New Nevada Ranger Center
As if a mirage, inlaid between several jutting, moutainous peaks, rests a sight that seems to be absorbed in its own legend. A battered prison, obviously having witnessed its own share of defeats as well as victories, sits alone in a grassy field. Even the withered, faded sign, set across from the prison over a distance of several hundred yards, doesn’t need to dictate what this position is to weary travellers. The New Nevada Ranger Center. Worn-down, but not forgotten. Battered, but not broken. A place for civilization to start again. A place for hope.
Monkey
Andy
Tommy
Bryan (echoing various things)
In the near distance, a dark shape heads towards the Ranger Center. An exhausted dark mass, one man slowly carrying another towards the Center, the goal of the sanctuary and treatment the Rangers can offer now within reach. Andy slowly traipses the distance remaining between himself and the Ranger Center, carting the seriously injured form of Monkey with him. He slowly approaches the gates, wondering when the guards will take notice.
A short man is standing watch in front of the Center, leaning against a long handled shovel, its blade grinding into the sandy soil. He doesn’t really looklike he’s doing all that great a job, as he doesn’t notice Andy until he’s almost upon him, “Shit!” Dropping his shovel, which clatters to the ground, Tommy snatches the weapon hanging at his side, starting to jog towards the pair, “What happened here?”
The exhausted, black-clad man looks over at the approaching Ranger, and says, tiredly, “Survivor… Highpool fire. He’s got massive burns.. we need medical attention.” Andy looks weakly at Tommy, clearly fatigued by the tiring journey. He stops walking, and lets the charred figure of Monkey slide down onto the ground. He stretches a little, letting his coat drift out into the breeze once more, now unencumbered by the black-wearing Ranger.
Tommy lowers his weapon, letting it hang by his side. He reaches for the radio partially sticking out of one of his lower pockets, pulling it out and thumbing the switch, “Private Moore, at the front gate. There’s a couple of injured guys out here. Looks like we’ll need a stretcher, or something.” Letting his finger off the button, he glances at Andy, “Thanks for bringing him in. You want a stretcher too?”
Andy shakes his head, “I can walk… You hear anything about that fire in Highpool.. last night? Hauled this guy out of it and managed to get him some basic treatment and some help getting some of the way here before it was too late. The whole place was torched.” The black-clad man seems to relax a little, taking a breather from his strenuous trip.
Tommy’s radio crackles slightly as an unrecognizable voice speaks: “There’ll be some stretcher bearers along in a few minutes. Maintain your post, Private.”
Tommy shakes his head, “I haven’t heard anything, but I think it’s just ‘cuz there’s no communication going on.” He scowls, pulling up his radio once more, “Advise, there is an extremely bad injury here. Need aid, immediately.” He points at the radio with his other hand, “Exactly my point.”
The chest of Monkey slowly rises and falls. In between the sqwauk of Tommy’s radio, the grating sound of Monkey’s labored wheezes sound out through the desert morning.
The black-clad man nods, “Whole place got burned down.. There’s probably only a handful of survivors. Not sure where they all went to. This guy tried to run in there and grab something, I think, and got his ass burnt.”
The radio spits static a second time: “They’re moving with all deliberate speed, Private.” Even the radio carries some of the man’s sneering tone through, “We don’t just have crews waiting around to carry people in.”
Tommy shoves the radio back into his pockets, “Honestly, some of these people don’t give a damn. I haven’t even seen the man in charge.” He kneads his hands together, “He’s never in his office, or anywhere else aorund here.”
Andy shrugs, “He’s a good man, Drake. Wish he could have been around when I was here… could’ve done with more men like him.”
Two men charge out of the entrance, carrying a folded up cot for a makeshift stretcher. One of them has insignia marking as a corporal, while the other is only a private. They both set the cot down near Monkey, and the private begins looking for a way to move the man to the stretcher. The corporal, however, seems to recognize Andy, and straightens up, “Sir.”
Seeing that the Corporal is distracted, the Private beckons for Tommy to come over and halp him lift the body up upon the stretcher.
The black-clad man straightens up, as well, offering a tired salute to the Corporal, smiling slightly, he says, “Don’t get all jumpy on my account, corporal. Better get that man to the infirmary.”
Tommy walks over to Monkey, ducking down next to him. The private grabs Monkey behind his head, motioning for Tommy to lift his legs. Tommy does so, and together, they manage to lift the burnt man up onto the cot.
The Corporal nods, crouching down to lift up the now full cot in unison with the Private. Hefting up the weight, he lets out a grunt of effort, “Will you be coming along to the infirmary, sir?”
Andy grins, “Of course.. Got myself a little roasted hauling that guy out of Highpool. Could do with some medical attention and a bit of rest.” He strolls over to the stretcher, in order to follow the Rangers into the center.
His aid done, Tommy turns to face Andy once more, “You met the guy? Drake, I mean.” He steps back from between the stretcher bearers and the door, leaving space for them to pass back through once they have it lifted.
Andy glances over to Tommy, and replies, “Once or twice.. Haven’t spoken to him much. Hear he’s a good man for the job. Doubt there’s anyone better.”
The Corporal smiles, well, I’m sure you know the way, but you kin follow us right on in then." Settling the stretcher’s weight more comfortably, he calls, “Let’s go, Private” and starts walking towards the doorway.
As the stretcher moves, Andy moves with it, following the cot towards the infirmary. His singed coat still drifts around behind him, as if defiant to the events of only a few hours ago, refusing to stop. The man’s exhaustion is obvious, as he slowly moves alongside the men carrying Monkey away.
Tommy nods at the men as they pass him, “Good luck to you then.” He shrugs, “I hafta stick with my post for another hour. Maybe I’ll see you later, If you’re still around.” Walking back to where his shovel fell, Tommy picks it up once more, leaning it against a wall and resuming his watch.
The stretcher bearers only nod slightly, disappearing inside the buuilding
The black-clad man nods over at the guard-duty Ranger, before following the medics into the Center.