Bug Bites

"Heads up, Boss," MacCready called from his temporary vantage point atop a small hillock. "There's something on the railroad tracks ahead, and it looks like it may be part of our missing Minutemen caravan."

I nodded, making my careful way up to join him. We had been traversing the woods east of the Mass Pike Interchange trying to find either the entrance to Vault 81, or the missing provisioners. It was a daunting task as the area was huge and only sparsely populated; good for keeping a low profile, but damn difficult to follow vague compass directions. "Somewhere south of here" from Sanctuary covered a lot of ground. MacCready was somewhat familiar with the area, back from when he briefly ran with the Gunner squad who had claimed the overpass as a base of operations- the same squad we eliminated months ago. He was keyed up and nervous about being back near the Interchange, but the camp had been empty, to our relief.

Wordlessly, MacCready handed me the scope. I swept the horizon, trying to locate the disturbance he had mentioned. After a few silent moments I spotted a scattered line of what looked like bundles of raw materials- cloth, planks of wood, scattered tools, what could be a discarded pile of steel scraps. The flotsam led out of sight to the south. No bodies littered the path of travel.

"Debris, but no obvious fight. Your thoughts?" I asked my companion, handing the scope back to him.

He shrugged, gaze focused on the distant tableau. "A spooked brahmin, maybe? They're pretty unflappable though, so we should be careful."

I checked my rifle to make sure the magazine was full before starting down the hill towards the rail line. "Let's go check it out. If the brahmin spooked, it could have injured the provisioner in its panic."

Up close, the materials refused to enlighten us any further. "Guess we'll have to follow the tracks," I shrugged, "we can try to let the nearest settlement know where this stuff is and hope the Minutemen get here before any scavengers do."

"Sure, Boss." MacCready was already following the trail. I trotted quickly to catch up, falling in next to him. "It's odd, though," he commented, in an almost normal manner. "Usually, the gear on a pack brahmin is tied so securely only the trader can loosen the knots. It prevents theft."

"Interesting..." I drawled thoughtfully. "You used to be a caravan guard, right? You'd know."

He nodded sharply, the brief moment of camaraderie fading when he strode ahead with determined steps. I sighed, shaking my head in frustrated melancholy, sinking into my own confused thoughts until I caught up with him again. This time, he had taken shelter behind a rusted-out train carriage that was tipped on its side, sniper at the ready, peering through the scope intently. Taking my own position next to him, I touched his shoulder and asked, "What is it?"

He lifted his head to peer at me with one blue eye. "There's a body on the road ahead. I can't make it out too well, but it appears to be moving? I think?" When I would have rushed forward, pulling a stimpak out of my cargo pocket, he grabbed my arm to hold me in place. "Whoa!" he said intensely. "Hold up! We don't know who or what that is."

My desire to help warred with MacCready's all-too-sensible warning. "People don't just decide to take a nap in the middle of the train tracks..."

"No," he cautioned, "but ferals do."

I peeked my head around the side of the rail car for a moment. Of course I can't see anything. MacCready is the champ of eyesight, after all. Crouching back down, I tried to reason with my bodyguard. "You said it was moving? Ferals don't move when they lie down, do they?"

"No." He shook his head, finally looking a little uncertain. "All right, Boss. We move out, but slowly and quietly. Keep your rifle up and be ready for a trap." He flicked the safety off his sniper and crept silently around the front of the car, making his steady way towards the body he had seen. I followed, keeping my own rifle ready, but pointed away from him. Safety first, I thought wryly, even when surrounded by a Wasteland trying to kill you.

We had nearly gotten to the body which, I suddenly realized with admiration for my partner's perception, had been lying half-concealed by a mound of dirt when MacCready froze. A light buzzing noise teased across my ears. "You hear that?" he asked, his voice tight.

The reason he had thought the body was moving became suddenly apparent as a swarm of enormous insects lifted into the air. To either side, other shapes of winged bugs joined the first, creating a nightmare of buzzing, darting terror.

Giant bugs! Intellectually, I was aware of their existence. Hell, I had even had to try and eat the occasional serving of radroach meat, never mind that it never stayed down for long. The reality of torso-sized insects buzzing and flying around in a chaotic swarm defied even my most inspired mental images. I gaped in stunned and horrified amazement.

Fortunately, MacCready was there. "Bloodbugs! Watch their spit!" He roughly backed into me, snapping me out of my daze. "Bring it on!" he yelled, switching out his sniper rifle for his 10mm pistol and rapidly firing into the mess of flying forms. "Boss!" he snapped, grunting in effort as he slapped away a thin insect with a wicked proboscis, the aforementioned bloodbug. "Wake up! Use your pistol!"

