"You know what we have to do, Richard. The old man has lost it completely."

"I-... I don't know. Maybe its all just a misunderstanding. Those Vaults could be inactive-"

"Richard... Do not undervalue the seriousness of the situation. If he follows through with this, do you know what it would mean for topside? The genealogy of the planet would go haywire. They wouldn't stand a chance, Richard. Do you understand that?

"I know what it looks like but it can't possibly-"

"Richard! Damn it, think for a second! Look at the power this man holds in the palm of his hands! He doesn't care about you or me or any of us. We ARE expendable! It's no surprise! To them we're nothing! We're are mere pawns, Richard. But even WE have the right to make our own choices... We're people too, Rick..."

His eyes were heavy. Almost to heavy to open. He struggled to lift his head from the worn office chair and carefully pulled the duster that had draped over him as he tried to sleep the night before. Sleep came and went during the night. He'd find himself waking up in a shuttering pain. Over the night he'd grow more and more tired, but the pain and the cold always kept their presents in the corner of his mind.

He slowly pushed his body forward with a wince. The cloudy daylight sliced through a boarded window and into his face. He was pale and the grogginess made his sight blur. A moment passed as he attempted to shake away the feeling with half results. He patiently stood to his feet without the slightest attempt to stretch. He winced again as the thump of rushing blood rushed to his shoulder and after a few seconds a warm trickle down the back of his shoulder and down to his elbow. He then realized his was losing blood slowly. He lowered his eyes to the metallic desk in front of him. A stimpack laid as a weight on a torn piece of paper that bore black chalk etched into it. He drew the slip closer to read the words again, "Go North".

He shook his head for a moment before remembering the red-headed girl. It was only apparent that she was the one leaving the notes. But what for? Richard looked over the weathered piece of parchment and shook his head. It was to cold to go north and the big reality was that he was slowly losing blood. If he didn't get to a doctor within the next few hours, he was surely a goner. He crushed the paper into a perfect sphere. He held it idly in the palm of his hand giving it a long stare before stuffing it into the jumpsuits pocket. He then reached for his bag, slowly sliding it from the desk by its strap. He gently lifted it over his head and around his neck. He grabbed the spare stimpack and looked at it blankly, still unsure of it properties and shoved it into the bag.

After slinging the two rifles over his shoulder, the engineer began his journey once again. His heels slightly dragged the floor as he made his way to the exit. Eyes avoided the scene around the counter as he stepped over debris that had accumulated over the years. The colder air from outside rushed through the aisles, blowing away whatever grogginess that had been felt before. The snow had stopped and the wind now a more gentle breeze but the gray clouds still lingered over the landscape like a blanket. He paid no mind to it for some reason. Richard couldn't remember the sun anyway... Or much of anything for that matter. But the sun was something he didn't remember more and, though he was unsure of this logic, the idea made itself cozy at the front of his mind—and all the while, blood loss stung at the back of it.

PORTLAND – 10 Miles

Richards first mile was marvelous. He managed to stay upright the whole stretch. The second mile was equally promising. The rifles slipped from his arm once or twice. Nothing major. But the third mile, yes, it was the third mile that it went down hill—in both senses. He tripped the first time on an unknown pothole about thirty yards in. Pain shot down his arm and up his neck but he made no hesitation to get back up. The fourth mile his eyes grew heavy and his skin growing pale. His hands were growing numb to the wrist. And on the fifth mile Richard found his legs giving out from under him. His sight became blurry as well as his thoughts. The last thing he could remember was his head hitting the snow and a slight flash from impact followed by black.

Some time passed as he laid lifeless in the road. A red stain of snow was starting to bloom around his shoulder. She noted it... With catlike stealth she approached from the tree line, stretching a compound bow its limit. The tool of death bore a crude arrow made of a split piece of wood and cloth that secured a shard of glass inside of it. She aimed it right at the man throat as she lightly stepped through the high snow to the road. Her blue eyes scanned over Richards' limp body before giving a swift kick to the right ribcage. Richard maintained a lifeless limp slack, only giving a nearly inaudible groan to affirm the woman he was, indeed, alive.

She lowered the bow and slid the arrow into a crudely crafted quiver that hung loosely around her waste. After securing the bow around her back, she reached into weathered purse that hung loosely at her hip along side a rusty rifle. She retrieved a neatly woven cotton rope and proceeded to tie one end around the dying mans ankles. She took on the load of the mans bag and rifles stationing the weight evenly over her torso and grabbed the rope tight in her hand before dragging the lifeless man back up the hill and toward the gas station.

"What do you mean? So... They just killed them?"

"Sounds like the jiff of it. I told you Richard... We have proof now. He's lost it. The people before us knew it and were ultimately killed."

"This... This is big, Henry. Just give me a minute to process this-"

"Fuck processing! The proof is in the pudding, Ricky! You've had enough time to process. You... I mean we, have to stop him. There's no other option. We can't let him go through with the sync next month."

"And how are we going to do that, Henry? You and I both know that would be impossible. There is a whole damn army of us, man! And none of them are going to question his rule!"

"... Take this... Its the source codes for the sleepers... Just in case."

The first thing Richard recognized through the space of sleep was that he was warm for the first time that he could remember. A good feeling. His mind then turned to the corner of it that held his pain. It was still there but very faint as he noticed the throbbing. He forced open his right eye and then his left. He found himself sitting up on the office desk. He looked scanned the room with a sense of question as his mind tried to remember what happened on the road. He then noticed the missing satchel and rifles. A nervous twitch shown in his eyes as he scanned the office. He shifted his legs and planted them onto the floor just as the sound of movement was heard from the other room.

