Chapter One

I stood in the field, weeds dangling loosely from my filthy, chafed hands. The sky was so beautiful today. It was about the only beautiful thing in the bedraggled and desolate wasteland around me. The sky was one of my favorite things to paint. I wondered briefly if painting it later would be worth the lecture I'd receive if caught.

"Cherry! Stop staring at the sky like a dumb brahmin and weed those tatos!"

I snapped my head away from the sky to Doris. Her wrinkled, leathery face scowled at mine through the tato trellises. I looked away, wiping my brow and tossing the weeds into a pile.

"Why do you talk to me like a child? I'm a grown woman. And I am weeding," I said.

"Not nearly fast enough," Doris muttered, viciously pulling up a handful of weeds. "You need to pull your weight around here. Or have you forgotten that me 'n' Jake feed you and let you have a room of your own?"

"How could I forget? You remind me every chance you get. You don't like me. I get it. You don't need to insinuate it constantly," I replied.

"What did I tell you about using those book-words? You know I don't know what that means. And we can't hate you that much, can we? We haven't thrown you to the Yao Guai yet."

"That's only because you promised my parents that you would take care of me in the event that something happened to them. And it did. So here we are," I said, knowing that what I was saying was pointless. This wasn't the first time we'd had this argument.

"What do you want from me? I raised you the best I could," Doris protested.

"But you didn't love me. You didn't treat me like I was your own child. You treated me like a burden," I insisted.

Doris opened her mouth to reply, but stopped and looked up instead. An expression of delight filled her gaunt face.

"A caravan," she said.

I turned around and squinted at the figures on the dusty road in the distance. There were three people and a brahmin laden with packs. Definitely a caravan.

Doris brushed her dirty hands on her pants and hurried back to our house - to get her jars of tato salsa no doubt - along with whatever salvage Jake wanted to trade. I had nothing to sell, and only two caps to my name, so I stood where I was, watching the caravan come into view.

There were two guards with guns and leather armor, and one merchant. This was the typical formula. But there was something strange about the merchant's face. It was hard to see from here, and he was wearing a hat pulled down low, but his face looked... disfigured. Maybe from a fire, or a grenade, or-

"Cherry!" Jake yelled from the front step. "Get yer ass in the house! Now!"

Doris was usually the one to yell at me. Jake yelling at me must mean something serious. Maybe this caravan wasn't what it seemed. Maybe they were raiders in disguise. Or maybe Jake just wanted me to haul his garbage out to the merchant... Regardless, I ran to the house as he commanded. He grabbed me and pulled me inside, slamming the door behind us.

"What is it?" I asked.

He and Doris shushed me, hunkering low in the dimly-lit shack, peering out the window through a crack in the drapes. I looked out another of the chicken wire windows, feeling the hot wind blow through onto my face.

The caravan was approaching our little complex of buildings. There was definitely something wrong with the merchant's face. Scars and wrinkled skin ran across it, and he had practically no nose or lips. His ears appeared to be fused to his head. His arms bore the same scars, I observed.

"What happened to him, do you think?" I asked.

"He's a ghoul," Jake grunted.

"A ghoul? But..." I was very confused. I knew what ghouls were. Putrid, rotting creatures that looked like corpses and attacked on sight. We had dealt with them on several occasions. But this man couldn't be a ghoul. Ghouls were nearly naked, with humpbacks and spindly limbs. The merchant was walking upright, and even appeared to have defined muscles under his tight, plaid shirt. Ghouls didn't talk - they moaned and hissed. The merchant was talking to his guards. Ghouls would claw and bite at anything that moved. The merchant was leading their brahmin and patting it on its heads.

"I don't understand," I said. "He doesn't look like a normal ghoul. And he doesn't look violent."

"He's not a feral ghoul," Doris hissed, "but he's a ghoul all the same."

"So there are ghouls that are more like us? I must be missing something here. Why are we hiding?"

"They ain't like us," Jake insisted. "They're less than human. Disgusting, smelly muties."

"What do they do that's so terrible? Do they eat people or something?" I asked.

"Well, no. I don't think so," Jake muttered. "But it ain't what they do. It's what they are."

I looked at my caretakers, disgust rising into my throat. "So if he looked human, you would go out there and do business with him?"

"Of course," Doris said. "But do he look human to you?"

I looked out the window at the merchant. He was surveying our shacks in disappointment. I watched him lead his brahmin to our water trough for a drink. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ted's scrawny frame emerge from his shack. I felt disgusted again, but for a different reason. Ted was clutching a shotgun. He yelled at the caravan - "yer kind ain't welcome here!"

