore. I don't serve any Fears, but I don't consider myself a Runner anymore either. Many of the other Immortals decided to become as neutral as possible. I'm doing that, in my own my, I suppose.

I also told her that she was right, it is a lonely existence sometimes. Yes, I have friends. But, I don't feel connected to them as much as I used to. It's hard to explain. Maybe it's just because I know I'll outlive them.

We eventually made it to our destination: the Mojave. I don't just carry around all my cash on me.  I keep it in stashes--old Agency bases.  This one was the first base I had been to. That was so long ago, I think that Carter is dead.

Anyway, we made it to the base's entrance. The door looked as I had last seen it when I left the stash of supplies: partially hidden, partially decrepit-looking. I walked up to the keypad and tapped it.

"Will it work?"-Beth

"Should." The indicator lights weren't working, but I entered the code anyway. I heard a very faint buzzing sound. I opened the door and stepped in. The air was musty. Beth followed me in, but I stopped her before she walked passed me. I signaled for silence as I drew my revolver and readied a flashlight.

I did a full sweep of the first level. It looked clean, which means that no one popped out to say "boo." I flipped the master switch to turn on the lights. Then I checked to make sure that the entrances to the other levels were all secure: they were. This base (and stash) was untouched.

"What is this place?"--Beth

"An old Agency base. They're good places to store stuff or hideout in a pinch. Also tend to attract a...seedier element as well. Come on, the money's here." I led her to the money and pulled out the bag. Yes, before you ask, it was one of those big duffel bags, like you'd see in TV shows or movies. I won't disclose how much money was in it, that's up to Beth.

We loaded up the money and some of the supplies that I had stashed. We decided to leave stuff there though, just in case. I gave her the code to the door, that way she can use this base. It's only for emergencies only, though, the deal is that she keeps the base's location and access code a secret.

And so, we're back on the road for now. I think I may just stick around with her for a bit, if she'll let me. She's been asking a lot of questions about...well, everything. I'm answering it all to the best of my ability.


Friday, March 20, 2015

Back in the USA

Been a busy week. Just stepped off a plane in LA. Decided to wear my best suit for the occasion. Wow, it's nice to be home again. While LA is far from where I used to live, it's nice to be in the US again. This time, I plan to stay for a while. I left the airport before my ride could arrive since a man kept watching me. Can't be too careful.

Right now, I'm waiting for my bus (or rather van) to pick me up. I'm going to be on the road with Beth from Vagabond. I'm donating to her cause, the problem is where the money is stashed: the Mojave. I'll keep you all updated.

Thursday, March 5, 2015

It's Over..."He's Dead Jim"

Calvin's dead. He snagged me and brought me to one of Med's old safehouses right after I left the airport. I didn't even have a chance to react.

He removed the hood after putting me in a chair. There was a table in front of me and he was sitting on the other side. "The day of reckoning is here." I didn't respond, just stared at him.

He broke into his speech about teaming up again. About wanting to find his sister. He even said something about seeing me as a brother. I didn't even acknowledge any of what he was saying.

"You know what, Carter, let's play a little game." He set a bottle of whiskey and my revolver on the table between us. He followed it with two glasses and filled them. "Six cylinders. All filled. Five with casings, one with your magic bullet that can kill you and might kill me. The game is simple, take a drink, pull the trigger. No cheating."

"I don't drink." - Me

"Oh, you don't? You afraid it'll kill you?" He laughed at his own joke. "You might as well enjoy what may be your last moments on this planet." He saw that I wasn't convinced. "Here, I'll go first."

He took a drink, put the revolver to his head, and pulled the trigger.

Click. 

He put the revolver next to my hands and pushed over a drink.

I stared at him for a while. "Either you play along, or I'll take it back and pull the trigger until it goes bang." He shrugged. "Your choice." I reached for the gun. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

I drank the whiskey then picked up the revolver. I put it to my head. Time seemed to slow at that moment. I thought of everything that brought me to this moment. I thought of everyone who I knew. Everyone from my family and S to Med and all of you.

Click.

I threw the gun down. Cal laughed. "See? Not so hard. It's easy to play along. You know, that's what She liked about you, Carter. She was always talking about how useful you were, how accommodating." He took another drink and trigger pull.  

Click. 

Still nothing.

"You know what else, Carter. She was scared of you. And with that kind of fear, if we had teamed up like I offered, we could've gone far."

I didn't answer, just took my drink and picked up the revolver.

Click.

Cal smiled. We both knew: only two left. "And then there's Sam. I never understood that, Carter. What did she ever..." He took another drink and pulled the trigger.  

Bang. 

His body fell to the floor. I froze. I must have sat there for hours, he didn't move.

I hesitantly got up and checked, no pulse. Which, to be fair, was expected. It's how it tends to work for me. The thing that was different was that the hole was still there. I remember him healing extremely fast. It had been a few hours, so if he wasn't up yet, he wouldn't be getting up. Ever.

I sat back down and finished my glass. Then I contacted Med. She seemed pretty surprised, but I needed to get to somewhere safer.

That was last night. Med kinda chewed me out over it. It wasn't terrible, it was more worried than anything else. My head's still pounding. At least Med was kind enough to hold out on the serious talking-to until after I had some sleep. There was also some water.

So, lessons learned:
  • Dark alleyways are not your friends.
  • Cal is dead.
  • I no longer have an Archangel bullet in my possession. (See point #2)
  • We all have expiration dates, some are sooner than others.
  • Hangovers suck.
  • And, lastly, I think I know why I had my policy of "I don't drink" (See the previous point)
Soon, I'll gather my stuff and head back to the US.  Once there I'll continue my search for Sam.  The chances of finding her or any of the others are so slim that I can't even describe them to you. (Or maybe I still can't think straight with this headache.) I've got the spare time, though, that much is certain.