DISCLAIMER
This is a short story set in the Pre-Holocaust Fallout 4 universe. All characters belong to the author, but the depicted setting is based on the Fallout franchise.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
This Fanfic is a short story set in a pre-holocaust Alaska. It consists in one sole chapter. The plot is set in a way that it would not bring conflicts to past or upcoming events in the canon of the Fallout universe.
Since Fallout 4 is the only game that showed us a pre-war America, the story is loosely based on the setting seen at the beginning of the game. However, it is set in Alaska's warzone, merely months before the first nuclear strike. No main characters seen in the games are part of the story.
I hope fans like the plot and my writing style. Reviews and harsh criticism are welcome. Profanity filter is turned off. Enjoy...
FALLOUT 4: ANDERSON OUTPOST
I find myself in one of those precarious situations in which there's no exit. My old M4 lays there with its barrel destroyed beyond repair. All I have is my 10 millimeter pistol with all 12 bullets occupying its clip. I only know I'm miraculously alive, although not for long.
I hear those two beasts growling behind me, all coated in numerous layers of putrid flesh. I quickly draw my gun and aim at the chest of the one closest to me. Swallowing my fear, I aim at its neck and shoot a second time. I hear all its vertebrae crack, followed by the fall of its lifeless head. Both monsters stop moving for a few seconds. The other one then roars and races towards me. My heart almost explodes from fear, but it settles down when I see everything around me disappear and another image gradually comes to life. It was all a horrible nightmare…
While my true surroundings start shaping up, the cold and penetrating temperature forces me to fully embrace reality. Our current situation isn´t any better.
"Nightmares again, Danneth?" The Sergeant asks.
I barely nod as an answer. How could I not have nightmares?The world is going to shit with this stupid war, and we're all growing weary of it. I've even lost track of the time we've been fighting. We should have listened to the warnings of that Titor guy, maybe then all of this could have been avoided, I think while bearing the burden of others' regrets.
We're in the year 2076. Our country just completely annexed Canadian grounds and we're on our way towards an Alaskan territory occupied by the Chinese. Despite all the war technology our country boasts about, the Far East is still putting up a fight. Having your home sieged by the enemy leaves you no choice. You must defend it. That is the doctrine I adopted when their troops started inadvertently taking position near our country. Despite not being able to halt their advance back then, today we're finally taking the war to them.
My mission is clear. I, Corporal Alexander Danneth of the 60th Light Infantry Division of the United States Army, must protect this strategic point at all costs with my squad. We're part of the AL-01-B outpost, known also as the Anderson outpost, named after the nearby occupied town. It belongs to one of the defense bases meant to secure our position and guarantee our advance on Chinese-occupied Alaskan territory. The coalition force behind us is currently bringing the necessary materials in order to transform our mild outpost into a third military base.
Despite the importance of our position, the Logistics Department has only provided us so far with a small and improvised concrete bunker, with its still unpainted walls filled with numerous cracks. A barricade built with dozens of sandbags and wooden stakes protects our front. An electrified fence completely surrounds us.
As if the outside defenses weren't poor enough, the military personnel inside the outpost isn't any better. Our Sergeant is the typical body-shaved, Buffout-pumped blond American guy who, despite being almost 40, bears an extremely arrogant attitude. In response to my concerns, he always says immature stuff, such as "they'll take a shot at the main base before attacking this dump" and "we don't fear the Chinks". He's my commanding officer, but I think he's taking this whole situation a little too lightly. Instead of fixing his eyes on our surroundings, he spends his time flirting with Chinese teenage schoolgirls on the other side of the fence, or watching porn with our sex-addicted Communications and Locations technician.
Just like Sarge, our comms technician is of American descent. His hair and beard almost touch the ground with their length. He barely talks to anyone, sticking only to answer our repetitive questions. He spends most of his time surrounded by his five computers, four of them playing pornographic holotapes and only one performing area reconnaissance functions. Sometimes he even touches himself in front of us. No one scolds him. No one says anything to him. No one wants to even talk about anything anymore.
Our messenger, Private Corcoran, just arrives from base. Contrary to the other two, he is a bit more stuck to duty, and is a bit more aware of our vulnerable position. As far as I know, he is from England, residing in London before enlisting in the U.S army. His hair is almost white despite him being barely in his thirties. Accompanying his impeccably shaved face, he has this cold and calming glare, which is typical among his fellow Englishmen. He wears the same white camouflage fatigues I do, with my combat armor and ranking distinctions as the only difference. The man salutes the Sergeant and hands him a sealed envelope.
"PRIVATE CORCORAN REPORTING FOR DUTY, SIR!"
"Mission report, soldier," Sarge sighs.
"I was told at the main base that the Hercules-97 is set to land in three days, with the necessary equipment to begin construction here. The convoy itself is set to be in our position two weeks after the landing."
"Yeah, yeah, same old shit," Sarge abruptly interrupts him, taking the envelope from his hand in the process. "You may return to your post, soldier."
