Part 4 here: https://steemit.com/fiction/@olmech/trapper-walsh-a-new-way
After taking a few days to rest and eat well, I got up early to begin my trek across the Commonwealth. I had figured just getting to this place called Atom Cats Garage would take about ten days, but there were so many unknowns in what I was attempting that even that was a guess at best. I had been as far east as the Murkwater Swamp which I knew to be a five day journey from home. Pops had been to the coast back before the war, but people still used cars then. He had never walked the distance but he knew that Murkwater Swamp was about halfway to the coast. What he and I could not foresee was what pitfalls may await anyone traveling beyond what was known to us. The world was in flux, ever changing and passage through any territory in the Commonwealth depends a great deal on who holds the high ground.
I told the folks goodbye, picked up my pack and rifle as I headed east from home on a journey that would take me the farthest away from home that I had ever been. The first part of this trip would be very familiar to me as I had been all over these mountains, the blasted flats below and into the swamp beyond many times. I knew what to avoid and how to get around things I did not want to deal with. The real danger is when you do not know the area you are walking into. It is very easy to stumble into a trap like a blind animal. I had considered this for quite a while and believed the risk was worth the reward. If I could learn from this Rowdy the knowledge that would make my power armor functional, my way of life would be considerably easier afterwards.
Two days into my journey I had altered my course just a little north of due east to meet an old friend. There in the middle of nowhere was an old military bunker of some kind. Guarding it was a prewar relic known as a sentry bot. He was locked up in a cage adjoining the bunker and was presumably put there as a means to prevent people from entering the bunker. Sentry bots are heavily armored and are equipped with mini-guns as well as missile launchers. If you piss one of these things off...death was only seconds away. The piles of skeletons laying around the bunker was evidence enough that sentry bots are good at what they were designed to do. I had been out here to see my old friend many times. I even gave him the name Redeye to make my conversations with him more interesting. I would tell him of my troubles and triumphs only to hear him warn me to stay away from the bunker. I guess that is just how bad things are when a person is willing to sit down and have a talk with something that would cut him in half if he stepped out of line. It was nice to hear a voice other than Mom and Pops though...even if it wanted to kill me. After speaking with old Redeye for a bit, I said goodbye and continued on my journey.
It had taken me only four and a half days to reach the extent of my knowledge about anything east of the Glowing Sea. I was near the middle of Murkwater Swamp and in the distance I could see a raised shack with a string of lights all around it. Night would be coming on soon and I decided that I would creep a little closer to get a feel for who was at this place. Perhaps they would be friendly and I could camp here for the night. After getting a bit closer, I pulled the infra red binoculars from my pack and had a look around. If there was anything in the area I was looking at, they would show up as a nice red image for me. I did not see anything at all to my surprise. The place was lit up like a trading post but nobody was home.
I decided to walk on into the place and see for myself what it was all about. As I got closer to the shack, I could see a body hanging off the edge of the roof. I knew he was dead or else he would have shown up when I scanned the area earlier. I climbed up on the roof to have a look at the poor soul.
He was a Minuteman if the hat he was wearing meant what Pops had told me about my own years ago. Like my Father, this man had taken an oath to make the world a better place only to die here in this godforsaken swamp and whoever or whatever killed him made an example of him by hanging him from the roof. It was a message I clearly understood and while I was not a Minuteman, it would probably be damned foolish of me to keep wearing my hat as I ventured east. So I reached up to grab the brim of my hat then I pulled it firmly down on my brow. Whatever was waiting for me might kill me for wearing a hat that used to mean something, but I would not go quietly like this dead man had. I was going to reach the coast to meet this Rowdy if I had to tame hell to do it.
More to come...
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