Reposting lore written for the Nuclear Nerds NFT project. It was written as part of a collaborative story-telling group (within the Nuclear Nerds community), built around writing the backstory for a favorite nerd trait and telling the story of "the shield-maidens of route 66". Ultimately, we'll flesh out more details on the fan site, and link to lore posted here on Paragraph!

By the time that they arrived, the sun was starting to dip toward the horizon, painting the sky in a gentle orange wash. It would have been a beautiful sunset in any other setting.

Cass, Karma, and Baby Spice stood in front of “One Man’s Trash”, a roadside junk shop just off of route 66.

Blocking the front was a tall, locked galvanized chain link fence, decorated with barbed wire. The sunset silhouetted the wall of stacked, crushed cars, which made up the rest of the perimeter. The wall of cars cast the building in a foreboding shadow.

This wasn’t wasteland fortification and precaution - this roadside monstrosity had existed prior to the nukes.

The proprietor had been a cantankerous old man named Rotten (that was his last name, and it had suited him). At one time, he had owned some acreage, a house, and his junk “business”.

Rotten’s wife had done the right thing and left him. In a particularly ugly divorce, Rotten had to give up the house and acreage. Rotten got to keep the business.

To spite his wife, he had ordered crushed cars to be stacked like awkward metal lego-blocks around the perimeter of his business.

Cass used to stop in because he kept a bunch of comic books thrown into boxes and discarded in the corner of the shop. The comics were seldom in great condition (it wasn’t uncommon to have corners nibbled out of them), but nowhere else could you find cheap old issues of Tales from the Crypt like you could at “One Man’s Trash”.

Now, she had a different reason to come here. They were scavenging. “One Man’s Trash” truly had more trash than treasure, but nowhere else could you find such a collection of junk (old armor and blades, half-used spray paint, rusted tools, you name it)…it was the scavenger’s dream in the apocalypse.

Cass also knew that Rotten had a lapidary saw with a 10 inch diamond blade. He would cut geodes for a price. She wasn’t sure it would be enough, but she hoped it would be sufficient to cut through the skull that she carried all the way here.

They had barely survived the last encounter. Blades broke, and even bullets seemed to only slow it. They needed something more.

Plus, if they were to truly deter others from route 66, the blockade wouldn’t be enough, and the shield-maidens didn’t just need to be tough…they needed to be feared.

That creature was truly terrifying. Cass could think of nothing more frightening than seeing someone wielding that creature’s skull as a blade.

She gratefully un-shouldered her back carrying the skull, and threw it to Baby Spice. Spice heaved it over the barbed wire fence. Cass nodded to Karma and they started to climb. They were almost at the top of the fence when a gravely voice growled from within the shop.

“Get the fuck off my lawn!”

Cass nearly lost her footing. Karma did fall. Spice attempted to catch her, but both of them fell down awkwardly. Cass clung to the fence, frozen for a moment. She could see the barrel of a gun jutting out of the boarded shop window.

“I said off. Imma ‘bout to blow a canoe in yer head”

Cass recognized the voice at once.

“Rotten?!?”

“Rotten?!”

There was an awkward silence, but no one rushed to fill the void. The barrel of the rifle was still pointed at her.

“I know it’s you. It’s me, Cass. I used to stop in….before the nukes”

“I dun know you”, Rotten spat back out, but Cass heard the hesitation in his voice.

Cass shrugged. Bold and brash had always been the way that Rotten preferred to talk.“You’re old and your memory is shit…but I don’t care if you remember me. We have stuff to barter with.”

“You got nothin’ I need”

Cass glanced at Spice and mouthed “TP”.

Spice slowly opened one of the backpacks, rummaged through it, and carefully raised the toilet paper for Rotten to see.

The blast from the nukes had left a number of trucks overturned on route 66.

One had been a BubbleVicious truck. Cass always liked bubble gum, so that suited her fine. Another had been a Harmin truck, though. THAT had been the real prize. They had struck it rich.

Toilet paper had become a form of currency out in the Wastelands. So much so, that it didn’t hurt to carry some TP with you for bartering (or paying your way past someone). Preppers always thought that when "the shit hit the fan”, bullets and cigarettes would become currency…man…fuck smoking…toilet paper was GOLD in the Wastelands.

“There is more in the pack we just hurled over, too.”

“I could shoot you and jus’ take it”, Rotten suggested.

Cass didn’t think that Rotten would do that…but…she wasn’t certain. The “end times” had a way of changing you.

“We have A LOT more of it…but if you want to shoot up the only people who could give you something other than cardboard to wipe your old ass with, go ahead. Plus, you’re a shit shot…so I’m pretty sure you’ll miss anyway.”

There was a long pause that made Cass’s heart skip thinking that she had taken the banter a step too far.

But then, she heard it…something that started in the belly before it made its way to his throat - a deep laugh that trailed into a cackle.

“I remember you now, girl…still have a tongue on ya”, he added. “Lucky for you that I’m tired of wiping my ass with comic books”

Fuck.

Cass grimaced at the thought of Rotten wiping with the Crypt Keeper’s face. She promised herself that she would rescue any Tales from the Crypt that hadn’t been dragged across Rotten’s old butthole.

The barrel of the rifle retreated from the boarded shop windows.

Cass heard multiple bolts unlocking before the door to One Man’s Trash swung open.Standing in the doorway was Rotten. His disheveled grey hair had taken on a greasy, matted look. His face sported stubble, except for places where white and pink scars ran across his jawline. So, clearly Rotten hadn’t had an easy time after the nukes. Cass wondered what had caused the scars. They looked like they were from claws…or nails. That thought disturbed her.

As Rotten jostled a set of keys and approached the front gate, Cass nodded to Spice and Karma, and they shouldered the backpacks.

As the fence swung open, Cass asked, “you still got that lapidary saw?”