Amnesia

Author's Note - Few things influence this. Only minor influences at most, not following story or anything. Western films such as the 'Dollars Trilogy', 'Pale Rider' and 'High Plains Drifter' (basically, Clint Eastwood westerns), and also the Jason Bourne films. In addition, the story title itself is taken from a song by the same name by Orden Ogan, as some of the lyrics may also apply to this story.

Like most of my stories on here, there's a fair amount of sex. As a departure from the usual, I have plans for the MC to be a little bisexual. Aware that many people who read my stuff might not be interested in man on man love, I generally do give warnings whenever a chapter will have that content.

*****

A flash of light. A crack, or maybe it was a bang. A gun? But had been a voice, mocking and taunting. Threatening. Was it a memory? An echo?

And then nothing. At least for a little while.

I felt my brow furrow as I tried to remember who it was, where I was, what had happened, but there was nothing but darkness. I groaned and that's when I felt a presence despite my eyes being closed. Or were my eyes open and I was blind? Had I always been blind? I groaned again, my mouth dry, tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth.

"Easy, young man," I heard a voice say, gentle pressure being applied to my shoulder, "Take it easy. Don't want you getting up too fast, not after what happened. You understand me?" I managed to return a slight nod. "Good. That's something, at least. Let me remove the bandages over your eyes, then I'll help you at least sit up."

I felt a hand gently lift my head as the bandages were slowly removed from around my head. When I felt the pressure removed from my forehead and around my eyes, I slowly allowed my eyes open to take in the bright light as I leaned back against the soft furnishing. Once my eyes were wide, I glanced around, recognising I was in the living room of a house, sat on a couch. Stood in front of me was an older man, and the white coat he wore suggested he was a doctor or something similar.

"Now, I'm sure you have a million and one questions about what you're doing in my home, just as I have quite a few questions for you. I'll ask the first one. Care you a drink of water?"

"Please," I managed to croak.

He returned with a glass of surprisingly cold water, sipping at it as he sat opposite on a chair, dragging it closer as I noticed him look me up and down. I glanced down to see I was in a thin t-shirt and underwear. I tried to remember what I was wearing last but it was a blank.

"Where am I?" I finally managed to ask, "And who are you?"

"I'll answer the second question first. Doc Mitchell." He offered his hand, which I shook, before he added, "And we are currently in Goodsprings. Heard of it?"

"No. Why am I here?"

"That's a good question, son. One of the many I have to ask. So I'll start with something simple. You have a name?" I searched my memory for a name but I realised quite quickly nothing came to mind. In fact, I tried to think of anything from before I woke up and it was a blank. I was must have looked stupid, or maybe worried, as he asked, "Can't remember your name?"

"I can't remember anything."

"Hmmm. I guess a loss of memory isn't that big a surprise after what happened."

I met the eyes of the old man. "What did happen?"

"You were shot in the head. Two bullets. Dumped in a shallow grave. You've been knocking on death's door for more than a couple of days. Honestly didn't know if you'd wake up or not. Must be made of strong stuff." He stood up and wandered over to a nearby stack of shelves, returning with a pile of clothes and other things. Placing it next to me, he picked up the wallet. "I did take a look inside this, wondering who you were. Nothing with your name on it, but a card with the Mojave Express name written on it, so that leads me to believe you're a courier. Other than that, you had a few caps, the clothes on your back, that belt and holster with a six shooter, and that was about it. Why you were here in Goodsprings, I couldn't tell you."

"Know who shot me?"

"No idea, son. Those around town might have a better idea. Your best bet would probably be Trudy, the bartender at the saloon up the road. If anyone saw anything, she'd know about it."

"Who dragged me out of the grave?"

"That'd be Victor. Curious fella. Sort of odd. And I don't just mean because he's a robot. I couldn't tell you much about him. Keeps to himself, mostly. You want to know more about him, you'll have to ask him yourself. He has a shack on the southern edge of town."

