The loud, grinding moan of an engine echoing through the night air put everyone near the BE gate on edge, but they were relieved when Farley's truck ambled in, kicking up dust as usual. This time, however, there was no music, as his player had broke. There were also a great deal more sputters, spurts, and coughs amid the vehicle's steady drone than normal.
He pulled up to the garage and stopped, shutting the truck off. "Oh buy, farley, we thought they'd got you!" Phil said, running up. "Red said he saw you get blown up, and you weren't answering us on the radio."
"No Phil, not dead, just beaten up." Farley replied with a scowl. "The bastards popped three of my tires, blew out my back window, killed the radio, and made a leak somewhere in the steam pipes."
"And they also took out your mp3 player as well, I noticed." said Phil. Another of the residents came up behind them, one with an extremely bad deformation of the spine, leaving him nearly bent in half. "F-Faaarley! Y-You Diiieeed!" The man squawked in an awkward tone.
"No Garth I only crashed. Phil thought I died, because Phil is dumb." Farley grinned, Phil just stood there awkwardly, nodding slightly at the man.
"Oh... Haha, P-Phil is dumb, ok bye Farleeey!" With that Garth tumbled off, assaulting another person with his strangeness. Phil turned back to Farley, shaking his head. Since Phil was more intelligent than Farley, he grew uncomfortable around people like Garth, where as Farley could make those kind of jokes without reading too much into anything.
"He's just been going downhill lately." Phil said somberly. He glanced back at the unstable freak, who was just getting up from the ground after tripping and falling on his face. "Used to be he just didn't understand words and such, now it's gotten so bad he can't even put one foot in front of the other."
Farley stared down at Phil darkly. "What do you mean?"
"Oh, you know what I mean. I'm not gonna pretend you're that stupid." Phil looked up at the massive man, a knowing look in his eyes. "Hasn't happened for a while, lest' not like that, but it was bound to happen again sometime. Salem and that lot say the numbers of em' have been going up, in the past ten years." Farley gazed at the now distant Garth, stumbling around and shouting random words at passersby.
There were several ways a Feral could come into being. First off, as a BE that was born that way and left to die, but somehow survived. Secondly, a BE that gradually declined in mental health to the point they were so stupid they couldn't function with other humans anymore, and somehow escaped into the wastes. Thirdly, one that was the offspring of two other Ferals. The third method was extremely rare, as the successful birth rates for Ferals was basically nothing, despite their habit of breeding like rabbits.
The second method was also rare, although not unheard-of. Extreme deformation usually came along with the mental decline, so most Ferals were hideous freaks. A few looked normal, though, but that was worse, in some ways. Either way, there were a fair number of Ferals roaming the wastes, as a known fact, and they were part of what gave BE's their bad name. They liked the nightime, which was why Farley didn't. He was able to handle the mutations of his kin up to a point, but the horror of a Feral was something that haunted him.
He was awoken from his dark broodings by Red's voice. "Hey Farley, I got the bastards that hit your rig."
"Haha! You did, did you?" he laughed, cheered up considerably. "Well, now you will have to tell me all about it, Red! How many thousands were there, and how many seconds did it take you to kill them all?" he laughed again, clapping Red heartily on the back.
