NOVEL WEB Chapter Three: English?
Joseph stared down at the young woman with his brow furrowed. Why was she wearing a fancy silk dress out here in the middle of nowhere? That wasn’t going to protect her from the environment or from the dangers of the wastes. He pursed his lips at the term ‘wastes’, this was a completely intact forest, uncorrupted by invasive fungus, radiation, or any of the other countless hazards that had come with The End. At least it seemed like it was so on the surface… When was the last time he’d seen a truly earth-like environment like this? Had to have been about fifty years ago now, in Yellowstone.
This was certainly not Yellowstone, this was someplace different. The question was, where? He needed to-
“Ilit… ilit it ogrish?” The woman said, drawing him away from his thoughts.
He tilted his head at the strange words, “What?” He asked, ensuring his tone was confused. Had he misheard her?
She flinched as the words left his mouth, “Ilit it ogrish?” She asked again, this time a bit more slowly.
He stared in silence for a moment before he replied, “Do you speak English?”
Now she tilted her head, seemingly trying to understand his words. Oh joy… he had thought he heard that one bandit in the back speaking a different language, but he hadn’t been one hundred percent sure. Now he knew. What was she speaking in? She looked European, maybe German? It was hard for him to tell, but he had heard people speak in Deutch before, and it didn’t sound like that.
“English.” He said clearly, making sure to maintain a friendly tone.
No response. He looked her over again, head to foot, trying to see if there would be any indicators for which country he had ended up in. Besides the dark red dress, brown hair, and green eyes, he couldn’t really tell. She was pretty, with high cheekbones and a sharp nose… considering the blonde hair and the structure of her face, it was likely that he’d somehow ended up in Western Europe. If that was the case, then he was a long way from home.
“Ilit it humish?” She asked suddenly, perking up.
Humish? Was that the language or was she asking what he was? Should he nod or shake his head? It was best to be honest, even if she couldn’t understand him.
“I don’t get what you’re saying.” He replied, placing a hand on his chestplate, “I am Joseph, Joseph.” He repeated slowly, “And who are you?” He asked, pointing to her.
She paused for a brief moment, considering his words before finally she said, “Es un Morla.” She finished, mirroring his gesture, “Et ou Touvolder? On ealk Faesh?”
He nodded his head to show his understanding, repeating back her name to her. He didn’t understand what this ‘Touvolder’ or ‘Faesh’ words meant, but he was certain that she’d given him her name. In turn, she nodded sharply, pointing to him and repeating ‘Joseph’. Thankfully there were some things that could be understood without having to speak the same language. Now, Morla, what kind of a name was that? He rolled his eyes at the thought, he’d seen far stranger names in his time than that, plus it was foreign. It was certainly no stranger than Kayleighaley, nothing could ever top that.
He took a slow step forward, and again she flinched. He raised a hand, palm-up to show that he didn’t intend her any harm. After a few seconds, she eased, and he took yet another step forward, and another, until finally he loomed over her, encasing her in his shadow. Slowly, he reached down, offering her his hand. She stared at it wide eyed for an instant before her shaking hand met his, and he hauled Morla to her feet with no trouble.
Her legs were shaking, but she managed to remain upright despite that. His eyes found the quivering form of the last bandit, a swarthy man with a sniveling rat-like face. The guy was curled up in a ball, having managed to duck down just in time to avoid the hail of bullets that had shredded through his companions. Well, there was no point wasting a bullet on this one if he was all curled up on the ground like that…
A quick stomp would do just fine.
He stepped around Morla, approaching the downed bandit with no hesitation. He could feel the ground shaking beneath his feet as he stomped forth, ready to paint the bottom of his boot in a shade of bandit-crimson. The man yelped, scrambling to his feet before darting off toward a… was that a wagon? He stared, fascinated by the simple wooden frame of the thing. It looked straight out of medieval times, complete with two completely unmutated horses tied at the front. He goggled at the majestic creatures for long enough that the final bandit passed by the ancient vehicle.
Joseph cursed, raising his mini-gun and taking aim. He probably wouldn’t be able to catch up to the scum unless he ran, and sprinting in this suit was a pain. It wasn’t difficult, in fact it could reach a top speed of fifty miles per hour, but it was exceedingly difficult to turn at that pace. Coming to a complete stop at that speed was even harder. It would be more likely that he’d collide with something before he could slow down. A short burst from the mini-gun wouldn’t be too serious a waste, and people like this just shouldn’t ever be spared, all they did was cause trouble for good folk.
He’d learned not to spare these a long time ago. Right as his finger touched the trigger however, a large hand seized the bandit's ankle from the ground next to the wagon, causing the fleeing trash to trip and fall flat on his face. He tilted his head as a fat man pulled himself forward, laying prone on top of the fallen bandit and pinning him with his weight. A large welt was forming on his brow, just above his eye. Another victim perhaps?
“Jareed, unul eet au eat keik au ash!” The fat man shouted, his face reddening as he brought his broad fists down onto the swarthy man's face.
