11
The world slowly formed into existence for Butch. As he opened his eyes, he saw the gray sky above him. The first thing he noticed was the ache in his knee and the smell of ash. He didn't know how long he had lain in the dirt, but he knew it had been a long time.
Butch turned his head, his neck sore. He looked towards the dumpster he had used in the gun fight. From this angle, he could see Bob's boots, lying in the dirt. He looked back up at the sky and remembered everything about the attack against the Republic. Butch closed his eyes and saw Jessica falling into the dirt. He almost gagged.
The pain and his knee was barely an ache and that surprised him. He remembered Heraclius firing a bolt from his laser rifle through it, of at least near it. In his head, he imagined that it sound have been an exploding pain.
Butch opened his eyes again and sat up slowly. His muscles groaned and he winced as the tense fibers worked. He glanced at his surroundings and found nothing standing. Looking at the pen where they stored the Brahmin, he found that the soldiers had opened the gate and they had fled into the wasteland.
Bob lay exactly where Heraclius had dropped him, a gaping hole through his stomach. A massive pool of dried blood was under him and his guts lay nearby, completely ripped out by the giant's blade. He looked towards the big house and saw Jessica, also in the same position she had fallen.
"Jess." He said, barely audible. "Jess!" This time the scream ripped through his parched throat, thundering around the ruins.
The corpse did not answer him and he looked at the ground defeated. Soon, he looked up and at his wound. The energy bolt had put a hole the diameter of a dime completely through the leg, a few millimeters below his knee. He had not bled to death because the bolt had burned most off the flesh on impact, cauterizing the wound. Looking into the hole, he saw that it had splinted off a small section of bone.
Butch saw the rifle he had used in the attack and reached for it. It lay maybe two yards away. Preparing himself, he rolled, using a hand to guard his wounded leg. The wound seemed to spasm and he scream in pain as it exploded through his entire lower body. He thudded onto his stomach and fought the tears in his eyes. Once the pain had returned to its dull ache, he used his arms to crawl. In a few seconds, he grabbed the rifle.
Looking around again, Butch saw a barrel. Toting the rifle, Butch crawled towards it. When it was near, he reached up and pulled himself. The pain was growing in his knee. As he pulled up, he threw out his good leg, now in a crouching stance with the wounded leg hanging out like a dead snake. He let out a deep breath and pushed up with his good leg. With a few more spurts of pain, he found himself standing on one leg, his bad leg bent slightly to take the pressure off, his hand braced on the barrel. He leaned down and grabbed the rifle.
Slipping the butt of the gun under his armpit, he placed the muzzle on the ground and leaned on it, taking the weight completely off the bad leg. Butch stood and called out in triumph.
"Yeah!" He yelled. "Take that you fascist bastard!"
The only thing that greeted him was the wind and loneliness crushed down on him. Now able to move at a stumbling limp, he started towards Jess. The pain in his leg was less than the first time he had rolled, but it was not getting any better. He hoped he could rummage a Stimpak or some Med-X from the big house.
Jess lay on her stomach and Butch could feel tears coming on as he closed the distance to her. He finally reached her and looked down at her for what felt like a year. If he hadn't been hurt, he would have fallen to his knees and held her, begging her to come back to him.
In Jess's hand was his pistol, an old 10mm he had brought out of the Vault with him. The thought that this gun, and his order to retrieve it, was what got her killed made him want to press it under his chin and fire. But he didn't. Instead, he bent down and picked it up, his hand brushing Jess's, feeling himself shiver as he felt her cold flesh.
After stuffing the pistol into his belt, he turned around. He wished he could bury Jess and Bob, but he could hardly walk, let alone use a shovel. Instead, he began to walk. He had no idea where to go, so he went south. The next settlement he knew of was Canterbury Commons, and it was at least a two day walk with a healed leg. And he assumed that with medical supplies, the wound would become infected and he would die.
With nothing left to do, Butch headed south. With luck, he would pass some people willing to help him. That was unlikely, but it was something. Butch took a look over his shoulder and at the body of his dead girlfriend. That was the second when he declared that he would live and he would kill Heraclius and anyone who stopped him.
Butch readied himself and looked into the vastness of the waste. Then, he started moving.