Utterly Mad

Catnip was dreaming again. She saw it, her train. All chrome and steam and engines. Moving machinery, miles long, and she had created it. But in the dream, the train would suddenly stop, it's gears and pistons screaming in mechanized agony. The chrome would darken and the steam would drop. Rust, rust in the works. The vines would grow up around and through her glorious creation, but just as it fell into utter ruin, a light would shine down upon it and her, and the entropy would cease. The light spoke, "Seek them XE73627, seek them out. They will ensure the fruition of this dream. The first is a man, a knight in a modern time, seeking something you can provide, the banner of a fallen kingdom. The second is a woman, she is a murderer, but she has chosen mercy. She will enlighten you to the mysteries of the world. The third is a cowboy, he rides a horse of steel and brings with him the thunder of war. For him, the lead wind blows. For you, it must be so as well. You will bring to him purpose beyond himself. Gather these three, and your goal will be within reach.

She awoke and got to work immediately with her printer. The new flier read this:

SEKING 3 PEEPOL. NITE, KILUR, AN METEL COWMAN! COM TO KATNIP!
(below this is a crude crayon drawing of a knight, a woman in black, and a cowboy on an ATV.)

She would have Carmello distribute them along with the others asking for parts. Things would finally get done.

A loud roar of a V6 echoes, an ATV stops outside a large refugee center. A man steps off, he takes off his gasmask and hangs it off of his backpack. He walks in the refugee center, hand resting on a large revolver on his hip. He scans the room and spots some fliers.

SEKING 3 PEEPOL. NITE, KILUR, AN METEL COWMAN! COM TO KATNIP!
(below this is a crude crayon drawing of a knight, a woman in black, and a cowboy on an ATV.)

The old man raises an eyebrow at this, he speaks up to the man giving out the fliers.
"Howdy, y'think you could give me directions to this... 'Katnip'?" The man gives directions, namely coordinates. The old man heads back to his ATV and starts the engine. The steel horse gallops towards the coordinates.

The knight made a careful return to the humble shelter he made his home, another fruitless search for any other survivors. And for the thing a fellow survivor of his was desperate for, a lost standard and symbol of the old world. All he managed to find was a few more supplies that, while useful, were no longer as vital as they once were, more cursed souls to send back to Hell, and...something that gave the armored wanderer pause. Signs of brief, passing activity in the town to their north, which he'd only explored the barest fringes. And a flier posted on one of the stores he cleared out the first time he ventured in.

He'd brought the peculiar printout to his waiting comrade. Neither knew what to make of it...

SEKING 3 PEEPOL. NITE, KILUR, AN METEL COWMAN! COM TO KATNIP!
(below this is a crude crayon drawing of a knight, a woman in black, and a cowboy on an ATV.)

"They might have a setup going. Some semblance of order out there. Sounds like someone that doesn't quite have their head on straight, but they might be able to get us what we're after." said the beleaguered companion.

"And one in need of a knight, among other adventurers. A worthy cause, surely. But from where would they have ventured forth?"

"If they've got enough secured to have a reliable base of operations, working copy machine even, odds are good it's one of the places hooked up to the emergency systems like this old evac shelter. Gotta be something bigger though, one of those full-scale centers they took ten years just to approve construction of. If I knew where to get any local addresses..."

The knight at this point was lost in thought, attention soon turned to the small console set up in one corner of the shelter, one of the few things there that still worked. Even with little understanding of the device other than how to poke around in the sparse menus it had available, he already began to suspect the underlooked machine held the key to what he was after, all along...

Footnote: The event’s detailed above were pieced together by a diary kept by Roxanne which was no longer updated after the 2nd day. Because of this detailed description of the nature of the first two days are no longer possible. All further accounts are pieced by recollections of those involved. See sources for details.

Day 3:
Roxanne and Hilario awoke and prepared to go back to the campsite. They had a quick breakfast, scavenged gas and batteries to supply to the hatchback but decided to switch to a Van instead. They moved the batteries and pour all the gas into the new acquired van, put all loot in the back, looted a fire truck and took the off-road route via a field back to the campsite. In the campsite the couple offloaded and organized their loot and swiftly made dinner. Before going to bed Roxanne made a makeshift funnel to gather water. “Nothing fresher than rain!”, Roxanne remarked. “I wouldn’t trust that now with the dead rising up and stuff…”, Hilario commented. “Way to kill my vibe…”, Roxanne responded.

Day 4-6:
   These days were documented to be not very productive. Roxanne and Hilario organized the camp to their liking and hunted regularly for more food. The thing of note is that Roxanne picked up reading a lot during this time while Hilario decided make his own documentation of events (this is what we are basing this off of), while not as detailed as Roxanne it got more detailed as the days went by. The pair had secured the place with no dead, monsters or wildlife to disturb and they had gathered enough food and water to stay put for a while.

