Title: Dehumanization (Pt2)
Author: Dani
Rating: T (For language)
Disclaimer: Fallout 3 and the world it takes place in do not belong to me. The characters in this story, however, do.
Author's Note: We find our "hero" where we last left him, in the den of the beast, about to learn a thing or two about monsters, grammar and tea.
Please read and review
Dehumanization - Part 1------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"So tell me a bit about yourself, Quinn." Gerald stood with his back to the boy, building up a fire in the wood stove.
The boy in question sat on a threadbare ottoman in the center of the room, marveling at his surroundings. The interior of the shack was startlingly different than its exterior. At least it doesn't look like it's about to collapse. Ancient bookshelves lined three of the four walls, each packed to the bursting point with papers, holotapes and of course books. A rickety table, which was also heaped high with tomes of every shape, size and dialect sat against the far wall. The small wood stove was set up beside it.
Quinn watched apprehensively as the man set two cracked mugs on a stack of books and made his way over to a footlocker by the door. As he opened it the boy saw that it was filled with various ration packs and bottles of wine and water. Gerald fished out two small bags, which appeared to be full of leaves, and returned to the stove.
"Not much to tell, Sir." Quinn began, tucking a loose strand of dirty, chestnut hair behind his ear. He craned his neck to see past the man, nose wrinkling. His brothers once made him eat some of the stunted, devil-grass that grew in clumps in the hills behind their house. It tasted awful and he had been bedridden for a week after. He hoped tea wasn't anything like that. "I'm eight... I live with my parents and jackass brothers up on the cliff. We used to have a dog too, but it got killed."
"It
was killed." Gerald corrected. He dropped a bag and a tarnished spoon in each of the waiting mugs.
"Yeah... S'what I said. Why, you know something about it?" The boy asked suspiciously.
The man chucked, a disturbing, raspy sound that resonated from deep within his throat, "No, you said he
got killed, which is grammatically incorrect." A metal contraption on the stove began to sprout steam and whistle shrilly. Carefully boiling water was poured into the mugs followed by spoons to hold the leaf-filled bags in place. "My goodness, I never thought I'd have a chance to discuss grammar again, least of all in a place like this."
He placed the two mugs on a well-worn tray along with a box of Fancy Lad Snack Cakes and made his way over to the mildewy, wing back chair beside the boy.
Quinn took the mug that was offered to him. He sniffed it delicately and wrinkled his nose as he watched the man across from him sipping away, seemingly unaware of the smell or the steam wafting off the scalding liquid. He gave the beverage another fleeting sniff before setting it aside and opting for the snack cakes, "So... What's grammar?"
Gerald sputtered, almost dropping his cup in the process. The boy watched his expression shift from horror, to confusion, to pity, then return to horror for a few moments before settling on exasperation, "Oh my... Well, simply put grammar is the proper structure of language. It governs the way we speak and is- or rather was very important."
The boy nodded politely while he munched on one of the stale snack cakes, never wondering what sort of noxious chemicals must be contained within to keep it 'fresh' after so many centuries. He took another bite before speaking, a few crumbs spilling from his mouth to the floor, "So what, everyone had to talk the same way back then?"
"Oh no, not exactly, although it was encouraged." The man watched the crumbs uncomfortably for a few moments before muttering a quick pardon and retrieving an almost bristless broom from the corner. He banished the crumbs in a few quick sweeps, speaking the whole while, "Unfortunately the importance of grammar was on a steady decline, making my chosen profession all the more frustrating. I was an English Professor you see. By the end it was mostly used to differentiate the educated from the..." He trailed off, giving the boy a sympathetic smile, "... Others." He returned the broom to it's appointed corner and after a moments hesitation went to a nearby shelf, carefully prying a book free.
He returned to his chair and studied the book for a few more moments, seemingly conflicted, before offering it to the boy. "Here, I think you should read this if you're interested. It's fairly basic but it should give you a better idea of what I'm talking about."
