"Texas...or what's left of it." Deckard stated to himself, he was what according to old pre-war maps said, on the border of the once grand 'Lone Star State' as it had been called, but as he stared through his binoculars, staring in quiet disbelief at the enormous twisters he could see from a few hundred miles away.
Radiation must have done a serious number on the weather patterns in the area, but he'd already seen some rather large craters, some of them not even having hit major cities, Deckard seriously doubted anything of Houston was left. The twisters were pretty obvious why there wasn't much any vegetation he could see...at least nothing like trees, anything that could cling hard to soil and rocks was probably okay, but trees had been ripped straight out.
Chances are, it probably meant there was absolutely no danger of wild animals or raiders near the twisters...not that this was an improvement, the twisters were far more dangerous then any raider or deathclaw could ever hope to be if you got near them, they were enormous, they had to be...maybe five...ten or more miles in diameter? That was his guess anyways, without some scientific equipment to more accurately gauge things it was impossible to totally say.
Nonetheless, if people lived here, he was going to guess it was underground, there was simple no way for any life to survive on the surface with those things about, though perhaps there were parts of Texas that didn't have such patterns of weather. Quietly Deckard also noted that the twisters never seemed to lose strength as they traveled, normal behavior for a tornado was to travel a number of miles and then dissipate but these...
Also that sound, even from this far away he could hear a distinct roaring noise, there was no real way to describe it other then that, he had never heard...and suspected he never would again, heard anything like that noise ever before. Sighing he put down the binoculars and quietly reflected that if he couldn't find shelter, making contact with the Texas Rangers could be problematic.
He didn't like the idea of this Institute he'd been hearing about spreading it's power base, granted it was entirely possible if they got far enough West that Mr. House and the Courier could stop them, but if they did get that far...a lot of problems would arise, and he needed to bring back as much intel as he could before he returned the Mojave.
Getting up to his feet, he got to work, taking the old Pipboy 2000 he had and carefully glancing at it once in a while, he'd set it to mapping mode to try and get whatever telemetry it could pick up from any satellites in orbit. He'd found the pip-boy in an old vault, in the Mid-Western USA, it'd been full of mutants(not the super kind), but he hadn't been alone, having assisted a group of 'prospectors' to use the New Vegas term get in there, and he'd gotten the pip-boy as payment, it was no model 3000 but...it was still damn useful.
And to his great delight and relief, the device was indeed currently getting satellite telemetry, and shortly began displaying a map for him.
With that...he set off onto the plains, knowing that the twisters were a long distance yet, he had to try and find if there was anyone still alive out there...