I wanted to stand up. Noticing I wanted up, he stood up and offered his hand, helping me to my feet. I noticed I was taller than him straight away, feeling my cheek and the stubble that had formed. He gestured with his head, following him into a bathroom where I could see myself in a mirror. I couldn't remember what I looked like. Blue eyes. Short brown hair, though I now had a vicious looking scar. What I'd call a proud nose. A slightly prominent chin. Average looking, for the most part. No idea how tall I was. Shoulders were broad. Taking off my shirt, I noticed the scars on my chest, muscular definition but no bulging muscles, but it was obvious I was fit and healthy.

"Your back… You've been through hell," Doc muttered.

I turned around and glanced back to see my back in the mirror. Scars criss-crossed my skin, and I could see the exit of bullet holes opposite to those on the front. "Hard life," I muttered, "No idea how I earned all these though."

"Sure you were just a courier?"

Putting on the shirt again, I shrugged as I followed him back into the living room, sliding my legs into the trousers before I put on the long-sleeved shirt and what looked like some sort of vest. There was also a pair of boots and a jacket sitting nearby that he said were mine, while he explained that he'd been up to the graveyard and had found more belongings of mine, including a cowboy hat.

"Used to call them cowboys pre-war," he stated, "You certainly look the part with your get-up."

"No idea why I chose it. Maybe it's what I was supposed to wear?"

"It's possible. Want to head outside and check out your surroundings?"

"Sure."

He put on a hat himself as I followed him to the door, placing the cowboy hat on my head as I still squinted as the sun was bright, glancing up just enough to see a blue sky, barely a cloud. It was warm but not too hot, though glancing about, it was clear it was a desert environment. "It gets mighty hot some days, depending on the season," Doc said as we walked onto the road, "But you're here at the right time. Still gets warm but the heat isn't as oppressive."

I followed him as he explained the few buildings that made up Goodsprings. The tavern. The shop. The school, no longer in use. There were other disused buildings, some of them pre-war. That's when he stopped. "You know what I'm talking about with that? Pre-war?"

"Sounds like something I should know about but… no, I'm drawing a blank. I'm surprised I can walk and talk…"

"Memory is different to basic motor functions. People with amnesia lose memories but can still function normally."

We ended up back at his house within half an hour, asking if I was hungry. He wasn't surprised when I admitted that I was starving, walking into his kitchen where he sat me down, offering me more water, as he started cooking some meat and roasted what smelled like vegetables. As he cooked, he explained his life as I did show interest in the man who had saved my life. He obviously glossed over one or two details of his life and I certainly wasn't going to pry.

Placing two plates on the table, he did say, "Don't ask what it is. But it does taste good regardless." I was starving by then so didn't really care, as long as it didn't make me feel ill afterwards. We ate in silence, practically scoffing down my plate, fast enough that he offered me another couple of pieces of meat.

Sitting back afterwards, I thanked him for the meal as we headed back into his living room, where he grabbed a bottle of something and two smaller glasses. Telling me it was whiskey, he also took a small carton from his pocket, offering me a cigarette. I took the offer of both, sitting back, sipping at the whiskey, which burned on the way down but had a pleasant taste, while I certainly enjoyed the cigarette. I was left thinking I had enjoyed them before I was shot.

"Going to sound like a stupid question, Doc, but what the hell do I do now? I don't know who I am. I don't know why I'm in Goodsprings. I don't know where I was going or where I'm from."

He nodded before he stood up and disappeared, returning a couple of minutes later with a piece of paper. "I was going to wait until tomorrow to give this to you as I was hoping you might just wake up and suddenly remember. But maybe this will jog your memory."

The note was still legible though with some bloodstains on it.

'Deliver the package at the north entrance to the Vegas Strip, by way of Freeside. An agent of the recipient will meet you at the checkpoint, take possession of the package, and pay for the delivery. Bring the payment to Johnson Nash at the Mojave Express agency in Primm.

Bonus on completion: 250 caps.

MANIFEST

This package contains:

One (1) Oversized Poker Chip, composed of Platinum.'

I glanced at Doc. "Sorry, son. No sign of that chip. And putting two and two together…"

"I was probably stopped by people who wanted the chip, then shot to cover up the crime," I muttered, "But I have no idea who shot me, where they've gone, how I'm meant to find them. I'm just sat here with more questions."

