Author's Note: Please let me know if I used the phrase "the raider" a bit too much during the combat scenes. When I was writting this, it felt a little bit too repetitive at times... or maybe I'm just being overcritical. Anyways, thanks very much for your patience. So here is chapter 7!
Chapter 7 - The Principal
Thomas hurried up the stairs, cursing himself for letting Silver get so far ahead of him. He needed to be able to move a lot faster in the future, but for now the best form of punishment was to mouth a quick "damn it!" and move on. He quickly rounded the corner with his 9mm raised. The second floor waited for him.
His eyes peered out from the stairway. Everything seemed alright. There were no weapon-wielding maniacs for the time, so there was a good sign. The second story was very identical to the first. Rows of lockers, cracked walls, and little to no light still made their home on the next story of the academic ruins. The only big difference? More open rooms.
He really wanted to, but Thomas knew that calling out Silver's name could, and probably would, be a bad idea. He was still a bit spooked by his earlier encounter and wanted to avoid attracting other raiders for as long as he could. Despite that idea, it was only a matter of time before the nineteen year old would have to go through it again and he knew it. He was on their grounds after all.
The hallway had a haunting silence to it that taunted him. The vault was always vibrating with the buzz and chatter of people. Very rarely was there any quiet time for Thomas or his dad. Even then Thomas wasn't one for the stillness of silence. He was always comforted by the sounds of activity. When he was surrounded by such lively noises, it made him feel safer.
Thomas pressed on, keeping his gun ready for anything. His boots crunched on the broken teeth of glass that lay on the floor. Worried if it was too loud or not, he tried his hardest to just ignore it. Most of the doors had already been broken off, so it was very convenient for Thomas to be able to just turn to his left or right and give each room a quick glance, looking for anything of interest.
Several empty minutes rot by and Thomas grunted in frustration. Empty room after empty room still had no answer, no clues of where the drugged-up reject ran off to. All that resided inside were toppled desks, books scattered everywhere, and cracked chalkboards. He was beginning to lose patience but kept a firm grip on his determination. It didn't matter to the teenager why Silver owed Moriarty money. Thomas just wanted this little outing to come to an end as soon as it could. Yes, there were still raiders patrolling this place, but there was no way of telling how long it had been since civilized people roamed these decrypted halls. Are all the buildings out here this depressing?
To kill time, he took a quick look at his Pip-Boy's storage system, remembering the item he picked up downstairs. Who is "M. Brown"? he wondered. If this person's in Megaton I should probably return this to him or her if, no...when, I get back.
A loud screech sliced at his eardrums. Thomas winced in pain. Squinting his eyes he placed his open hand on his head in an attempt to soothe the pain. "What the hell," he grumbled.
When he looked up again he could hear a distorted and masculine voice filling the hallway with its message. "Hello, douche bags and douche bagettes!" it began with a dirty tone only matched by that of a heartless raider. "This is your one and only 'Principal' Barnes, asking to have your undivided attention…if you'd please." There was an obvious sarcastic presence that fluttered behind his words. "Enjoying another day of raping and killing? Yeah, me too...me too..."
Thomas aimed his gun straight down the length of the hall, expecting someone to emerge from a hiding spot. There was no physical being to match the voice he was hearing. He was still alone upstairs, but his search for the source led him to discover a box with four horizontal slits clinging to the wall. Well I'll be damned. The intercom system here still works?
The voice continued "Now, I don't know if you're aware of this, but my boys found Jackie taking a nap in his own blood. Oh, and to make things even more interesting, we confirmed that nobody here is responsible for the kill. That's right, we have some company! Now I'm pretty sure you assholes know how we treat guests, let alone uninvited ones. I don't know why the hell he came all the way out to our happy little home, but see to it that he doesn't leave. Teach this little bitch a lesson. The more pain you inflict will knit you more money. It's as simple as that: more blood, more caps. I'll give you one thousand- that's right, one thousand- caps for his head. We're comin' for ya, kid... Happy hunting, fuckers!" With a laugh he shut the intercom system off, the buzz of dead air taking control.
