Cherlynn Hearth: Wasteland Detective #3 (Part 1)

THE ADVENTURE OF THE SUSSEX COUNTY VAMPIRES (Part 1)

Cherylnn Hearth stood on the balcony of our shared quarters in 221 B Baker Street, overlooking the central crater of Megaton. She read repeatedly and with care a note that had been delivered by the disreputable handyman Jericho.

“Something is afoot, Watson.”

I again grimaced slightly at her double pun on the name she chose to address me by. Son of Watt indeed. Hmph. Still, I looked up from maintaining my trusty custom bore plasma rifle, interest trumping annoyance. “Whatcha got there, then?”.

“Recently, strange reports from a settlement some small distance away have filtered in through my network of informants.” She spoke of course of the Baker Street Irregulars, of whom I shall make mention of in a future record. “And now, this.”

Handing me the note, I was surprised that the author had not approached her in person. Lucy West was a familiar sight in and about the town.

Moriarty's, Megaton
October 29, 2778

Ms. Hearth:

Our client, Ms. Lucy West, formerly of Arefu, has made some inquiry of us in a communication of even date concerning strange events surrounding her family in the same locale. As our firm specializes entirely upon the procurement and repair of weaponry the matter hardly comes within our perview, and we have therefore recommended we contact you on her behalf and entreat you to look into the matter. We have not fogotten your successful action in the case of Doctor Peterson.

Faithfully Yours,
Flak and Shrapnel
Rivet City

I remarked that it was indeed most peculiar. “Doctor Peterson?” I inquired.

“A man long dead.”, said Hearth in a reminiscent voice. “One who was responsible for what I shall only refer to as my encounter with the Giant Molerat of Vault 108, a story for which the world is not yet prepared.” Hearth's eyes sparkled with the scent of adventure. “But, come, Watson! The Game's Afoot!” We set out for Arefu post haste.

- - - - -

The journey to the small, almost nonexistent settlement was uneventful, marred only by the usual raider scum who had long since learned to flee in the path of the Great Detective and her sidearm when they lacked numbers.

Arefu was so named by the ravages of time and the war. A ramshackle cluster of decaying buildings erected on the lone standing pylon of the ancient freeway system, the once-bold and vibrant sign declaring that one pass lanes carefully had shed its C and adverbial suffix.

“Do not flinch, Watson.” Hearth warned as we climbed the mist-shrouded on-ramp. “From what?” I asked moments before an explosion startled me. To my credit, I heeded and did not flinch. Hearth smirked. “This place is guarded.” She then shouted and waved. “AHOY! We mean you no harm!”

A grizzled elder of the settlement lowered his shotgun. “Sorry strangers. I thought you were The Family come to wreak more havoc! Best come on up before they catch you out!”

Hearth inquired quizzically of the man, who was named Evan King. “The Family? A raider gang, perhaps?” King shook his head, informing her of the strange gang of post-apocalyptic goths that had of late plagued their livestock “Left 'em drained of blood! Like them Alien Mutilations up north!” Hearth agreed to check on the settlement while King kept watch.

Most of the residents were reticent, some deluded, and others merely afraid. The presence of the Great Detective gave them some small hope, her fame having spread even here. I noted some of the very holotapes of her previous adventures that I had recorded amidst their meager entertainments. My brief flush of pride was cut short by Hearth's dismissal of her achievements in a faux modesty that I knew caused her even more of a swollen head.

Her elation at being lauded quickly turned to gave seriousness when we came upon the West residence. Within, the peculiar smell of rot overpowered the senses. The grim sight of two bodies lay in their final tortured repose. Hearth quickly noted that they had been disturbed, discovered they had been drained completely of blood by two puncture marks at the neck.. She did not need to point out the the graffiti that announced this to be the work of The Family, complete with familiar gothic symbology and font. “Hearth, surely you do not think?”.

She laughed brightly. “I surely do think! Constantly! I can scarce help it!” She suddenly grew thoughtful and pressed the memo button on her Pip-Boy. “Note to self: Based on dilated pupils, ruptured vessels in the nose, and yet his steady hand under its influence, the fee for this case will be payable in stock from Evan King's Still.”

I rolled my eyes. “But seriously, Hearth? Vampires?”

She smiled thinly. “In a world of radioactive ogres, atomic zombies, and post-apocalyptic Grendel's Mothers, some things perhaps must still remain impossible. However, once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.”

Hearth tuned her Pip-Boy to magnification and spectral analysis, focusing on a single partial bootprint in the gloom. “What do you make of this, Watson?”

My android nature allows me some advantages, now that I know what I am. I switched my optics through multiple settings. “Mud, Hearth.”

She smiled indulgently. “Notice anything?”

I scanned deeper. It appeared to be, in fact, mud. Still moist. “Recent.”

“Very good! But see here.. “ She showed me the spectrographic analysis. “Traces of perfluoropolyether oil. Most commonly found on railway axels.”

I nodded. “And there's a trainyard not too far from here.”

Hearth checked the ammo load on her weapon. “Come then, Watson.” She spun the barrel and snapped it home. With her other hand, Cherry Heart rolled her shady hat onto her forehead. “Lets go eliminate the impossible.”