Sizzling heat rose from broken pavement, bouncing back from cracked cinder blocks and concrete walls as Carla and Myrna slunk together through the broken ruins of Boston. They had nothing. Not Carla's pack Brahmin, Barf, killed by raiders. None of her trade inventory, stolen by raiders. Very little ammo, most of theirs loaded into the weapons of raiders who wanted them dead. Just a handful of precious pipe pistol rounds in Myrna's pocket and Carla's last 10 mm clip. One bullet wound in Carla's side, stitched up, but burning like hell as sweat slithered down her skin. Though they had escaped with their lives and the clothes on their backs, frequent encounters with more and more pockets of raiders between them and the safety of Diamond City left Carla with the ugly picture of a huge group going their way, fingers outstretched for them, and gaining.

No one had harassed them for the last half hour. A white sky blanketed the world, big ripples wavering through the air. Though Carla hoped their enemies had burned alive, she and Myrna had failed to drop two raider scouts they had been playing hide-and-seek with all morning and she doubted the environment would do the work for them.

Around the final corner revealed a clear view ahead to safety. A straight stretch of road running alongside Diamond City's green stadium wall up to a barricaded security checkpoint. Between here and there, just ancient dumpsters, rusted out cars, and piles of rubble. On the other end, the gate into the city.

They stopped, Carla scanning the area, eyes narrowed against the blazing afternoon. She kept her brown hair cut short as a rule, but even that didn't feel like an effective measure against this heat. Though she risked heatstroke beneath a light leather jacket, the long sleeves protected her pale skin from burning beneath the indifferent eye of the sun.

Sweat soaked Myrna's shoulder-length black hair and stuck the fabric of her white button-down shirt to her back. Her tan skin had only gotten tanner in the bright spring sunlight. "Home," she breathed.

Though this wasn't Carla's home, she could empathize. At the very least, they would find safety behind those tall walls.

At her side, Myrna gathered herself to run the last stretch. Carla snapped a hand out, catching Myrna's shirt collar with the crook of her fingers. Myrna leapt, hit the end of Carla's reach, and gagged. She stumbled backward into Carla, choking and coughing.

"Don't be an idi—" Carla began.

A bullet shattered into the sidewalk at Myrna's feet, concrete shards spraying them both. The report echoed away into the sky.

Both Carla and Myrna leapt behind an ancient, rusted out car nearby. Rubbish and rubble clattered beneath their feet. Carla crouched, bracing herself against the car's side; hot metal burned her fingertips for her trouble. She popped them into her mouth, tasting iron on her tongue. Two more shots pinged off the roof of the car, setting sparks flying. Each near-hit sent a jolt of adrenaline through Carla.

Down the street, a guard on duty at the city checkpoint shifted from relaxed to alert. He hefted his shotgun, waving a signal to someone nearby. A couple more guards sidled into view, laying weapons over barricades, pocked barrels glinting in the blinding sunlight. They made no move to help the two pinned down. Their foremost job was to defend Diamond City itself, not randos caught out in the street.

Carla gritted her teeth. Until she and Myrna made it inside, they were on their own.

Beside Carla, Myrna drew a pipe pistol and affixed a knife to the end of the barrel. Recognizing the necessity, Carla pulled out her own 10 mm and flicked the safety off, the warm weight in her palm a familiar comfort. She scanned the blown out storefronts and trash heaps along the street. "Where are they?"

"Topside, ten o'clock," Myrna replied, jerking her chin. "Must've circled around ahead of us."

Across the street, just a bit to the left, stood a largely intact office building. Ashy gray brick and three stories high. Atop the roof, a flash of raider green showed over the wall, their assailant shifting for a better shot around the car. With that height, they were well outside handgun range.

"Shit," Carla hissed. "We have to move!"

Myrna let out a primal yell, firing off three shots across the intersection to their immediate left. On the second, another scout stumbled out from behind a greasy dumpster. On the third, he went down, blood spraying from his face. He sprawled across the pavement, half hidden behind a pile of rubble. Carla narrowed her eyes at a red feather painted on his sleeve.

Oppressive stillness followed. Then a high, shrill scream rose from the rooftop. "Kenny!"