Day 7:

   After waking up from a couple days of routine Roxanne decided to go to the bank Hilario had mentioned and have a crack at the safes. They managed to get their but not without noticing a blood pit near the bank. It was not a concern for them since it was far enough away. Once inside they were stuck at the fact that they needed to hack a computer to get into the vault and the rest of the bank had nothing to offer. They had resigned to go to the campsite but were surrounded by blobs. “We dealt with worse”, Roxanne reassured, “I am not about to die to some goo!” Roxanne and Hilario fought dispatching many a blob until Roxanne ran out of power and had to rely on her limited combat experience and Hilario but the twosome were successful in riding the town of the blob two things had happened: Hilario got his backpack torn to shreds losing some gear and the blob pit still remained. Hilario spotted a laundromat and suggested they could replaced some damaged clothing there but the place was empty. Afterwards they decided to loot the rest of the small town only finding more food but securing the entire place minus the blob pit. Returning the campsite they made dinner and went to sleep deciding this day was neither a win or a loss.

   Hilario details a conversation he and Roxanne had while eating dinner before bed.
“Do you think we did ok today?”, Roxanne asked.
“What do you mean?, Hilario asked back.
“We fought and survived a mass of…blobs but might fight I lost power because of my recklessness and lost us some gear…”, Roxanne explained, “Might have even cost us our lives…”
   This brief exchange showed to Hilario that Roxanne was starting to deal with some insecurities she had not shown before. He still had many questions about the person he decided to accompany for protection a week before. He still believed she could protect him “I mean look at that blade!”, Hilario recall thinking to himself but he wondered if they might soon to have to face something that would he did not know of, a secret of Roxanne that she knew even her could not fight.

Day 8:
   Roxanne woke up early in the morning to find a hand-made flyer had landed by the storage tent. They flyer read: “SEKING 3 PEEPOL. NITE, KILUR, AN METEL COWMAN! COM TO KATNIP!” with a crayon drawing on the bottom of three people one of which looked like a knight. On the back there were directions and an invitation to help on a projected. “Kilur? Did it mean killer?”, Roxanne asked herself, “Are they looking for mercenaries?” Roxanne woke Hilario and asked his opinion on the matter. “This looks a bit sketchy to me…”, Hilario commented, “The flyer is hard to read and people who are soliciting mercenaries are not people we want to deal with…” “Maybe we can trade with them,”, Roxanne suggested, “We could get some part for our van in exchange for food or…” “Or what?”, Hilario asked suspicious. “Or I could lend my hand to them…you know…dispatch some baddies…” The pair discussed the matter further and arrived at the conclusion they would check it out tomorrow but they had to prep for it on that day. They would trade for items and they would offer to help find specific loot in exchange for a fair trade but Hilario was hesitant about being a mercenary. What “fair trade’ was, however, they did not know…

Lead Wind?

"I got a 'nam pi- An M60 on my quadbike, if that's what yer askin'. Might be what it means? Lead wind's probably bullets. So it hurts, yeah."

"...wait, how old are you?"

Floyd rubs his grey beard. "What do you need us for anyhow?"

Floyd nods, "I have guns, yeah. And I know where to get more, and how to make some if need be."
Floyd looks over the blueprint.
"'fraid yer gonna need some armoring,
either ceramic or some steel. Mounted guns in case there's somethin' too big t' ram. Maybe somethin' t' shoot those big tank shells to blow holes in buildin's. Maybe for the cow catcher git some 'a those heavy duty frames an' reinforce 'em with either military armor platin' or that 'soo-per alloy' that's in labs I think, military armor platin's more likely, however. He rambles, Floyd rubs his beard.
"I know a few places where t' git some parts for this... 'train'"