As Corcoran mans his surveillance position, I turn my sight towards the room on the right side of the communication monitors. I see the numerous ammo boxes all piled up. Something behind the ones labeled ".38" draws my attention. It looks like the stock of an old weapon. I grab it and pull it up from the box pile. What the…
I find myself holding an artifact I thought it would never reach my hands. An old 1887 Winchester lever-action rifle? How the hell did this get here? I think about asking my fellow squad mates about it, but my excitement keeps me from doing so. I examine it, turn it and pull its lever over and over again. This thing's in good shape, and even its reloading mechanism has been recently oiled, I mutter to myself.
"Corporal, come out here!" Sarge's voice calls me from outside the bunker.
When I walk outside, the sudden cold breeze makes my balls shrink almost instantly. It's nighttime already, I say to myself upon seeing the dark, starless sky. Sarge is standing steps away from the generator.
"Look at those beauties," he points his finger at the fence.
Following his directions, I see two Asian schoolgirls standing on the other side of our electrified fence. Both are wearing their typical white and blue uniforms, all covered by huge skin coats. One of them has a long, waist-reaching black hair, while the other shows off a short, blue tinted, gothic hairstyle. Upon taking a more detailed look, I see both of them show angelical face traits and bodies with voluptuous curves.
"Let's let them in," Sarge says while nearing the fence's generator.
"Sir, perhaps we should…"
"You should go back to your post, Danneth," he angrily interrupts me.
Both girls keep smiling at us, blowing us kisses and adopting suggestive poses, Sarge reaches for the generator's controls. I remain astonished by his stupidity, asking myself the same question over and over while he pushes buttons like a Mr. Handy bot. Is he really gonna' do it?
"You should leave that stupid fear of yours behind," he says, completely cutting off power to the fence.
With his hand still on the generator's control panel, a strange knife goes through his right eye and kills him instantly. I turn my sight towards the two schoolgirls, only to see one of them meters away from me with a Kunai in each hand. Her voluptuous body is now covered by some sort of black latex jumpsuit. My reflexes make me aim the Winchester at her and pull the trigger. A shot comes out of its old barrel.
The situation doesn't give me time to boast around the miracle that just happened. The other girl starts shooting at me with what seems to be an automatic pistol. I run towards the barricade and start yelling.
"WE'RE UNDER ATTACK! WE'RE UNDER ATTACK! FIRE AT WILL!"
I hear Corcoran's light machine gun firing from the bunker's window. An intense shootout ensues. I need to get back inside.
Seeing that my rifle has no more shells in it, I draw my gun and start shooting blindly while running towards the door. A burst of shots lifting the dirt near my feet compels me to prone. I'm momentarily blinded by two huge reflectors lit on the other side of the fence. Still on the ground, I shoot my last three bullets to oblivion.
"CORPORAL, I'LL COVER YOU!" I hear Corcoran's yelling.
I take a huge breath, get up and start running again towards the bunker. I barely reach the door alive.
"MORE ARE COMING!" Corcoran yells. "ENEMY PERSONNEL COMING OUT OF THE WOODS! NORTH EAST AND NORTH WEST"
I take a peek outside through the door and manage to see two Chinese infantry platoons coming out of the surrounding woods. Bullet impacts hit the bunker walls like a hail storm. This just got real bad!
The comms technician shouts at the radio, without me managing to completely understand what he says. I bet he's asking for reinforcements like crazy, I think while seeing the increasing numbers of red dots in all five monitors.
"I NEED THOSE GUYS HERE RIGHT NOW!" I hear the voice of the comms guy. "WE'RE BEING FUCKED OUT HERE!"
Despite the stressing situation, I manage to find three 12-caliber boxes in the ammunition room. I immediately open them and spread their contents on the floor, quickly introducing the eight shells the Winchester's chamber allows me. I throw the rest I can grab into my combat armor's pockets before rejoining Corcoran.
"CORPORAL, I NEED TO RELOAD!" He shoots his last burst.
"RELOAD, SOLDIER! I GOT YOUR BACK!"
Corcoran hides behind the Wall near the bunker's window and starts the tortuous process of reloading his M249. I inhale an ocean of air before pulling my head out and shooting a Chinese rifleman standing a few steps away from our window. However, their reflectors' blinding light wall and the explosions from their tossed frag grenades barely let me perceive their silhouettes. My next four shots manage to hit nothing but air and snow.
"ALMOST DONE!" Corcoran accommodates his ammo belt.
I fire my last three shells, missing two and hitting an enemy soldier's knee with the third one.
"I'M EMPTY!" I yell while introducing eight more shells into the chamber.
"ALMOST THERE!" Corcoran yells back at me.
With the Chinese troops breathing on our necks, we both pull out our heads and weapons in a desperate attempt of reversing the situation. We are soon forced back into cover by enemy fire.
"WE'RE PINNED DOWN!" Corcoran holds his weapon tightly.
I hear the Chinese yelling orders outside in their own language. They're all over us, I think while I pull my Winchester's lever in an attempt to calm myself. I stare at Corcoran. He stares back at me. Sweat crawls over both our faces. I sense my life's end nearby.