Quinn took the book and looked it over, opening it only after scrutinizing the cover thoroughly. He flipped through a few pages, his eyebrows knit together in concentration. Eventually he looked at the man across from him and bit his lip sheepishly.
Gerald was smiling down at him encouragingly but his smile faded when he noticed the boy's expression. He brought one hand to his temple and began to slowly massaging circles in the ruined flesh, "You can't read, can you?"
The boy shrugged apologetically.
"Well alright then." Gerald stood and approached another bookshelf. Delicately he removed a thin, paperback book from where it was wedged between two much larger, leather bound volumes. He never once hesitated to search for either book but seemed to know exactly where they were despite the apparent mess. He returned once again to his seat and opened the book, turning it so Quinn could see the faded pictures and text. He rolled his shoulders back, producing several audible cracks and clicks before adopting teacher's posture, "'A'..." He paused, taking in a deep, anticipating breath, "... is for apple."
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Meanwhile, at the top of the seaside hill, three boys were fretting like they'd never fretted before.
"Dammit Tan, what the hell do we do
now?" Avery, the second oldest, hissed. His fine, red hair whipped around his head, stirred up by the seaside breeze. He and Liam were pacing trenches in the earth, shuffling back and forth like caged animals. "We are in
so much shit!"
Tanner stood at the edge of the cliff, watching the path purposefully. The jutting rocks make it so he could just make out the shack's smokestack and he would scowl at it every time his cold, patrolling eyes fell on it. Smoke was still wafting up lazily, and had been doing so for well over an hour. This had caused some initial panic between the boys but Tanner had quickly calmed them, stating the smoke wasn't the right color for cooking people. They believed him because they believed everything he said but the truth was he bullshitted the smoke excuse and was starting to seriously wonder about the fate of his youngest brother.
What the hell do we do now?He felt a tug at his sleeve and turned to see Liam staring down at him nervously. Liam may have been the second youngest but he had hit an early growth spurt and now towered over the other three brothers, holding at least 3 inches over Tanner himself. Not only that, he was the only one in the family with pitch black hair and almost as black eyes. Tanner had often wondered if he was even related to him, "Tan... Is Quinn dead?"
The older boy snorted and rolled his eyes, turning his attention back down the slope, "No stupid. He'll be comin' any minute now."
Liam shifted back and forth on his feet, glancing first at Avery who threw his arms up in frustration, then down the hill before looking back at his older brother, "Yeah... but you've been sayin' that for a while now and... Well it's gettin' kinda late. Dad'll be lookin' for us."
Tanner's frown deepened, he glared behind him at the setting sun, or at least what could be seen of it through the irradiated clouds. Liam was right, they'd be called in for supper soon. If he didn't think of something fast, they'd all end up dead. He turned on his heel and strutted confidently towards a nearby shed. The shed was the only one on the street still standing so the boys had claimed it years ago as their 'club house'. Inside he pulled back his hair and tied it with a bit of cord, grabbed their sole, abused baseball bat then fetched a gnarled length of barbed wire from a box he kept on the top shelf.
He noticed the shadows of his younger brothers as they crowded in the doorway behind him, "Go home." His voice was stern and commanding, his father's voice, "Tell mom and dad that Quinn and I will be along soon, we're just cleanin' up. Don't tell them anythin' else, got it?" Carefully he wound the barbed wire around the bat, mouth set in a grim line.
"W-what are you gonna do?" Avery practically whispered, staring up at his brother worriedly as Tanner pushed past him.
The eldest boy didn't bother to look back, "I'm gonna go get him."
He waited until he could hear his brothers running down the blasted and broken pavement behind him before heading down the path. Strangely, with weapon in hand, he was no longer afraid of the monster at the bottom of the hill. Tanner felt powerful with the bat at his side. He was a force to be reckoned with if ever there was one. As the oldest brother it was his duty to protect his siblings. Hell, he was technically a teenager now, having just turned thirteen a few months ago.
That wasn't the only reason he was marching down that hill though.
