I'm sorry for the long wait and I'm sorry for the long wait to come. I will be taking an intermission for a few months so that I can finish the other stories I'm currently writing. Once those are finished, I'll start posting part two. That'll probably be early next year.

To make up for it, this a very intense chapter. I hope you like it. Don't forget to leave a review.


Ian sat crouched in the center of his bedroom, rooting through the pile of loose equipment. His backpack lay to the side, empty. He had discovered, by pulling out the clip and checking, that the submachine gun used the same size ammunition as the pistol did. Now he was sorting through the jumble of bullets, trying to find all of the 10mms. He organized these into a pile of their own, apart from the others. He had a mound of each size, slowly growing as he sorted tirelessly.

Along with bullets, he found several other bits of equipment: tools, a flashlight without batteries, a strange contraption, a pair of light bulbs, and some wires, along with other odds and ends. Ian tossed these to the side as he found them, feeling unsure of what to do with the odd gear. Ian pocketed the 10mms after reloading his gun. He also donned a pair of gloves from the pile and tucked a large bladed knife into his pocket. There was no sheath, so Ian wrapped the blade in a rag to keep it from cutting his leg.

Rising from the mess, Ian checked his Pip-boy. Discovering that it was almost four, Ian shut off the lights and headed out of his room. Besides the distant whirring of the robot, everything was silent. Ian felt his way down the stairs and found his way to the door. It was dark outside, and cold. However, the inky blackness soon gave way to the moon's dim light. By this luminance, Ian crept down the hill and around toward the bomb.

By the pale light of the moon, he could see others gathered there. Though each was just a silhouette, Ian could almost make out who was who. Lucas Simms was unmistakable with his heavy coat and wide brimmed hat. Tall and bald, standing apart from the other two was Jericho. As he grew nearer, Ian recognized Billy Creel clasping a six shooter in one hand. The others had guns out as well, both assault rifles.

"Good, you're here," Simms said, holding the gun across his chest, "One more, then we'll go down."

Ian nodded and settled down to wait. No one spoke or moved. Ian found himself counting seconds, then minutes. The night was empty and still around them. Somehow it seemed that the moonlight was growing pale again, fading away from the night. Ian looked up at the sky for a moment, wondering absently about the moon and stars.

Out of the silence came the sound of crunching gravel. They all turned toward the noise and observed the darkened shape of Markus approaching. He too held an assault rifle, though his was lowered to the side. The man paused a few feet from the group, looking them over. Silence reigned still for a few seconds longer, until Markus' gaze landed on Ian.

"What's he doing here?" the man demanded, turning to Lucas Simms.

"We need all the men we can get for this," the Sheriff said, "It's going to be hard enough as it is."

"He's just a fucking kid," Markus said, "It's going to be a goddamn cluster-fuck down there."

"I know, and that's why we'll need him. He's got quick reflexes. He's young, but not a child." Lucas Simms said flatly, "Now let's get going. It's only going to get messier if we wait."

With that said, Lucas Simms began to lead them off. The five of them headed through the darkened town, following the sheriff. In the dim light, it seemed that he was searching for something. Finally, the man stopped in front of a heavy door. Examining it, Ian was surprised to discover that this was a portion of an airplane.

Lucas Simms produced a ring of keys and began to unlock the door. A rusty chain fell away first, then Ian heard something heavy turn deep inside the door. With a great heave, Lucas Simms tore the aged door open and let them into a small room. There was no light except for the blinking red dot of a computer terminal. The sheriff approached this and began to work with it while Markus and Jericho wrenched open a hatch in the floor.

The terminal beeped as the hatch swung open and Ian could hear some sort of machinery moving below. There was a ladder through the hatch, which they descended one by one. Lucas Simms was the last down, and he twisted the hatch shut before fully descending.

Finally they had arrived. Lucas Simms found a switch on the wall and turned on a hanging bulb. Yellow light flooded the room and Ian found himself looking blearily around at the walls. Two machine guns were mounted on the walls, both pointing down at the floor.

"What is this place?" Ian asked the sheriff.

"Years ago, the raiders attacked Megaton just like they are now. We had more supplies then, though, and the siege had been going on for weeks." Lucas Simms explained, turning his attention to one of the walls. "A group of them got impatient and decided to try tunneling in."