"It's a mystery, that's for damned sure. I would suggest you don't think too hard about it tonight. You've just woken up and need to recover. As I said, some of the townsfolk might know more. Speak to Trudy. See if you can find Victor. I would also suggest speaking to a woman. Sunny Smiles. She'll help you out, might see if you can put that pistol of yours to good use."

We enjoyed another drink and cigarette before retiring for the night. He offered me a bed to use this time, which was nice of him. I had absolutely nothing else on me except what I wore, so took everything off and folded it before getting underneath the thin blanket, lying back in the darkness, almost forcing myself to try and remember anything before I woke up. Once or twice, I thought I had a flash of something, but as quickly as it was there, the memory disappeared. I had a feeling I'd just have to let them return naturally, if they did at all. Or hope I'd find someone who did recognise me and at least tell me my name.

Waking the next morning, our hope I'd wake up with a restored memory was immediately dashed, though as least I remembered where I was and that I hadn't forgotten anything the previous day. Dressing first, I headed out to find Doc sitting in the kitchen, offering me a hot cup of something and a light breakfast.

"Before you go, there is one more thing you could perhaps make use of," he said, disappearing again for a couple of minutes, before returning with some sort of contraption. "It's called a Pip-Boy. We used to wear them in what they called Vaults. I've had no need for it but, considering what you could end up doing, I'm figuring you might find a use for it. Hold out your arm." I did so and it was surprisingly light as he wrapped it around my left forearm. "I assume you're right handed so would want to wield a weapon free of restrictions."

He walked with me onto his porch as we enjoyed the morning sun, stating I could stay with him as long as I was in Goodsprings as it wouldn't be right for him to just kick me out. I thanked him for the offer, assuring him that I'd find a way to pay him for everything. He wouldn't hear of it, of course, so I suggested I'd buy him a round or two at the tavern, which he did agree to.

What I wanted first was information, so I walked towards the saloon, removing my hat as I headed inside. It was rather gloomy, not a lot of natural light. Walking towards the bar, there were a few people at in some of the booths, one or two on a stool by the bar itself. I took a stool near the end of the bar as the woman behind it wandered over. Red hair. Green eyes. Slim. Smile on her face as she approached. I guess she had to be friendly with new faces.

"Well, you've been causing quite a stir. Glad I finally got to meet you. Welcome to the Prospector Saloon." I must have had a look on my face, as the smile immediately reappeared. "I'm Trudy and you're that man Victor helped pull out of the hole. You're in better shape than I'd expect for someone who would otherwise be considered dead."

I offered my hand, which she accepted. "Nice to meet you Trudy."

"And you are?"

"I don't know. I have what Doc called amnesia."

"Do you know what you did? How you ended up here?"

"Worked as a courier, apparently. Didn't have much on me but a note saying I was delivering something for the Mojave Express."

"I'll just call you the Courier for the time being. Might learn your name eventually. But if you have this amnesia, I guess you don't know what brought you to Goodsprings?"

"No, ma'am. Don't suppose you'd know anything about the people that shot me?"

She looked away for a moment, searching her own memories. "I don't remember names, but I do remember what they were like. Talked a lot, walked around like they owned the place. Threatened and intimidated my other patrons. Thought they could scare me into giving them a few free rounds. I don't tolerate that sort of nonsense." She paused and added. "It was strange that the ringleader did have the support of some Great Khans."

"Who?"

I noticed the eyebrows raise. "You really don't remember anything?"

"I don't remember a thing from before I woke up." I sighed. "Anyway, while I did wander in here for information, I wouldn't mind a glass of whiskey please."

"One whiskey coming right up."

A glass of amber liquid was placed on the bar in front of me, sipping at it as I listened into any conversations taking place around me. Most seemed to be traders, prospectors or farmers. Felt sorry for anyone trying to till the land as I was left thinking there was very little rain in these parts. I'd just finished my drink when a woman walked into the bar, standing a couple of metres away from me. Brown hair, brown eyes, not particularly tall. Rifle on her back, and what looked like a faithful canine companion at her side.

"Sarsaparilla please, Trudy."

