Author's Note: This is my first fanfiction that started out as a school project, but becomes more violent and with more coarse language around chapter 8. I added this author's note after Part 12 because I've recently thought about it so hopefully more people will give this story a chance. Also this chapter contains Parts 1&2. I would've separated them added this note when I first posted this, but I didn't know what the hell I was doing lol. Thanks and enjoy.
WASTELAND SURVIVAL
In 2077 the world was destroyed. All of the world's nuclear bombs exploded, leaving behind nothing but lawless radiation-ravaged wasteland, and the ruins of an old civilization. Humans weren't killed off completely. There were survivors in bunkers and vaults, and many survivors scattered all around.
The year is 2277. Civilization was never really able to rebuild. Small makeshift towns are scattered everywhere. There are roaming wastelanders and roving gangs of raiders. Raiders kill who they want and take what they want, when they want. One of these wastelanders is Ray, who-as we speak-can't believe his luck as he stumbles across a ruined hospital that would make a great shelter.
He's not as lucky as he thinks.
...
Ray pushed open the rusted door which squeaked very loudly on its destroyed hinges. He looked about the lobby. The chairs were torn, stained, and burnt. He didn't want to set up camp here. He felt sick to his stomach and had a bad feeling about the place. He felt this way when he entered most abandoned looking buildings. He felt even sicker because his .32 pistol had no bullets and the trigger was broken. His only weapon was a small pocket knife that he had only ever used to skin animals. He gripped the knife tightly as he walked down a lonely corridor with only the sound of his pulse hum drumming in his ears. He tiptoed, trying to be sneaky in case there were any raiders or wild animals in the building. All of a sudden, he heard the loud squeak of the front door, then a slam as it either smashed into the wall or slammed back into place.
Ray's breath caught, his heart sped up, and his senses screamed for him to run. A voice laughed loudly and the others shouted vulgarities. Ray looked around. Panicking, he tried to find a place to hide. He silently dashed further down the hallway and ducked into a room. He slammed the door behind him and turned the lock. He was bathed in darkness. He fumbled about until he found a lantern on the floor. He pulled a match out of his pocket and lit the wick. He set it on the table.
...
A loud hum filled the dimly lit room and Ray jumped. The lights in the room and in the hallway came on. The raiders apparently had working generators and had just turned on the power. He hesitantly unlocked the door, poking his head out and scouting for signs of the Raiders. Seeing it was clear, he stepped out of the room. He silently closed the door behind him and tried to move silently up the corridor.
Suddenly a raider stepped out of an adjacent room and spotted him. "FRESH MEAT, BOYS!" the raider howled, pulling out a massive combat knife. Ray let out a cry and took off down a corridor to his right. The raider was behind him, snarling threats and laughing wildly.
Ray scrambled down the hallway and around corners. Other raiders had joined in the chase. Ray ran into a hallway that had a large magazine stand near its mouth. He grabbed the stand with both hands and jerked it down behind him, hoping it would block the raiders' path. It slammed into the wall and lay diagonally. He continued to dash down the hallway; he rounded a corner and came across a long row of lockers on the wall. They were the long skinny kind and he hoped he could fit into one of them. He jerked the door open to one of them and climbed inside. He silently closed the door. "Please God, don't let them find me," he prayed silently. He struggled to control his breathing.
The raiders were near. He could hear most of them thunder past, while a single raider fell behind. Panting, he made his way towards the room next to the lockers. As he walked slowly past with his eyes glued to the doorway, he decided to shove the massive hunting knife he held through the weakened and aged locker doors.
Ray heard the knife bite into the metal of the first locker, easily shoving in like the locker was made of butter. The metal against metal screeches got louder and closer. Through the slits in the locker Ray could see the blood-flecked knife in front of his locker. He flattened himself against the back of the locker. He grabbed the book on the small shelf that was pressed against the top of his head, holding it over his guts as a makeshift shield.
He heard the dreadful screech as the knife plunged through the locker and into the book. The knife pulled out, and the raider stabbed his way along the lockers. The screeching finally stopped, replaced by slamming sounds coming from the neighboring room. Ray exhaled, dropped the book, climbed out of the locker, and looked around. Nothing looked familiar; he had no idea where he was. He had turned so many corners and had run down so many different corridors. And the raiders knew he was there. He began walking in the opposite direction, trying to retrace his steps.
