I woke up to chickens yelling at me. One of them was right under the wagon, going off like an alarm clock made of feathers and radiation. Another hopped around outside the flap, claws ticking on the metal. Best sleep I had in a long while. No screaming, no gunfire, no dreams I could remember. Just the steady whirr of Claptrap's idle cycle in the wagon, the occasional creak of wood, and the soft buzz of the farm's fence.
A little blue notification in the back of my head slid into place as I blinked awake.
Research complete: Chemfuel Refining.
New project selected: Hygiene.
Good. Fuel sorted. Next up: toilets and hot water that didn't involve buckets and prayers. Cause I wanted hot showers. I rolled and got up, stretching before making my way out of the wagon, taking the small jump, boots hitting dirt. The morning air hit me in the face, cool air, bright sky that made me lift my hand to block out the sunlight. The farm was already awake. Ghouls by the fence line, a couple of humans hauling feed sacks, one of the radhorses snorting by its post. Somewhere, a Mister Handy scolded someone about "proper ladling technique."
"Morning, lad," I muttered, palming the side of his chassis from outside the wagon. Cool metal. Comforting. "We'll get you sorted. Soon, Maybe."
Status flickered across my pipboy: damage pings, a list of parts I knew I needed but couldn't magic out of thin air. Hinge assembly. Servo cluster. One cracked optic line. I chewed my lip. Six caps in my pocket. Right. Time to talk to June's dad.
Harlowe was where you'd expect him to be, by the main fence, supervising two farmhands wrestling a busted post back into place. He had his sleeves rolled, overalls on, and his assault rifle leaned casually within reach.
"Morning," I said, stopping at a safe distance. He glanced over, squinted once, then gave me a small nod. "Vault girl."
"Morgan," I said, before my brain could talk me out of it. "But aye. That one."
"Breakfast's on the big table," he said. "You'll work it off."
"Plan to," I said. "But I was hoping to… talk trade. After, if you've time."
He tapped ash out of his pipe with two neat knocks. "Trade for what?"
I glanced back toward the wagon where Claptrap stood, stiff as ever. "Parts. For my Protectron. Took a round to the chest plate and cooked some guts. I can do the work, but I need… bits."
Harlowe followed my look, eyes narrowing just enough to say he was taking the measure of the machine. "That's the walker that took a hit from some mutants?"
"Aye," I said. "He's mine. He's… all I've got, really."
He let that sit for a second. "You got caps?"
I winced. "Six." One of the farmhands snorted. "Six'll doesn't buy you even scraps," he said. "You got anything else worth parting with?"
I took a breath. "I've a small pile," I said. "If you don't mind me laying it out." He jerked his chin toward a rough plank table by the barn wall. "Let's see it after you eat. I don't haggle with hungry people. They're stupid."
"Fair," I said, because it was. Breakfast was simple. Bread that actually had some softness left in it, fry-up of tatos and Brahmin bits, coffee that tasted like warm bitterness. I ate standing by the table with the others, listening to the morning chatter. The twins, Lena and Mara, argued about whose turn it was to clean the caravan's rifles.
June stomped past with a crate under one arm like it was made of cardboard, hair tied up, and eyes already busy. Levi pretended not to watch her and failed.
After, I found a quiet corner of the yard and unpacked my backpack onto Harlowe's plank.
Food & drink:
– Two boxes of rations bars.
– Four regular Nukas.
– One Cherry
– A handful of sealed snack packs that tasted like cardboard and sugar.
Ammo & power:
– Mixed handfuls of .38 and .45.
– A strip of 10mm.
– Charge cells I'd gotten from Rose for helping with inventory. 16 total
– One fusion core showing 12% charge.
Clothes & kit:
– Two shirts.
– Dark pants.
– Decent boots.
– My Follower lab coat.
– A spare belt.
– One battered cap.
It looked sad, all spread out like that. The only thing that made Harlowe's eyebrows raise was the core. He picked it up with care. Turned it, checked the indicator. "Where'd you get this?"
"Found it while looting on the way to your farm," I lied smoothly. "Pulled it out of a generator in a basement."
"Hmm." He weighed it again. "I know what it's worth," I said quietly.
"Doesn't matter, I decide it's worth, here," he said.
"Aye," I said. " I'll be leaving Rose's group once we reach the commonwealth. I need Claptrap working right. Otherwise…" I shrugged. Otherwise, I was a skinny girl with a pistol and a stutter.
