Chapter 58
Chapter 58
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 58
Chapter Title: Inside Out (6)
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***
That smug laugh. The way they came straight to where I was. These guys knew I was here and tracked me down.
‘With that Vex guy’s scouting skills from District 45, it’s no surprise he could find the traces I erased.’
But if they were gonna follow me like this, why not just come with me from the hospital?
“Heh heh heh. You look like you have no idea what’s going on. Hop in for now. District 47’s a ways off, so I’ll explain on the way.”
“District 47? You guys don’t mean... you followed me all the way home?”
“Yeah. You don’t wanna spend over 20 hours trudging through the wasteland eating dust, right? Get in, no more chit-chat.”
“Uh, yeah. Thanks.”
“Hey! Hold up! Let me ride along too!”
“Beat it, old man. No room.”
“No room my ass! There’s space for three guys like me to lie down between seats! The sandstorm’s getting worse anyway—you can’t keep up in that hole-riddled buggy. Hook it up to the back and tow it. Already got it attached.”
“Tch. It’ll slow us down. Why not just eat some sand and catch up?”
Vex flipped off the scowling Ian and shoved his way into the passenger seat.
“Hey, Vex. Long time no see.”
“Kee-hee! Frequent reunions are the best, Hepburn.”
Vex greeted the Professor and squeezed into the space between the driver and passenger seats. The vehicle was so massive that even with three of them, it still felt roomy.
“Besides, it’s more fun with the three of us, right?”
“True that. Hey, Professor, you know the rules? The guy in the passenger seat does the yapping.”
“These punks still going on about that old—”
Vroooom!
“Hate it? Then put it to a majority vote. By long-standing tradition, the passenger seat guy has to keep the driver entertained and awake. One vote.”
“One more for Vex.”
“...You creepy bastards stick together and now you’re perfectly in sync.”
With a mighty roar from the engine, the Raptor’s armed truck loaded with three passengers vanished into the sandstorm.
***
Inside the linked vehicles of their convoy, cutting through a sandstorm so thick you couldn’t see an inch ahead, the three men were chatting away.
“So, Vex, when’d you learn to drive? Last time in the District 45 bunker, you said you couldn’t.”
“Keh heh heh. I taught him, obviously. I can’t stand seeing my buddy as a pedestrian!”
“Bullshit! Kidnapping a sleeping guy, yanking the brake, taping the accelerator to the floor, and tying him to the driver’s seat ain’t a driving lesson!”
“That’s why I only put in 30 minutes of fuel! And now he can drive, thanks to me!”
“Thanks to you, mutants swarmed at the engine noise, and then the truck stalled!”
“So I saved you!”
“You created the mess that needed saving!”
Whack! Whack!
Quack! Quack!
‘They’re entertaining themselves just fine.’
[Fun! So fun!!!]
It’d been about a week since I parted ways with these guys in District 45, but whatever happened in that time, every random topic I tossed out turned into an endless story.
“Hepburn, want some peanuts?”
“Oh, peanuts? Preserved rations?”
“Nah, not ours. Killed about six guys who came at us while we were trading—took these from their pockets. Tossed the jerky, kept these.”
Crunch, crunch.
Amid the lively banter, the sweet, nutty flavor filled their mouths, making it feel like a picnic for three.
Stuck in a sandstorm, no risk of attack. Mood was just right. Time to ask.
“So, why’d you suddenly drag me along? You said you had stuff to do and went ahead. Honestly, bruised my pride a bit. Thought I’d gotten good at wasteland life, but getting tailed this easily?”
“Come on~ Even so, a shelter-dweller and a scavenger like us have different eyes. Your ‘erased’ traces were too obvious.”
Vex said it with a grin, clearly proud of himself.
“Eh, whatever. Couldn’t tell myself. Anyway, the errand was nothing. Just swung by my old place to grab some gear.”
“Gear?”
“Yeah. Reason I did business in District 43? It’s a hotbed of conflicts. You know what District 43’s famous for?”
The Professor recalled tales from district chats. Heard a lot... what was it?
[Let’s see... This it? ‘District 43’s a land where steel production thrived, with some factory equipment still intact. Groups fight over it constantly, the dead turn mutant and wander, drawing more mercs and scavengers who hunt them for parts—gunfire 24/7.’ Yeah?]
‘Thanks.’
People store fleeting memories unconsciously—Hyde could pull up even the ones I forgot. Handy guy, if you ignore the dangerous parts.
“Steel mills, right?”
The Professor repeated Hyde’s info verbatim, and Ian looked mildly surprised as he replied.
“You know more than I thought. Most just call it the zone where corpses shamble around in gear, ripe for stripping. Anyway, tons of mutants to kill, tons of people to kill—perfect for a spice dealer like me. But lately, it’s drying up. One of the last working factory setups fully shut down, so risking life defending steel mills ain’t worth it anymore. The gang that ran District 43’s getting restless—signs it’s gonna dry up.”
