The Great North

The camp was absolutely swarming with the diseased raiders, it smelt of burnt corpses and death in general. It was something of fear, but Robert was past fear, he passed it in Anchorage, this battle paled in comparison to it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw George being escorted out of the camp by Karl and Pierre. Robert however wished to put these raiders out of their misery, send them to God.

There were about 20 raiders in this camp, probably more outside raiding. Robert's rifle ripped through raider flesh like a ripper, so it wasn't too hard to take all of them down, he'd done this before a million times. Robert slowly retreated once he was satisfied that all of the raiders were dead. Once locating where the rest of the group was, he laid his rifle down, and couched next to George. After examining his wounds, Robert made his diagnosis.

"Torture isn't uncommon for raiders."

Robert pulled his backpack off, and rummaged through for the stimpaks that he found in the earlier building. He pulled it out, and jabbed it in his upper arm, injecting the chemicals into his body that would keep him alive until they got back to Robert's shack.

"You guys look stronger then me, you carry him, and I'll cover you. Plus, I know the way back. He'll be fine so long as we return quickly, I can treat him further back at my house."

Robert discarded the stimpak, and covered it in snow, and looked around briefly. No raiders were nearby, at least none that Robert could see or hear, he nodded at Karl and Pierre, and placed the backpack on his back, then got back up, his old bones creaking in the process. Robert looked up at the sun, it was about 4 PM now, and they should be double timing it back to the base in time for nightfall.

"Not much daylight left."

Robert forwarded in the direction of his house, staying in front of George, Karl and Pierre as to cover them from the front, where most enemies would be approaching them, he stayed close though, so he could help if they came from the other directions.

((Skip me till I'm in the house))

Pierre continued his gloomy silence until he reached the house again. He was so dead-set on getting George to safety, he completely ignored the traps, and Karl was forced to lead him by the arm along the path Robert showed them. When they reached the house, Robert led them to a bed, where George very carefully placed George, supporting the boys head until it was safely on the pillow.

Pierre spent the entire time Robert was tending to Robert on the edge of his seat, staring unblinking at the bedroom door. Karl reclined in his seat, he had spent a hundred and seventy years leading a band of raiders, and he learned very early on in that time to never show weakness. He still worried about the condition of George, but a two century long habit was difficult to throw.

When Robert exited the room, and gave them both a beer, Pierre immediately stood up and took his beer into the bedroom. There was no chair that he could see, so he sat on the floor, his old joints creaking as he pushed he huge back against the wall. He opened his beer with as little noise as he could, then sipped it quietly, waiting for George to wake up.

"I hate combat wounds"

Karl snorted. "I've never found any wounds to be particularly pleasant"

Robert raised his eyebrows at Pierre's hasty exit. Karl just chuckled. "He gets sentimental very easily. I remember when we were in Idaho for a very short time, he found found a baby rabbit, beautiful little thing, got abandoned by it's mother. He took it in and fed and looked after it. He looked ridiculous, him so being so big with this little rabbit in the palm of his hand. Really did not help what the other;s thought of him".

Karl suddenly realized he may have said too much. He was fairly confident Robert would not take kindly to having two long-time raiders in his house

Robert jumped up out of his chair quite quickly when George began screaming about his capture, probably still thinking he was at the Raider camp, a common occurance, he had seen the effects in Anchorage, and it wouldn't take long to calm him down. When Robert jumped out, he chair fell backwards onto the ground. He ignored it, and jogged over to George, and began to restrain him as so he didn't mess up his wounds.

After a few minutes of holding him down, he began to settle, and Robert slowly let go. He was greeted by a reassuring voice, saying the words that he wanted to hear. He genuinely cared for George at this point, he was the first non hostile human he had saw in 200 years.

"Its over now right? they are gone? I thought I was going to die for sure, Damn I don't feel so good. I never thought the world was like this, I always lived with my daddy in the woods, it was safe there. I want to go back, to my daddy."

"They're gone, George. We killed 'em all. Payback's a bitch, huh."

Robert let out a laugh, doing his best to make George feel at home. He guessed he was thirsty and hungry, and was just about to get up to fetch him a drink when he actually asked for it. He noted for Pierre and Karl to keep an eye on him while Robert walked over to the fridge, and grabbed some purified water. He needed purified, Robert doubted he could stomach irradiated water at this point. He walked back over, and picked up his chair and sat it next to the bed, and gave the water to George.

"Take it easy, George."

George accepted the water from Robert and started to drink it slowly. the taste of it felt incredibly good, it was pure and even when it has no real taste it felt refreshing and especially cold. after the first few sips he started to take bigger gulps of it and eventually the bottle was all empty

aaah that feels refreshing, Thanks Robe-

then he heared what Pierre said

"Yeah, we got 'em all kid. You want to see your pop? We can find him I bet, where is he?"

he slowly stood up and looked straight into the eye's of Pierre, he felt a little bit of anger now but he would let it rest for now, anger for such an stupid thing to say. he smilled with his thooth missing smile, but if looks could kill, Pierre would already be six feet under

how you mean find him, both my parrents died. you think I would rather be fucked up by some raiders, then staying home hunting with my dad wont you?

when he was done with his rant he needed to rebalance himself grabbing the bed while doing that and with no other word spoken to the group. He grabbed his guns and his knife, then he walked outside of the house and sat down on the Porch in front of Robberts front door. there he sat with his Buffalo rifle on his knees, whisteling the same song he whistled while he was in the battle the last day, and while doing that some tears rolled from his eye's while he looked at the undergoing sun. hoping he could spent some hours again with his dad.

"How you mean find him, both my parrents died. you think I would rather be fucked up by some raiders, then staying home hunting with my dad wont you?"

Pierre furrowed his brow, unsure as how to reply. Karl had always been the smart one, able to talk to people without having to think about what to say first. Karl had always done the thinking for Pierre, back when they didn't use their real names. All Pierre had to do was whatever Karl told him. Discipline that guy, or destroy that town. The details had never been important, as long as had some kind of guidance. Pierre was not a stupid man, as many believed. He just had trouble thinking under pressure. Fighting was easy, kill people and don't get killed yourself. Trying to be around people when you weren't trying to kill them was tricky. Except from when he was with Karl. Karl always knew what Pierre was thinking, even if Pierre didn't. As he watched George storm away from, him, he suddenly thought of what he should say.

"I didn't know about your dad. I'm sorry." Pierre didn't know if George had even heard him, but it made him feel a little better. Pierre stomped into the living room, where Karl was still sitting, now smoking quietly, staring at nothing at all.

"Karl"

"Mmm?"

"This ain't what I expected to find up here"

"And what did you expect?"

"I dunno, maybe we find a camp like the one we found George in. Kill their leader, restart the Swamp Things."

"And do what? Spend another 170 years charging back down to Louisiana?"

"That...that sounds like a good idea Karl. I miss home. I wanna see momma's grave once more."

"Karl we are very old men. You know what that doctor said. We won't last another 50 years. We'll go feral or just die of old age eventually. It would seen we are stuck here, in this frozen hell, with a washed up old soldier and a child."

"He got beat up pretty bad Karl"

"Do you really believe that? We did worse to out own men to install discipline. You could do more damage with one punch than what those raiders did."

"I know Karl. What we gonna do?"

"We wait, Pierre. We wait until the time is right." His voice suddenly changed dramatically, reverting to a heavy Louisianan accent "Den we let Riptide and Golem out, and we show dese people what da Swamp Tings can really do"