Harlowe set the core down with care, then jerked his chin toward the barn. "Come on."
We walked past the stalls, the stores of grain, and a couple of the radhorses. Harlowe led me to a side shed that smelled like oil and old rain. Inside: shelves of parts.
"Worktron chassis," he said, knocking a knuckle against a dusty torso. "Never got her running; more trouble than she was worth." He started pulling things down. "Servo clusters. Optic harness. Assorted plating. Some of this'll fit that Protectron of yours."
I picked up a servo assembly, turning it in my hands. The weight felt right. It was the same model as Claptrap's. I could make it work. The plating was a patchwork of colors—orange, faded blue, company logos half-sanded off.
"Core for parts and a set of tools," Harlowe said. "I've got a spare kit—a good wrench, driver set, solder iron that still eats power. You'll need it if you're going where you say."
I looked at the core. Twelve percent. Enough to run a set of power armor for maybe a few minutes, well, at least in the game, I'll find out if it was the same or not. I thought of the Museum of Freedom, of the fusion cores sitting clean in basements. Of trusting the game map in my head.
"Done," I said, before I gave myself time to regret it. We shook on it. His hand swallowed mine. "You work for what you get," he said. "You'll help with the fence and pump while you're here. After that, the parts are yours to bolt on however you like."
"Yes, sir," I said. He grunted, like that was too formal. "Name's Harlowe. 'Sir' makes me sound like I should be sittin' behind a desk."
"Aye," I said. "Harlowe. Thank you."
He just nodded and started loading the chosen parts into a crate for me. The day settled into a rhythm. Chores first, robots later. That was the deal. I helped Lena and Mara patch a section of fence a taterboar had tried to love too hard. We banged posts back in, stretched wire, and Lena laughed every time I swore under my breath.
"You're getting better," she said, fixing the wire.
"At swearing?" I said.
"At pulling your weight," Mara said. "Swearing was always there."
"Thanks," I said dryly.
Mid-morning, I ended up beside June at the pump, hauling water buckets while one of the ghouls, Ruth, the one who'd screamed us half to death last night, poured them into the troughs.
"So," June said casually, like we'd never had that whole naked conversation. "You mentioned a Vault. And nearly dying trying to leave. Why'd you go, really?"
I'd been turning this over in my head since last night. The lie needed to be believable. "Got tired of the cage," I said, which was true enough. "And tired of… what it meant to everyone else."
She lifted a brow, waiting. I looked down at the bucket in my hands. The water shivered with each tiny movement. "They'd decided my future," I said. "Before I was even old enough to decide for myself."
"That bad?" she asked.
"They wanted me to marry a man nearly twice my age," I said. "Thirty-something. Important. Had connections with the Overseer. I was sixteen. He'd already picked out my 'duties.'" I could feel my mouth twist around the word. I really didnt like lying, but... "Figured if I didn't leave then, I never would."
June's jaw flexed. "So you ran."
"Aye," I said. "Took what I could, nearly got myself killed by some stalkers. But I'm out." My chest felt tight saying it, even knowing it was only half a lie. The part where adults decided my worth, that part was real enough.
"Good," June said, and there was heat in it. "Sounds like you picked the correct future."
"You believe me?" I asked, before I could help it.
She clicked her tongue. "I've seen enough girls tied to things they didn't pick. Vault or no Vault, that story is all too familiar. And you don't talk like someone who left because she wanted adventure." Her eyes were steady on me. "You talk like someone who left because she had no other choice."
Ruth made a small approving noise and hefted her own bucket. "You made the right choice."
I shrugged. "It's easier to fight monsters than… people who say they love you but have a calendar for your life."
"Monsters are honest," Ruth said. "They want to eat you; they act like it."
"Exactly," I muttered. June bumped my shoulder lightly. "Well, Morgan, I'm glad you crawled out of whatever hole you were in. World's better off with another clever bastard in it, far as I'm concerned."
"Thanks," I said, cheeks hot. Didn't know what to do with that, so I went back to hauling buckets. By afternoon, I had a little corner claimed by the wagon: a crate of parts, a tool roll unfurled, Claptrap standing like a patient idiot while I worked. The sun made the metal warm against my palms. One thing at a time. Hands first.
"Hold still, sugar, I'll have you back in top shape soon," I muttered.
I popped the scorched chest plate off and winced at the blackened wiring underneath. "Alright, you did take a hit." I worked quietly, lost in it. Strip a wire, replace a servo, fit the worktron plate, and mark out where I'd have to shave metal to fit the mount. The sounds of the farm were background music: someone hammering, the cluck of glowhens, low ghoul voices trading stories.