A bottle was uncapped and pushed across the bar. "That's our dead man walking, Sunny. Doc speak to you about him?"

The brunette turned to me and smiled. She was… rather cute. "Sure has," she replied, stepping over and offering her hand. "I'm Sunny. Doc told me you have what he called amnesia."

I took the offered hand. "Yeah. Just call me the Courier for now."

Her eyes moved to my hips. "Six shooter? Don't see many of them around nowadays." Then she quickly looked me up and down, noticing the smirk form. "Anyone would think you were tryin' to be one of those old time cowboys?"

"As I told Doc, I think this was some sort of uniform. I am or at least was a courier."

"Reckon you're any good with it?"

"No idea."

"Well, let me finish up this bottle and we can head out, put you through your paces. I assume you'll be wantin' to move on sooner rather than later. Not a whole lot to do in Goodsprings."

"True. Got to find out who I am and why I was shot." I paused and added, "That means finding the man who shot me."

Sunny took a seat next to me as I bought us a bottle of sarsaparilla each, and offered her a cigarette from the pack Doc had given me. As I couldn't really talk about myself, Sunny told me everything she could about Goodsprings and the surrounding area. I did ask about Victor, the robot that apparently dragged me out of the hole, but she didn't know all that much about it.

Putting out a second cigarette, she stood up and gestured for me to follow her outside, putting on my hat as the temperature had picked up, sun now high in a cloudless sky, barely a whisper of wind. Thankfully, it was just a dry heat, so as long as we kept fluids up, we'll be fine. No idea why I knew that, I just did.

Following Sunny away from the saloon, we walked towards what looked like a range, as someone, I assumed Sunny, had set up targets to shoot at. Before I started shooting, she asked to have a look at my revolver, taking it from its holster and handing it over. She started to chuckle.

"Definitely think you're a cowboy. Real old-time cowboys used to use things like this." She checked it over though and made an approving sound. "Looked after it though. Good condition. Oiled and maintained. Double-action though, so no cocking the hammer each time. Guess this comes from the turn of the twentieth." She smirked. "Damn thing must be a good couple of hundred years old at least." I shrugged as I didn't remember. "Still, you don't see many guns like this anymore. Even settlers go for nine millimetre pistols or some sort of rifle." She handed it back and gestured to the fence. "I'll line up some bottles first, see how good you are with that. I have a spare rifle for you to use if you want to try that?"

"Sure."

"If you're decent enough, you can put any talent you have to good use. Need to clear out some nearby wells. Geckos are always causing trouble. Almost daily occurrence."

She put up six bottles for six bullets. Standing back with my revolver now back in its holster, Sunny suggested I wait until she said 'draw' and see how quickly and accurately I could fire. Seemed like a sensible test, and I guess she had an idea in mind.

"Draw."

I drew as quickly as I dared and fired from the hip. Six times the gun went bang. Six bottles shattered as the bullet smashed into it. I barely felt myself having to aim. I just aimed at the first bottle then quickly moved along the line, six loud bangs perhaps within three seconds. Soon as the last bullet was fired, I slipped the gun back into its holster.

Sunny appeared by my side. "Damn… that's some good shootin'."

"Just did what felt natural."

That made her glance at me. "While there's natural talent, that looked… second nature. Like you could have done that blindfolded and shot all six of them without a problem." I shrugged again. It had felt like nothing more than muscle memory. I tried not to think about it while doing it. Sure, I'd surprised myself at hitting all six…

Sunny disappeared inside a nearby shack, returning with a rifle and some bullets for both the rifle, while she'd figured out the calibre of bullet for my pistol, handing me a small bag of bullets for that too. Leading me over to the next range, we stood at least three times further away as she had me chamber a small magazine for the rifle. "Okay, you seem to be good one-handed. Let's try two-handed."

Again, it felt natural as I checked over the weapon, feeling Sunny watching me intensely before I pulled the rifle up to eye level, butt into my shoulder. Bolt-action rifle, only five to the magazine. There were only three targets so I told Sunny to tell me which target to shoot each time, simply stating left, middle or right.