It seemed that the sheriff had found the right spot and got ahold of the wall. With assistance from Jericho, he pulled aside a small section of the wall. The removal of this segment revealed a man sized cavity.

"They made it here, but didn't survive long. Luckily, it was a just a small group and it seems they did it in secret. Once they'd been killed, me and Jericho sealed the thing up on both ends. If all goes according to plan, we should be able to catch the raiders while they sleep and finish this."

Ian stared at the tunnel, imagining a whole battlement of raiders on the other side. Ian gripped the submachine gun in his hand. Lucas Simms pulled out a flashlight and aimed the beam down the tunnel.

"It seems untouched, but be ready for anything."

With just that as warning, the sheriff entered the crevice, followed by Jericho and Markus. Ian followed quickly after while Billy Creel took the rear. The tunnel was narrow and dark, with a low ceiling. All Ian could see as he went was the back of Markus' head. They were all crouched down, moving forward quickly but always careful not to make a sound.

The only things to hear were the echoes of breathing and footsteps. The darkness seemed to press in just as the walls did, and Ian could almost feel it all shrinking around him. He had to focus to keep moving forward. Occasionally, Ian could hear Billy Creel behind him, muttering something to himself.

It was a long time spent in the darkness of that tunnel, but finally Lucas Simms said to stop. It was a hushed command which they immediately obeyed. The sheriff extinguished the flashlight, leaving them in total darkness. It stayed that way for several minutes, dark and near silent.

A groaning creak reached Ian's ears and he could see a crack of grey light opening up ahead. It was brilliant compared to the pitch blackness behind. Ian saw the sheriff pressing it open slowly and carefully. The sound was quiet and careful, yet so ominous. Ian found himself to be tensely awaiting a second, dreaded sound. At any moment, a raider would notice the noise and come upon them.

It never came true though, and the tunnel was opened without event. The five of them shuffled out into a large, empty room. There was one window ahead, set high up in a wall. It let in a faint amount of moonlight.

"Stay sharp," Lucas Simms whispered, "No noise, no light, nothing or else we'll all die."

They moved ahead, searching through the darkness. They found their way out of the room and into a hallway. Lucas Simms checked the first of the rooms and went on. He turned and mouthed, "Raiders". They all continued silently until the end of the hall. Universally, they assumed that each room was full up of raiders.

The group of them left the hallway behind, but Jericho paused on the other side of the door. Reaching in his bag, the man pulled out a grenade and a wire. Once he'd fixed it to the door handle, they continued. It went like this for many minutes: tense silence and traps. At every moment, Ian could feel the whole of hell ready to rain down on them. It seemed impossible for them not to be caught. He kept his gun ready and his gaze sweeping around each room they went through.

Entering a hallway, it immediately became apparent that they were not alone. A lantern sat burning on a table while a raider lounged nearby. He had a shotgun lying across his lap and a hateful if glazed stare that shifted constantly around the room.

Lucas Simms tapped Jericho on the shoulder and the man nodded. Hanging the rifle over his shoulder, Jericho drew out a long knife and proceeded to creep through darkness straight toward the sentry. Ian watched with a clenched gut as Jericho approached and slipped behind the man.

In one quick movement, the knife was across the guard's throat and pulling back to sever. The guard fell to the floor, dead, without a sound. Blood flooded out from the corpse, all across the floor. It glistened darkly in the lantern light. Ian let a breath out and felt his gut unclench.

A distant door swung open and a cruel voice called, "Hey fucker, your shift's off."

Shit

Everyone froze for a moment. Except for Markus, who raised his gun and fired on the raider. Like a cacophony of thunder, the shots rang out in the night. It seemed that everything exploded at once. A flash of light left the barrel of the gun. The raider keeled over backward and disappeared into the darkness as a corpse. They all rose at once and gazed around, guns ready.

"Here's the shitstorm…" Jericho groaned as he returned to the group.

In the distance, a grenade detonated, shaking the building.

"Let's get back to the tunnel," Lucas Simms said, "The traps should take care of enough of them. We've got to get out of here."