I nodded, quickly shouldering my rifle to grab the laser pistol from its holster. Just as I lifted to aim, a sticky glob of vile putrescence hit the side of my face and I gagged, scraping at the mess which was... moving? I squealed in disgust, batting frantically at the wiggling form dripping down my neck, clawing it free to splat on the iron track. A dying larval form slid down from the goopy mess into the gravel. My focus was shattered and I fired again and again, missing every target, wasting ammunition. I shrieked as another bloodbug, it's like a giant mosquito! darted forward to latch on to my exposed neck. Dropping the pistol, I grasped its disgusting hypodermic-like head in both hands, wrenching it free before it could do more than barely puncture the skin. I thrust it to the cross ties, stomping on its body over and over until it was little more than a bloody stain.

Retrieving my pistol, I whirled at MacCready's yell of pain to witness him battering at two separate bugs; another bloodbug biting deep into his neck, and a wasp-like one with its stinger embedded in a bleeding wound on his exposed forearm. He, too, had lumps of putrid gunk stuck to his jacket, smeared across several cuts on his arms and neck. Several shattered exoskeletons lay on the ground, testament to his fighting skill, but we were badly outnumbered and slowly losing ground. While I fired point-blank into the wasp-like creature's torso, MacCready snapped the bloodbug's nose in half one-handed, following up with a crunching blow from the butt of his own pistol. Both attackers fell to the ground, dead.

"I can't hit them!" I shrieked in panic, lining up for another attempt at the surging swarm. We had reduced their numbers, but there were still more.

"I got the stingwings!" he shouted, indicating the wasp-like ones. "Get the bloatflies before they shoot us again!" He fired, winging one of the swarm to land harmlessly on the ground.

I fired, but the fat-bodied flies were moving too erratically for me to hit without my Pip-Boy to guide the shots. "Mac..." I gasped, crying in anger and frustration. "I can't!" Another bloodbug swooped in and I swatted at it with my laser pistol, barely missing. MacCready whirled, his arm slinging me around to land heavily next to the pile of tangled legs and wings. Another pop of his pistol, and the bloodbug was down, but he took a shot of bloatfly gunk to the side of his mouth. He dropped into a crouch, slapping at the wiggling mass contained within, gagging violently.

In a desperate move, I grabbed at the legs of one of the dead insects next to me. Standing protectively over my companion, I swung the jointed body viciously back and forth, keeping the remaining insects from approaching us until he got back on his feet.

"Nice job," MacCready coughed, taking aim again. But his magazine was empty, and with an explosive grunt that wasn't quite a curse, he crouched low to reload. I swung the bloodbug corpse wildly, almost grinning at the stupidity of it all. If it's stupid and it works, it ain't stupid, I thought. The moment was short-lived as the legs snapped off at the next swing, leaving me with useless stumps. All right, it's stupid!

"Gotta get away from here," I wheezed, pulling on MacCready's jacket. "Gotta find a bat or something..." Another bloodbug swarmed in, and I barely swatted it out of the air with the stumps held in my hands.

"Go!" He snarled, popping another round into a bloatfly, but taking a raking blow from a diving stingwing. "See if you can find the brahmin," pop pop, "should be something," he ducked a glob of bloatfly projectile, "you can use."

Trailing my own personal stingwing, I staggered down the road, trying to locate a weapon, a bat, even a garden tool, anything I could use to swat the horrid insects out of the air. The increase in buzzing gave me a split-second's warning before the wasp-like bug swooped in for an attack. I stumbled, rolling hard on my shoulder and coming up against a soft, putrid mass. The stingwing hovered briefly over my head, and I kicked up with one leg to try and shoo it away. "Ge'off!" I yelled. It flew up out of reach.

With that one second's reprieve, I twisted around to push off the smelly obstacle. It was the brahmin, dead and decaying, its belly torn open and viscera missing. Pushing down my revulsion, I grabbed at a protruding wooden handle of some kind, one of several sticking out from the half-empty packs still tied to its back. The handle was stuck, and I pulled harder, twisting it free just as the stingwing returned to zip around me. I swung wildly, eyes squinted, shrieking in anger and fright, adrenaline making up for the lack of guidance from my Pip-Boy. A sickening crunch translated up to my arms and I stopped to reopen my eyes. The stingwing had hovered just a second too long, and the garden spade I had pulled from the dead brahmin had done its job.

MacCready was still back at the provisioner's body, barely holding his own against the remaining swarm. I took two running steps towards him when the dirt beside the track exploded, throwing me to the ground. Disoriented, blinking grit out of my eyes, I looked up to see my worst nightmare come to life rising out of the earth. I shrieked in sheer panic and mindless fright as the enormous scorpion skittered towards me.

The giant bugs were bad enough. They had disgusted and frightened me, touching a primal fear deep in the core of my brain. But it was as nothing to the absolute mind-twisting horror that froze my entire body at the sight of the car-sized scorpion. I was seriously arachnophobic, loathing spiders and scorpions far beyond normal bounds. I nearly passed out from sheer terror at the sight of its multiple eyes, the giant flexing claws, the venomous tail lifting high over my head. My chest tightened, and I had to focus on just breathing in and out, forcing air past my constricted throat, still trying to scream, but only managing a weak gasping whine of pure fear. My hands clutched the spade, a tiny futile weapon in the face of madness and death bearing down on me.