A nice and loud burst of shots outside the bunker is suddenly heard, followed by screams and enemy gunfire. Several other bursts follow the first one relentlessly. My anguish disappears little by little as I hear a sound that's music to my ears. A Vertibird.
"CORPORAL, REINFORCEMENTS ARE FINALLY ARRIVING!" The communications guy says, still manning his post. "THE FOURTH TALON WOLF BATALLION'S ON ITS WAY! E.T.A: TEN MINUTES!"
The continuous shot bursts give us the courage to peek through the window and see the face of our savior. In the northwestern direction, we spot a fully armed Vertibird, shooting at the growing members of enemy infantry with its devastating 90mm cannons, guided by the positioning directions given by our communications technician. The Chinese troops are slowly massacred. I start shouting morale boosting words.
"WE JUST HAVE TO HOLD OUR POSITION 'TILL THE WOLVES GET HERE! WE CAN DO IT! FIRE AT WILL!"
With the Vertibird's relentless shooting, Corcoran's machine gun and my modest Winchester, enemy troops begin to retreat. The Chinese infantry suffers substantial losses.
"¡E.T.A. ON THE WOLVES' ARRIVAL: FIVE MINUTES! HOLD THAT LINE!"
We keep shooting at the enemy. Corcoran covers the Eastern end while I take the western direction. The Vertibird keeps cleaning up the ground with its relentless shooting. I think we're gonna' make it, I boast while I take down an enemy soldier with a shotgun blast.
"I'M ALMOST EMPTY!" Corcoran yells.
While leaving continuous firing to the Vertibird, I take shelter behind the bunker's cracked wall and load my rifle with another set of shells. I still hear our savior's automatic cannon shooting relentlessly, while Corcoran fires his bursts with less frequency, trying to spare ammo. I finish reloading and jump back to the action. Things turn ugly again.
I see in horror how a missile impacts our guardian angel. It spins crazily as it loses altitude and explodes in front of our noses.
"GET DOWN!"
Corcoran pulls me by the neck of my armor. My chest trembles along with our bunker, which is followed by pieces of concrete flying in our direction. My reflexes make me cover the back of my neck with my bare hands.
"ENEMY SENTRY BOT! TAKE COVER!"
The sound of tank tracks moving tons and tons of steel lets me know that a horrible Chinese Sentry Bot is coming. The Chinese really did it when they built these monsters, I think while hiding deeper inside the bunker. No American soldier is devoid of fear or respect while facing one of these infernal war contraptions. Their heavy weaponry, combined with its advance mapping systems and its fearsome artificial intelligence, make them the perfect killing machines. Their thick multi-layered steel and titanium armor give them enough resistance to take on several heavily armed targets without trouble.
The Sentry Bot's missile blasts and .50 caliber bullet impacts corner us in seconds, forcing our comms technician to leave his post. The sound of tracks and electronic circuitry drives us crazy. I sense my heartbeat rising with each bullet impact, missile explosion or laser burst coming from that horrible steel beast. We know it tends to leave no prisoners. I sense that damn robot nearing us by the minute. My reflexes make me reload my rifle and give my gun to the communications guy. We, the three surviving soldiers from the Anderson outpost, find ourselves seeing death right in our doorstep.
"Get ready," I mutter.
The silence ends when the mechanic monster bursts through what's left of our bunker's front wall. It aims its laser and missile cannons against us. All three of us start shooting at it with all we've got. Our bullets bounce off when impacting its metallic shell.
The damage produced by our combined relentless shooting only manages to slow down the Sentry Bot's attack. Its sensors perceive it and dub it as "irrelevant". Nothing can save us now. We're doomed. As a final act of rebellion, I shoot the monster's so-called "head" with my last shell.
"Fuck…you…"
My balls crawl up my throat when I see that my shot completely disintegrates the Sentry Bot. What the…It's a miracle! I come back to the crude reality when I hear the sound of tracks belonging to our Shock Tanks, all equipped with big rail cannons. About time the Wolves got here, I mutter with ease. I manage to see a whole squad of Power Armors entering the remains of our bunker. I hear new voices outside shouting positioning and attack orders.
A team of four military medics escorts us outside, taking us to a stationary Vertibird. We reach the light flight in mere seconds. A guy wearing a T-52 power armor stands near it.
"WELL DONE, MEN! WE'LL TAKE IT FROM HERE!"
All three of us board the Vertibird swiftly. It takes off as soon as we fasten our seatbelts, allowing me to take a better look at the battleground. The last thing I see is the relentless line of Shock Tanks and Power Armor artillery crushing our fence and obliterating the Chinese infantry, forcing them to fully fall back. Distance makes me lose sight of them.
"We made it, Corporal," Corcoran sighs. "The Anderson outpost halted the Chinese offensive with only three men."
"Yeah, we did."
The men remain silent during the rest of the trip, allowing me to shut my eyes and hope for a nice dream...