There was no argument, just quickened footsteps. They all followed the sheriff back through the building. The darkness took on a wholly more threatening aspect as they went. He flinched as each grenade went off, but after a while he realized that more terror lay with the absence of grenades. Silence meant approaching raiders.

Bullets began to fly through the air, invisible darts of death. Ian spun around and found himself staring toward a pair of raiders. Hurriedly aiming and squeezing the trigger, Ian fired half a dozen bullets at them while still running on.

They were alone for a while after that. All the sounds of warfare were distant. Running as they were, Ian actually believed they could escape. The five of them passed several decimated doorways, littered with burned corpses.

Ian was running through blank darkness when everything was suddenly replaced with a blinding white haze. He couldn't hear anything, or feel his body. It was all so distant and cold. However, all of a sudden, Ian snapped back into focus and found himself staring up at the ceiling. There were spots of bloody pain all over his body, but he was alive.

Something was touching him on the arm. Ian tried to shift his sore head in that direction but found he could only see the jagged outline of a hand. He still had the submachine gun gripped in that hand and he watched as it was plucked away from him.

Only then did Ian realize what was happening. His eyes locked onto the raiders and Ian was forced to watch, horrified, as they pulled him away.

There's no such thing as raiders taking hostages…

Ian tried to yell but a stifled groan was all that came out. He tried to move his legs, or his arms, or to escape somehow, but it was all distant and numb.

"Help…" Ian gurgled out.

"Haha, shut the fuck up bitch," one of the raiders cackled before knocking Ian across the head with something hard.

He opened his eyes and found himself staring around a fire lit room. The walls were painted dark red, and bits of metal and animal bones lay around the floor. With a sudden shock, Ian realized that he was tied across an upright surface. The paint became blood and the bones human. The shapes before him materialized into raiders.

"Thought you'd try to fuck with us?" the one on the left snarled.

"Nobody messed with raiders," the other growled. Moving forward quickly, the raider's hand found one of the many bloody shrapnel wounds and pressed a thumb into it. Ian screamed in agony as the finger wormed around inside his wound, tearing at the already ruined flesh.

The other one picked a knife up off a nearby table and Ian recognized it through teary eyes as his. The raider waved it around in front of him, a maniacal grin cutting his face in two. The knife slid up against Ian's throat for a moment, before trailing down his chest in a serpentine fashion. The blade paused at his midsection and Ian could feel a sharp point of pressure.

With excruciating, the raider slid the knife across Ian's shirt, then across skin once the shirt was cut. The blade was cold and awful against his skin. Blood was starting to leak down his stomach in drops and rivulets. The thick stuff collected in his bellybutton for a moment before pouring out.

All the while, Ian was writhing against his bonds, groaning and crying out from the pain. He gritted his teeth so hard that his whole jaw ached. For a moment his vision grew hazy and Ian could almost welcome the emptiness of the void. However, the cutting stopped and Ian was slapped across the face, hard. With a shock, Ian was torn back into wakening and the fully experience of this nightmare.

"Thought you'd get away?" a raider whispered to him, a snake in his ear, "You'll never escape."

Terror, dread, and hopelessness poured through Ian's whole being. He knew that this was the truth. The blade was pressed back up against his stomach, reentering the momentarily abandoned opening.

A roll of thunder and the two raiders were thrown away from Ian, both dead.

Ian stared down at the corpses for a moment before looking back the other way. At the door of the room, Markus and Lucas Simms both had their guns raised. The sheriff stayed at the door while Markus ran forward to release Ian.

"Those goddamn piss-sucking sons of bitches…" Markus growled to himself, staring down at the bloody wound.

The ties came away and Ian dropped unsteadily to the ground. He stumbled forward and barely caught himself on the edge of the table. Ian slid his hand over to the submachine gun that lay there. He picked himself up as best he could and turned to the others. Lucas Simms was leaning out the door, staring around outside while Markus had stayed nearby.

"We're going to have to move fast," Lucas Simms said, "Can you do that?"

Ian pushed himself off the table and decided that he could stand on his own. The cut on his stomach hurt but he'd be able to ignore it. Ian told the sheriff and he nodded.