...
Ray was more lost than ever in the huge hospital. He was about to give up when luck turned in his favor. He found a hospital directory that had a map in it on a table. He was deep in the hospital, far away from the front door, but with his map he now knew where he was going. He let out a silent cheer, then moved quickly through the hospital until he finally came to the rusted front door where he stepped out and into the setting sun. His first objective was to get as far away from the hospital as he could, then to get better weapons. Seemingly with pure luck, Ray had managed to cheat death once again.
...
WASTELAND SURVIVAL PART 2
As Ray trudged away from the hospital he felt many things. The first was happiness; he had managed to get away with his life and no injuries as well. The second was worry; the sun was quickly dipping behind the horizon and he knew he had to find shelter soon. The third was pure fear; he was still just outside the massive Raider camp. On top of that, he was deep in the DC ruins. In the Capital Wasteland, the DC ruins were the worst place to be. The only way in or out were through extremely dangerous and feral ghoul infested metro tunnels. The only reason Ray fought his way through the ghoul infested tunnels and into DC is because DC is great for scavenging.
And all Ray had to show for his trouble was a terrifying tale about his narrow escape from certain death, courtesy of the Raiders. He wished he had grabbed the lantern that he found in the utility room when he first hid from the Raiders. He was tired of fumbling around in the dark, which was why he tried to avoid traveling at night and metro tunnels.
...
After walking for what felt like hours, Ray came across a small shop. The writing on the door said THRIFT, but the rest was too worn for him to read. He slowly pushed open the door and unsheathed his small pocket knife. He longed to have the comforting grip of the .32 in his hand. He decided he would try to fix it as soon as he didn't have murderous psychos breathing down his neck.
He quickly gave the shop a walk-through. Surprisingly it looked mostly untouched. It was a small shop and the back room looked like the shop owner had been living there. There was a small bed shoved in the corner, a stove, a fridge, and a radio completed the room. Ray saw this shop as a thread of extremely good luck, a thread that he would hold with a death grip until it wore thin and finally snapped.
He nearly tripped over the previous owner. A skeleton sat in a chair behind the cash register, a 10mm pistol grasped in its hand and a spray of long dried crimson on the wall behind the skeleton. It was a grim reminder of the type of world that Ray lived in. Slowly and carefully, Ray pulled open its fingers and took the pistol. He placed the pistol and his backpack on the counter. He wasn't picky about where he slept, but sleeping in a room with a skeleton with bits of long dried flesh still clinging to its bones was out of the question. He dragged the skeleton to the tiny bathroom/utility room that was located in a door behind the counter. Ray walked back out into the shop part of the small thrift store and locked the front door.
...
Ray was disappointed that the shop contained mostly clothes, books, and random odds and ends. He found a few useful things. He found two fission batteries which would fit the bulky flashlight which he found beneath the counter.
He also found a large combat knife, a new pair of hiking boots (which were surprisingly comfy), a pair of scissors, and a small hot plate. The clothes were mostly Pre-War clothes that would offer little in the way of protection, but Ray decided to take some to expand his wardrobe. He picked the lock on the register and found only useless Pre-War money.
Finally he made his way to the back room to raid the fridge. The fridge was filled with a lot of canned goods, which made him incredibly happy. The other food in the fridge was perishables which had gone bad long ago and left a stench comparable to that of death. He gagged and grabbed the canned goods and quickly made his way back to the register. At the sight of all the canned food, Ray's stomach let out an obnoxiously loud rumble which made him quietly chuckle to himself.
...
Ray's stomach was full and the rest of the canned goods were safely nestled in his backpack. He had just finished fixing his .32, and he suddenly realized how tired he was. He grabbed his backpack and walked to the back room where he collapsed on the bed and instantly fell asleep.
...
Ray pried his eyes open and was glad he woke up still alive and without someone standing by him with a knife to his throat or a gun to his head. He hauled himself out of the bed and blinked the sleep from his eyes. He gathered his things and walked out into the main shop area.
One of his goals today was to cut his hair and beard with the scissors that he found. His black hair now hung in his eyes and his 5 0'clock shadow had grown into a short beard. The look of it didn't really bother him; it was how hot it was. Plus his hair obscured his vision a little. He walked into the bathroom where the skeleton lay and looked at himself in the mirror. He dug through his pack until he found the scissors. Slowly, he clipped off his facial hair, being careful not to knick his skin. Then he clipped at the hair on his head.
