Part 26 – Beyond the Dead Forest
Olin kept the trio traveling in a mostly straight direction. More than once, they had to skirt around the edges of a massive fallen tree or a small hole in the forest floor. Other than the sight of a charred human skeleton, they did not run across anything of note. Donnovan was bringing up the rear. The fingers on his right hand pointlessly gripped the armor over the left side of his chest. Almost subconsciously, it seemed, his hand wanted the horrid discomfort of what felt like burning, stretched skin to subside. The revolver that had caused the wound sat snugly in his holster. They had been walking for several hours, when Olin finally pointed at the treeline ahead of them, where streaks of sunlight could be seen.
"There!" She exclaimed happily.
"Why isn't the sun coming through into the trees?" Donnovan wondered, staring up at the gray skies above.
"The ash and smog must be too thick." Morgan noted.
"Who cares? We're almost out of this forest." Olin stated.
With freedom in sight, the trio picked up their pace, heading straight towards the treeline.
Sunlight... Gorgeous, bright, wasteland sunlight shined down on Olin, Morgan, and Donnovan as they cleared the forest and walked forward onto hard-packed and sun-baked dirt. Donnovan tore his helmet off of his face, letting the bright sun shine down. Never had he thought he'd notice the warmth of the sun on his face after spending so much time in the concentrated heat of the Capital Wastes. As he wiped his face, along with sweat came a thick streak of ash on his finger.
"Uh... I really need to clean up." Donnovan muttered.
"You?" Olin interjected indignantly. "At least you and Morgan have power armor. I've just got my traveling gear! I've practically become one with the ash."
"I wouldn't mind, either." Morgan admitted while Donnovan gave a short, appreciative laugh at Olin's comment. "Any place nearby we can stop for a while in?"
"Hopefully something closed off." Donnovan said as he scanned the area. "Those Midwesterners are still going to be looking for us."
The terrain here reminded him significantly of the Capital Wasteland. Rock formations jutted haphazardly out of the dirt, fragmented cement highways stretched on in different directions, and bombed-out shells of houses sat creaking along the roads. Eventually, their eyes settled on a cluster of what looked to be mostly intact houses.
"There." Olin pointed. "What do you think?"
"Might as well take a look." Donnovan shrugged.
"Alright." Morgan stated, checking the bolt on her G3. "I'll take point."
Morgan led them down the street. The cracked pavement beneath their was feet a welcome change from the ash-covered forest floor. They took in the cookie-cutter houses as they made their way up the street, randomly choosing one of the homes. Morgan approached the house first, leading them up the walkway to the door. She glanced back at Donnovan and Olin before focusing on the door handle.
"There could be traps." Donnovan hissed. Morgan waved him down. Her hand reached out, gripping the door handle, and attempted to force the door open. The door shifted a fraction of an inch.
"Damn, locked." Morgan glanced at Donnovan expectantly.
"I've only got one friggin' hand, Morgan..." Donnovan told her, a note of annoyance in his voice. "What about your blowtorch, Olin?"
"On a wooden door?" Olin asked, looking at Donnovan with an expression of slight disbelief.
"Oh yeah..." Donnovan realized his mistake. "Couldn't we-
*CRACK*
The door swung open, and Morgan moved in, sweeping her G3 right and left, scanning the room.
"Clear." She called, moving forward through the house. Donnovan and Olin stood rooted in place, staring into the house. They glanced at each other, completely at a loss for words or actions until Morgan's voice carried through the house. "It's all clear..." Morgan walked around back into view. "Why are you two still on the porch?" With one more glance at each other, Donnovan and Olin entered the house, closing the door behind them. Morgan had kicked the deadbolt through the wood while managing to leave the latch of the door handle intact.
They found themselves in a large living room area. Two couches were arrange in front of a television set on a wooden entertainment center. A small chandelier hung from the ceiling, the light bulbs long burnt out. A brown rug was laid out on the floor and a very thin layer of dust covered everything in the house.
"Um..." Donnovan muttered, looking around the room as he brushed off one of the couches and sat down on it. "This seems a bit too good to be true, in my opinion."
"Why?" Olin asked. "We've been through so much, that this kind of a welcome change."
"Hey!" Morgan suddenly called from one of the side rooms. "There's a few gallons of water here! It's purified! Looks like the owner of this house was preparing for Armageddon."
"See?" Donnovan shuddered. "That's just too easy."
"Don, for once, just shut up." Olin shook her head.
"We have more than enough water for all of us to use." Morgan said as she walked into the living room. Donnovan looked up, and she tossed him a tin can, followed by a can opener.
"Pork and Beans?" Donnovan read the label. "Morgan, please tell me I'm not the only one who's freaked out by how well this is all going?"
"Sorry, but you are. Just relax, Don. We've all been through a lot." Morgan sat herself on the couch opposite Donnovan with her own open can of food. They both ate in silence for several minutes before Olin came back into the living room.
"Bedrooms are just down there." She pointed down the hallway. "Bathroom's right here." She indicated a door several feet away from the television. "No running water, but there's a stack of towels and washcloths."