"Let's go then." With that said, Lucas Simms left the room. Markus went after him, then Ian. The room beyond was dreary and decorated in raider fashion. Ian had to make himself look straight ahead. He couldn't bear to see the blood and victims, knowing he had almost been one. He wanted to throw up just thinking about it.

Some shouts came from nearby and Ian readied his grip on the gun. They were running through a hall, and Ian knew there wasn't much cover here. They made it out of the hall, and into a strange room beyond. Instead of wood or cement, the walls were carved from coarse stone. A few torches hung from the roughhewn surfaces, throwing flickering light over the cavernous room.

Looking farther ahead, Ian could see tunnels leading out and branching off. Running across the dirt covered ground, it became apparent that this was no longer a part of the building, but a true cavern.

They stopped suddenly, the frustration and confusion apparent in the terse conversation.

"What the hell! What is this place?" Markus growled.

"I don't know," Lucas Simms replied, staring down one of the darkened tunnels, "We must've taken a wrong turn somewhere. We have to go back, find the right way."

Bloodthirsty whoops and wanton gunfire echoed from behind, proving this impossible.

"We've got to go on," Markus said, "It's the only way."

The man approached the tunnels, looking down each of them in turn, trying to decide which of them to enter. Lucas Simms grabbed one of the torches and began to stare down another.

A quick, darting movement came from the mouth of a tunnel near Markus. Something short and massive darted out of the murkiness and grabbed hold of his leg. He cried out in pain as the creature held his limb in its massive pincers. Even as the sounds drew the others' attention, Markus had dispatched the thing with several bullets.

After prying the thing off of Markus' bleeding leg, they found themselves looking at the corpse of a monstrous ant. They might have stared for longer if the clicks and hisses hadn't alerted them. Coming up the same tunnel toward them was a seething troupe of the insects.

"Come on!" Lucas Simms called out, directing them down another of the tunnels. The insect sounds grew louder as they ran. A few shouts from behind told of the raider's presence. Gunshots, hisses, and screams filled the air. All the while, Ian, Markus, and Lucas Simms ran down the tunnel, searching desperately for a way out.

The noises kept getting louder. Lucas Simms was the only one uninjured, and this slowed them. The raiders were getting closer and, behind them, the ants. Either one would be deadly. They needed to find a way out, and they needed to find one soon.

And there it was.

It was miraculous. Ian couldn't believe his eyes. The tight tunnel opened up into a massive cavern, and in the center was a ladder. It stretched all the way up to the ceiling and beyond. It was like a gift.

Without stopping, Lucas Simms began to ascend. Markus followed him up soon after. This left Ian alone on the ground. He could hear the sounds behind him, all growing louder and closer at once.

Ian grabbed the rungs and hauled himself up, despite the roaring protest of his torn body. He climbed up as fast as he could, moving over the rungs like a machine. By the sound behind him, the raiders had entered the cavern. By the resounding screams, Ian knew the ants had followed close behind them.

Hanging there, halfway up the ladder, Ian felt something pulling at him from behind. No physical sensation, or actual tugging, just a sudden itch. For a moment he tried to resist it and to continue his ascent. However, it was too much and Ian found his neck craning around to search the through the carnage below. It was bloody and horrific, but Ian's eyes just skimmed over it all, searching for something particular but unknown.

All at once, Ian knew he had found it. There, among the ants and raiders, stood a man. While the insects frantically tore at human flesh, they seemed to ignore him. A mane of white hair hung around his head and torn clothes lay across his skeletal frame. A bony body with mostly pale skin. In some places it was nearly translucent, but in others it glistened like the ants' nightish carapaces.

With cruel and curious eyes, the man stared up at Ian. They locked eyes for a moment but that was all he could bear. Ian turned away and continued upward. A chill crawled across him as he climbed, and Ian had a hard time shaking off the thought of that strange man.

He did manage to, though. By the time he pulled himself out of the cavern, his thoughts were elsewhere. He was too busy looking around, wondering where they were. Lucas Simms was screwing a hatch shut tightly and Markus was sitting against a grey rock. Ian stared out around them, but saw nothing save unidentifiable wasteland.