When he finished, his head hair wasn't quite even, but much more manageable, and his scraggly-looking beard was replaced by his usual 5 o'clock shadow. Now – looking decent instead of like some tramp – he finally left the thrift store, no matter how much it pained him to do so. He took out his worn map and put a red dot where the shop was located. The red dot signaled that the shop was safe and could be used as a camp in case he ever found himself in this area again. Not that he planned on coming back to this area any time soon. He wanted to get out of DC as fast as humanly possible.
...
Ray hated metro tunnels. Hate with a capital H-A-T-E. Not only were they extremely dangerous, they were dark, smelly, and often brimming with radiation. Plus, you never knew what lurked around the next corner. Ray nervously shined the flashlight around. He hadn't been walking for long and so far he hadn't seen anything. He decided to pick up the pace. He kept a brisk jog through the tunnel. He had seen several dead feral ghouls, but nothing alive. It looked like someone had traveled through here recently. Suddenly, someone stepped in front of him.
"Hey local. Don't you know this is a toll tunnel?" The Raider said smugly, crossing his arms over his chest, "What do you got in that pack?"
"None of your business," Ray hissed as he tried to move around the Raider. The Raider roughly shoved Ray backwards.
"I don't think you caught that! This is a toll tunnel. Give me all your caps and I'll let you pass!" the Raider seethed. The Raider's hand had moved down to grip the handle of the gruesome looking machete at his belt. Even if Ray had any caps, he surely wouldn't give them to one idiotic Raider.
He considered his options. He could give the Raider his money, or he could fight him. Sure, his pistol was in working condition now, but he had no bullets. He had the 10mm, but it hadn't been fired in who knows how long; plus taking into consideration of the fact that it may have no ammo as well. His switchblade would be no match for the Raider's machete.
He was hesitant about killing the Raider though. Even though anyone who lived in the Wastes would surely have to kill or be killed, Ray didn't like killing people; even if it was murderous scum like Raiders. His father had once said to him when he was just a boy that when you kill someone, you take his most valuable asset, life. You take everything he was, is, or could've been. It was a lesson that stuck with Ray, and made him avoid confrontations with people. In the Wastes, some people would try to kill you just for looking at them funny.
"I don't have any caps! Even if I did, I wouldn't give them to you!" Ray snarled back, whipping out the switchblade. He tried to add as much venom to his voice as possible, with hopes of scaring the Raider off.
The Raider burst out laughing. "Are you serious?!" He nearly doubled over laughing, "What are you gonna do with that? Kill me?"He laughed louder before suddenly becoming deadly calm. "That's fine. I can pry what you have off your rotting corpse."
With that, the Raider grabbed the machete from his belt and swung at Ray's head. Ray rolled out of the way and grabbed the 10mm from the holster at his belt. He fired once and in the illumination from the gunshot he could see his bullet hit its target, the Raider's leg. The Raider cried out and fell to his good knee. He began screaming threats littered with more curse words than Ray could imagine. To Ray's shock, the Raider dragged himself across the floor, leaving a bloody swear and still swinging the machete at Ray's legs. Ray shot again and hit the Raider's arm that held the machete. The machete clattered to the floor and the Raider spewed another torrent of curses.
Ray scooped up the machete.
"I'm sorry." Ray quickly muttered to the Raider.
"You're going to be sorry when I get up!"
The Raider snarled, spitting the last word like it was the foulest curse he could think of. Instead of dignifying that with a response, Ray shoved the machete through his belt loop – where it fit like a glove – and jogged further down the tunnel. His screams of rage echoed, following Ray down the tunnel. Ray silently prayed that the Raider didn't have buddies in here.
...
Luckily, the Raider was alone in the tunnels and Ray didn't run into much trouble, except for a few Radroaches and a few feral ghouls. Ray sighed with relief as he saw bright sunlight at the end of the tunnel that lay before him. He dashed towards the light, eager to get out of the creepy tunnels. He shoved open the metal, fence-like gate and into the bright sunlight. The sun was almost to the other horizon.