"Don, you first." Morgan stated, not looking up from her food. With no point discussing the issue further, Donnovan stood up. After retrieving a gallon jug of water from the kitchen and getting Morgan to help him with his power armor, he shut himself in the bathroom. He managed to pick out a dust-free washcloth from the center of a stack and get all of his clothes off without aggravating his wound. He made full use of the washcloth and water, cleaning himself off of the ash, blood, sweat, and gunpowder that had accrued since he had left New Jerusalem. He was carefully cleaning the edges around his shabby stitches, when he caught sight of himself in the cracked mirror above the sink. He had changed significantly from his time in the Capital Wasteland. Though he had sustained a fair share of scars from fighting super mutants in downtown D.C., they usually were minor and he always had a positive attitude about them. What he saw now was an exhausted young man staring back at him. His face showed no signs of positivity or hope, just a blank, almost listless expression. The large, stitched wound between his left shoulder and pectoral muscle stood out. A large cut ran down the right side of his face from when the Midwesterners had taken a sledgehammer to his power armored head. Though he had gotten over his somewhat selfish emotional issues, this entire journey had still taken a toll on him. How much of one, he didn't realize until he saw himself in the mirror.
With a great deal of effort, he pulled himself away from the mirror and finished cleaning himself up. Not knowing what to do with it, he tossed the now dirty washcloth into a nearby wastebasket before putting on his boots and pants and walking out of the bathroom.
"Still half a gallon in there." Donnovan announced. He had barely sat back down on the couch when Olin spoke up.
"Morgan, go. I need to put a new bandage on, anyway."
"You'll get no complaints from me." Morgan grunted as she pushed herself off of the couch and occupied the bathroom. Olin worked quickly, trying to replace Donnovan's bandage with the aid of the light of the sun coming in through the windows. The sun had mostly set by the time she finished cleaning and dressing Donnovan's wound. Soon after, Morgan came out of the bathroom.
"All yours, Olin." She said. "Feels good to get that feeling of ash off." Morgan shuddered slightly as she sat back down on the vacant couch. The last daylight began to flicker away outside as Olin hung her scribe robe on a nearby coat rack, then locked herself in the bathroom.
"How's the gunshot?" Morgan asked.
"Dunno." Donnovan admitted. "Feels like the skin hurts a lot more, though."
"Well of course, the Med-X wore off completely." Morgan pointed out.
Donnovan had a sudden realization and clambered off of the couch and over to his bag. Digging around, he brought up a syringe.
"I knew I had one more." He stated excitedly.
"You sure that's a good idea?" Morgan asked, her eyes on the needle point.
"Why wouldn't it be?" Donnovan wondered.
"Risk of addiction..." Morgan shrugged.
"I can barely think with how sharp the pain is, Morgan." Donnovan explained. Slowly, he stuck the needle into his vein, and injected the contents. Almost immediately, he felt slightly lightheaded and his wound became a simple bump on his body, the discomfort of his sewn skin disappearing. "Whoa!" Donnovan muttered, staring at the ceiling as Olin stepped out of the bathroom in her underwear, reaching for her scribe robe hanging nearby.
"I'm telling you, be careful with Med-X." Morgan's eye narrowed. "It's mainly made up of morphine. All that-" Morgan stopped short, her eyes suddenly going wide. She reached for her G3, which was propped up against the couch, but it was too late. The door to the house flew open and several hulking figures in power armor entered, weapons raised.
"On the ground, now!" One booming voice commanded as the soldiers filed in. There was thud as Olin knocked over the coat hanger in surprise. Donnovan remained on the couch, the Med-X dulling his senses as the figures approached. One grabbed Morgan by the shoulder and forced her to the floor.
"You! DOWN!" A female voice commanded. Breaking out of his trance, Donnovan dropped to his knees off of the couch and put his right hand behind his head.
"Left hand too!" The figure commanded, aiming the barrel of a sniper rifle at him.
"I can't." Donnovan grunted through the Med-X haze. "Injury."
"Get your hands on your head," A second voice commanded. Donnovan looked up, several feet in front of him at the soldier who had remained in the doorway. He was armed with a vicious-looking minigun. Along the base, the words "Eugene" were carved into it.
"Wait..." Donnovan had a moment of clarity. "Glade?"
The figure in the doorway froze.
"What... What the hell?" Glade glanced at the female soldier holding the sniper rifle. She looked closer.
"Donnovan!" Dusk's surprised voice exclaimed.
Author's note: I apologize if this seems rushed. I have contacted a fellow Fallout writer, and we have hatched a rather exciting idea. It also made me realize how I should have been updating this story a lot more often. I now have it planned out until to the end, and will do my best to post a chapter a day to finally end it. However, with excitement of the upcoming idea and the subsequent faster writing, I sometimes tend to overlook basic grammar and spelling mistakes. I'd like to ask a favor of my readers and reviewers. If you notice those mistakes, please make a note of them in any review you write. I'd greatly appreciate it, as it well help the story stay streamlined. I'd like to specifically thank two reviewers who have been watching my spelling, grammar, and story progression throughout this tale: BeGodlyBeLynn and Kingoftheplankton. You two have helped me watch my typos and encouraged me to write more, and I thank you for it. I would have missed many of those typos if you guys hadn't mentioned them. This made me re-read the chapters thoroughly and make the necessary corrections. Again, I'd like to thank all of you who've been reading and reviewing this story. The end of this tale is in sight. The characters, however, might not be disappearing so soon. :)