"Never seen anyone pet a robot," a voice said. I glanced up. Levi stood there, balancing a crate of feed on his hip. His hair was a mess, cheeks still a little red, but he looked better than he had in days.
"That's cause you haven't been watching me closely enough. You're slacking." I joked.
He made a face. "I can't keep up with all the weird things you do. Rose says if I start trying, I'll fall behind on actual work."
"Smart of her," I said. I checked a connection, then sat back on my heels. "How's your… morning? Voice functioning? Pride intact?"
He groaned. "Why does everyone talk about my pride like it's a broken leg?"
"Because we all heard it snap last night," I said. "Ruth stepped on it."
He put the crate down with a huff. "I'm never living that scream down."
"Not with Ruth here, no," I said. "Or the twins. Or June. Or me."
"You're cruel," he said, but he smiled as he said it.
"Realistic," I said, echoing Lena from last night without meaning to.
He watched me work for a second. "You really traded a core?" he asked, voice quieter.
"Aye," I said. "Already did."
"Isn't that…" He hesitated. "Isn't that like throwing away a miracle?"
I shrugged. "Miracles don't help if I'm dead in a ditch because my only metal friend can't move his arm when something tries to chew my face off. Besides, I know where to find more. Probably. Hopefully."
"That 'probably' is doing a lot of work," he said.
"So am I," I said. "We'll both manage."
He huffed, then bent to pick up his crate again. "You're weird, Vaultie."
"Takes one to know one," I said.
Late afternoon, the heat started to bleed off the day. Shadows stretched long over the fields. I was elbow-deep in Claptrap's chest cavity, humming under my breath, when a shout went up from the far side of the yard.
"Rider comin' in!"
I straightened, wiped my hands on my pants, and shaded my eyes. A radhorse came in at a half-trot through the outer gate, A Dusty gray male Horse. On his back was a girl who looked like trouble wrapped in sunlight. Golden hair in a wild knot, tanned arms bare, leather patchwork gear. Bits of claw and scrap metal decorated her harness like jewelry.
She swung out of the saddle before the horse had fully stopped, landed lightly. "Miss me, you sack of bones?" she said while looking at everyone. June was already moving, wiping her hands on her pants as she jogged up. "May!"
So this was the famous cousin. "Hey, June bug," May said, grinning widely. She scooped June into a hug that lifted her half off her feet. "You still yelling at the Glowhens until they behave?"
"Somebody has to," June said when she was put down. "You smell funny."
"Compliment," May said. "You smell like chores and boredom." Harlowe appeared a few beats later, not quite hurrying, but not strolling either. He gave May a look that was half fond, half tired.
"You're late," he said.
"You're old," she shot back, then ducked when he swatted at her with his hat. "Kidding, Uncle. Had to swing around a nest of radscorps that decided the old road was theirs now. You know how it is."
She caught sight of the caravan then. Her gaze skimmed wagons, Brahmin, twins, Levi… then landed on me and my half-gutted Protectron.
"Oh-ho," she said. "What do we have here?" I suddenly had the feeling you get when a spotlight finds you on stage, you didn't know you were on. "This is Morgan," June said, coming over with her. "New member to Rose's caravan."
"You didn't tell me she was a cutie," May said to June, openly. Then, to me, with zero shame, "You dont seem like the type that likes people. Else June wouldn't be so nice ta ya?"
I blinked. "I… like robots, aye." No point denying it. I was literally knuckle-deep in one.
"She likes robots," May repeated to herself like she'd just received a present. "God, finally. Somebody around here with taste."
Levi, hovering nearby, looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him when May's eyes flicked to him. "Levi," she said, drawing his name out. "Still breathing?"
"Unfortunately," he muttered.
"Still not big enough to throw me off a fence, I see," she said. I got the feeling there was a story there. May stepped closer to Claptrap, tilting her head to look at the exposed works. "Damn, you cracked him open good. Is he still functional?"
"He will be," I said. "He took a shot to the chest yesterday. I'm… grafting in parts."
She made an approving noise. "You do your own work. I like that. Most folks bring their junk to me when it breaks and cry about it."
"She traps beasts," June said. "And drags home things she shouldn't."
"That too," May said cheerfully. "You ever seen a deathclaw up close, Vaultie?"
"Not yet," I said. "Prefer to keep it that way."