The first idea that sprouted from Thomas' instincts was to duck and hide again, but now there was no point in doing so. Since his presence was bugled so gracefully, every brutal raider in the school would soon flood the second level's halls, guns blazing. It was a bit odd to the teenager that no one else was up on his floor. As surprising as it was, he was thankful he was the only soul there for the time. The reality was that wouldn't last long. Thomas believed he could take on one, two, maybe even a few more foes with some luck, but a giant cluster of raiders was suicide. "Silver!" he screamed. No answer, but the sounds of shouting and laughing below intensified. "Damn it! Silver!"
Thomas grunted in frustration. He was about to keep going and press the search, but the sound of banging metal forced him to swing around. He could hear a lone raider racing up the stairs and firing a handgun, laughing with glee at his thoughts of killing Thomas and claiming his much-deserved reward. Thomas quickly side-stepped behind the doorway of one of the classrooms and waited for him to come. As the banging got louder and louder, Thomas readied his 9mm.
Once the raider revealed himself Thomas wasted no time leaping out from behind the wall and shooting two rounds into his chest. The leather strap wrapped around his upper body didn't help protect him at all. The brute toppled over with nothing more than the sounds of gunshots calling out to everyone. Each raider that Thomas killed only stirred the hornets' nest further. I need to slow them down before more show up!
A quick glance around the room gave Thomas a small idea. He holstered his gun and quickly grabbed two school desks, one in each hand. He strained a little bit, but several years of playing baseball and at least making the effort to stay in shape back in the vault assisted in his strength. Good thing the stairs are funneling them through here. With the ancient desks in his hands, Thomas ran to the staircase but immediately zipped back behind the wall as a bullet came ripping past his shoulder.
Shaking off the scare, Thomas swung himself around the wall and hurled the desks down below, shouting. The joining of heavy metal and wood tumbled down the stairs with a roar of violent percussions. He didn't stay in front of the stairway long enough to observe his results. As he turned and fled Thomas could hear the streams of cursing erupting from the raiders that stood in the desks' way. Even more precious time had been given to him and Thomas raced down the hall, taking advantage.
"Silver!" he tried again, knowing it was almost pointless. A room came into view he had yet to try looking in. Perhaps she was in there? Thomas rushed inside, his heart plummeting to his boots. "No…" There laid out on the cold floor was the fresh corpse of a woman. Knife wounds sliced open small parts of her chest, fresh blood leaking out.
All the years of substance abuse left their marks all across her face and the rest of her body. There were several wrinkles that dripped down the sides of her sunken cheeks. Scratches and bruises were burned into both of her arms. With rips and tears on various parts of her old pants and shirt, her clothes were almost as neglected as her body was.
Thomas found it difficult to have pity on the death of someone like Silver. For a start, they never met before and he only chased after her on business matters. She demonstrated all the signs of a low life: drug usage, self-neglect, and associating with raiders. It was clear that had someone not have stabbed her now, it was only a matter of time before she ended up killing herself. Yeah, it's sad, but she was probably on borrowed time anyways.
There was no time to grieve for this stranger. Footsteps rapping up the stairs could be heard and Thomas needed to hurry. Another issue that was brought to his attention, regardless of if he obtained the caps or not, were his means of escape.Raiders were everywhere, so he quickly formulated a small plan of action: grab the caps, gun down any pursuers, and since there was no way Thomas had a chance at leaving out the front, the only option was to retreat to the third floor and…improvise. He dropped to one knee scanned his hand all across her body, feeling for any indication of a small bag with the caps concealed somewhere. He dug in her pockets to find nothing but emptiness. Frustration quickly burned within as he felt nothing. Where the hell is the money? Damn it!
Maybe Moriarty lied to him? Perhaps Colin just sent Thomas on some wild goose chase throughout the school in the hopes of getting this newcomer quickly killed by a pack of raiders? Thomas was growing worried that that was a growing realization. He better not have screwed me over. No…no someone must've taken it. That was the most logical solution Thomas could conjure up. There was no choice but to venture up to the top and hope the thief fled to the third and final floor.
"We know he's up there! Go!"
As Thomas gave Silver's corpse one last glare, he stepped back out into the hall. A trio of raiders finally stormed up the stairs.
