Sinclair Feldman's Arc

Chapter 6 of 6

The road to the field hospital was bleeding men. Ghouls hit Sarah's truck days ago, and Conner nearly died to radiation on the supply line. Sinclair had the vault tech now, but tech meant nothing if his people couldn't move between the hospital and the labs. The road needed armor. He gathered Brad, Zelda, Fredrick, and the Atomic Cats commander in the Rangers operations center to close a deal. Sinclair set a metal plaque on the table. It showed his offer from contacts down in Mexico. Two armored vehicles traded for one ton of medical kits. "I can get a VAB Mk2 up here," he said. "Cannon on the roof. It escorts every run until the road's safe. But they want supplies in return." Zelda studied the plaque. She'd spent every favor she had to stock the hospital, and she knew exactly what a ton cost her. "We pulled medical supplies off level three," she said. "Enough to feed the hospital a month, and enough to spare. I can release part of it." She looked at Sinclair. "If it keeps my people off that road, I'll sign." Amy Gill, the Atomic Cats commander who controlled the relay towers, leaned back. She'd built a trade faction out of old raiders, and she read deals like weather. "Medical aid moves through our network either way," she said. "My people match your kits. We want the road open as much as you do." She tapped the plaque. "Done, from my side." Brad turned the plaque toward the light. The tech talk woke him up. "Heh. A VAB with a twenty mil on it beats anything I've got parked out there, and between you and me, my shelves are empty for another nine days." He pushed his glasses up. "Yeah. I'm in. That truck plugs the hole I can't." Fredrick said nothing for a moment. He checked the Colt on his hip, then the map. "Two days to deliver," he said. "I'll run the escort." He looked at Sinclair. "Supplies move faster than ghouls learn. Close it." Sinclair looked around the table. Every faction had said yes. He keyed his radio and confirmed the trade with his Mexico contact. "Two days," he said. "The vehicle comes up with Fredrick's line." Two days later the armored transport rolled in, tan and green, the cannon swiveling on its mount. The road was covered. Sinclair had turned vault salvage into a working trade, and the medical kits would buy the first link of the network he wanted. Then Donovan's voice broke over the radio. His tone was flat and fast. The relay intercept had caught a signal. The ghouls at St Alphonse's were on the move. Not scattered. Formed up. In six days they would reach the vault road the new truck was meant to guard. Sinclair set down the radio. The deal had bought him a vehicle. It had also bought him a countdown.