Joseph winced with every single crunching blow the heavy fellow delivered upon the scumbag, wishing that it were him battering the garbage instead. Soon, the bandit fell limp, and so too did the hefty man, rolling off to lay flat on his back, gasping for air. Joseph goggled at him too, not because he had brutalized that raider, but because… well, he was fat. How was it even possible to be that heavy nowadays? Back before The End, there were plenty of people that size, but with the extinction of sedentary life, it had been basically impossible to become obese.
This person, whoever he was, was incredibly well off. He must have been a top-tier survivor back in his day to afford living this way now. Then again… this place didn’t seem to have it that rough. There wasn’t any kind of corruption that he could see in this environment. Had this forest really been left completely untouched by the ravages of The End? It still seemed too good to be true, even though it was here before his eyes.
Morla let out a relieved cry, rushing past him to approach the heaving form by the wagon, “Fashar!” She shouted in what sounded to be joy, wrapping her arms around the man’s bald head.
Fashar. What did that mean? It sounded almost like ‘father’, maybe English was a root language for this new one? Either that, or the two languages shared roots in Latin. He compared the two strangers' faces as he approached, seeing a few similarities between them. Especially those bright green eyes, basically the mirror of one another. If that wasn’t her father then Joseph was a bird.
“Alright, you’re safe now.” He told them, causing the large man’s head to shoot up.
He stared wide-eyed at Joseph, jaw falling agape a moment before Morla tapped him on the shoulder, whispering something into his ear. He seemed to ease a fraction, but still his eyes were wide with clear uncertainty.
How should he proceed from here? Morla and her father were safe now, there weren’t any inbound threats, and the environment was completely safe to breathe in. It looked like his work was done here… They should be able to get home on their own now, those horses and that wagon looked completely functional to him. He could offer them a ride but… well, he didn’t know these folks aside from this brief encounter.
He’d learned years ago that just cause you saved someone, didn’t mean that you could trust em’. Joseph couldn’t drive Betty while in his suit, meaning that he’d need to step out of it, leaving him vulnerable. Sure, he didn’t think that Morla or her father could overpower him, but they still might be able to stick a knife in him. Best not to take that risk, he saved their lives, that was all that needed to be done.
With that thought, he turned around, marching away quickly before any more words could be exchanged. Hopefully they’d not run into more problems anytime soon. A part of Joseph urged him to stay, to at least try and question the two about his whereabouts. He ignored the feeling as he continued back toward Betty, glad to hear that the strangers didn’t try to pursue him. He could figure out where he was well enough on his own, and those folks didn’t need ole’ Joe pestering them for answers after they’d just been attacked.
It didn’t take him too much longer to get back to Betty, a good thing, for the T-12 was nearly drained. A bleeping red indicator in the shape of a battery had made itself visible in the upper right hand corner of his HUD. There was probably less than five minutes worth of energy left before it would shut down. It was a good thing he didn’t stay behind to question those people, he’d have had to step out of the suit right there in the open. The T-12 would be staying on the charger for a bit, this environment seemed safe enough for him to don his plate-armor, especially now that he knew that no ambush had awaited him.
Hopefully he’d be able to get inside before the T-12 shut off, dragging it back manually would be intensive, and it wouldn’t be good for his back. He wasn’t getting any younger-
He then smiled at the thought. Apparently you could take the old out of the man but not the man out of the old. He reached down toward the small metal case attached to his thigh, opening the magnetized clips before pulling free a tiny scratched up garage door opener. He’d scavenged this bad boy from some old suburban ruins, it worked great for Betty’s outer door.
He struggled to push the button with his free hand, his gauntlet too large to properly fit his thumb over it. He had a trick to using this in his armor, what had it been? Ah, of course. He took the door opener, placing it against the jutting brow of his helmet with a small grin. A loud grinding could be heard emanating from within Betty’s walls, and soon, the back of the vehicle slid open, the wall lowering down to become a ramp.
Once the wall was completely lowered, it revealed behind it… another wall. Except this one had a thick steel door in its center. It stood in contrast with the rest of Betty’s hull, which he had painted black to help obscure it during the night. He hadn’t really seen a need to paint the door, it would always be behind the ramp after all, no one would see it unless Joseph wanted them to. He walked up the ramp, the clang of his metal footsteps echoing through the surrounding forest before he stood before the door.
It was a simple doorknob, oval in shape with no keyhole. He lifted his fist, gently banging out a gentle rhythm on the steel. Once the beat had completed, he heard the lock click, and he twisted the knob, pushing into his workshop with a sigh. Not from the effort he’d expended out in the field, but rather remembering how complex and time consuming it had been to make that door unlock with a rhythmic knock.
Just remembering the process made his brain run hot with frustration, so instead, he turned his thoughts back to the young girl and her father he’d just met. No mutations whatsoever, despite being clad in nothing but renaissance fair gear… this was a safe zone if he’d ever seen one. Yet, despite how pure this environment was, there was still some poison lingering about in the form of bandits.
Hopefully he could find someone around here that could speak English, someone that could point him to where these creatures were hiding so Joseph could exterminate them. Now that he was back in fighting condition, he had to resume his old duties… His face twisted up into a horrible grin, his teeth clenched and eyes wide as he anticipated the slaughter to come.