"Mmm. Shame," she said, eyes a little too bright. "They're beautiful. All muscles have a nice musky smell to em. I keep telling everyone it's a waste nobody's figured out how to ride one."
"Ride," Levi echoed faintly.
"Among other things," May said under her breath, just loud enough for June to elbow her hard in the ribs.
"Don't," June warned. "She just got here."
"What?" May said innocently. "Girl said she likes robots, I assumed her standards were flexible." I felt my ears go hot. "I like robots that don't try to kill me," I said. "That's my standard. So far. But im not one to Judge,"
May grinned at me, sharp and impressed. "Spicy. I approve."
Harlowe cleared his throat. May sobered instantly, straightening like a kid caught talking in church. "I brought what you asked for, Uncle," she said, switching gears.
"Two sacks of fertilizer from the south field and three sacks of that scrap you said you wanted from the old commuter station. It's all tied down on the back of my horse, Stud. Though he does need water."
"We'll see to it," Harlowe said. "You staying two nights or running out again?"
"Depends," she said. "You got work for me, I'll take it. Got Drinks? Even better. Heard rumors all the way from Pine Hollow about some Bin spiders on the move."
The rest of the day settled into a chill hum. Work, talk, laughter that came easier than it had any right to. I patched Claptrap as far as my tools and new parts allowed, watching his internal diagnostics flick from red to amber, amber to green. He still had scuffs, but when I powered him on fully and his optic lit solid without flicker.
"Good lad," I said, resting my hand on the new chest plate. Mis-matched color against his old paint, but sturdy. "You and me, we're not done yet."
He whirred, servos cycling through a test pattern. Across the yard, June and May argued about whether or not a radstag could be trained to pull a plow. Levi and the twins listened, making faces at each new insane suggestion. Ghouls tuned the radio, landing on some crackly pre-war song that half the yard started humming to without thinking.
The next day.
The radchickens woke me up again. They were louder this time, like they'd decided I'd overstayed. One scratched under the wagon, one hopped against the wheel, and one stood in the gap of the tarp looking in at me with beady little glow eyes like a judge.
"Alright, alright, I'm up," I muttered, rolling out of the bedroll. As I sat up, the quiet ping slid across the back of my mind.
Research complete: Hygiene.
New research selected: Junk Turrets (Basic Automated Defenses). Lovely. Murder on the mind. I shook my hair loose, finger-combed it until it was only sort of feral, and ducked out from under the tarp. Morning on the farm again, cool air, low sun, a mist of dust in the yard where people were already moving. Ghouls at the fence. A Mister Handy scolding a farmhand for "inadequate broom enthusiasm." Brahmin complaining about existence.
Claptrap stood where I'd left him, beside the wagon. The new plates I'd bolted on yesterday were still holding. May's backpack rig was strapped to his back like a hiking frame, buckles snug around his torso. I'd filled it with the spare parts I hadn't used yet, a couple of tools, and one rolled blanket. Looked ridiculous. I loved it.
"Unit status: OPERATIONAL," he intoned in his flat Protectron voice when he detected me. "Aye," I said, patting the new chest plate. "And stylish." His optic whirred brighter. That was all the thanks I needed.
We spent the early morning getting ready to leave. Rose ran the show from the center of the yard like a foreman and a storm at once, calling out loads and weights. "Grain on the Wagon. Tools with Harlowe's crate. Lena, Mara, if any of that fresh produce rots before we hit Pike's, I'll make you eat the mush yourselves."
I helped where I could, hauling lighter things, checking straps, doing the math in my head so we didn't break a wagon axle twenty miles down the road. All the while, that new research ticked on in the background, forming itself from the bones of old RimWorld schematics and Fallout scrap in my skull.
Junk Turrets: scrap-fed, low-caliber, the main problem would be that they would shoot anything in front of them and have a tendency to explode if hit too much. June had my old clothes hanging on a line by the porch. The vault suit was the brightest thing in the yard, blue and yellow and so clean it almost looked wrong.
"You'll blind somebody in that," she said, handing it over. While leading me to a room so I could put it on. "It could be useful," I said, already stepping into it. It hugged my legs, familiar, snug at the waist, tightening the arms around my hips, so I was only wearing half of it. My lab coat went on last. Felt… right. Vault past, scavenger present, Mad doctor future.
"Better," June said, approving. "Now you look like yourself. A very confused yourself, but still."