The air was grey, and Ian could see the sun beginning to peek over the horizon. The deep darkness was giving ground slowly, but Ian could clearly see the emptiness around them. The three of them were total alone as far as the eye could see.

"I don't think the raiders will be much of a problem anymore," Lucas Simms said, standing from the secured hatch. "We should get back to Megaton."

"But how?" Ian found himself asking, "It could be in any direction."

Lucas Simms started to say something, but Markus explained first. "The sun is like a compass. It always rises in the east and sets in the west."

The sheriff nodded and stared up at the sky for a long moment. There was silence during that time, as Lucas Simms appraised the sky. Finally he spoke, saying simply that Megaton lay this way. He headed off in that direction, with the other two walking after him.

They walked that way for a long time, traversing the dead hills and flat plains of the wasteland. It was totally empty and quiet as they went. There was never a sign of life, or any establishment visible. The whole of existence seemed to be empty. Hours passed in the emptiness. The sun rose from the horizon inch by meager inch. They hardly spoke during the trek.

Once, Lucas Simms murmured that the tunnels must've taken them farther away than he'd thought. There was no follow up to this, however, and no sign that the man was talking to anyone but himself.

From the few times he glanced that way, Ian noticed something strange about Markus. At first it was simply a hunch, but the symptoms began to appear. The man was growing paler by the hour. By noon, his skin had taken on a sallow hue. Around the same time, his wolfish stride deteriorated into exhausted stumbling. Heavy breathing followed, despite their slow pace.

Ian was about to bring up the changes when Markus suddenly collapsed. They had just reached the crest of a hill, and the man tumbled down to the bottom. Ian and Lucas Simms ran down after him to see what was wrong. When they arrived, Markus was laying in the dirt unconscious. However, this only lasted a few seconds.

"What the…" he groaned out, trying to get up.

"Stay down," Lucas Simms said, crouching, "There's something wrong. Let me see your leg…"

The sheriff grabbed Markus' foot and pulled back his pant leg a few inches. There was a swollen gash where the ant had bit him, but it seemed sick. The whole thing was discolored, with equal amounts of blood and pus leaking from the wound. The opening of the wound itself was a myriad of sickening colors, all proof of the quickly festering infection within.

"Shit…" the sheriff growled.

"Yeah," Markus said, "I know."

"Some fucking bugs. We need to do something about this. It's getting worse."

"I know…"

Lucas Simms reached into his bag and pulled out a syringe. Setting it against the skin, he pressed it in and pushed the plunger. Ian stared at the wound, mentally preparing himself for the strange crawling of skin. However, nothing happened. Upon closer inspection, he saw that the edge of the wound was quivering slightly, nothing beyond that though.

"I thought as much," the sheriff groaned.

"What happened?" Markus asked.

"Nothing. We've got to get you back to Doctor Church. Maybe he can do something about this."

Markus grunted and climbed back up to his feet. Ian noted, however, that this seemed to be done with great difficulty. The three of them pressed on from there, moving quickly toward the town. Markus' descent didn't end there, though. He continued to deteriorate as they went. After a while he was limping heavily. His mouth hung open a slight crack. Markus' eyes stared off into the distance, perhaps seeing the end of their journey, perhaps seeing nothing.

Eventually, Markus grew too weak to walk. Lucas Simms had to help him along. Ian had to join in and soon enough they were nearly carrying the man. Markus stumbled forward but couldn't keep himself upright. The man's whole weight seemed to lie on their shoulders as they dragged him through the wasteland.

As time passed and the sun set, it became obvious that they couldn't reach Megaton that same day. Despite Markus' constantly declining condition, they were forced to stop and make camp. There was no food, but Lucas Simms gathered some dry branches and created a fire. While he did that, Markus lay off to the side, pale as a bone.

Ian sat halfway between the two, frustrated by his uselessness. He knew there was nothing else to be done, and that the fire was truly little more than busywork, but it didn't help. Markus was slipping in and out of consciousness while they all sat stranded without supplies.

"Kid…" a strained voice said.

Ian turned toward Markus and found the man looking over at him. He was gaunt and looked more diseased than Ian had ever seen a person. His breaths were shallow and raspy. Markus stared with glassy eyes, as if he were actually far away and removed from the situation. Ian started to say that he should rest, but Markus interrupted him.

