Eventually, as we flew, the landmarks and settlents grew fewer and fewer until the only things breaking up the landscape were forgotten towns, and the ruins of roads long since claid by swamps. I heard so kind of alarm sound from the cockpit ahead of , and the Shrike ca to an abrupt halt, then lowered gently to the ground. I grabbed my pack, feeling the comforting weight of my supplies, and went to hop out and start my long trek, when Graves surprised by looking back.
Good luck, he said in his staticky voice.
I nodded at him. You too. Then I hopped out of the shrike. I waited for a few monts, watching him take back off, then, I started walking. I was less than a mile in when I felt the warmth of radiation wash over . Graves had taken as far as was survivable for him before dropping off.
I walked for several hours and found myself growing bored far more quickly than I usually did. The endless wastes ahead of not holding my attention as they once had. Id grown spoiled. Id ridden on Betty, or in the Shrike, or even been transported around by the Khans patrols for the majority of my recent travels. Id lost a bit of the ntal discipline I had before, and daydreams werent coming nearly so easily to as they had in the past. It didnt help that while the Shrikes flight had been less and less visually interesting, the walk was even more so. I didnt see a forest, swamp, ruined town or anything else to break up the monotony. Just a desert as far I could see.
I walked for three or four hours more, feeling the radiation slowly build as I continued on my trek toward the Cut. Id ntally inventoried all of my weapons multiple tis, checked through my notifications to see if anything new had popped up, and nibbled on so dried at that Kit had had prepped for in Potts. I was dozing while I walked for a bit, then I decided to pull out my radio. I needed sothing to focus on, even if it was more propaganda from the Remnants. I turned it on, and twisted the dial until I heard Adams voice just starting to break through a rendition of the old national anthem.
Another piece of Arica has returned. In the early hours of the morning, our brave soldiers stord the compound of the city state forrly known as, The Republic. They had stolen advanced weaponry developed by our nation's foremost scientists, and turned them against us! Claiming a divine right as the true inheritors of our great nation. Well, they learned soon enough that theres nothing to inherit! The United States of Old is here again, and we will do all we can to restore our great nation and its citizens to the greatness and prosperity we once knew! If you worry for the Republics citizens, fear not! We understand how easy it is to be led astray, especially outside of the warm embrace of Aricas bosom. Those who threw down their arms have been offered amnesty! And, as long as their leaders cooperate, they will be spared as well. Arica cares for its people, even those who shall return to us as prodigal sons and daughters. We are stronger, together, The voice faded out from that last line and was replaced by the national anthem again shortly after.
I didnt care for a lot of what that speech had implied. Firstly, that the leadership of The Republic had been spared. My loyalty was to Potts, and Id always save a deadman over a human, but knowing what the Republic did to its children I could stomach a lot, and had, but that was too far.
I felt that the other implied ssage in his speech was ant for those settlents that the Remnants had not yet turned their sight toward, and the Iron Horde specifically. They were trying to tell them that if they just laid down their arms, and pledged allegiance to their flag, they would be welcod with no repercussions. It was a ssage that I could see working well depending on the audience. In the case of the Iron Horde though, I felt that it may be seen as a weakness. Id only just recently witnessed how they dealt with betrayal, and negotiation, and it certainly wasnt welcoming people back with open arms. Besides, I couldnt see them respecting a foe that tried to avoid conflict like that. Sure, a settlent or two may sway toward the remnants, but they would certainly be made an example of before any true change of power occurred.
I listened for a few more minutes, but when I heard Adams voice again it was just the sa ssage repeated, and after that it was so generic speech about restoring the country to its forr glory, and on and on until I decided Id rather deal with the unending flatness of the landscape ahead and the silence then listen to any more.
I moved the turn off the radio, but decided to slide the dial around so more. I rembered the mad man that Bill, my supplier in Jasper, had told about that liked to listen to the music, that ca through the radio static in high radiation areas. I slowly moved the dial left to right, listening to the variance in the static, and suddenly I felt like I was actually hearing music. I took a second to wonder if so form of wasteland madness had taken hold of , but then heard soone singing followed by a guitar riff and realized that music really was playing on the radio. I kept walking, my feet starting to move in rhythm with the music, enjoying the novelty of it, when the song ended and I heard a very familiar voice speak.
That was Holiday in Bogodia, by the Living Lincolns. This is your host Deux Du Ponte Du Lac, of Radiation Revolution Radio, the only music station this side of the Cut, and quite possibly anywhere else. So if you dont want to hear so boring asshole talk about how things were great before everything got blown to hell, tune in to , and Ill be playing music to get your feet moving rather than your eyes closing, yknow what I an? Up next weve got the Fuck Guns with their hit, Anarchy in the Extended Colonies. Deuxs voice cut off, and another song started up.
I laughed out loud. I couldnt help it. All that effort collecting the radio equipnt and hauling it all to Potts and it was to start up his own Punk rock radio station. I dont know why I had expected anything different, but I was very entertained by the idea, particularly when the only other thing that was on the air, at least for now, was a boring man giving long winded speeches. I had a feeling it would gain popularity very quickly. It would also likely antagonize the Remnants, but I couldnt see how they would retaliate. They had no reason to know who Deux was, and even if they did they couldnt do much to him in Potts. Solomon and the Honored Dead may have sothing to say about it, but I trusted Deux to win them over in the end. He regularly managed to get in humans good graces, other deadn were a breeze.
I walked for a few more hours, my pace set by the hard and fast music that Deux was playing on his station. It was a welco change from my usual silent walk, and I knew Id have to take advantage of it as long as I could, as the signal would almost certainly start to wane as I traveled further and further from Potts and nearer to the Cut. Not to ntion whatever strange effects the wastes may have on the signal in the anti.
It was nearly early morning by the ti I decided to stop for the night. I set the radio to the side, turned it down, and had a dinner or breakfast of dried at, so strong mint tea that Kit had packed for . Id missed traveling alone, having ti with my own thoughts, ti to breathe. I pulled out a well worn paperback Id gotten off of Murphy, Mark of the Jester, a book about a man both blessed and cursed by prophecy, trying to find a way to overco it. As I settled in, a sll touched my nostrils. I didnt move, keeping my eyes on the book, and inhaling deeply. Sothing was close, maybe one hundred yards away. I slled wet fur, and blood. It didnt get closer, and I made a show of continuing to read. Whatever it was, it was watching .
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