Ray sighed as he realized that it had taken him almost all day to navigate the stupid tunnels. He then realized that he wasn't too surprised because he had gotten lost many times. He had taken wrong turns and hit dead ends several times. The dead ends were tunnels that were either blocked by rubble or by a huge amount of radiation that made his skin tingle and he wouldn't walk through unless he wanted to be a ghoul. Not that he had anything against ghouls; he just didn't want to be one. Ray had met many ghouls that were alive Pre-War. It made him envious of these walking antiques because he had always wanted to see what it would be like to live in the Old World.
...
Ray trekked through the Wastes, dust gently swirling at his feet as the setting sun beat down on him. He was terribly thirsty. The only thing he had to drink was a measly bit of Nuka-Cola. The fridge back at the thrift store unsurprisingly didn't have anything to drink. The only puddles of water that Ray saw on the ground were terribly dirty and wouldn't be safe to drink even if he boiled it. Ray downed the painstakingly small amount of Nuka-Cola that was left in the bottle. He sucked down absolutely every drop of the soda and, to his dismay, after a few minutes his mouth once again became as dry as cotton. He would kill for just one mouthful of absolutely purified, radiation free water. He hoped that he wouldn't suffer from dehydration again.
The last time he did, he thought he had gone mad. It had gotten so bad that he was hallucinating, and after running around for a few hours thinking that he was being chased by a pack of dogs, he had run into a caravan who gave him some dirty water and watched over him while the water worked its way into his system. He chuckled quietly to himself as he remembered the caravan guards asking him if he was insane. He then stopped when he realized how bad it could have been.
...
After walking along a ruined highway for a few hours, Ray decided to make camp by an old burnt-out car. He scanned the surrounding area and was glad to find that all was quiet. He plopped down on the ground and pulled out the hot plate and a can of pork and beans. He hated pork and beans but beggars can't be choosers, another lesson his father had taught him. After he finished his meal, he pitched the can aside and wished that he had something to rinse the taste out of this mouth. He dug through his pack, looking for something, anything, to drink. He sighed in defeat. He stood up, turned around, and pulled open the back door of the car. He peered inside. It wasn't too bad compared to some of the places he'd slept. There was a bit of dust inside but that was to be expected after 200 years. Thankfully there were no corpses or skeletons. He climbed inside, closed the door, laid his head on his pack, and fell asleep.
...
Ray awoke to a strange snuffling sound. It was strangely familiar. Ray opened his eyes and looked out the window, greeted by the early morning sun and the sight of a Yao Guai standing outside of the car. The Yao Guai snuffled lazily around the car. Ray's hand went into a death grip on the 10mm pistol, his heart beating like a kick drum. The 10mm wouldn't do a thing to the massive beast. Ray contemplated shooting himself with it if the Yao Guai found him. The Yao Guai licked the inside of the pork and beans can and came closer to the car.
Ray's heart beat so loud that he was pretty sure that the Yao Guai would hear it and rip the car open and tear him apart. The beast walked right up to the car and sniffed the door right where Ray had leaned when he had his meal. A prickling feeling traveled up his spine when he realized the Yao Guai would likely have its meal there too.
The Yao Guai stopped sniffing and a low growl slowly built in its throat. The growl evolved into a roar. The Yao Guai stood on its hind legs and slammed its paws on the door. Ray felt the car begin to shake as the Yao Guai ripped at the door. Ray let out a yelp and grabbed his bag, somehow managing to sling it on his back. After that task was complete, Ray struggled to get the door opposite the Yao Guai open. He finally managed to get the door to slam open as the one behind him was torn off.
Ray jumped out of the car and slammed the door behind him. He looked back, noting with shock that the Yao Guai was inside the car where he had been peacefully sleeping just moments ago. The unpredictability of the Wastes never failed to shock Ray. One moment you're sleeping, the next you're being eaten alive by a mutated bear.
The Yao Guai struggled to get out of the car. He couldn't go backwards and he couldn't turn around, so his only choice was to go forward. The beast clawed at the door. Ray knew the old, rusted metal wouldn't hold for long. He had to get away, there was no way he could fight the Yao Guai. All he had was a measly 10mm, and even if his .32 had bullets it wouldn't take down the beast. His switchblade might be useful if he could cut a main vein or artery, but there was no way he was getting close enough to try that.
Ray decided his best choice was to hide. It didn't help that he was in the middle of nowhere. He did not want to hide in another car; if the Yao Guai got in Ray might not be able to get out this time. Ray began to panic, until he spotted a small building further down the highway.
