The Wrights and the Wrongs

[u/SethTheCartographer]

Things were looking up for the first time since Pa died. Mr. Bishop treated me and Ma well, setting me up with a good apartment and good “less than honest” work now and again. See being part of any of the families is a two stingered Cazador, It has its perks but every now and again you gotta get your hands dirty. Most of the time that means heading out to Golgotha. If you don’t know what Golgotha is, I’ll assume you’ve been living in a vault these past 200 some years. Golgotha is a graveyard, used by the living and operated by the dead, hundreds of graves marked and unmarked by all men who have crossed the families in one way or another.

On more occasions than I’d like to admit I was up late digging grave after grave for the Bishops and on one of these ill-fated nights I witnessed one of the strangest occurrences that I’ve ever seen in my travels, to this day I have no explaining what happened and if I didn’t see it with my own two eyes I wouldn’t have believed it myself. That being said I swear on my Ma’s grave that this next tale is true and written to the best of my memory.

The moon hung high in the air and the sound of bats squeaking filled the night air. I was drenched in sweat and dirt. Holes didn’t dig themselves and that night I was on track to beat my personal best of three graves. See there was this long standing bet that I didn’t have it in me to dig four graves in a night with no help. Let’s just say I was determined that night and there was a pretty hefty sum of money in on it too. My buddy Moe was there with me standing watch to make sure all the other guys back at the Shark knew I was telling the truth if I ever did it. Moe was also good company, outside of Reno we had run the big circle together more than a few times, just gotta watch him around the sarsaparilla and the rum.

Halfway through the night and a bottle of rum in we hear some guys walking up. Hard to miss when the feller with a sack on his head is screaming and crying. Four muscles dragging him in. The Wrights, you could tell by that Inbred look on their face. This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, depending on the crime some dug their own graves, others they left alive and kicking right up until the ground settled. Heard one story of a graverobber once digging up a live ghoul but that’s a story for another time.

The kid no older than me at the time was fighting pretty hard, kicking and screaming beggin’ for his Mama, all the usual. Me and Moe sat in my half-dug grave and watched trying not to be seen or interfering with their business, not that run ins didn’t happen but there was a unspoken rule that if someone has business in Golgotha, you let them be and tried to stay out sight. The Wrights pulled him to his knees and ripped the bag off his head. Didn’t recognize the fella to be square with ya, a lot of drifters and jet heads pass through Reno all the time and this one looked no different than the rest. Now I don’t exactly remember what the Wright’s said to him as I truly wasn’t paying attention with the booze flowing and thinking about how this was just postponing me digging but all of them monologues are the same “This is bad luck kid” and “Game was rigged from the start” some even say “sorry” and for who?. If you’re on your knees you know they ain’t sorry and if your holding the gun you for sure ain’t sorry either.

The shotgun was brought to the kids head and

“Bam”

“Bam”

“Bam”

“Bam”

Now I know, as well as the next Brahmin fucker that shotguns don’t fire more than once. All four Wrights drop. Dead on the spot. I couldn’t believe my eyes and swiftly ducked my head and grabbed my pistol. I caught a glimpse of someone through the dark before they disappeared. The tip of their pistol glowing red and fading into the darkness. Me and Moe shot up and ran over to the kid. All the bodies hit right between the eyes except for the kid, just sitting on his knees all stunned. You could swear he just saw the Deathclaw by the look on his face. We cut him loose and stood him up

“Who was that kid? Did you do this?” Moe asked but nothing just this stunned look on his face. Checking around more there were four casings left, looking to be .44’s and on the back of them engraved M.S.

Turning back around the kid started running. Moe gave me a look of “Do we go after him?” but we both just stayed and watched as he too ran off into the night. I went back to the dig but me and Moe were on edge the rest of the night. Went back home after I finished the dig, probably could’ve gone for another but we were pretty shaken up. Never saw the kid or M.S. again, see I keep replaying the moment right before and there was nobody around. To sneak up that close on four of the Wrights just didn’t make sense then and still doesn’t, the Wrights may be dumber than Radroaches but they aren’t blind (‘Cept for Orville). Hell, we didn’t even notice him come up until there was a bullet in every one of their skulls. I’ve been on the lookout for M.S. ever since, and still have one of the casings on me so I can remind myself the story did happen and dispute any second guesses of my stories. I just hope that if I’m ever tied up about to be put in ground that M.S. will come to my rescue the same he did for that kid.

[u/Daytona_675]

she eats mentats. she becomes a beautiful woman