The woman was fiddling with the lock of a safe that was secured tightly under the battered register. He rounded the corner quietly with eyes fixed on her. There was a fierceness in the womans eyes despite the womans beautiful figure. She was thin, but it was apparent that she was starving. Her unkempt autumn red hair fell to the middle of her back. She was bundled up under layers of both clothing and animal fur. A moment passed before the man quickly cleared his throat, throwing the woman into immediate action. Without a glance. she threw an empty glass bottle that was laying close by at the man, striking him just above the eye. Richard fell back against the wall grasping his face. Before he could resettle himself, Richard found himself pinned against the wall by the redheads forearm. Her left hand pushed his shoulder against the wall, drawing pain from it. He then noticed the kitchen knife directed at his face. He looked at her blankly as her nostrils flared. It was then obvious that she didn't know him. Her blue eyes were wide with intensity as she peered at the man. A moment passed as he forced a swallow down.

"You," She grunted. "You are from down-under ?" Unsure of the right answer, he remained quiet, looking from her and the cutlery, "That thing on your arm. It has a map..." She said, her eyes making the gesture. Richard remained silent as he stared at the woman a bit longer, a bit confused about the situation. Blood was now running down his brow and into his eye, "Who are you?" She asked, putting pressure onto his shoulder that made him wince.

"Richard... My name is Richard," He admitted.

The woman eased pressure, "What were you doing in the forest? Why were you out there?"

He began to explain but the words and thoughts escaped him, "I... Don't know."

"You lie," hissing at the man she drew the blade to his throat.

"No, really," He said pulling his head back against the wall, "I really don't know."

A second passed as her eyes narrowed as she stared into his. Another second passed and she released him all in one movement. She gave a half turn and swiftly walked back and crouched in front of the safe. He looked at her bewildered as she continued on as if nothing had happened. Richard began to take a step before the womans eyes shot at him. He nodded, hands raised as he leaned himself against the counter and shoved his hand into his pocket, "Is this yours," he asked as his attempted to straiten out the crumpled paper with his free hand.

"Yes," her eyes and hands were to busy to give recognition to the object yet she gave the answer anyway.

"Is that why you asked me about the map?"

"Yes," she answered simply.

"What is it that's North?"

Her fist pounded on the safe a few times in aggravation, before she turned to him and stood upright, I don't know."

She passed the mutilated body on the counter as she rounded it, reaching for the mans bag. "Well I'm not going North... I'm going South, to Portland."

"You will die in Old Portland, Richard..." Her words were empty as well as cold. Lifting a stimpack from his bag she followed toward the man. She then began to rotate his Pipboy before finding a receptacle on the bottom side, "These will keep you alive. Whenever you are injured, these will sustain you," she then pressed the needle end into the fitting. The object made a hiss and then the blue liquid drained into the machine. A mixture of numbness followed by a feeling of ease flowed through his body as his heart pumped the liquid through his body. His wound began to tickle—an indication that the area was healing.

"What do you mean die, exactly," Richard asked as she pulled the stimpack away from the Pipboy and let it fall the floor before walking back in front of the counter, "It can't be that bad."

"Yes it can," She said slinging both her purse and rifle over each shoulder, "And it is... It's The Ducks territory."

He gave her a blank expression, "Ducks...?"

"The largest raider gang on this half of the country. They run the whole city. You will either die quickly or very slowly," then slammed his bag into his chest. Before turning to the door.

"Wait," He called out to her as he began to gather his things. She made no attempt to turn around and swiftly walked outside.

He ran outside after her as she paced toward the northern road, "Wait," he called out, dragging his bag and rifles behind him, "I didn't get your name."

She stopped at the edge of the road and jerked herself around, "I didn't give it to you."

"Well," He said coolly as he drew closer, "I have a proposition for you... If you have a moment that is." She looked at him blankly for a moment giving him room to continue. "Is there anyone in charge in the surrounding area? Any... police or army?"

"The NCR," She answered, "Make your point. There is a station in Southeast Portland."

He gave a sigh as he looked over his shoulder, letting his body turn with him, "If you can get me to that station, I, in return, will lead you North."

"No deal," Said flatly. She turned and continued North.

"Listen miss..."

She turned to him again, growing impatient, "Tasha..."

"Tasha," he nodded and continued, "I need help. I... Can't remember what happened to me before two days ago. I have no recollection of how I ended up in the woods. All I know is my name... IF its even my name."

As she stood there thinking she looked him over, "I dunno..."

"Please," he begged, "We can help each other out."

A long silence fell over the two. She stood there looking at him and then over his shoulder at the city in the distance. Richard noticed a hint of fear in her eyes but made no attempt to address it. She looked at him again and gave a stern nod and then pulled the kitchen knife from under her long sleeve, "But if you double cross me, Richard, I will kill you two fold... Understand me?"

"Yes ma'am," he said trying to break her intensity with a broken grin.

Without another word, she started back to Old Oregon, leaving the man in the dust. He struggled with his equipment as he scooted behind. Her paces were fast and oddly enough he could keep up with her at the moment. As he caught up her she gave him an estranged look. He paid no mind to it as they continued on. Richard situated his effects, looking through his satchel counting his belongings. All was there save for two stimpacks and a bobby-pin. She watched his actions with a questioned look of wonder But refrained from speaking. Her eyes looked forward into the distance, occasionally rotating them in his direction. Richard noticed this and genuinely thought to break the ice.

"Something on your mind," the question was plain and casual.

A moment passed before she spoke and with her words was a seriousness that fit her well, "That woman at the fueling station..."

"Yes," he said as his head lowered to his feet as he pictured the womans face in his mind.

"She wasn't dead when you arrived yesterday... Was she?"

"No... No she wasn't..."