The tall sign stood, topped with a globe. He could hardly make the words out in the early morning light, but he managed to make out that it said POSEIDON ENERGY as he sprinted towards it. The Yao Guai finally ripped through the door and let out an angry roar. It hauled its massive self through the small door opening and took off after Ray. Its heavy paws thudded on the concrete and made Ray's heavy boots slamming on the ground seem very quiet in comparison. The beast was quickly catching up to Ray, but he was almost to the gas station. Ray pulled out his 10mm and took a potshot at the creature, hoping to buy himself some time. The bullet hit the beast in the eye, making him slow drastically. It let out a bellow of rage and agony as blood trickled from its eye socket.
When Ray finally reached the heavy roll-up door he slid his fingers underneath the metal and hauled it up. Ray hurried inside and slammed the door behind him. He panted heavily, ignoring the pain in his side as he struggled to catch his breath. He didn't remember ever running that fast, not even when the Raiders were chasing him. He'd gladly take on twenty Raiders instead of a Yao Guai. He had encountered plenty of Yao Guai, but as soon as he saw their big lumbering shapes, he'd give them a wide berth.
Ray had even been lucky enough to kill two in his life. The first time was an experience he never wanted to think of again. But the second wasn't as traumatic. He had killed the second with a hunting rifle that he had been lucky enough to find. A while after killing the massive beast though, the old and decayed rifle somehow managed to snap in half.
Ray walked into the shop area of the gas station and made sure that the front door was secure. Luckily, it was a heavy metal one instead of the glass ones that many gas stations tended to have. The glass ones were useless and had been smashed long ago. This particular gas station had boards over the windows and a single heavy aisle pushed against the door. Ray felt like a cornered rat. If the Yao Guai got inside, he would have no where to run. And even if he could get away, there was no way that Ray could outrun it. Suddenly, something heavy slammed into the roll-up metal door.
The Yao Guai was angrier than ever, and it was dead-set on killing the person that shot it in the face. Ray nervously paced around the small garage area of the gas station. The Yao Guai slammed into the door again and again. Large dents appeared with every hit. This is it, Ray thought to himself, this is how it all ends.
Just like Mom and Dad. His mind was trying to dredge up the memory that had made him leave home to wander the Wastes at only 17, but he managed to shove the thought back down as the door emitted a shudder and a loud pop as it began to give way. The Yao Guai shoved its paw through the thin metal, its claws tearing it like flesh.
Ray pulled out his switchblade and stabbed it deep into the beast's paw. It let out a pained and angry roar, lashing out at Ray with its paw. His switchblade flew out, clattering to his feet. He managed to duck under the paw and grab his blade just as the door tore through and Ray was face to face with the snarling snout of the mutated bear.
Its rancid breath gently blew his hair back as its sickly yellow eyes bored into his. Then it was on him. Ray struggled with the Yao Guai. He slashed at its paws when it tried to rip into him. The Yao Guai slammed its paw into Ray's face. Its claws caught his jaw and part of his throat. Ray cried out and with a sudden burst of adrenaline-fueled power, shoved the knife forward and plunged it into the beast's thick neck. The Yao Guai let out a final mournful whine and fell forward, crushing Ray beneath its great bulk.
The sudden pressure of the beast on Ray forced the air from his lungs. He couldn't draw any more air into his lungs. Its blood quickly spilled out, covering his chest and trickling towards his face.
He let out loud inarticulate cries for help, but his pleas were useless, lost in the swirling dust of the Wasteland.
Ray pushed with his arms and legs. Finally, after what felt like hours, he managed to pull himself out from underneath the beast. He gasped for air and wiped his bloody switchblade on his blood soaked shirt. He then he holstered his pistol and sheathed the knife. Then he was hit with the pain of the wound on his face and neck. He gently touched it with his fingertips; he pulled his hand back and examined the crimson on his fingers. He felt the ragged slashes and knew that he had to tend it before infection set in.
He rushed through the gas station looking for a first aid kit. He finally found one in the bathroom. He pulled it open and pulled out the rubbing alcohol. He dumped some on the rag he kept in his pack and thoroughly cleaned the wound. He grabbed the Stim-Pak and injected it into different parts of the wound. Then he grabbed the bandages and put them over the wound, securing them with medical tape.
...
Ray trekked away from the gas station, probably looking like something out of a horror movie. His own blood – as well as the Yao Guai's – soaked his shirt.
