#thataway

2281 October 29th. Midday

Found a radio. Busted beyond repair.

2281 October 29th. Midday? Evening? Suns halfway between overhead and the horizon.

NO. I’m not going back. I’m playing catch up as it is. Don’t give a fig about those damn yokels. I DON’T.

2281 October 29th. Dusk

GOTDAMN, FUCKING SHIT, MUSH FOR BRAINS.

Got shot in the head, ‘course it’s all mush up there. Bleeding heart, is what I am. Couldn’t stop thinking of poor Ruby Nash, or Sunny, or Trudy strung up and crucified. All of them had some hand in getting me back on my feet. Can’t leave them without warning.

2281 October 30th.

Ok, i've calmed down and am taking a break. Back in Primm, sitting on the floor of the old casino surrounded by pages of a still legible programmers manual. Folk took the news of Nipton’s attack as well as one could. Asked for help in replacing their dead and useless lawmen. Suggestions given were the idiot NCR man at the gates, or their ex-sheriff now locked up for his own failures. How bad do you have to be to get locked up in the wasteland?? Either evil as the devil, or stupid as dirt. Terrible options. So here I am, wasting more time as I try to figure out how to reprogram Primm Slim’s protection protocols so he’ll defend the town. Honestly, I can't believe this funky little pre-war robot has lasted this long. Seems durable. Has to be the best choice.

2281 October 31st.

Made it back to Goodsprings and stocked up. Least I got vittles and chems out of the trip. Rested a spell at the saloon, but Trudy’s dropping hints about warning Ranger Jackson over at the NCR outpost to the point it's insufferable. Fat chance, I said. Not doing any more of the NCR’s work for them. I'll throw in a few extra stimpacks to sweeten the deal, she says. Call me a sellout, but I took her up on the offer. At this point I’m tracking my would be killer in spirit only. One can only hope he is being besieged in the same ways.

Mildly inconvenienced by the denizens of the wasteland, is what I’ll have them put on my gravestone.

2281. October 25th. Evening

Actually, I’m gotdamn annoyed that someone shot me. Left me to rot. Didn’t even have the wherewithal or common sense to check if I had a pulse. Amateurs. Can’t even properly execute me point blank.  

I’m gonna track ‘em down.

2281. October 27th.

Fucking useless.

The NCR can bite my ass. Primm - next town down from Goodsprings, I wasted an entire bag of ammo clearing it of thugs. Big NCR soldier man camped at the gates didn't have the resources apparently, so stood at the entrance doing shit all. How then did I manage it with my piecemeal armor and a single 10mm, hmm?

All for the measly tidbit that my failed murderer was seen on his way down to Nipton. At least the previously besieged town members were grateful enough to patch me up and send me on my way with food and water. Small blessings. 

I fed a bit of cram to one of the town’s mutts. It started following me, and I almost let it. Could do with a companion. I think I had a pet when I was a kid. Remember loving it. Can't remember anything else about it.

2281 October 28th. Night

Nights are getting too cold for comfort out here, which you'd think was a relief after the scorching heat of day. Maybe I'll try sleeping during the day and travelling at night. Having bad luck with fire too. Think I'll chance taking shelter in one of these decrepit buildings.

2281 October 28th. Still fucking night.

Should’ve stopped at the old gas station. Didn’t care to deal with radscorpions, so took my chances at the pre-war police station further down the highway. Shot up a gang hunkering down in it, woulda let them be, or kept on walking if they hadn’t tried gunning me down. As it was, meant I had a warm, well stocked place to sleep, almost cozy if it weren’t for the pile of corpses at the front door. 

There’s a raven hopping just outside the station's grimy window.

A raven! How could I forget him?... Used to have a friendly pet raven and I built puzzles for him to solve. Ma called him Breezeblock. When he died, aunt Cordelia taxidermied him. Was her best work, in my opinion.

Ok, enough writing for now. I have clothes and armor to repair, and guns to clean. Hopefully my trek to Nipton is uneventful. Knock on wood, toss salt over my shoulder, and all that.

Don't need any more bad luck.

Was seconds away from debasing myself onto my knees, begging her to come with me. Lamenting left and right about her failing caravan business, talking about how the Ranger wouldn’t let her go and handle the attacks on her caravan, how he only sees the worst outcome in everything, and decides to do fig all about it. Yep, sounds about right. Sounds pretty standard for the NCR in our little corner.

Maybe the desert's made me delirious, but my heart, she's perfect. Oh, how we'd help each other. We’d take on the wasteland as a team!

But, but, but. Her pride’s wrapped up in her work and she’s not ready to abandon it. Understandable, I suppose?!?? Would love to get your business up and running again, sweet Cass, but I've my own business to take care of first. So, almost perfect. Like I said, I'm cursed! My checker-suited would-be murderer has made too much ground. At this rate, I can’t afford any more delays. 

If only I could persuade her to abandon her work. Instead, I leave the Mojave Outpost with a heavy heart, and wish I had more charm in these bones.

2281 November 2nd

Made it back to Nipton and now onto Novac; the last place I have any sort of hint on where to go. It'll be the end of the line if I don't get answers.

2281 November 2nd. Night.

I’m finally getting a new radio station, thank the almighty. Two more minutes of Mr. New Vegas and I’d lose my mind. His schmaltzy routine was fun for a second, but he’s a nosy sonuvabitch. Who the fuck is giving him updates, am I really that unobservant to folk watching me? Surely there are more interesting things to report on than little ole me.

2281 November ??????

DAMMIT I’ve been shot at, I’ve been shot

I’m chock-full of chems right now. Chased over hill and dale. Don’t know what the date is anymore. Up to my eyeballs in drugs, can’t even read the small print on my pip-boy.

2281. Later.

Found a lean-to in the hills. Collapsed into it, more like. Don’t know how long I've been out, but I've managed to get a fire going in a nearby metal bin, so I'm no longer in danger of shivering myself to death. Lord almighty, no one has a hobby anymore. Ambushing travellers is not a gotdamn hobby. I know for a fact the stuff they're scrounging off us poor, sadsack travellers is not enough for the ammo they're wasting.

If I die here, and you're reading this, please take my things and kill these fuckers. Who are they? Memory's janky on that one. Maybe it'll come back to me. Gang has an animal name, I think?

Was an idiot, I'll admit it, OK? It was a bad fight. Bad. Close to shuffling off this mortal coil, when a roving Legion gang joined the fray. Managed to hobble off in the confusion. They gave up their chase, so here's hoping they take each other out. Now I'm good and lost and only slightly bleeding out.

2281. Even Later.

Radio Free Utobitha is all that keeps me company as I convalesce. My new favourite station. Seems to be run by a super mutant who might be called Best Friend Tabitha? Or maybe she's the best friend. Unclear. I know you're thinking, Cordy, you've lost your damn mind. TO which i say, yes. A bullet to the brain. I will in fact reference that event every chance i get. Anyhow. The anti-human propaganda is a hoot.

There's a ghoul prisoner they bring on, always with a cheerful announcement of his eminent execution. He's such a cheeky, smarmy bitch. I dream to be as unbothered as this fucker.

Raul Tajeda, I'm your number one fan, here's hoping they don't execute you.