He reacted and quickly swung around a corner to take cover before the first bullets departed from their weapons. One of his attackers rushed forward with a knife, jumped around the corner, and slashed at Thomas. The barbarian was moving too quickly and was too close up for Thomas to get any clear shot. Evading several uncontrolled swipes aimed for his torso, Thomas saw an opening that left him off balance. Capitalizing, he delivered a right hook with the butt of his pistol across his cheek. The blunt thud beat a pain-filled cry out of the raider and as soon as he stumbled back, Thomas dropped him with two rounds, one in the head and one in his chest.
Now that he killed one out of the three, he had a small bit of time to think of how he was going to deal with the other two. Taking cover from the gunfire, a new idea kicked him in the back. In fact, it was on his back. I think now would be a good time to try out my new shotgun! He quickly holstered his 9mm and equipped his new brass boomer. All that was left was to keep his head down and wait for the two to drain their entire clips. His waiting paid off as he could hear the anticipated click-click-click from the exhausted guns.
As soon as the two ran out of ammo, Thomas jumped on the opportunity presented to him. With the shotgun in his two hands, Thomas exposed himself from his hiding spot, aimed for the one on the left, and squeezed the trigger. The crackle of the shotgun round thundered throughout the hall. Blood blossomed forth from his victim's chest and he flew back with a cry, but the recoil was worlds more than what Thomas expected. A quick surge of pure power raced up Thomas' arms and forced him to step back.
As off balance as the shotgun left him, Thomas had to turn his attention to the final raider who had just finished reloading; seeing his "comrade" fall encouraged him to act quickly. Thomas quickly aimed and fired once more, struggling to absorb the blow of his weapon again. With all three of his enemies lying dead before him, Thomas was certainly happy with the firepower he possessed. Sure, its range wasn't fabulous and one would have to reload after just two shots, but there was no doubt that it packed a hell of a punch. Thomas knew that if he could learn to control the gun's recoil, he could really do some damage with it. That first guy I killed downstairs seemed to handle it so easily. Hopefully I can get a better handle of it in good time.
With the three dead and nowhere to go but up, Thomas slung his gun back over his back and ran down the ruined hallway for the next staircase. It wouldn't be long before others would soon follow and he wanted to hurry.
Another static-filled screech ripped through the corridor and Thomas groaned in irritation. "Guess who, jerk-offs…" Barnes began. "I must say that I am quite disappointed that you all have yet to put an end to our problem. No one has brought me his head yet and I can't sleep at night, knowing that there's an intruder still running about and fucking up our home. Now come one, people. I thought you were cold-blooded killers. How fuckin' hard is it to swat one fly?" His sarcasm was beginning to decay and his voice hinted to growing impatience. "Listen," he continued, beginning to struggle with keeping his cool, "I'm done screwing around with this kid! I want some damn results sometime between now and immediately"!
"Do I have to wave more caps in your faces? Hmph, fine. It just so happens that that bitch, Silver, has…left us, if you know what I mean. I dropped her and took some shiny caps for myself. There's quite a few of them, and they can go to the lucky hunter who can kill this kid."
Thomas rolled his eyes in frustration. He has Silver's money? Crap.
"Don't let ol' Barnes down again. I want this little pain in the ass dead. Make him suffer. And I know you can hear me, kid. You aren't welcome here! Do you know how it feels to have a blade of cold steel slice through your guts? You'll soon learn. There's no way out of here alive! You can't go back down and I'll run you through if you come up here. Face it, you're fucked! Bahahaha!" Barnes clicked his intercom off and the hiss subsided, leaving Thomas with silence again.
Thomas stared at the box hooked on the wall, nothing disrupting his gaze. He was trying his hardest to shake off the intimidation behind the sting of Barnes' verbal assault. He could've been just spouting a bunch of crap, but on the other hand, this guy could be the real deal. Barnes certainly had the voice to sound scary and disguise his image as an unstoppable monster that could waste Thomas without breaking a sweat, or he could just be all talk. Regardless, Thomas wished he didn't have to take that chance with a confrontation with him. He grunted knowing that he'd have no choice. After all that had happened in the school, Thomas refused to crawl back to Moriarty empty handed, and Barnes now had what he needed.