He wanted a shower and a drink. His mouth was terribly dry again. He began to feel horrible. Everything hurt, his face throbbed, and his mouth felt like he'd been eating nothing but cotton.
...
Ray walked for a long time, some part of his subconscious aware that he had lost a lot of blood and he was quickly becoming dehydrated. Where was he going again? Ray suddenly collapsed. He knew he was dehydrated, but he wasn't seeing hallucinations quite yet. He lay there, baking in the hot sun as everything gradually went black.
Something was pulling at Ray's body. If the vultures were going to eat him, they could at least have the courtesy to wait until he was all the way dead. He grunted and flapped his arm at them.
"Why won't he wake up? Is he dead?" a female voice asked, sounding somewhat scared. She sounded like a little girl.
"Nope. Boy has lost a lot of blood but he ain't dead yet," a gruff male voice said. He sounded like an older man.
"What's with the stuff on his face?" the girl asked. It was definitely a little girl.
The old man grunted. "Bandages. Something got him good and he tried to bandage it himself. We need to get him to the doctor in Rivet City." He felt the things pulling at his body again and the vague sensation of being picked up before be blacked out again.
...
Ray slowly faded back to consciousness. When he managed to wrench his eyes open, he lay on a medical table in a metal room that looked like the inside of a ship. Was he in Rivet City now? He'd heard that Rivet City was a huge ship, but he had never been there. He looked around the room. It was definitely a doctor's office. Anatomy posters hung on the walls, medical instruments lay on a desk, and obviously there was the medical table he laid on.
He tried to sit up with a loud groan, falling back on the table when his head swam dizzily.
"He's awake!" The little girl's voice cried out from behind him. She startled Ray. He thought he was alone in the room. He tried to look behind him to see where the little girl was. As soon as he looked at her, she turned and dashed from the room. She returned a few minutes later with an old man, probably in his 60's, and another tired looking man with glasses and white hair. A lab coat completed his look.
"Good," lab coat said, "now we can get some more water into you. I'm Doctor Preston."
"I'm Chuck. You're lucky that Sara and I found you when we did. You were soaked in blood and really dehydrated," the other man said.
"How did you get me here?" Ray croaked as he took the cup of water that Doctor Preston offered him. He chugged it quickly.
"Our Brahmin hauled you here on its back," Chuck said.
"I can't thank you enough," Ray managed to gasp.
"No problem. What were you doing all the way out there anyway? You were in the middle of nowhere, and in Yao Guai territory," Chuck responded.
"I wander. I just roam the Wastes," Ray responded.
"Why in the world would you do that? Either you're looking for adventure or you've got a death wish," Chuck asked.
"I really don't know. I guess both," Ray said with a small chuckle.
"I bet you always have to come back to town for medical treatment?" Chuck said sarcastically.
Ray laughed. "Not usually. I never go to towns. I've had a string of bad luck. Walked right into a hospital full of Raiders, was in DC, Yao Guai found my camp and chased me into a garage, and dehydration on top of all that."
"Wow. Why don't you settle down then? Get a house in Megaton, or a room here. The only thing you'll find in the wastes is death. I used to be an adventurer like you; then I got captured by some Raiders. After they tortured me and robbed me blind, they left me for dead. I took that as God's way of telling me that I needed to quit. I was getting too old for that anyway," Chuck said with a small shrug of his shoulders.
Ray thought about it for a moment. He probably should get a permanent residence somewhere. Everyone needs a place to come home to at the end of the day. And obviously, he could keep all of his possessions there. For too long he had been traveling with just the possessions on his back; plus if he was ever carrying too much, he would have to leave things behind in the Wastes, where he would probably never see them again.
"You're right. Even though I'm definitely not giving up adventuring, but it would be nice to have a home. I'm 24; it's about time that I got my own place," Ray said with a light sigh.
"Good deal. And, how about we give you some supplies before you go? I saw your supplies and if you go back out there you're just going to starve or dehydrate. Again," Chuck said.
"I couldn't do that. It wouldn't feel right," Ray said.
Chuck sighed. "Look, it's never a surprise to come across a dead Wastelander. They go out there and think they are invincible, and then they drop dead a few days later. I try to help as many people as I can and it wouldn't feel right for me if I walk outside this city and find you dead."