"Alright, have a nice day Carmello." Catnip shouted after him. Floyd watched it all from where he was performing maintainance on his quad bike. The man Catnip called Carmello didn't turn or respond. Floyd knew about Carmichael "Carmello" Cambridge. Wheeled and dealed around the refugee centers, made deliveries to various groups across new england, and on occasion, stuck up honest survivors. Carmello looked around and then knocked on the door of his groups heavily modified RV. The engine didn't start right away, so Floyd approached and listened.
"Get what you wanted from that bitch boss?"
"No, but I think we've skimmed about what we can off her. This thing is looking pretty formidable on the roads. I think we can start hitting some real targets, maybe one of the refugee centers."
"What about the mutie boss?"
"... Fuck it. I'm tired of tryin' with her. We'll make her our first hit. She can't get those gats out front working properly, so we ain't gotta worry about them. The cowboy... I wanna get him too. He'll be back later tonight, seems Catnip has offered him his own room and all that jazz. He'll come back, we'll hit this shithole tomorrow morning. Make it a couple days, to make sure the battery on this hog is charged, and get em both in one go. Toss these fuckin' books in with the rest of the firewood."
"Animals." Floyd whispered to himself as the RV started. He walked back to his quad and ran his hand across the handle bars. "Gonna earn our keep I think."
He followed them from a distance until they set up camp in a copse of trees, and watched for a time. There were six of them, and one of him. There were six in the cylinder at his hip, enough to get this job done. When the men who meant his charge harm had settled down, he checked his revolver and moved in.
"Evening." Said Floyd, breaking into the clearing where the bandits had set up camp. The men stood, "The fuck are you doing here cowboy?" Floyd let his hands rest on his belt, his right within comfortable distance of his raging bull. "Come to deliver a message." He responded, spitting into the dirt, "Your services are no longer required." The bandits glanced at each other and Carmello stepped forward. "Oh yeah cowboy? Well that's fine with me, we were moving on anyway." Floyd didn't like the shit eating grin on Carmello's face, it was the grin of a dog just as it was preparing to bite. His hand slid closer to his revolver. "I don't think you were. Something about a first hit? Early in the morning?" Floyds own look had turned sourly business like. The silence between them was broken by a gust of wind and the crackle of the fire pit. Carmello took a step back, "Get him."
They were at him in an instant. They were armed with next to nothing in terms of weapons, but they had numbers. Six shots was all Floyd would have. 'Should have brought the quad' he thought. The gun on his quad would have trivialized this, but they would have heard him coming. One of Carmellos men got too eager and charged ahead of the advancing group, Floyd pulled leather and shot him in the gut, turned and shot another low in the left chest. Carmello was running towards the RV, if he got in their Floyd wouldn't have a chance. One of the bandits coming at him from the side, he swung his gun in that direction and struck him across the jaw with the barrel of Floyds sizable gun. A spray of teeth and blood was joined a split instant later by a jet of burning gasses and a lead slug plowing through the soft flesh beneath the bandits chin. Three in the cylinder, three rabid animals left to put down. Floyd charged, a maneuver that got him clubbed and stabbed several times, but put one of the bandits off balance. Carmello had reached the RV and was struggling with the door. He'd have to take the shot now if he was the have a chance. A backhand to the face of one bandit gave him a little space, he aimed, and fired. Carmello fell with a shout. Not dead, Floyd knew from the way he fell that he wasn't down for good. A loose end, he had to hope that Carmello wouldn't get back up, that he'd get a chance to tie that loose end up. A knife entered his periphery, looping in, going for his eyes. Floyd jerked his head back, fired wildly, and missed. "FUCK!" The other bandit was getting back up. He didn't have time for this, one bullet wasn't enough and he didn't have time to reload. The knife wielder was babbling incoherently. Something in Spanish, the cowboy didn't have to think about his target, and shot him in the head. At first he didn't realize he'd been shot. He was having a hard time thinking. His eyes slowly rolled back in his head and he collapsed. "Oh god, don't kill me!" Screeched the final bandit. "Stay there." responded Floyd. He'd reloaded three chambers when a shot not his own rang out from the direction of the bandits fallen leader. Searing pain etched it's way up and down Floyd's leg. The last of the bandits stopped begging and tried to push his new found advantage, only to find a bullet ripping the life from his body, even as it punctured his lung and ripped out a sizable chunk of his spine. "FUCK YOU COWBOY!" Shouted Carmello. Another shot flew past Floyds side and a third grooved his hip. He sat up, aimed, not flinching as a fourth and fifth bullet creased the air around him, and fired.
There wasn't a lot left the the hand holding Carmello's gun. Floyd looked over the scene with some thought. He hadn't been aiming for his hand, the shot had been a fluke. For Carmallo's part, he couldn't stop screaming and looking at the hand either. Floyd checked the cylinder and spat. "As I was saying, the girl no longer requires your services. I'd issue you your unemployment papers, but..." A shot rang out, and except for the sounds of the woods and the crackling of the fire pit, silence fell over the camp.

"Floyd, have you seen Carmello?" Floyd continued polishing the chrome bumper on his quad bike and rubbed the healing wound in his leg. "Can't say that I have Catnip, Can't say that I have. Left a note, asked me to burn it. Left you that nice RV, as a parting gift. Guess he must have moved on."

---

Credit goes to Saltmummy for the story itself, I just fixed up the spelling errors. I'll send the save soon. as it takes ages to upload.

Floyd watched as Catnip rifled dexterously through the spider like metal husks he had brought back to her. "skitterbots," he remembered they were called. At first, Catnips reaction to them had been rather unexpected. She'd backed away from them. Something about her life in the lab he guessed. She wouldn't help him move them into a wheelbarrow until he'd tossed each one on the ground and put a bullet into each metal carcass to prove that they really were dead. "They look dead sometimes, but it's a trick." She had explained. She treated them with a great deal more finesse than he had previously witnessed when she was taking apart less sophisticated items. "Tell me again Dervish. That part about the maps." Dervish was a small, wiry, tan skinned man with a bit of a temper to him. "Well Nip, it's like a said. Somethings up with the mapping software on all the automaps. The refugee center is scrambling, everybody is in a panic. Getting around is going to be tricky to say the least." A look came over Dervish, "I uh. I didn't really want to tell you this, but Granpap, Khaki, and Jonathan went out to help redraw maps and they haven't come back." Floyd was shaking his head, people disappearing all the time now. Good people. It was sad. Catnip had set aside her tools and stared at Dervish. Just staring. "Nip? You alright?" All at once, the tears started. "Jeez, Nip. Floyd, buddy, can you leave us for a minute or two." Floyd nodded and went to his room. He'd never met Khaki or Jonathan, but he'd met Granpap on many occasions. Good sort, Floyd had liked the old baker. Everyone did. Catnip adored him like a grandchild does her grandfather. Sad times. Sad times for everybody.