Fuck this hurts, Jacen thought to himself for the fifth or sixth time in the past hour as the wound in his shoulder hurt more and more with each passing minute. Gallows was long gone. Not that Jacen minded – the Knight was exceptional at what he did, but Jacen worked best alone.
Shoulder pain or not, Jacen was in his element. He was sneaking around the ruins of part of the Pre-War Metro, salvaging what he could. He hadn't encountered any enemies yet, although that wouldn't last – Jacen heard noises that belonged to something in the tunnels. Probably ghouls, he thought, keeping his submachine gun at the ready.
He rounded another corner – he was headed in a generally west/northwesterly direction, hoping to surface close enough to the Potomac to cross one of the bridges and head back to Megaton. The way he came in was out of the question – he'd be right back in the same firefight that damaged his shoulder in the first place.
As he rounded the corner he saw it. There was a figure with his back to Jacen crouched over something in the darkness, maybe twenty feet away. The figure looked human, but his skin was raw and exposed, and he was wearing almost no clothing. Jacen stopped walking and raised his gun, blocking the pain in his left shoulder as he used his left arm to stabilize his right.
The creature stopped and stood, keeping his back to Jacen. Yep, pure ghoul, he thought as he lined up a shot. Jacen stilled his breath and squeezed the trigger on the submachine gun.
The noise from the gun spooked the ghoul but the bullets hit him in the head before he could do anything about it. Great shot, Jacen thought with pride as his shoulder barked at him again.
Somewhere in the distance another ghoul howled, that haunting noise that anyone who spent any time in the Capital Wasteland's myriad tunnels and sewers knew way too well. "Great," Jacen muttered. "They know I'm here. I should have used the knife and kept it quiet."
He moved with a purpose, taking a few items that looked valuable as he went down the corridors. He knew what he was looking for, random knick-knacks that Moira would like, bands of prewar money, packs of cigarettes to keep himself stocked. I could go for a smoke actually, he thought, but thought better of it. Ghouls had a terrific sense of smell, and would smell the tobacco far too easily.
His shoulder was hurting pretty badly, and it became more and more difficult to use his left arm. He felt the blood sloshing around his open wound, but didn't dare stop and take his armor off to take a look. Just keep going, he told himself, putting one foot in front of the other.
Checking his Pip-Boy, Jacen saw he was more or less adjacent to the east bank of the Potomac. He was a in a small corridor, standing directly in front of a large metal door. If I did this right, this door SHOULD open up to the Red Line, and I can take that north to Friendship Heights, which will put me a few miles from Megaton, he thought, checking the clock. Shit, its already 2015, it's going to be dark before I get back. Church is gonna be PISSED that I woke him up, he thought with weary resignation.
More ghoul howls interrupted Jason's stream of conscious. He swung his submachine gun up again – one-handed this time, his left arm all-but-immobile from the pain in his shoulder – and peered into the darkness.
He heard the soft pitter-patter of running steps before he saw the ghoul sprinting down the dark hallway. Jacen raised his gun and fired off a burst at the charging monster. The bullets hit the ghoul in the upper chest but they barely slowed the beast.
On instinct, Jacen dropped his gun and pulled out his knife. He spun on the balls of his feet as the ghoul left its feet and tried to slam into him. Spinning out of harm's way, he slashed the ghoul's upper back with the knife as the creature missed Jacen and fell to the ground. Jacen glanced around quickly – it was just the two of them.
The ghoul stood slowly and warily eyed Jacen. "Come on, I'm right here," Jacen taunted, twirling the knife in his right hand, letting the small amount of light in the room glisten off the blade. The ghoul roared a howl that chilled Jacen to the bone, and leapt at Jacen so quickly and suddenly he didn't have time to pirouette out of the way.
The ghoul slammed into Jacen and tackled him to the ground. The pain in his injured shoulder was so severe Jacen saw white stars, but he instinctively managed to slash at the ghoul, who was on top of the prone Jacen trying to claw at his face.
