She wasn't much of a talker.
He had expected her to ramble and chatter away. All new employers usually liked to talk about themselves. Instead, she seemed to just look around a lot. She seemed timid but curious. The only time he heard her voice was when she would ask a question.
"How did they build bridges that tall?" She'd point at the old interstate ramps high above their heads.
"Lots of heavy equipment and cement." He'd answer obediently, waiting for her to give him direct orders.
"Were mirelurks always this large? Even before the great war?" She'd squat over the shell of an already salvaged mirelurk corpse, her hands feeling the rough shell as she studied the creature.
"No. They're mutations from prewar crabs."
Every time he answered she'd frown as though thinking his words over. She didn't make an acknowledgement or express agreement or disagreement. It was as though she believed everything he told her as fact. Or maybe she didn't know what a crab was.
It made him worry, traveling with such an ignorant person out in the wasteland. She didn't seem to have any experience in combat. She wore her leather armor and had her chinese assault rifle strapped to her back, sure. But she seemed to trip over debris and lacked the grace that most wastelanders had. She walked ahead of him, completely trusting he wouldn't shoot her in the back.
Not that he would, with her holding his contract.
He wasn't sure where she kept it, which worried him. He liked to know where it was at all times. Somewhere in her bulging backpack was his lifeline. Without it, he was nothing.
They were by large piles of rock and cliffs. A small cavern that only reached a few feet into the rock face offered shelter from the heat. The sun was setting in the distance, behind the lone skyscraper on the horizon. She stopped at the edge of a steep drop, letting her pack and rifle fall to the ground. He winced at how carelessly she left it while she pawed deep in her bag in search of something.
Charon turned around to make sure they were safe. No hostiles around. Nothing seemed to be out there. But he hated being a sitting duck out in the open like this. Especially when he was sure that was Tenpenny Tower off in the distance.
He took his pack off too, his back muscles thanking him for the relief. He had been crammed in that corner for so long... his body wasn't use to the effort. Even those weekly "recon" missions Azrukhal sent him hadn't kept him in his prime. He didn't dare express discomfort but he was relieved to at least stop for a moment. A gentle breeze blew past, cooling him as he kept vigilant watch all around. Their position was in an advantage for height and position. They'd see anyone approach for miles.
He raised an eyebrow when he saw her pull out binoculars from her bag and look through them. She was scanning the horizon, trying to get more details on the monolith. As she looked through them she squatted real quick, as if that would help hide her from whatever she just saw.
"Charon. There's ghouls over there." She pointed off to the side, in the distance away from the setting sun. There was an old train yard. He could only make out slight little dots moving, which he assumed were them. "I think they're feral."
He kept his mouth shut.
"I don't want to kill them unless they try to kill me. Do you think we should stay here? Or would they be able to detect me?" She lowered her scopes and looked up at him. "I know they don't attack other ghouls first."
"It is up to you."
She bit her lip, troubled. She looked around, her eyes landing at the boulders further away from the cliff edge. "We'll make camp tonight. I'm not much of a fighter. But I'd like to study the ghouls some more."
Charon paused at this, her words confusing him. "Study them?" He was incredulous, looking down at her as she shuffled around him. She had gathered her things and was carrying them with an "oof" toward the large rocks and small shelter, placing her belongings out of sight.
"Yes. The ghoul condition is something of a scientific anomaly. I'm trying to learn more about them." She lifted her sunglasses, wincing at the still bright light. "Sorry. Does that make you uncomfortable?"
He continued to stare at her. His mind was buzzing. "Why are we out here?"
She blinked and laughed. "Research."
"You're a scientist." He didn't hide the incredulous tone in his voice. She laughed again. She was hardly eighteen years old.
"I like to think I am." She pulled her shades back over her eyes and began unbuckling the straps to her torso. "I used to help my father back in the vault. He was the head doctor of the vault." She stopped and looked at him inquisitively. "Come on, help me set camp. Can you start a fire?" She got to her feet and began scanning the ground for something to burn.
"Yes. Can't you?"
"No." She looked over her shoulder and sighed. "It's pretty obvious I don't know a lot about this world. That's one of the reasons I purchased your contract. I want you to teach me to survive out here." She muttered under her breath. "As well as other things."
"Like what?" He tossed his pack toward the boulders and stretched his back. His spine exploded in an orchestra of pops.
She hummed to herself, ignoring the question. He frowned at this, standing and waiting for an order. He didn't like her. He had decided that. Typical Smoothskins. I'm just a survivalist lab rat to her. What else was new?
"Charon, I'm not going to experiment on you, okay?" She leaned her back against the rocks, the desire for a fire seemed to have lost its appeal. She had taken the heavy dark armored jacket off, revealing a sweaty tank top underneath. Where the armor covered her, she was ghostly pale, which was something Charon couldn't help but gawk at. He couldn't remember the last time he saw a woman so light skinned (or with all her skin, for that matter).
She didn't seem to mind his staring. She took her shades off, the sun fully set and the night making its approach. Digging her bag for her canteen she took healthy gulps and handed the rest to him.
He decided to take the invitation.
He sat with his back to the taller rocks so he could keep his eye on any approaching danger. He gulped the water, surprised it was pure. He stopped as soon as he tasted it, looking at her incredulously. "This is purified."
"Yeah, tastes good?" She sighed again, her eyes closed. She looked like she was about to fall asleep. "Don't worry, I have more."
He closed the canteen and pushed it against her arm. "I can drink irradiated water, instead."
Her eyes fluttered open, revealing light silver eyes. She had an intense gaze. "Sorry, I thought I was being polite." She dug into her pack and handed a dusty bottle, sealed but cloudy. As she handed it to him, she added, "I apologize in advance for anything I do that may offend you."
He scoffed, not believing her. He took the bottle and downed it, his chest burning with the familiar warmth of ionizing radiation. Or maybe it was because it had been out in the sun all day. "A little ironic, coming from someone who wants to cut me open like I'm a freak of nature."
She was silent after that. She looked to the side, not meeting his glare. "I probably can't convince you but hear me out. I want to learn about ghouls. I want to understand them. Maybe I can cure them. And I won't start cutting you up or anything like that! I don't want to do anything harmful to you. I read the contract. If I physically hurt you, you can... choose new employment. I don't want to end up like Azrukhal. But I trust you as much as you trust me."
"That's smart." Charon smirked, still skeptical. "Cure Ghoulification? That's impossible. And how can you, some kid from the vault, possibly do that?"
She narrowed her eyes. "I'll have you know that I'm a licensed surgeon. I have a scientific background. My whole life I've been groomed in this field."
He laughed. "Where, at the Medical Institute of Vault Tech? Give me a break."
She folded her arms and sulked, clearly pissed. "Yes."
He laughed, mockingly. It was the funniest thing he had heard in a very long time. It felt good, being allowed to laugh. It was surprisingly hard on the chest and back muscles. He hadn't laughed like that in decades.
She, though, wasn't amused. "Fuck yourself." She grabbed her bag and dragged them off several meters away from him.
He kept laughing at her. "Is that an order?"
She stuck her middle finger at him, a gesture he was impressed she knew of. She used her bag as a pillow and rolled over to turn her back to him, her arms crossed and her legs curled to her chest.