Barnes supervised his happy little home from the top of the school on floor number three. All that kept Thomas from his target was a door that loomed over a second staircase. With nothing to stop him, Thomas trotted to the stairs, determined to obtain his ticket out of there by any means necessary.
The metal staircase echoed tap after tap is his boots pounded his way up them. This seemed like the perfect time for a raider to be right behind him. Thomas had killed the other three less than a minute ago, and already it seemed like another enemy was due to emerge and stand in his way. Before opening the door at the end of the steps, he swung around, 9mm raised to the sound of even more coming.
Thomas jumped back down from the steps to take cover behind a wall in front of the stairs, breathing heavily. He kept getting lucky with his shots, but that didn't eat at the fear he was feeling. He knew he was scared but surprised, no, shocked, that he had actually made it this far without even getting hurt. His instincts were carrying him through the day…or he was getting lucky again?
"Kill the little bastard!"
Bullets immediately ripped past his cover no more than several feet away and as soon as they stopped, he poked out to observe how many he was going against this time. He counted five, dropping two with three quick shots, then quickly retreating behind his barrier. Holstering his 9mm, Thomas wanted to give his shotgun another go. He quickly popped open the gun's extractor and saw he only had one shot still loaded. Thomas quickly stuffed a shell he scrounged in and clicked his double-barrel back into the ready position. Three raiders needed to be killed with only two shots. Another quick plan was blueprinted in his brain to deal with this problem. This better work.
Holding fire, the raiders were still advancing closer, so to see Thomas sprint out toward them with his shotgun raised caught them by complete surprise. When would anyone fighting raiders ever do something so stupid? They jerked their weapons up to shoot and fired wildly. Thomas bolted to the side, avoiding their fire and grappling his weapon with as tight of a grip as he could squeeze. The first shot boomed from his gun, hitting one of his enemies in the chest, causing him to fly back dead. The recoil was more controlled, but it still hurt as it punched Thomas in the side of his chest. There was no delay in between his shots as his second round thundered, bursting his next victim's head into a blossoming of blood and chunks of brain. Two more down, one more to go, Thomas thought, turning his attention to the last enemy. But no more shots… It was all happening so fast that his body was thinking several seconds ahead of his mind; the fighting instinct was giving him more confidence. He clenched his free hand into a fist and Thomas fired a punch.
The attack was blocked; his foe caught his fist in his hand and hurled a kick that smashed into Thomas' stomach. With such a blow right into his gut, Thomas dropped his shotgun and shouted in pain as he could feel all the breath yanked away from his desperate lungs. With all the lucky shots- all of the lifesaving shots- he had been getting, it was only a matter of time before a raider got a good hit in on him. Paying the price, the teenager collapsed to the floor with a thud. His opponent, a disciple of cruel brutality, slowly approached his new kill, excited that he'd be the one end this annoyance.
Thomas gazed at the assault rifle that gleamed in the raider's hands. In these several days, Thomas had escaped death on a few occasions, but this was the closest he was coming to the chilling horror of his demise; Death's door was swinging wide open. A quick retaliation was needed for Thomas get out of yet another jam. In his panic, he quickly reached for his 9mm and brought it up to aim at the raider once he got a good grip on his last weapon.
Before the pistol could let a bullet scream free from its barrel prison, the raider had already dropped his boot on his victim's hand, kicking away the only thing Thomas had left to defend himself with. The raider brought his boot down on Thomas' chest. The assault rifle hovered over his new kill, waiting for the squeeze of its trigger. "Let's splatter that brain of yours all over the floor," he laughed with a sinister grin.
Thomas' heart sank to his boots as he reflected on his critical mistake several moments ago. He had gotten away with a lot of things, but now it seemed as if he was going to pay the ultimate price. No, it couldn't end this way. He still had to find his father, James. There were so many things to ask him…so many reasons to yell at him. Thomas had gotten passed so many things already in his quest and despair ripped at his heart as he was learning that it was going to be all for nothing; he had failed, and his life was going to end in the forgotten ruins of an elementary school.