Though I couldn't be sure if each bullet did go through the centre, when the magazine was empty, ejecting that and sliding in a new in a second, I glanced at Sunny to see her returning a smile. "Well, you might not remember who you are, but one thing I do know is that you seem to be rather good at firing a gun. At still targets, at least. Want to join me on my patrol and maybe shoot at moving targets?"

"Let's go."

It was easy to figure out how Goodsprings managed to survive in such a dry landscape as three wells provided water for the township to drink and no doubt irrigate the crops of the nearby farms. Sunny explained that plenty of settlers had headed east as the New California Republic had expanded. I was going to ask who they were, but I figured it was a conversation for a later time. She didn't seem bothered by them one way or another, though admitted they had helped keep some of the roads safer for those travelling the Mojave.

Geckos were annoying little bastards and rather vicious, running to attack us on site. Didn't take much for Sunny and I to put them on the ground, a bullet in the head would kill most things. Except me apparently. We also rescued a settler at one of the wells, thankfully our gunfire drawing the geckos away from her. The settler was very thankfully, offering us payment for saving her, though we waved it away. It was just the right thing to do.

After killing those at the third well, it was only then that Sunny pulled out a knife and started to skin them. I watched on with interest, causing her to look up to explain. "Geckos make for some good meat and the leather is wanted for trade."

"I think Doc fed me gecko last night."

She smiled. "He buys from me every couple of days."

"Well, don't blame you for eating it then."

I watched as she skinned the animals before cutting off chunks of meat, wrapping it up and placing it in her bag. Though she didn't know all that much about the robot who had rescued me, she did point me in the direction of his shack. "I usually see him rollin' around town, but you might catch him at home. Name's Victor if you haven't been told."

"Thanks. See you at the saloon later?"

I wasn't expecting the easy smile that formed. "Sure, stranger. Might buy you a drink this time."

As she wandered off to her house, I turned and headed to a rather rundown looking shack. Knocked at the door, there was no response, and I wasn't going to just walk into anyone's property, even if said owner was a robot. So I found a little shade and sat down, waiting for the robot to return.

Didn't have to wait too long until he came rolling on down the road, and upon seeing me, he turned and headed straight for me. The robot was a good couple of feet taller than myself, far broader, looked a little battered, and had a large screen on its chest, with the image of what I figured was a cowboy. Certainly spoke in a funny accent.

"How's the head?" it asked.

"Doc managed to get the bullets out." I tapped my knuckles against my head. "Definitely a bit of metal now holding my skull together."

"Well, just glad you're alive, partner."

"Yeah, figured I should pop by and at least say thanks, but I do have a couple of questions as I'm trying to put together what happened."

"Shoot. I'll help how I can."

"Easy question. Know who shot me?"

"No, sir. Didn't recognise any of them. Took place mostly in the dark. The only reason I found you is that I was out for a stroll that evening when I heard the commotion up on the hill. Once they'd scampered off, I rolled up to find you buried in a shallow grave. Managed to dig you up quickly and carried you to see the doctor, hoping he'd get you patched up."

"Well, thanks for doing that for me."

"You're welcome. Goodsprings is a nice little town. Don't want it getting a reputation that we're an unfriendly bunch."

I had been hoping the robot would know a little more than it did, but I guess I should be thankful he'd hauled my arse out of the grave and dragged me to get treated, at least. I was still amazed to be alive. Heading back to Doc's house, he asked what I'd been up to, letting him know I'd helped out Sunny, but as for information, I hadn't really had any sort of breakthrough yet. Without any real idea of where to go next, I figured staying for another day or two would help make up my mind of where to go next. Maybe someone would arrive that could provide news, though I didn't even have a description of the man or men who shot me, so that would make life difficult.

There was no running water, but after boiling some water, I filled up the sink to at least wash myself down, Doc providing a bar of soap. Wiping myself down, I wandered into the dining room without a shirt, noticing him look at my scars again. "Still got no idea where they came from?" I shook my head. "Those on your back… I have an idea where they might be from."

"Oh?"

