Fredrick Carr's Arc

Chapter 8 of 11

The medical labs were secure. With level three cleared, Fredrick took a break from the vault and joined a patrol topside. He rode with Warrant Officer Danials, a black and tan tabby who had fought beside the team on level two and taken ghoul claws for it. She wore Swedish fatigues like his own, a black beret, and a map case on her belt. She drove hard over broken ground. "There," Danials said. She stopped the truck near a wrecked transport. The Iveco sat on flat tires, its shell torn by an old rocket strike. A machine gun still hung from the roof mount. Bullet holes stitched the doors. They searched it together. Fredrick found a sealed crate wedged behind the seats. The label read rare medical supplies. Danials found a map folded in the glovebox. She spread it across the hood. Red lines wound through the hills to a spot marked St Alphonse's Pancake Restaurant. Faded notes ringed the site. Church. Raider base. Military camp. "Every guess but the truth," Danials said. She tapped the crate. "And this was headed there. Same name on the label." Fredrick keyed his radio. "Kira. We pulled a medical crate off a wreck. Sealed, marked urgent. Where do you want it?" Kira's voice came back fast. "Field hospital. Zelda's short on everything. Bring it straight in." They drove the crate to Zelda at the field hospital. The orange tabby medic pried the lid and looked inside. She did not smile. She just counted. "Stimpaks. Antirad. Surgical kits," Zelda said. "Enough to keep the ward running a month." She looked up. "Funny what survives when no one knows what they're looking at." "There's more," Fredrick said. He set the map on the table. "The crate came from here. So did others, maybe." Zelda studied the red lines. "Mary and Kira will want this. But I don't send people into a place with three names and no answers." She pushed the map toward him. "Take it to Brad." Fredrick found Brad in the command office. Brad pulled off his glasses and leaned over the map. "Heh. St Alphonse's," Brad said. "I've heard traders name that place. Never with a straight story." He traced the route with one claw. "Medical stock moving through there means somebody had a supply line running. Prewar, maybe still stocked." His voice quickened. "A cache like that would set the hospital up for a year, no more begging favors." "Or it's a raider church full of believers," Fredrick said. "Yeah. Could be both." Brad set his glasses back on. "Information's currency out here, and right now we've got just enough to get people killed." He folded the map and handed it back. "We prep an expedition. Vehicles, gear, a full team. We go find out what's really there." Fredrick took the map. The hospital had its supplies. But the crate had come from somewhere, and now the whole team would follow the line back to its source.