Thomas found his gaze attracted to the raider's finger as it was getting ready to squeeze the trigger. His eyes quickly shut tight as his whole body tensed, a icy chill surged through his veins, and his heart skipped a beat. Hell, it wouldn't be long before it would stop beating altogether. That final split second of his life seemed to last forever; the wait was killing him and he wanted it all to end already.
Click-click-click.
"What? Are you fucking kiddin' me?" spat the raider, frantically searching for another ammo clip.
Thomas opened his eyes and looked up, flabbergasted. He couldn't believe that out of all times that a raider were to run out of ammunition, this would be it. His prey is defenseless and has no hope left…and he runs out of bullets? It seemed too amazing to believe. Thankful for such a blessing of serendipity, Thomas regained his will to fight back. With a direct punch to the raider's shin, Thomas ignored the cry in pain and pushed the brute back, springing to his feet. The teen charged forward and rammed the raider into the wall. Thomas didn't let up, landing punch after punch and didn't giving him any time to recover.
After firing a left hook that made solid contact with the chin, Thomas noticed the raider had a combat knife sheathed at his side. He quickly reached in and yanked it out, stabbing wildly. The raider dropped his arms, his rifle plunging to the ground. He moaned behind the sound of the blade furiously piercing flesh.
When Thomas ripped the knife out its blade was slathered in the bright red color he was growing more and more used to. For his finishing blow, Thomas launched a final right hook and clocked his enemy right in the jaw. The raider's face snapped to the side and he collapsed to the cold ground, landing on his side. Thankful that he had survived yet another close call, Thomas stored his new knife in his Pip Boy and recollected his weapons. His footsteps echoed as he continued back down the hall, leaving the raider to bleed away with the rest of his dead allies.
The raider moaned, trembling violently just to lift his head slightly up. "Little…little…bitch," was all he could extract from his blood-gargling throat. His weakening body could no longer keep his head up and he slammed back to the ground without another word.
Thomas looked up at the door while zipping to the top of the staircase. He looked back one more time to make sure there wasn't anyone else present to give him more of a hassle. He let out a deep sigh in relief that no one seemed to be coming. Once he got his hand on the door's handle he heard a voice raging back from the first floor. "You can't be serious!" he screamed. "Barnes is gonna kick our asses if we don't kill this kid! Go! Go!"
Thomas swung the door open and jumped through, ignoring the warm blast of sunlight irritating his eyes. It was very fortunate for him that a small metal pipe was leaned next to the door at the time. He quickly snatched it and slid it through the handles on the door, barring it as secure as he could get it. He was doing everything he could to stay ahead of the raiders hunting him down, using everything given to him to buy time. Hiding, throwing the desks, and now sealing the door did what they could to keep him from getting overwhelmed. I just hope they don't try to shoot down the door, he pondered as he turned around to see what all was left of floor three.
With the school's roof blown off Thomas could see the sun shining above once again. It still gazed down upon the Wasteland from very high up. After being in the dark so long it was great seeing the sun again, but he knew that he was not finished with his business yet. The teen equipped his 9mm and reloaded his weapon with a new clip, cautiously looking around. Barnes could've been anywhere.
He aimed his gun everywhere and watching for any sudden movements. There were plenty of fallen walls and cracked chalkboards Barnes could spring out from. His eyes shifted left and right, knowing he wasn't alone. "Show yourself," he muttered. Thomas' curiosity ignited when he came across a little station set up near the opposite wall. It clearly stood out from the wrecked and ruined atmosphere that surrounded it. In fact, the setup looked brand new. Thomas slid over to investigate.
It was just a small desk with a ham radio perched on top with a microphone. A slight buzz still hummed from within. Hmm. This must be what Barnes used to broadcast throughout the school. He unplugged the microphone and picked it. It didn't take him long to conclude that there was nothing extraordinary to see and he set it back down.
A tapping came from behind Thomas and he started to jolt around to see what this disturbance was. His eyes only got a split second glimpse at the dull leg of a classroom desk being brought down upon his head with blinding speed. Before Thomas could do anything to counter the ambush a horrible pain hammered at him right on the side of his head. He thudded to the ground in a daze. Grunting in his disorientation, the vault runaway gazed up at the sky. The world around him was dissolving into blurs and smudges. Within several seconds his entire world had faded to black, breaking away from all consciousness.