"High praise," I said as we walked back outside. Levi drifted over as we cinched the last strap on one of the wagons. "So," he said, trying for casual and landing somewhere near squeaky. "This is it. Two days, Rose says. Then… Commonwealth."
"Commonwealth," I echoed. The word settled in my gut. Rose had laid the route out for us over breakfast. "Two days south-southwest," she'd said, stabbing at a hand-drawn map on the table. "We cut across the old highway into WESTON. There's a small settlement at Pike's Crossing. Twenty, maybe twenty-six souls last I saw. We rest there, resupply, then me and mine keep moving. Caravan doesn't stay in the Commonwealth long."
She'd looked at me then. "You still plannin' to get off the wagon there, Vaultmouse?" I'd swallowed and said yes. Karma caught it. She found me by the side of the Wagon, checking Claptrap's straps a fourth time.
"You keep pullin' on that," she said, "you're gonna snap it and have to start over."
"I like my stuff not fallin' off," I said. She leaned against the wheel, SMG slung over her back, one thumb looped in her belt. Short, solid, tired eyes were sharper than most folks when they were wide awake.
"You're jumpy," she said. Not a question.
"I'm fine," I said automatically.
"Sure," she said. "And I'm a Brotherhood Paladin."
I snorted. "You'd look better in the armor."
"Damn right," she said. Then her mouth flattened. "Listen, Mouse. Rose told you the plan. We go to Pike's. We trade. Then we turn south again. We're not settlin' in that mess of a region. Too many dangers."
"I know," I said.
"You got options," she said. "You can stay on with us. Keep ridin' 'til we find a place that doesn't make your hair stand up. No one's pushin' you off the wagon."
My throat did a tight little thing. "And if I stay on," I said slowly, "till when?"
She shrugged. "Till you're ready. Or till Rose starts charging you rent."
"That seems steep," I said, weakly.
"She'd give you a discount," Karma said. "You did shoot a mutant off my ass. That buys goodwill."
I looked past her, out toward the horizon. Toward where the map in my head painted invisible markers: Fort Hagen. Satellite Array. "I can't keep runnin' from the place I know I'll end up," I said finally. "If I don't do it now, I'll just… drift. Hide behind you. Behind Rose. Behind everyone."
Karma studied my face like she was sighting down a barrel. "You're scared," she said.
"Aye."
"Good," she said. "Means you've got a good brain. Put your big girl pants on anyway."
"Already wearing them," I said, flicking my cleaned vault suit. "Bright blue. Hard to miss."
She huffed out something that might've been a laugh. "You got a robot, a rare powerful gun, a half-cooked plan, and more sense than most idiots who walk into that region. You'll be alright." She tapped the side of my head lightly. "And whatever weird thing you've got goin' on in there? That's worth more than caps."
I went still at that. Maybe she'd felt… something. The way I always knew a bit more than I should.
"Just don't die, stupid," Karma said. "If you're gonna die, at least make it impressive."
"I'll put that in my goals," I said, voice a little thin.
"Good girl," she said, and pushed off the wheel. "Finish your goodbyes. We roll in twenty." Goodbyes. I'd never been good at them. Easier to slip away. June found me before I found her. Of course she did.
"You leavin' without saying bye, and I'm putting a rock in your backpack," she said, marching up with her arms folded.
"I'd notice," I said. "Weight distribution."
"Smartass," she said. Then she hugged me.
It startled me. I froze for half a second, then my arms wrapped around her. She was warm and smelled nice. "You take care of yourself," she said into my shoulder. "Don't go gettin' eaten by nothin' I can't yell at."
"I'll try to keep it to things you can yell at," I said.
She let go, eyes a little too shiny for her usual sass. "You figure out where you're stayin' yet? In the Commonwealth, I mean. I know they got a lot of mess places."
"Got an idea," I said. "There's a pre-war bunker. Boston Mayoral Shelter."
She blinked. "Never heard of it."
"Most people haven't," I said. "From what I… heard… It's tucked out near an old military spot. Southwest of Fort Hagen, south of the Fort Hagen Satellite Array. Sub-level bunker, self-contained systems. If it's not full of ferals or worse, it's… perfect for me."
Her brows knit, trying to picture a map she'd never seen.
"You sure it's real?" she asked.
"No," I said. "But I'm sure enough to look. Better than walkin' blind."
"Fair," she said. "You find it, you send word. Rose swings this way again, I want to know you're not sleepin' in a ditch."