Crack!

The giant monstrosity paused for only a moment, turning slightly to face this new threat approaching like a juggernaut before its claws swept towards me. Just as the pincers closed on my leg, I was painfully wrenched free by a flying tackle from MacCready. Simultaneously, a grenade explosion rocked the ground underneath the scorpion's feet. We tumbled together across the broken cross ties in a bruising tangle, his arms coming up to cage me protectively as we skidded to a halt. My partner was sprawled on top of me, holding my head against his chest. As soon as we stopped sliding, he rolled up on one knee, his sniper seeming to teleport into his hands to fire at the scorpion, taking out one of its legs, then another.

The beast reeled to one side and I scrambled to a terrified crouch, bracing myself on hands and knees, whimpering in panic. MacCready fired several more times, but the monster was still moving by the time his magazine was empty. He roughly grabbed my jacket, dragging us backwards. "C'mon Boss!" his voice was harsh, but almost pleading. "Move it!" As soon as I managed to stagger to shaky feet, he reloaded with lightning speed. I wailed in frozen terror as the scorpion suddenly lurched forward, its tail rising to strike.

MacCready whirled again and lunged, pushing me to the ground out of the way. A pained scream was torn from his throat, and I saw his whole body writhe in agony as the stinger jabbed home into his shoulder, puncturing through the seam of his coat. A rush of blood, crimson against the black leather, followed the removal of the stinger and my whole world went red in a deafening roar.

-0-

Strong hands pulled at my arms, removing the empty rifle. The pinch of a stimpak in my side, the same side as the scar from the Gunners, brought my mind down from its frantic rage. Pain subsided and I could feel a light slap across my cheeks. I staggered dizzily from sudden exhaustion, falling onto a rough surface covered in sharp shell fragments. I was lifted up and carried, and set down again a moment later onto the hard rocky ground next to the tracks.

"Boss?" A voice. Melodic and pleasant, but rough and worried. "Hey, you in there?" Another gentle cuff across my cheek. The slaps helped ground my consciousness and I slowly focused on the face before me. Glorious crystal blue eyes met mine, a deep soul-touching expression spearing my heart.

"RJ!" I cried, throwing my arms around him and nearly tackling him to the ground. He was warm and alive, and apparently whole, and my relief translated into wracking sobs and incoherent babbling. For just a moment he held me close and reached up to stroke my hair with gentle fingers, twining the long braid around his palm. "Oh RJ, I thought you were..." I managed between tears. Heedless of the blood, the dirt, and the vile ichor staining both of us, I pressed into him.

All too quickly he tensed up and pushed away, holding me at arm's length. His previous worried expression was now masked with irritated arrogance. Looking from me to the decimated corpse of the enormous scorpion and back, he spoke, but his more recent detached tone was back. "Takes more than a couple of bugs to bring me down."

"What..." my throat felt dry and sore, and I coughed at the words. "What happened?" I looked around. We were alone, only scattered piles of supplies littered the tracks. I wanted more than anything to feel his comforting arms around me, but the moment had passed. He had pushed me away and was back to his prickly self. It hurt, as much as the snap of the scorpion's claws on my leg had, and I drew into myself, letting go of MacCready to hug my knees to my chest.

Fishing a purified water out of his pack to hand to me, MacCready pointed behind him. "You rushed that radscorpion head-on, roaring like an angry mama deathclaw. It was pretty beat up already," and he smirked in a smug manner, "so you finished it off pretty quickly."

He sat back on his heels, carefully not looking at me. "Then, you continued to empty your magazine into it. I jabbed a couple of stimpaks into my arm while you were occupied. Once you ran out of rounds, though, you started beating the everliving shi—err, crap out of it with the muzzle of your rifle, still screaming." He ran a hand through his hair, looking uncomfortable. "It was obvious you weren't going to stop. I had to wrest the rifle out of your hands before you bent it."

I stared at him, my mouth dropping open. "Rad...scorpion?" I shuddered. "I... don't remember at all."

He tugged his bandanna back up over his mouth, standing up. "Yeah, I figured." Stalking over to the dead brahmin, he examined the remaining supplies as I dragged myself to my feet. "Ugh, nothing worth taking. Too bad."

"You were going to steal from the Minutemen?" I pinned him with a stern look. "I have no problems with looting raiders or ferals or any of the other hostiles that attack us, but we don't steal from our allies. Got it?" In a more normal tone, I continued, "We'll have to figure out a way to covertly let Garvey know what happened down here so he can send a salvage team."

This time, I actually saw the red flush that crept up his cheeks. "Right, Boss." He rotated his shoulders, shaking out his arms and legs, and paced down the road a few steps. "Guess we took care of what was delaying the provisioners. Where to now?"

"Since we've done our part, let's try to find that Vault." The minute the words left my mouth, I realized I had said something wrong. Even with the bandanna covering his face, I could tell he was frowning. "Look, I know you don't like it..."

"Save it," he snapped, gesturing for me to take point. "Let's go."