"If I'm judging correctly, it would suggest to me you were flogged. Now why you were flogged is the main question. Who would flog you and why?" I shrugged as I wouldn't have a clue. "There is one group I know that uses that sort of punishment. Enough rumours have spread west as they moved this way. The Legion." I obviously returned a blank look. "Not much is known about them to outsiders, but they are a powerful tribe. The NCR managed to stop their progress west at the Battle of Hoover Dam, but the next battle that looms on the horizon will again be between the NCR and the Legion. Anyway, I'm getting off the track. We've all heard stories about what happens with the territory of the Legion, the punishments handed out. I know of no other group of people that practices the sort of punishment that would leave a back scarred in such a manner. But, then again, I haven't travelled everywhere. It's possible you've travelled extensively and simply found yourself in a situation from which you couldn't extricate yourself."

"Well, they cause me no pain so that's something, at least."

"The fact you also have bullet wounds tells me you've probably been in more than one scrape, as my somewhat trained eye can tell that you've been wounded at different times, but whoever treated you knew what they were doing."

"So it's possible I'm not just a courier?"

He shrugged. "Honestly, son, I can only hazard a guess at what you might have been up to. How'd it go with Sunny?"

"I think I'm rather good with a gun."

"Well, that might just be a positive if you end up on the road. I assume you'll be wanting to track down who tried to kill you sooner rather than later."

"No-one has managed to give me much information about who tried to off me though. I might just have to head off and see what I can learn."

"As I said, you're welcome to stay as long as you need."

"Thank you, though I might head to the saloon for a drink once it's dark."

After dinner, I did just that, Doc stating he would just sit back with a bottle and the radio, adding that, when out on the road, my Pip-Boy could pick up the radio, so I wouldn't have to walk along in silence if I didn't want to. The saloon certainly sounded lively as I walked the short distance from his house, walking inside to realise, rather quickly, that the raised voices were due to an argument taking place. Trudy was behind the bar, Sunny sat on a stool on the opposite side, settlers and other civilians sat in some of the booths. Stood before them was a man dressed in what looked like some sort of armour. But I heard in the tone of his voice a threat.

"I'm done being nice. If you don't hand Ringo over soon, I'm going to get my friends and we're burning this town to the ground, got it?"

Walking towards him, I grabbed his wrist from behind and immediately twisted it. Forcing him to his knees, I held his wrist high as he tried to yell out, so all I did was twist it a little bit more. "All it will take is a little bit more pressure, my friend, and I will dislocate your shoulder, snap your elbow and wrist, and you won't be doing a thing with this arm again."

"Who the fuck are you?"

"Just a stranger wanting to get a quiet drink and not listen to these good folk be threatened in such a manner." I glanced at Sunny, not wanting to give away the fact I knew her. "You, come take his weapons. Search him for anything hidden."

She walked over carefully, sensing coming closer made her a little nervous. The man started to threaten her. He said three words when I applied slightly more pressure, which made him cry out but then shut up. She eventually removed a pistol, a second hidden pistol, and a pair of knives. She placed them all on the bar and sat back down on her stool.

He started to chuckle. "You're fuckin' dead, you hear me! I won't forget your face."

"I hope you won't. Don't know who I am. Where I'm from. What I do. But I guess I don't like bullies." I relaxed the pressure enough to allow him to stand, before twisting his arm to his back, grabbing his collar for good measure. I glanced at the nearest to the door. "If you wouldn't mind opening the door for me, I believe this gentleman has finished his drinking for the evening."

The door opened quickly and I escorted whoever this man was outside, letting him go and pushing him forward, immediately taking my gun from its holster, holding it by my side. "You're a fuckin' dead man," he stated.

I just put a bullet between his feet, making him jump. "Don't know who you are. Don't rightly care. But go away."

"I'll be back. You haven't seen the last of me."

"If that's the case, let me issue my own warning. You return here alone or with friends, the next bullet won't be fired between your feet."

He didn't retort, rubbing his wrist as he walked backwards for a few metres before he turned and started to jog away. Walking back into the saloon, I received a couple of handshakes, nods of recognition, while Trudy thanked me though also worried about any possible reaction.

But at least I didn't have to pay for a drink that evening. And I think I had a new friend in Sunny Smiles.