Journal of Honcho Biggs - Chapter 9

Chapter 9 of the Journal of Honcho Biggs, titled "Treasures of a Dead Lady".

## Treasures of a Dead Lady

   The next few hours were a blur. I remember waking up once or twice in a bathroom, with shouting and punching coming from outside its door. I tried to move, but the bastard got me good and that wasn't a good combination with a Denver Dog Delight. I remember the floor was cool - like temperature, I mean.

I finally came to my senses. I stumbled out of the bathroom and fell to my knees, throwing up a gecko steak from breakfast this morning.

"Hey, hey...Biggs," a voice said weakly. Niner was sitting against a wall, a trail of blood leading to him, with fresh bloodstains on the wall. One of his arms hung uselessly to his side.

"Niner? Holy shit, man," was all I could say.

He laughed then coughed up blood. "Aw shit, Biggs, guess they had enough of me and wanted to teach a lesson. Buck, took the chems too. And taught a lesson." He kept coughing. "Biggs, if I die..."

"You're not dying, Niner," I said firmly, working over to him. I guess I was lucky, avoiding the worst of the beating. Though to be fair, I didn't have nothing to do with this deal. Guess they thought I was just muscle.

"Biggs, man, it hurts. Don't give me that 'you're not dying' holotape shit." He looked at the ceiling. "I thought...I thought there was supposed to be a light."

"Niner, there's no light cuz they turned it off when they left. And I mean you're actually not dying. They roughed you up a bit and broke your arm and maybe a rib, but, we can just give you some stimpaks or something. Few days and you'll be good."

"Oh yeah, yeah." He grunted loudly as I helped him to his feet. I placed his good arm over my shoulder and helped him toward the door.

"C'mon, let's find that nice doctor." We stepped outside the motel and got blasted by a sunrise. "Shit man, I guess we were in there all night." The stairs were tricky, but we managed to reach the bottom thanks to the help of some of the locals. We brought Niner to Dr. Ada's tent.

Of course, we find James in there with her. "Woke up early, brought some fresh coffee, just for you..." he was telling her when he saw us. "Biggs, Niner! You look...pretty shitty. Like a bad bender shitty."

"Deal...gone...bad," Niner coughed out. Ada directed us to lay him down on her operating table.

"What's the diagnosis?" She asked, looking him over.

"What?" I answered.

"What's his diagnosis? You were with him."

"You're the goddamn doctor!" I sighed when she looked confused. "His left arm is crippled. His chest isn't doing so hot either."

"Probably a chest cold then," she muttered, pulling out her doctor's bag. "I'm gonna need some space, so if everyone could please leave." When James when to protest, she waved him out. "Even you, honey, sorry," she apologized. As she closed the tent on us, I swear she said something about not needing to sterilize a needle.

"What the hell happened?" James asked as we walked back to the motel room.

"I guess Niner hasn't been an ideal mule. Him not bringing the money today, even with these special circumstances of the Legion annihilating a town, wasn't good enough. Last straw." Gotta admit, I've dealt with people like Niner before, and sometimes I'm in Buck's shoes. So I understand.

"Who did it to him? Who was he dealing to?"

"A man named Buck. Big fellow, talked and carried himself like he was from Freeside." I'm surprised I hadn't met him while working at the Atomic Wrangler.

"Damn..." James said, then looked in thought. "Well, Niner seems to be in good...capable...competent...well, in hands. That leaves us with some free time to go sell our scrap." I nodded.

"While you round up the scrap, I'm gonna see if the Courier has come into town yet." James left for the room while I headed to the dinosaur.

The shopkeeper was a guy named Cliff. He explained that a new shipment of weapons arrived straight from the Gun Runners. I elected to sell my sledgehammer for a Gun Runner Baseball Bat. A sledgehammer is hard to fight with, not gonna lie. Not that the weight is too much. Just it can be awkward to swing. A baseball bat is much easier to use when breaking kneecaps.

Cliff said he hadn't seen the Courier, then offered some of his finest dinosaur souvenirs, but he had moved past his usefulness so I already headed up to the top of the dinosaur. In the dinosaur's mouth was a tanned sniper. "Manny Vargas, nice to meet you," he offered pleasantly.

"Hi, Honcho Biggs. Have you seen a courier come through recently?"

"I might've..." He began. He let the air hang quiet for a moment. I realized what he was doing.

"What the fuck? You need some kind of bribe to tell me whether or not a courier came through?"

"Not a bribe, man. Just, you need something, I need something. Maybe we can trade."

I looked at him. "Fuck off," I offered, then went back down. What kind of operation was he running up there? As I left the dinosaur, James was coming down the stairs with a sack of scrap.

"Hey, Biggs, grab yours then we can go. I can tell you about all the strange I've already tamed in this town..."

Some walking later, we arrived at the Gibson Scrapyard, run by and home of Old Lady Gibson, who, not going to lie, must've been a looker in the past. Deciding to fuck with James, I opened with a line of his own. "How'd a young lady like you end up running a scrapyard?"

She laughed. "Well, it used to be me and my husband's. But he long passed and now it's just me and my dogs." A pack of dogs ate a few brahmin steaks next to her. We made small talk, and then we sold our scrap and headed back.

"We still gotta bring Niner's bag over," I explained. "You want to do it?"

"Can't," James shut the offer down. "I got a date with Jeannie May tonight. Was with her last night after seeing Ada, and let me tell you, she's got experience-"

"Spare me the details," I cut him off. "It's only 2, so having a date tonight isn't a real excuse, but I'm sure you're probably gonna nail some other broad. So I'll just go myself." James thanked me and scurried off to some girl's motel room.

I grabbed Niner's sack and headed back to the scrapyard. Gibson was still outside, waiting since we told her we'd be back. "Just you?" She asked.

"James had...business to attend to. So just me."

We talked for a bit then she invited me in for dinner. It was only 4, but free dinner was free dinner, who am I to say no? She had some good bighorner steak. She could definitely cook, and I love a woman that can cook.

"It's a long walk back, and it gets dark quick," Gibson said. "Why don't you just spend the night here?" It was a short walk back, it takes a while to get dark, and it was only 6, but I saw where this was going.

I woke up next morning with my clothes in a pile in a corner. Usually, in situations like these, it's best to leave immediately. However, since we might sell more scrap to Gibson one day, I decided to at least wake her up and tell her I'm leaving. "Gibson...Gibson," I whispered, shaking her bare shoulder.

She wasn't moving. To be honest, she felt pretty stiff. I grabbed his shoulder and turned her onto her back. Her mouth was in the shape of an O, and her eyes stared lifeless. And oh God, I thought stuff like this only happened in stories!

I threw the blanket on her, buckled my pants, and scrammed. Not before grabbing a few bags of caps, since she wasn't going to be needing them anymore. I played it cool, walked back to Novac like nothing happened, not like I was carrying the treasures of a dead lady.