"Cut the bullshit, this is important."

Taken aback, Ian nodded and moved closer so he could hear.

"You dad is out there… somewhere," Markus murmured in a faraway voice, "You can't stop."

"What do you mean?" Ian asked, confused by the man's sudden brashness. No, it wasn't that. Markus had always been brash. This was a strange abandonment of the man's usual impersonal demeanor. That was what shocked Ian so much.

"When I was… I was… I was a kid… he… my dad disappeared one day." Markus sputtered out.

It seemed that the man was drifting in and out of lucidity. He spoke with an almost feverish panic, though each word was drawn out.

"That bastard left us helpless like children we were just… just kids. Ruh… ray… raid…"

"Raiders…" Ian whispered.

"They came and killed and stole and raped and killed and…" the words repeated for a few moments, as if Markus's mind had gotten stuck on the memory. Glassy eyed and disoriented. Ian realized that the infection must be making Markus delirious.

"I don't know if…. I lived, only me… But I found him. I found that bastard. That fucking drunk, shitheaded, pisslicking… I found him… up at… up in the… in the north… some shithole up there. Too drunk… he was too fucked up to know what was happening, or what he'd done, or even who I was."

Silence filled everything for a moment. Nothing breathed, nothing moved. The fire ceased to crackle and the wind refused to move.

"That fucker's dead," Markus spat, "I shot him full of the one thing he didn't like…"

Ian stared down at the delirious man, listening like a witness as Markus told of his father. He knew that the revelation was provoked wholly by delirium, but Ian somehow knew that the story was true.

"Ian," Markus said, his fading voice stern in an attempt to be heard. For a moment, it seemed that he was fully lucid, fully aware of everything. The glassiness was gone, as was the distance in his voice. Markus knew where he was, who he was talking to, and exactly what he was saying.

"Find your dad. Revenge, reconnection, answers, I don't care. Don't let it lie as long as I did. It'll eat you."

Ian was silent, but he nodded. The words struck him like a hammer.

"There's something you need to know, something important." He said. Ian could hear the strength in his voice beginning to fade.

"What?"

"Someday you're going to have to do something, something you don't want to do. Something that you shouldn't have to do but you will. Doing it or not doing it will be the difference between life and death, for you or someone else. You're going to have to make that choice." The speech ended with a gasp, and Ian could see the light starting to leave Markus's eyes. They were turning glassy again.

"When the time comes, make the right choice. No matter how hard, do it…"

Markus shut his eyes and lay his head down on the ground. Strained breath drove his chest up and down, proving that the man still lived. However, Ian could see the life seeping out of him, and there was nothing to be done.

"In my pocket…" the man whispered. "Before… oh one…"

Ian listened to the strange words and wondered if they were just gibberish produced by delirium. However, something drove him ahead to check the man's pocket. There were two pockets in Markus's jacket. The first was empty, and the second held something cold and metallic.

Bringing his hand out, Ian found himself holding a grimy silver key. Looking at the side of it, Ian read the worn engraving, "B4-01".

It grew dark soon after that. The fire burned in the night, giving off warmth. Ian helped Lucas Simms move Markus nearer to it when they realized he was shivering in his sleep. With no food, Ian soon went to sleep, leaving Lucas Simms to keep watch.

When the morning sun rose, they discovered Markus was no longer breathing. The wound on his leg had turned black and the veins around it were stained and visible through the pale skin. After destroying the fire's remnants, Lucas Simms lifted Markus's body and they continued on. When it was his turn to carry, Ian was surprised and saddened by how light Markus was.

Ian was the one holding the body when they returned to town. Lucas Simms called out to the wall guard to open the gate and it was done. The two of them walked straight through and into the town.

As they were seen, cheers rose up around them. The townspeople whooped and hollered as if for heroes. None of them seemed to notice their companion's lifelessness. Ian walked past the crowds, absolutely untouched by their mood.

Ian put Markus down in the center of town, and looked around at the now somber people. They seemed almost unsure of their sadness. Of course, none of them had known Markus. Ian hadn't even known Markus until his last moments, and that was the worst of it.

The End of Part I