"Ok," Ray finally said. Chuck motioned for Ray to follow him. Ray began to get up from the medical table when he realized that his clothes were no longer spattered in gore.
"I had your clothes washed. I'm pretty sure that you didn't want to walk around looking like a serial killer or something. All the blood didn't come out, but it's better than before. And don't worry about payment, I didn't have to do much, other than stitch your face up and give you plenty of water," Dr. Preston said.
"Thanks," Ray replied.
"No problem. Don't go and get mauled again," Dr. Preston joked.
"No promises," Ray said with a laugh. Ray followed Chuck and Sara out of the room and out onto the deck of the ship. Chuck's Brahmin stood outside. Chuck pulled out several cans of food, bottles of water, and finally a combat shotgun with several boxes of ammo.
"I'm sure you need this more than I do. A Wastelander gave it to me as payment for saving her. I don't need it so you might as well take it," Chuck said.
"I seriously can't thank you enough!" Ray gasped. He couldn't believe the kindness of the old man. The shotgun was in perfect condition and even included an adjustable shoulder strap so that Ray could easily sling it around his shoulders.
"You're welcome. The Wastes are harsh, and I just want to show people that there are still kind people out here," Chuck replied. Ray gave Chuck and Sara many thanks and finally had to say goodbye. Ray promised that he would come back to Rivet City, and finally walked down the retractable metal bridge and back out into the Wastes.
...
One Week Later…
Ray walked through the massive front gate of Megaton. It was actually a somewhat large town. The huge metal walls surrounded the town, while many small structures and large structures made up the town. Ray looked about the town, it seemed nice, but then his eyes settled on the massive object that sat in a crater in the center of the town. Ray gasped. A massive bomb sat directly in the center of the town. The people walked around the bomb as if it were the most natural thing in the world. How can these people live around that thing? How can they live here knowing that they could all die at any second? These thoughts crossed Ray's panicked mind.
"So, judging by the fact that your eyes are as big as the moon, I bet you noticed the bomb?" A man asked calmly.
Ray turned to look at the dark skinned man who was walking towards him. The man wore a cowboy hat, a long duster with the sleeves cut short, and a sheriff's star. A massive Chinese Assault Rifle was slung over his shoulder.
"How can you live around that thing?" Ray breathed, pointing at the bomb.
"Stranger, the bomb is perfectly harmless. It fell during the Great War and never exploded. It's a dud. So calm down, I don't want you causing a scene now. Name's Lucas Simms, town sheriff, and mayor when the need arises," he said, offering his hand to Ray.
Ray shook Lucas' gloved hand. "Ray Glasscutt. Nice to meet you."
He raised an eyebrow at Ray's unusual last name, but didn't say anything. "You too. You seem polite and all, but just remember if you steal anything or try to shoot up the place, you'll be dealing with me," Lucas warned.
"Message received. Do you mind if I take a look at that bomb? I know a bit about explosives. I promise I won't try to blow us all up," Ray said with a light chuckle.
Lucas seemed deep in thought for a few moments. Finally he spoke, "I suppose I could let you try if you know what you're doing. But, I'm coming with you. You're new in town and these people expect me to keep this town intact, so any funny business and you know what'll happen. But, if you can disarm that thing, you'll get a good reward."
Ray nodded. He respected Lucas for protecting the town and he understood why Lucas was suspicious. Lucas led the way down to the bomb and gestured for Ray to take a look.
Some time laster, Ray had disarmed the core. "There!" Ray said, a triumphant grin breaking across his face.
"What? Did you do it?" Lucas asked.
"Yeah! This bomb is just a decoration now," Ray said with a grin.
Lucas stared at Ray with eyes the size of the moon. "Where the hell did you learn to do that?"
"I've found mini nukes in the wastes. They work pretty much the same as this thing," He said, shrugging lightly.
Lucas marveled for a minute before speaking, "Look, you've done this town an amazing kindness. How would it sound if I offered you two hundred caps and a home in our little town?"
It Ray's mind a minute to process the offer. "That...would be absolutely perfect," He smiled widely, genuinely happy for the first time in a long time.
...
Ray marveled at his new house. It was two stories high, with a small kitchen, a bedroom, and plenty of other extra space. It even came with his own robotic butler, Wadsworth. Ray kicked off his boots and flung himself into a chair.
"Welcome home sir," Wadsworth said.
Ray grinned. Welcome home indeed.