Part of him, a very tiny, almost insignificant part, wanted to hurt something and hurt it very badly. He had thought of the beast in the shack as something terrible for so long that he never considered trying to get rid of it. Seeing the creature for the first time made him realize this was a very real possibility.
He stalked further down the slope, his young features hard and dangerous.
Of course, he'd never admit it, but if it had of been either of his other brothers Tanner probably wouldn't be doing this. Avery was a loudmouthed, ginger moron and Liam was an over-sized infant. He hated his family, but Quinn was the only one he felt any sort of kinship to. The kid was smart, almost as smart as he was, and that made him a threat. At the same time though, it made him a rival. Even at his young age, Quinn was able to challenge his brother intellectually. Not only would he question anything they did, but he would argue his points until he turned blue in the face. They fought often but, Tanner realized, that's what he loved about it.
He rounded the corner, where the path branched off towards the beach and came to a dead stop. Not far ahead Quinn was walking up the path towards him, head lowered. Instantly any dark, violent thoughts melted away and he broke into a dead run, the bat falling from his fingers as he sprinted forwards.
Quinn was looking down at the thin book in his hands when a sudden crushing force hit him. He yelped and tried to jump back but he was trapped as a pair of arms locked around him. It took a moment for him to figure out what was happening, "... Tanner?"
"Oh you fuck... you stupid fuck." Tanner was muttering as he held his brother, rocking slightly, "If you ever do anything like that again I
sweartofucking God..."
The boy laughed as he finally managed to pry his brother's arms off of him, "Okay yeah, I'm sorry... but you left me! Don't think I'm not pissed about that." He smiled as he continued past Tanner up the path, "And none of that God talk, okay? We hear enough of that from mom." He slowed as he spotted the bat, hazel eyes widening in surprise, "What is-"
He was cut off as the book was snatched from his hand from behind and he turned to see Tanner looking it over sceptically, "Where did you get this?" He didn't bother to look at Quinn as he spoke, his whole attention focused on the book in his hands. They only had one book in their house, and their mom was the only one who could read it.
"Give it back Tanner. Please." Quinn reached out nervously. He tried to force a warning tone but it fell flat. It wasn't so much that Quinn was intimidated by his older brother, but Tanner was practically a spitting image of their father. He had the same muddy brown hair, the same dark, blue eyes and even at his young age he had the same stern expression. Especially when he was angry.
Tanner gave the book a final look over before taking hold of a few of the pages and starting to tear.
Quinn lunged forward and snapped it shut, trapping his brother's fingers for a moment. Tanner swore and jerked back, releasing the battered pages. The boy hugged the book to his chest and backed away, eyes defiant yet fearful, "I said please, didn't I?"
The older brother snarled, shaking his hand slightly, "Did that freak give it to you?" He didn't bother to wait for a reply, "You sure as hell aren't keeping it!" He started forward, reaching out to take it again.
Quinn panicked, "I'll tell Dad about Scrambles!" he threatened, backing away slowly.
"You don't have the balls." Tanner snarled, but he stopped just the same. As far as their parents knew their dog had been gored by a rad scorpion but the truth was much more gruesome. "They wouldn't believe you anyway." His voice lacked conviction and he knew Quinn heard it.
"Oh, I don't know. Somehow I don't think they'd put it past you." His eyes narrowed as he tightened his death grip on the book, "Hey dad, I know what really happened to the dog. See, it all started when we found this dead scorpion and Tanner thought it'd be funny to cut it's tail off and-"
"Alright!" The older brother barked, "Fine, whatever, keep it. It's fucking stupid anyway." He lifted his hands up in defeat, playing the incident off like nothing. Quinn knew better though. He wouldn't say anything more about it now but sometime in the near future Tanner would hurt him, just to make sure he remembered who was in charge. The older boy sauntered forward grabbing the bat as he passed it then scooping his brother into a head lock and hauling him up the hill. He gave the shack a final, mistrusting glare before turning back to his younger brother and prodding him in the side with the end of the bat, "You're gonna be the death of me, you know that?"
