Valen Hart: A series of Encounters - Part 1 of 3
Rick was on his way back toward the city limits of Boston. He had spent the day hiking out to the old vault from which he came, it was tucked away in a small suburban district, a modest two-story home was it's front. The backyard was the point of interest for this visitation, that's where Diane was laid to rest and he had meant to gather her some nice artificial flowers to leave next to her grave marker...
He arrived early in the morning and spent a couple hours sitting in the grass under the shade of large ginkgo tree. It was difficult talking to her without shedding tears or his voice cracking, but he managed as best as he could until noon hit and decided it was time to leave. The walk back felt shorter, as if his spirit had been lifted and the burdens of his guilt were less heavy, even just for a short while.
The thoughtful quietness of his mind was interrupted by the sight of a small camp at the edge of a clearing near a wooded area. Already he had stumbled too near to avoid it all together, so he reached for his pistol as he cautiously approached. There was a fire pit and a small tent pitched, but he couldn't get a glimpse of a person anywhere.
If only he were vigilant enough of his footing to have noticed where he was stepping because he didn't realize what a mess he'd walk into until he nearly slipped. Fortunately, he caught himself instead of stumbling comically to the ground and looked down to see he had planted his foot into a pile of... meat? His face morphed into a grimace as he stepped back and attempted to scrape off the gore from the bottom of his sneaker. It looked like a hefty pile of organs, a couple of livers were distinguishable among intestines and other bits and pieces.
Then there was a voice, how cheery it sounded, “Well Howdy,” Rick was kindly greeted. As his head shot up and his eyes focused on the figure only feet away, he wondered where the hell he came from.
This stranger wore a thin-lipped smile that pushed creases around the dimples in his cheeks, those eyes were bright and just as expressive. His hair was short on the sides, long and neatly slicked back on top. Shirtless and lightly tanned but his body language was open and nonthreatening. In his hands was a hunting knife, which he was wiping with a dark cloth before it disappeared into a sheath clipped to his belt.
“You one of them vault dwellers?” he asked, curious, and that southern-like accent was more apparent, a quality that somehow added to his friendly disposition. Rick quickly glanced down at himself before he looked up again as if he had forgotten for a moment that he was wearing that blue jumpsuit.
“Yeah, I came from a vault,” Rick answered, and his posture relaxed as did his grip on his pistol which he pushed back into its holster. He didn't see any kind of gun on this camper, yet, but he figured if he wanted to pull a fast one his own weapon wasn't far from his reach.
“You look tired,” the other man added, and he stepped forward, still a smile, now with a bare hand extended for a greeting. “Name's Valen Hart- I was just cookin up some breakfast, I... oh.” Then he noticed the pile Rick had stepped into and let out a weak chuckle.
“Oh, sorry 'bout that... usually, I bury the offal but guess I got lazy.” he sheepishly confessed. “Got a name?” he added gently.Â
“Rick. Sanchez.” he offered simply and took Valen's hand to shake firmly but briefly.
Finally being offered a name, that smile on Valen's face puckered just a little more before he relaxed, he looked quite pleased. “If ya ain't in a hurry, I'd be glad ta serve you up a meal before you head out on yer way- caught a few too many hares overnight and while I certainly can eat them all myself, I'm quite inclined to share with another hungry man...”
The offer of a free meal was enticing, but Rick had this nagging feeling- no meal was ever free. Oh, but the aromas drifting from the fire pit just yards away was terribly tempting and Valen's hopeful gaze was inviting Rick to join him at his humble little camp.
He supposed eating small game animals with such a perky fellow wouldn't be harmful, so he nodded and followed his lead. “Sure, I'm hungry after all that walking.”
Now, here came the excited rambling...
“Thank goodness!” he exclaimed vivaciously, “I'd been out here for days and hadn't seen a soul! Was worried I'd have to head back into town just for a little human contact but here the Lord sent someone to share breakfast with. You believe in God, Ricky? Well, no matter- I ain't here to preach but I'll certainly ramble about my blessings, so feel free to let me know if it makes you uncomfortable 'cause I'll tone it down but boy am I excited to feed a handsome man like yourself-
“Oh! I sure hope you ain't the bashful type? I like to compliment people, don't seem to be enough nice things people say to one another these days, I tell ya...”
Rick could barely process all Valen was saying by the time they walked over to the firepit at his campsite, but his host was gracious enough to guide his vault suit toting guest to sit on a fallen log as a seat. Valen then shuffled over to a cooking pot balanced on a bed of hot stones at the edge of the fire and dished out what looked like a stew into a wooden bowl. As he dropped a spoon into the vessel and handed it to Rick, he never skipped a beat...
“Came from the Mojave, mind you- spent a lotta time in New Vegas 'cause the desert can be quite a wild place. 'Fraid the east ain't much different, but the scenery sure is prettier...” Then he trailed off, noticing that Rick was patiently watching him with that bowl nested in his hands. Rick may have felt a little awkward but Valen's gaze grew distant, almost dreamy as his eyes wandered across Rick's features.
Finally, Rick interrupted the silence with a question. “What are you doing out here by yourself?”
Valen's eyes fluttered, blinking his daze away. “Oh, well... Just huntin really,” he admitted. “Figured, why buy meat when there's plenty out here in the woods to harvest for myself- without paying a cap.”
“What do you usually hunt?” Rick inquired as he turned his attention to his bowl and began stirring the meat and vegetables with the spoon.
“Oh... mostly small game- those critters that I can nab with a trap and a snare. Ain't got a gun, never spent a cap on one, so larger game just ain't on the menu.”
“This isn't too bad.” Rick complimented after he had taken in a mouthful of the stew. With his hands on his hips, Valen offered a proud nod of acknowledgment.
“Made with love.” Valen stated quietly. “There's more where that came from.”