But not by a good sight.
I woke up on a doctors table inside a nice old house with the worst headache you can imagine. I remember a kind of dream where some mucker in a checkerred suit made me dig my own grave and shot me dead in the face and I don't remember much else. And get this, chuckles in the checkerred suit made a big deal out of looking me in the face before he shot me, called it a courtessy if that don't beat all. It's the kind of thing that's too funny not to be a dream but as I was found up on the town's boot hill and brought here with a bullet in my brainbox, seems its all too true.
Doc Mitchell tells me he's the MD in Goodsprings, the town I was found in. He's an odd duck, ran a mess of weird tests on me before he let me go. He said it was to help me sort my head out but it didn't seem to clear up my cloudy memory much. Could be something to do with the fact that he comes from the vault. I'm not sure why he thought Good Springs would be a better shake than what he had down there but questioning it makes about as much sense as guessing a dog's attraction to rolling in shit. While he was seeing me out he handed me off a bunch of gear he said was found with me. I must have been some color of badass with the artilery and armor I was carrying, maybe a merc or a soldier? He also handed me one of the shackles the Vault folks wear, called a Pip Boy. The thing isn't any more comfortable than a manacle but it's plenty useful with a map, geiger counter and all manner of useful notes. I'm not fond of being in the debt of others so out of spite for his help I rifled through Doc Mitchell's supplies while he was running about like a clucking hen. Don't look on me like a scoundrel, I'm sure he's going to be making a good deal of money off me in the long run I'm just squaring my share in advance. Outside of patching me up and suiting me up the Doc wasn't much help in figuring out where I come from or what I'm supposed to do about this hole in my head so I set out to find some answers.
I'm not halfway into town before I'm set upon by the town peacekeeper, a gal by the name of, I shit you not, Sunny Smiles. I guess I don't have much room to criticize. Until I get my head sorted out I’m down to the one name on my armor, “Mason”. Sunny seems like a nice enough little lady and probably as close as I’ll come to a kindred spirit. She offers me the use of her varmint rifle so we can do some target practice out behind the bar and tells me I was pulled out of a new grave by some local named victor and once she’s chummed up to me she suggests maybe I want to give her a hand with her gecko problem. Not looking to make waves I head out with her to the pumps at the edge of town and put down a few ornery lizards. I figured I was a pretty steady shot but it was still nice to see the proof splattered all over the sand in those gullies. I’m not halfway done skinning the second Gecko before Sunny starts talking about clearing out the other two wells. I’m a helpful sort when I’ve got a mind to but I’m not looking to be this gals deputy. I told Sunny I’ll meet her at the next well when I’m done with the Geckos and when her and her dog were around the bend I headed back into town.
I ran down this Victor guy pretty easily he was the giant securatron with a cowboy face eyeballin me. I got nothing against Robots but I don’t want any as my closest friends and Victor was just a little too friendly. He tells me that he saw the checkered suit man along with some Raiders meet me up on the hill and that he overheard us talking about a package before he shot me and put me in the ground. Then the crafty bucket dug me out and brought me straight to Doc Mitchell’s place. I owe him my life but there’s still something about this Robot that doesn’t sit right with me. At any rate he’s out of answers so I’m on my way again.
I check out a few homes around the town and make my way to the general store to see if I can trade in the Gecko hides and meat for provisions. The shopkeep Chet seems like a simpleton, or not sharp at any rate. Nobody in this town seems all-together I reckon. A bottle of vodka sounded like good medicine for this headache that never seems to stop but I had enough problems with my head without adding to them. I put down a mountain of caps for some Purified Water even as it occurs to me I could probably drink for free if I had been patient enough to help Ranger Smiles with her Gecko problem.
With my throat whetted I took a long walk around the town just before sunset. I can see why homesteaders settled here. The wells feed from the mesa springs up above the toxic watershed and the natural stone walls wrap around the town like a partial fortification. The old prewar town sits up on the foothills with lots of visibility. I rounded the highpoint of the Mesa and up the hill to the town’s graveyard. I don’t know what I expected to where they put me down but all there was to be had was disappointment and frustration. My Grave was still half-dug out, not a clue around of who did this to me. However as the sun pulled down behind the dunes I was awestruck by the view of the vista. Rolling dunes and gullies as far as the eye can see with lovely lady New Vegas out in the distance like a glittering beacon. I would have been tempted to walk right to her if it weren’t for the big red warming signs all over the North face of the slope pointing out pointing out that Deathclaw territory stood between me and the distant lights.
Instead I took advantage of the last hours of light to march out to a monument on a nearby hill. A giant ‘t’ lit up by the setting sun. On the way across the tundra I had to gun down a pack of hungry stray dogs. Once I reached the monument it was disappointingly unimportant. Just more debris of the world gone by, it’s history and life before blasted away. The eerie resemblance to myself was not unnoticed and filled me with a lonesome feeling that I didn’t care fore.
Not far off from the Monument I spotted an old abandoned roller shack. It was a ways away from the town but from the dust and cobwebs on the front it was clear that whoever called it home hadn’t come calling in a while so I slipped in and had a look about. It was a great find given that the skies were dark and I was a long walk back to town. Inside there were stores of ammo, food, water and booze, and even and old reloading bench to pack my munitions. I slipped into the dusty old bed in the corner and gave up on the night.
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