The guards and merchant turned around to look at Ted. The merchant's expression wasn't what I was expecting. It was worse. I thought he would look sad, or angry, or surprised. Instead, he had a looked of resigned acceptance, as though he were used to this sort of treatment. That look broke my heart.

"You guys are all assholes," I muttered. "I'm going out there."

Jake grabbed me by the arm. Hard. "And ruin our settlement's reputation? I don't think so."

"What reputation?" I asked incredulously.

"We don't want people thinking we like to fraternize with ghouls. And if you do business with them, they'll think it's okay to come back. Which it ain't."

I pulled away from Jake, my arm stinging. "You people make me sick." I turned to walk away, headed for my room. Jake moved in front of me.

"You best learn to respect us, and this farm. We're all you've got, and it's an unforgiving world out there. You wouldn't last a day out in the wastes, and all you do is complain about how good you've got it."

I stormed past him, walking into my room and slamming the door. I was furious. Furious because of the farm's prejudice toward a man that was apparently as human as anyone else on the inside, and furious because Jake was right. The farm was all I had - and almost all I could remember. I had very few memories of my parents or where we lived, but I remembered being happier. But I couldn't leave here or I would surely die. But staying meant putting up with my caretakers' ignorant ways, and the loathsome advances stupid, buck-toothed Ted.

I stayed in my room the rest of the evening. I didn't come out for dinner, and no one brought it to me. Several times I parted the drapes and peered out my chicken wire window, searching for the caravan party. I kept thinking about that poor merchant's expression. If he were truly human on the inside, he didn't deserve this treatment. He surely had it hard enough, looking the way he did, without being berated by a bunch of farmers when he was just trying to earn a living.

The caravan guards weren't put off by his appearance. One even patted him on the back after Ted yelled at them. There must be other settlements in the world that were more accepting. I hoped there were. And I dreamed about being in one. Some place far away from this hateful farm.

I didn't feel like painting anymore, so I flipped through the pages of my favorite book to pass the time. It was a pre-war, U.S. history book. It was water-damaged, and some of the pages were stuck together, but there was enough readable material and pictures for me to learn quite a bit about what the world was like before the bombs dropped. A few of the pictures were pretty enough to paint, too.

I was nodding off with the book in my lap, when I remembered I had laundry out on the line. I didn't need another thing on Doris' list of chores I screwed up, so I left my room to collect it. The rest of the house was dark, moonlight piercing through the gaps in the outer walls. I put on my jacket and boots and headed outside.

I crunched through the dead brush to the laundry pole. Some of the clothes had blown down, but they still looked clean. I began to pull the rest off the pole, when I noticed the faint orange glow of a campfire in the distance.

Who would be camping so close to our farm? Couldn't be raiders. They didn't like to be exposed. Would the caravan from earlier have hung around for the night? Nervousness and anticipation overwhelmed me. I felt such sorrow for that ghoul merchant. If I could just apologize to him…

I set my laundry down in its basket and started walking toward the campfire. The moonlight illuminated my path, but I was still careful not to step in any molerat holes. Ted's equally terrible brother, Gary, had stepped in such a hole and broke his leg. He died of infection. A doctor or a stimpak could have saved him, but there were none around at the time. I hadn't wished death on him, but I was glad he was gone.

I was nearing the campfire now, my farm looking like a miniature in the distance. I crept forward slowly, trying to make out shapes. I worried it wouldn't be them. I could only make out one of the shapes at this distance, but it was enough. It was the hulking, two-headed silhouette of a brahmin.

I strode up to the campfire. I saw the figures turn to face me.

"Who's there?"

I came into the light of the fire and looked into the ghoulish face of the seated merchant - shadows from the campfire making his face even more grotesque.

"My farm is full of ignorant assholes," I stated.

The guards looked surprised, but the merchant only smiled weakly and said in deep, gravelly voice, "it's all right. I'm used to it."

"You shouldn't be."

"Maybe not kid, but there are a lot of things in the world that shouldn't be. They still are," he replied.

"Well, I'm sorry."

"Did you come all the way out here to apologize for your people?"

"Yes," I answered. "I felt really bad for earlier. They wouldn't even let me come out to talk to you. And they aren't my people. I'm not like them."

A smirk formed on the merchant's lipless face and he shook his head. "Shame such a liberal mind is wasted out here in Hicksville."

I sighed. "I tell myself that every day."

"And yet you're still here?" the merchant asked.

"I don't have a choice. I haven't had much experience fighting. I have no armor, no weapons. And I wouldn't even begin to know which way to go to find a better home. The only things I'm good at are farming and painting. And getting yelled at," I replied.

"Seems to me you're good at caring about others, despite how they look," the ghoul said.

