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As I entered the large, square grass courtyard of the Old Mormon Fort, I was met with a semi-circle setup of sandbags positioned a few meters away from the gate I walked in through, curved at an angle pointing towards the gate itself.
Several of the Followers were present, wearing what appeared to be their designated uniforms consisting of either faded teal suit jackets with collars, worn over white shirts and pants, or gray-blue suit jackets with matching miniskirts and ripped fishnet tights. They stood idly behind the sandbag wall, sizing me up with a critical gaze before ultimately determining that I posed no threat, at the moment. Without a word, they allowed me to enter.
In contrast, a group of individuals dressed in long, soiled white lab coats that dragged along the ground could be seen walking around with clipboards or entering and exiting various white tents scattered throughout the area.
The central part of the courtyard was reserved for busy doctors and researchers, while a handful of rugged locals hung around the edges of a few open tents towards the right side of the courtyard, staring at me with a mix of uncertainty or fear.
However, I didn't pay them much attention or concern.
I plodded wearily past the semi-circular barrier of sandbags until I reached the center of the courtyard.
Then, I searched for any open entrances to the surrounding tents, pivoting on my heels until I eventually spotted my sister's distinctive long, red ringlet curls in a tent located towards the left side, right in the back corner.
I hurried towards it immediately, spurs jingle-jangling with each rapid footstep until I was in the interior of the tent, pulling the draping white-fabric door closed behind me.
"Hey, Georgia..." I greeted, fussing about with the fabric door to ensure it was closed and then, when I was settled with it, found a rickety-looking wooden chair and yanked it closer to the bed on which Georgia was sat upon. "They treatin' 'ya okay?"
When I finally focused enough to set my sights on my sister, propped up against the metal-pole headboard and sat up on the patchy-looking cream-colored mattress over a thin, rusted metal bed-frame, there was a soft smile on her face. Wavering, not meeting her eyes, but one she tried her best to wear despite the bandages that had been wrapped around the deep slashes and scrapes on her legs and her arms.
Her hands rubbed over one another, trembling all the way down to the fingertips, but that soft smile on her face continued to fight to stay put.
"Yeah, folks here are real nice..."
Georgia nodded her head, taking a breath that seemed to attempt to push the smile further onto her face despite the way her eyes threatened to spill with tears.
"I'm just... tryin' not to think 'bout what happened, otherwise I'll probably... start cryin' again..."
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Nevada: High Roller (Fallout New Vegas)
Fanfiction"Being shot in the head will teach you two very important things about life. The first thing it teaches you is that you're tempting fate when you take a shortcut on your delivery route through a graveyard. When you're already surrounded by the dea...
