Deadman

Book 2 Chapter 28: Tuning In

Book 2 Chapter 28: Tuning In

Eventually, as we flew, the landmarks and settlements grew fewer and fewer until the only things breaking up the landscape were forgotten towns, and the ruins of roads long since claimed by swamps. I heard some kind of alarm sound from the cockpit ahead of me, and the Shrike came to an abrupt halt, then lowered gently to the ground. I grabbed my pack, feeling the comforting weight of my supplies, and went to hop out and start my long trek, when Graves surprised me by looking back.

Good luck, he said in his staticky voice.

I nodded at him. You too. Then I hopped out of the shrike. I waited for a few moments, watching him take back off, then, I started walking. I was less than a mile in when I felt the warmth of radiation wash over me. Graves had taken me as far as was survivable for him before dropping me off.

I walked for several hours and found myself growing bored far more quickly than I usually did. The endless wastes ahead of me not holding my attention as they once had. Id grown spoiled. Id ridden on Betty, or in the Shrike, or even been transported around by the Khans patrols for the majority of my recent travels. Id lost a bit of the mental discipline I had before, and daydreams werent coming nearly so easily to me as they had in the past. It didnt help that while the Shrikes flight had been less and less visually interesting, the walk was even more so. I didnt see a forest, swamp, ruined town or anything else to break up the monotony. Just a desert as far I could see.

I moved the turn off the radio, but decided to slide the dial around some more. I remembered the mad man that Bill, my supplier in Jasper, had told me about that liked to listen to the music, that came through the radio static in high radiation areas. I slowly moved the dial left to right, listening to the variance in the static, and suddenly I felt like I was actually hearing music. I took a second to wonder if some form of wasteland madness had taken hold of me, but then heard someone singing followed by a guitar riff and realized that music really was playing on the radio. I kept walking, my feet starting to move in rhythm with the music, enjoying the novelty of it, when the song ended and I heard a very familiar voice speak.

That was Holiday in Bogodia, by the Living Lincolns. This is your host Deux Du Ponte Du Lac, of Radiation Revolution Radio, the only music station this side of the Cut, and quite possibly anywhere else. So if you dont want to hear some boring asshole talk about how things were great before everything got blown to hell, tune in to me, and Ill be playing music to get your feet moving rather than your eyes closing, yknow what I mean? Up next weve got the Fuck Guns with their hit, Anarchy in the Extended Colonies. Deuxs voice cut off, and another song started up.

I laughed out loud. I couldnt help it. All that effort collecting the radio equipment and hauling it all to Potts and it was to start up his own Punk rock radio station. I dont know why I had expected anything different, but I was very entertained by the idea, particularly when the only other thing that was on the air, at least for now, was a boring man giving long winded speeches. I had a feeling it would gain popularity very quickly. It would also likely antagonize the Remnants, but I couldnt see how they would retaliate. They had no reason to know who Deux was, and even if they did they couldnt do much to him in Potts. Solomon and the Honored Dead may have something to say about it, but I trusted Deux to win them over in the end. He regularly managed to get in humans good graces, other deadmen were a breeze.

I walked for a few more hours, my pace set by the hard and fast music that Deux was playing on his station. It was a welcome change from my usual silent walk, and I knew Id have to take advantage of it as long as I could, as the signal would almost certainly start to wane as I traveled further and further from Potts and nearer to the Cut. Not to mention whatever strange effects the wastes may have on the signal in the meantime.

It was nearly early morning by the time I decided to stop for the night. I set the radio to the side, turned it down, and had a dinner or breakfast of dried meat, some strong mint tea that Kit had packed for me. Id missed traveling alone, having time with my own thoughts, time to breathe. I pulled out a well worn paperback Id gotten off of Murphy, Mark of the Jester, a book about a man both blessed and cursed by prophecy, trying to find a way to overcome it. As I settled in, a smell touched my nostrils. I didnt move, keeping my eyes on the book, and inhaling deeply. Something was close, maybe one hundred yards away. I smelled wet fur, and blood. It didnt get closer, and I made a show of continuing to read. Whatever it was, it was watching me.