Crunch, crunch.
Ian grabbed a handful of peanuts from Vex’s bag and popped them in.
“Guys like that usually go out with a big score when they leave. Bet they were drooling to shove a gun up my full-stocked shop’s ass. So I bailed early.”
“I stopped this bonehead from stringing explosives all over the warehouse yelling ‘kill ’em all.’ No need to fight—win or lose, you burn through stock. Convinced him. Would’ve clung for dear life otherwise.”
“The world’s a madhouse everywhere...”
Business ain’t easy. Especially in this insane world—customers turn raiders in a blink.
“So, full relocation this time? To another district?”
“Yeah. Lucky for me, Metaljaw’s spices are top-notch, no duds, good rep—so demand elsewhere. Couldn’t sell before ’cause fuel costs ate margins. Got a big buyer now, cashing out to set up fresh in a new spot.”
“Wasteland never catches a break... Where you thinking? Near District 47? I could point you around.”
“Oh, really? Appreciate it. Was hoping for your help.”
“Coming our way? Awesome. We’ll see you often. So, what spot you eyeing?”
The Professor’s heart fluttered. Honestly, hanging with these guys was fun. District 47 was big, but same district meant frequent meets. Chat world news, share good booze.
Ian met the Professor’s expectant gaze with a grin of his own.
“Your place.”
“...Huh?”
“We’re moving into your place.”
“What the fuck?”
[Yay!]
The Professor’s happy fantasies turned to chaos in an instant.
***
“No way in hell. My place is mouse-nut tiny—no room for two more.”
“Just a figure of speech. Obviously not the same shelter.”
“Phew. Knew it. So where—”
“Right next door. Got the generator and essentials mobile—just buy a prefab shelter kit. Medium one takes two weeks tops.”
“Same difference! Next door ain’t ‘separate residence’!”
Don’t think pre-apoc terms. Better they move in than build next door—that’s serious trouble.
“Just in case—got a large stealth field?”
“Not even small. Why waste power hiding? Just kill ’em all.”
“Oh god...”
Shelters ain’t hemispheric for fun. Optimal for stealth fields, shield gens. Stealth generators are finicky—overlapping waves from neighbors kill efficiency. Multiple smalls interfere, so wide areas need high-output medium/large. They got none, so neither do we.
“You know District 47’s power dynamics? Dome city’s here. Two-plus shelters = ‘group.’ Then Dome scouts mark you constantly. No stealth, can’t hole up.”
“Then launch as a group since we’re together? We got a name—HIV.”
“We wiped Raptors and Dome with that name. Wanna see mortars rain?”
“Aha!”
“Aha my ass! Unlike 43, 47’s the biggest around yet peaceful! That peace ain’t luck—complex power plays! You merchants moving without market research?”
Swoosh—
“That’s why we didn’t. Time to trade.”
Stunned into ranting, I heard Vex join from the back, where he’d been quiet.
“Business is mostly excuse anyway.”
“Hey, old man, don’t spill it...”
“Gonna blow up at this rate—let’s come clean. Hepburn, after you left clinic, talked with Old Man Woojin. Decided can’t leave you alone.”
“Me? Why?”
“Why? You’re nuts. Mental illness worsens solo. No one to talk to, you mutter, go Vex-crazy, hallucinations, split personalities like you. Way better with company.”
“So you’re uprooting business to babysit me?”
“You deaf? Had to move anyway—our fragile friend needs care, drooling, can’t hold spoon. Figured next door to help.”
Ian’s face flushed a bit saying it, while Vex pulled out a hefty melee stim cartridge and injector.
“Old Man Woojin asked too. Take this, think of it as a merc gig to help you. Plenty for the fee.”
Vex held a familiar cartridge. Great War era, 14th Spec Ops carried ’em.
“Revival Kit?”
“Yeah. Pre-war top-tier dope—stab once, guarantees 4 hours combat-ready unless head or heart’s gone. Extra life basically. Supply’s scarce post-war scraping. Overkill for babysitting pay.”
“Old man thinks highly of you.”
“Old fool’s meddling...”
In the heavy mood, the Professor sighed. Friends rip up roots to help, the kindly elder empties pockets for it. Not a psychopath—how to refuse? They’d fait accompli’d it without me.
Unable to stand Vex and Ian’s puppy-dog eyes and creepy grins, the Professor said:
“...Fine. Let’s go. Talk over food.”
“Yesssss!”
“HIV! HIV! HIV!”
“No fucking way that shitty name!”
[Yay! Fun humans everywhere!]
“Oh god, you guys...”
The Professor buried his face in his hands, staring at the two—no, three—boneheads oblivious to the hassles ahead.
Of course, a snicker slipped through his bowed face. Whatever. Not me. Hyde’s laughing.
***
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