"Well, as you said, that's squandered here." I opened my mouth to say goodbye, but the merchant said, "yes, it is. And so is that intelligence that I can clearly see. Most hicks don't talk like you."

"I use 'book-words,' as the farmers say. I don't think those people understand half of what I say."

"Have you heard of Diamond City?" the merchant asked.

"No."

"It's a big city, about a week away from here, with people that are closer to your caliber. They still don't like ghouls much, but it would be better than where you are now. I think you'd like it."

"I bet I would. I'll keep that in mind if I ever get out of this dump. Anyway, good luck in your travels. I hope the next settlement treats you guys better."

I turned to go. The ghoul stood up and said, "keep your chin up, kid. It'll get better."

I looked into his sad, blue, very human eyes and then gave him a hug. He stiffened and pulled away. "Hey now, none of that. What are you, fifteen? Sixteen?"

"I'm twenty-four," I replied. I paused and said, almost apologetically, " I just look young."

"Twenty-four? Damn. Well in that case, how about another hug for the poor old ghoul?"

"Ooh, Charlie's a player!" I heard one of the guards say.

I laughed and gave him another hug. Smelly mutie, huh, Jake? I thought. He smells better than you do.

He pulled back and looked at me. "It's one thing to be a kid and dream of running away from your parents' hillbilly farm, but to be a grown woman, still stuck here? Especially with your perception and intelligence? You've gotta get out of here before you end up like the other farmers. Or with one of the other farmers. Please tell me that shirtless inbred that yelled at us earlier isn't your boyfriend."

"Ted?" I made a retching noise. "God, no."

"Good. You're coming with us, then. You don't have any objections, do you, boys?" the ghoul said, looking at the guards.

The brown-haired guard with a beard said, "no, Charlie. This place is a shithole. We can take her wherever she wants to go."

"Definitely," said the young blonde guard.

"Are you serious? Thank you so much! You don't know what this means to me!" I exclaimed, overjoyed.

"Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea," the merchant said, looking back toward the farm.

"I'm Charlie, by the way," the ghoul said. He gestured to the bearded guard, "that's Dave."

"Hey," Dave said.

Charlie pointed to the other guard. "And that's Smiley."

"Welcome aboard, m'lady," Smiley said, bowing.

I smiled. "It's a pleasure to meet you all. I'm Cherry."

"Like the Nuka-Cola flavor?" Dave asked.

"No," Charlie replied, rolling his eyes. "Like the fruit."

"What fruit?" Dave asked.

"Oh yeah," Charlie said, removing his hat to reveal a scarred, bald head. "I forgot you guys aren't old enough to remember when cherries still existed. They were bright red and grew on trees. Tasted a lot better than the abominations we call fruit now."

Smiley pointed to me as I sat down on a log next to Charlie. "So she's a cherry. What does that make you, Charlie? A mutfruit?"

They all laughed. "Yep, pretty much," Charlie said. "Ugly, and twisted by radiation."

"But sweet on the inside?" I ventured.

"You're a flirty one, ain't ya? Oh, but you don't need to humor an old ghoul like me. I know I'm hideous."

"Your appearance doesn't bother me," I said, and I meant it.

"Well, you're sweet. But I think living on this farm has messed up your head a little. We gotta get you out of here. You think your old man will come looking for you? Should we move on?"

"He's not my old man, and no, I don't think anyone will. Let them assume I got dragged away by raiders. It's what they want anyway," I said.

"I hope you don't need anything from your house. You might run the risk of getting caught, and I don't want those hicks coming after us."

"No, I don't need anything," I lied, thinking of my brushes and paints.

"All right then," Charlie said, pushing dirt onto the fire with his boot. "Let's bed down for the night. Cherry, we don't have any extra sleeping bags, so you take mine tonight."

"What? No, I couldn't do that. I'll be fine sleeping on the ground."

"She can sleep in mine with me," Smiley said, wiggling his eyebrows and grinning. "I don't mind sharing."

"That's enough outta you," Charlie said, pointing his hat at him. "Don't mind him. He's got a big mouth, but he's harmless." He pulled a sleeping bag over to me. "Please, take it. I have blankets I can use instead."

"Okay," I said, smoothing out the sleeping bag on the ground.

"Offer still stands," Smiley said, laying in a seductive position and patting his sleeping bag.

"Shut up, Smiley," Dave said. "Can't you see she already has the hots for Charlie?"

"Both of you shut up. You're going to annoy her so bad she'll go running back to the farm," Charlie said, removing his boots and jacket and laying some blankets out on the ground.

"Fat chance of that," I said, removing my own boots and sliding into Charlie's sleeping bag. It had the same smell as Charlie. It was an earthy, herbal smell. I liked it.