The name drifted down from above, followed by a rain of bullets. Carla and Myrna threw themselves most of the way beneath the car, heat burning through their shirts. Dust filled Carla's nose. She wrapped her arms around her head.

On the last shot, Myrna gasped, "Twelve!"

The sniper had used up her clip. While she reloaded, Carla scrambled out from beneath the car. Hauling Myrna up with her, she pushed her in the direction of the checkpoint. "Go! Go!"

The whole world narrowed down to that stretch of hot, broken asphalt. Sweat steamed from Carla's skin as she pounded toward that blessed gap between stacked wooden pallets, tires, and chainlink fence. Their gulping breaths mixed with the slap of their shoes echoing back at them. Ahead, Myrna stretched her long legs like a hound on the hunt, loose black hair flying behind her.

Drawing a bead on Myrna, the lead guard shouted, "Stop! Identify yourselves!"

As Myrna passed the final street intersection, exposed in the open crossroad, another gunshot rang out. Several strands of her hair broke off, fluttering in her wake. A sob of terror escaped her, but she didn't slow. "Joey, you stupid fucking idiot, let us through!" She waved her arms in a get-out-of-the-damn-way motion.

The guard, Joey, raised his gaze from the shotgun's sights. "Myrna?"

Carla skidded to a stop in the middle of the open intersection, kicking up a cloud of dust. Several hundred meters down this road, the massive hulk of a collapsed skyscraper choked the street ahead with piles and piles of rebar and concrete. Another raider nestled within the rubble, this one too heavy to be a scout. The barrel of his rifle swung around toward her.

In the distance, Carla heard Myrna screaming at Joey. "Help her!" Behind Carla, a flurry of gunshots sounded, the guards and the remaining sniper scout trading lead.

Furious that he had almost killed Myrna, Carla squeezed off a handful of shots at the big raider. The bullets went wide of their mark, but her target ducked for cover all the same. "Dammit!" Carla spat. Too far out of range.

Myrna roared, "Carla, come on!"

As Carla considered ignoring Myrna's entreaties for the chance to kill this bastard, movement at the top of the ruin caught her attention. Heads and shoulders appeared from over the skyscraper's side. Carla's mouth dropped open. This was considered an impassable barricade, protecting this approach to Diamond City. Yet dozens and dozens of raiders clambered over, climbing it like a ladder.

Two women, bigger than the rest, with tougher, nastier looking armor, crested the rise, pausing at the top.

One, her brown hair pulled back in a tight braid, smiled a vicious smile. She pointed at the lone figure of Carla, howling. "That way to Diamond City!"

Fear froze Carla's feet to the ground. Then she realized the woman pointed not at her, but at the cheerful, hand-painted sign next to her that read: DIAMOND CITY THIS WAY. A painted red arrow showing the direction aimed straight at her head like a promise. She was nothing but an obstacle for them to mow down on the way to the city gates.

Carla ran. She blazed beneath the checkpoint overhang, snagging a post to swing herself around behind the cover of the barricade walls. Her shoulder hit first as she slammed up next to Myrna. A rifle shot whined off the post in her wake. Joey popped up to return fire, now wielding a rifle himself.

"There's more coming," Carla gasped. "A whole army of 'em."

Joey's attention snapped to her and Carla met his gaze. Beneath the baseball helmet and the padded armor, he was just a freckle-faced kid, maybe her age. His brown eyes widened, but his voice remained firm as he said. "Page Harker to let you in. Tell 'er we got a ten-ninety-nine." He jerked his head behind them, toward the giant, shuttered metal gate to the city.

Myrna thumbed more rounds into her pistol and holstered it, preparing to break cover. To Carla, she whispered, "Just what the hell was that?"

Slipping her own gun into her pocket, Carla declined to explain. With a grunt, she pushed off the wall, briefly dragging at Myrna's upper arm to get her going. The two of them raced over the open plaza toward the massive green gate. As they blurred past the central statue of the Baseball Warrior, more gunfire rattled at the checkpoint.

To Carla's surprise, a grinding roar started up, the gate beginning to roll upward before they'd even reached it. Instead of opening to its full height, it stopped ascending at about head-level. A pair of raised voices echoed from the darkness within.

Neither Carla nor Myrna needed a second invitation. They each flung themselves headlong beneath the gate, chased by panicked shouts rising from the guards in their wake.