The creature may have been feral, but it wasn't brainless. Sniffing the air once, it raised its right hand and slammed it down right on Jacen's bloody left shoulder, causing him to yell in pain. Jacen felt his energy ebbing away as the creature kept punching and clawing at him. Finally, with a last gasp Jacen grabbed his knife and drove it right into the ghoul's throat. Its eyes widened as it grabbed its throat and fell off Jacen, spattering blood everywhere.
The room was still as Jacen took stock. His left arm was useless, even more so than normal. He slowly stood up and grabbed his machine gun. In anger, he fired off a few rounds into the dead ghoul. "God damn you!" he yelled in anger as he loaded a fresh clip into the gun and holstered it. He found a stray rag and cleaned the blood off his knife and clipped it onto his belt in its proper place.
"God do I hurt," he muttered to no one in particular. His arm was useless, hanging by his side limp. The shoulder was on fire, and Jacen could feel the blood pooling under his armor. He felt flushed and stopped to take a long pull of his water canteen. "Let's get the hell out of here."
His instincts were right – the next door took him to a Red Line access tunnel. He followed that tunnel until he was in the subway tunnel itself. He followed that north, pausing only now and again to check for raiders or ghouls. There shouldn't be any, Lyons and I cleared these tunnels out not that long ago, he thought to himself, fighting a wicked headache.
Finally, he made his way to Friendship Heights, a Metro station at the northern end of downtown D.C. It took him several minutes to climb the stairs from the tunnels to the station entrance. Each step felt like torture. "Almost home Jacen, then Doc can fix you up," he muttered, trying to will himself back to Megaton.
He made his way topside into the darkness of a cool October night. There was a breeze blowing off the Potomac that helped cool Jacen down and gave him a much-needed spring in his step. He pulled out his hunting rifle and started walking westward, praying for an uneventful trip to Megaton.
About an hour, maybe ninety minutes, he thought as he walked, keeping to cover as much as possible. The pain in his arm was growing worse with each step. Feels like someone is driving a hot poker right into my shoulder, he thought, but buried those thoughts as we slowly made his way westward.
Luck was with Jacen that night – he made it across the Potomac without running into anything. The other side of the river was considerably safer – well, as safe as anything else in the Wasteland, he thought – and he quickened his pace. Finally, after a little more than an hour, Jacen saw the corrugated metal walls of Megaton, and holstered his hunting rifle.
He made his way to the main gate and opened it just enough to slide in. Checking his Pip-Boy, he saw it was nearly midnight as he staggered his way into town. He slowly made his way to the bottom of the town's crater and saw Doc Church's clinic. Squinting – the fierce headache was messing with his vision – he saw a sign on the front of the door.
"Closed?!" Jacen read the sign aloud in despair.
"Yeah," a familiar voice replied behind Jacen. He spun around and his head spun.
"Hey Simms," Jacen weakly said after his world stopped moving. Sherriff Lucas Simms was sitting at the closest seat at the Brass Lantern, across the way from the Clinic and a few feet from where Jacen was standing. There was a woman Jacen couldn't make out sitting next to Simms, on the other side from Jacen. "Where's Church?" Jacen asked. "I'm hurt." he said, pointing to his shoulder. "Gunshot…think it was…assault rifle."
"Rivet City, he's visiting some friends and getting supplies," Simms answered, concern flashing across his features.
"That's…not…good…at…all," Jacen forced out. He found it more and more difficult to focus as his body grew hot and his headache throbbed. "Who's…your…friend?" he asked as Simms and the woman stood from the counter at the same time.
Jacen leaned against the building and fell down to the earth. "Owww" he softly whimpered as he fell. In a second Simms was pulling him to his feet. "Can you help him, Miss, if we carry him home?" Simms asked the woman that Jacen couldn't quite recognize
"I think so," a familiar voice, one that haunted Jacen's dreams for months. "I learned a little first aid in the Vault. Let's get him home and see what's up."
"Amata," Jacen weakly said. "Good…to…see…you…" Jacen offered as he nearly fell down again. Why…can't…I…think…straight? He asked himself. Somewhere in his mind he remembered the word "infection" but his thoughts were way too disjointed and cloudy to understand what such a big word meant. All he wanted to do was sleep, sleep and never wake up. Jacen sat down on the ground and closed his eyes. I'll rest here a while, he thought as his mind drifted off.
