05-01-2018, 11:09 PM
"So?" Doc Keller asked. "What's the deal?"
The sheriff, a squat and round man named Dodry, sucked at his teeth and shook his head. "How's Will? He said anything yet?" The fat man looked past the doctor, at the closed door of the AutoMed room. He could hear the whizzing and whirring of the machine as it did its work.
"No," Doc Keller said again, growing impatient. Keller was a vampire (what better job for a vampire than one who was around blood all day?), and though he was eternally grateful that the people of Loredo welcomed him the way they did, sometimes their indirectness vexed him. "What did you find?"
Sheriff Dodry paused and pushed the brim of his hat up, sucking at his teeth again. "Stark Ranch is burned to the ground." He paused again and looked at his boots. "Three fresh graves is dug, too."
Keller sighed and shook his head. "Poor bastard."
"Eyup," the sheriff said, looking back up. He licked his lips, took a step to the closed door, then bee-lined away to the pot of coffee percolating in the waiting room.
Doc Keller followed, eager for answers. That kind of mindless violence was what he had tried to get away from, coming to the quiet of Loredo and away from the Sprawls. As harsh as the Stateless Lands were, Keller had found there was often some method to the madness. "Was there anything else? Any sign of who did it?"
"Some tire tracks," the sheriff answered as he poured a cup of coffee. "Shell casings. Boot prints. Lots of 'em. I reckon there had to have been a hundred men, maybe more."
"A hundred men? For a retired rancher?"
"Doc, fella like Will Stark - you don't just - has he said anything?"
"No, I told you."
The sheriff nodded and ambled to the door, this time going in. Doc Keller poured himself his own mug of coffee, peering into the room. His patient sat stone and silent in the AutoMed chair, the robotic arms of the medical machine darting back and forth, plugging holes, stitching cuts, mending wires. Normally Keller would be doing most of it himself, but the man's cybernetics were horribly outdated. All the doctor could do was monitor vitals and administer medicine as needed.
A few minutes later Sheriff Dodry came mosying back out, his coffee cup drained.
"Did he say anything?" Doc Keller asked.
"You have a gun?"
Keller paused, confused; "Yes I have a gun, why-"
"Give it to him." Sheriff Dodry licked a few beads of sweat from his upper lip.
"Give it to him? Sheriff you told me his ranch is burned down, so I don't think he has many assets to even cover his medical bill, let alone-"
"Doc," the sheriff interrupted, "don't you dare try to charge Will for none of this. Don't you dare. Do you know why Loredo is so quiet? Why we don't have no damn problems with raiders or muties? Will Stark is why. He breezed into town with a new wife long before you got here, and said he'd take care of the Junker raider gang and dem muties and the den of galdurn vampires - them with the yellow eyes, not red like yours - that'd been given us hell and you know what he asked for? A plot a land to call his own and some peace and quiet."
"...and he did it-"
"YES he galdurn did it! All of 'em, in a week's time!" The sheriff looked at the door then quieted down. "So when I say give him your gun, it's because otherwise I'm worried he's gonna take it from you."
The sheriff, a squat and round man named Dodry, sucked at his teeth and shook his head. "How's Will? He said anything yet?" The fat man looked past the doctor, at the closed door of the AutoMed room. He could hear the whizzing and whirring of the machine as it did its work.
"No," Doc Keller said again, growing impatient. Keller was a vampire (what better job for a vampire than one who was around blood all day?), and though he was eternally grateful that the people of Loredo welcomed him the way they did, sometimes their indirectness vexed him. "What did you find?"
Sheriff Dodry paused and pushed the brim of his hat up, sucking at his teeth again. "Stark Ranch is burned to the ground." He paused again and looked at his boots. "Three fresh graves is dug, too."
Keller sighed and shook his head. "Poor bastard."
"Eyup," the sheriff said, looking back up. He licked his lips, took a step to the closed door, then bee-lined away to the pot of coffee percolating in the waiting room.
Doc Keller followed, eager for answers. That kind of mindless violence was what he had tried to get away from, coming to the quiet of Loredo and away from the Sprawls. As harsh as the Stateless Lands were, Keller had found there was often some method to the madness. "Was there anything else? Any sign of who did it?"
"Some tire tracks," the sheriff answered as he poured a cup of coffee. "Shell casings. Boot prints. Lots of 'em. I reckon there had to have been a hundred men, maybe more."
"A hundred men? For a retired rancher?"
"Doc, fella like Will Stark - you don't just - has he said anything?"
"No, I told you."
The sheriff nodded and ambled to the door, this time going in. Doc Keller poured himself his own mug of coffee, peering into the room. His patient sat stone and silent in the AutoMed chair, the robotic arms of the medical machine darting back and forth, plugging holes, stitching cuts, mending wires. Normally Keller would be doing most of it himself, but the man's cybernetics were horribly outdated. All the doctor could do was monitor vitals and administer medicine as needed.
A few minutes later Sheriff Dodry came mosying back out, his coffee cup drained.
"Did he say anything?" Doc Keller asked.
"You have a gun?"
Keller paused, confused; "Yes I have a gun, why-"
"Give it to him." Sheriff Dodry licked a few beads of sweat from his upper lip.
"Give it to him? Sheriff you told me his ranch is burned down, so I don't think he has many assets to even cover his medical bill, let alone-"
"Doc," the sheriff interrupted, "don't you dare try to charge Will for none of this. Don't you dare. Do you know why Loredo is so quiet? Why we don't have no damn problems with raiders or muties? Will Stark is why. He breezed into town with a new wife long before you got here, and said he'd take care of the Junker raider gang and dem muties and the den of galdurn vampires - them with the yellow eyes, not red like yours - that'd been given us hell and you know what he asked for? A plot a land to call his own and some peace and quiet."
"...and he did it-"
"YES he galdurn did it! All of 'em, in a week's time!" The sheriff looked at the door then quieted down. "So when I say give him your gun, it's because otherwise I'm worried he's gonna take it from you."