|My best coloring job.|
Ain't that a Kick in the Head: Part TwoAin't that a Kick in the Head: Part Two by Rungok
Bright light flared, and I heft my arm up to shield my eyes. It's going to be a while until I get used to the extra couple of pounds the pip-boy strapped to my wrist. The sun burns across the baked dirt and cracked asphalt around the town. So this is Goodsprings. I lower my arm after the dazzle in my eyes fades.
The town was old, run down. Worn shingles on rooftops, with planks of wood crudely hammered over holes. A few of the homes were destroyed, nothing but rubble and the rotted wooden ribs of the structure clawing at the Nevada desert sky. A few of the not quite livable homes had their doors boarded over. Even the ones lived in were coated in faded, chipping paint, dingy and beaten up mailboxes, dried and dead tufts of grass.
A wrecked, gutted and rusted truck sat tireless along the road. I take the few steps off doc Mitchell's porch. That's when I see the robot rolling by.
The thing was faded blue, with accordion-reinforced arms. It rolled on a single wheel, very likely gyroscopic
Ain't that a Kick in the Head: Part OneAin't that a Kick in the Head: Part One by Rungok
I didn't remember exactly what happened. I remember being tied up, the rope cutting into my wrists through the leather gloves I had on. I remember a checkered coat, the gleam of a pistol in the moonlight, and the words "Truth is the game was rigged from the start." I didn't see the flash, or hear the bang of the gun.
Being dead wasn't what I thought it would be. There were great swaths of darkness, with a few images coming up in between. There was dirt, some kind of cowboy flickering on a screen, and then an elderly man with medical supplies doing something to my head, my vision jerked back and forth several times, and again it slipped to darkness. I felt no pain. At least not any pain that I remember. Just darkness.
Eventually, the images came up more and more often. They were clearer, and I could actually tell there was noise around me.
If this is death I am sorely disappointed.
My eyes open, and a wooden ceiling comes into focus. A rotary fan turns lazily out of th