"I'll… figure out how to send a letter," I said. The thought felt oddly big. Me, somewhere in a bunker, writing to a farm. She looked past me at Levi, who was loading the last of the crates with the twins, and something sneaky slipped into her expression. "You sure you don't want to stay?" she called over his shoulder. "We always need clever boys who can count past ten."
Levi almost dropped the crate. "I I-I've got responsibilities!" he protested. "The caravan needs an inventory manager!"
"The caravan has two other people who can count," she called back. "Don't it, Vault Mouse?"
"Three," I said, loud enough for him to hear. "But none as dramatic."
Harlowe stood on the porch, pipe in his mouth, watching the whole exchange with that flat calm of his. When June leaned a little too close to Levi as she took a jar from his hands, Harlowe's eyes narrowed a fraction. Levi saw it and went pale. "I, uh, I should—wagon—Rose—goodbye!" he blurted, then scurried off.
June laughed, unbothered. "Worth a shot," she said. "Daddy's gonna die mad about whoever I pick."
"He keeps cleaning his gun when you mention boys," I said.
She said. "I'll out-stubborn him."
I believed her. May came up then, Stud's reins loose in one hand, a lopsided grin on her face. "You leavin' us, robot girl?" she asked.
"Seems so," I said. She shrugged. "You keep him with you," She pointed to Claptrap. "You might as well make him earn his keep. Beasts, bots, same rule: you carry your weight, you get to stay."
"Could say the same about people," I said.
She smirked. "I do." She looked at claptrap. "Now he looks like a proper wasteland hiker. You should get him a hat."
"Don't tempt me," I said.
She slung an arm around my shoulders with that too-easy confidence of hers. "So. You like bots. I like beasts. We're both disappointments with dinner conversation."
"I prefer the term 'specialist,'" I said.
"Mm. I'm a connoisseur," she said. "You ever change your mind about organics, you'll see. Heat's nice."
"Heat's nice and all," I said. "But, Metal doesn't snore."
She barked a laugh. "You got me there."
June rolled her eyes. "You two are gonna give Daddy a stroke if you keep talkin' like that."
"He can't hear us," May said. "He's busy pretending he's not sad his favorite robot girl is leavin'."
I blinked. "Am I his favorite?"
"You fix things," May said. "He respects that. Don't let it go to your head."
The last of the crates was tied down. The Brahmin were hitched and grumbling about it. Carson took his usual high spot, checking the horizon through his scope. Rose walked the length of the line one final time, checking every knot.
"Alright," she called. "We're burnin' daylight. Time to move."
People started to move, Levi to his usual spot beside the rear, Karma to the front with Rose. I took my place near the middle, one hand on Claptrap's side, the other resting against the wagon rail. Harlowe came down off the porch at last. He didn't say much. Never did. Just walked up, looked me over once, then stuck out his hand.
"You worked honestly," he said. "You're welcome back if you don't bring trouble with you."
"I'll try to leave it at the door," I said, gripping his hand. It swallowed mine again. "Thank you. For the trade."
"You know more than you let on," he said. "Just don't let that make you stupid. People who think they know it all die faster than the ones who admit they don't."
"Aye," I said. "I'm very aware I don't know it all."
"Good," he said. Ruth waved from the fence. "Bye, alien's girl!" she called.
"I was right!" I shouted back. She grinned. June stepped in one last time and pulled me into another quick hug. "You write," she said. "You get yourself a bunker with indoor plumbing and you write and brag about it. Make me jealous."
"I'll put 'make June jealous' on the top of my list," I said. May smacked my shoulder lightly. "Go on, then," she said. "Go find your metal boyfriends or girlfriends. But If you die, I'm stealin' your robot."
"He'd hate you," I said.
"He'd learn to love me," she said.
"Everyone ready?" Rose called. The caravan lurched as the Brahmin leaned into their harnesses. Wheels creaked, wood complained, and straps groaned. The farm started to move backward in my vision, but it was us leaving, of course.
I walked beside the wagon until the yard edge, then climbed up onto the step, Claptrap clanking along behind, backpack rig rattling faintly with every move. I looked back.
June and May stood together by the fence, June with her hands on her hips, May with one foot up on the rail, Stud's reins in hand. Harlowe stood behind them, pipe smoke curling up, rifle slung but handy. Ruth sat on a post, waving both arms like a lunatic. Glowhens pecked around their feet, uninterested in our drama.
I raised a hand. June raised hers. The farm disappeared slowly behind a stand of stunted trees and the tilt of the road.