She felt cold. Shivering, she tried to curl deeper into a sweetroll tight ball but the night air had dropped several celcius. She swore she could see her breath in the dim moonlight. She heard a few cracks in the distance, like gunshots or rocks falling from somewhere. It kept her awake and her nerves short circuited.
She looked at her pipboy, the light blinding at first. She went through all her stats and began short handing quick notes into her log.
Charon took the news as well as I would expect. He clearly doesn't trust me. I would let him go, but I'm afraid he'll kill me. I thought I was doing him a favor, buying him from Azrukhal. I think I still did, but he's not a very talkative person. I can't read him. I think he has a strong dislike for non-ghouls. I can't say I blame him. I got emotional and told him I wanted to find a cure for his condition. He laughed at me. I know it's far fetched but I doubt anyone out here has actually tried. This environment is so hostile. There's no time to pursue anything academically. It's survive, rape, kill, eat, fuck, survive. At least I'm safer with Charon and his contract. Even though I'm stuck as his employer, it's going to keep me safe. He seems very experienced in this environment.
She stopped journaling to quietly sit up. She looked over to the shadow heap sitting up. She saw his head lift and look directly at her. "Trouble, smoothskin?"
"No." She checked the time. "Maybe I can find some wood or something to burn."
He snorted, shrugging. This sparked more resentment. She was growing to strongly dislike him. "Well... whatever. You can just go to sleep. I'll take the rest of the night."
He sneered, "Gonna fight off the big bad raiders all by yourself, smoothskin?"
She wasn't in the mood for any more of his bullshit. "Please. Just shut up. I order you go to sleep. I'll stand watch. If you're not going to help, then leave me alone."
She sat up, shivering and trying to keep the tears from flowing. This guy reminded her of Butch. Just an asshole, trying to push her down and keep her down. She got to her feet and folded her arms, wanting to talk to her Dad more than anything at that moment. She felt like she was drowning in a cold river of loneliness.
"Hey."
She turned to him as he got to his feet, only his pale eyes just barely visible as tiny glints. "What?" A part of her was fearful. He was so much taller than her.
"If you can find something to burn, I'll teach you how to build a fire." He looked around. "You have a lighter or match?"
"No."
He chuckled. "Good. That'll just make you lazy. I'll show you how to make a real fire."
She admired how quickly he rubbed his hands together over the notch and tinder nest. He quickly rubbed the stick in his hand as he moved his arms down. He had created a makeshift campfire out of what they could salvage. They managed to find the driest remnants of a few brittle trees, some blank pages at the back of a prewar book, and with vodka sprinkled onto their little tinder nest the plumes of smoke grew quickly to thick flames. It wouldn't last all night, but it was better than nothing.
"Normally, I wouldn't have an open fire. It attracts too much trouble. But feral ghouls aren't going to come here just because of a light in the distant. They just want to be left alone, really. Be with their own kind." He looked off at the direction of the great building. "Though if anyone's in there, we may have some problems."
She put her hands over the heat and sighed in pleasure. "Thank you. Next time, let me try."
"Sure. But it won't be easy. I'm not going to let you cheat with the alcohol. There will be times you don't have something like that." He didn't seem to care for the fire, leaning away from it. He watched her. "You've been crying."
She wiped her cheeks, insecure. She was surprised he noticed. "No, I haven't." Her heart beat fast as she shamefully lied.
"Very well." Charon continued to watch her, his face especially terrifying in the flickering light. "What do you know about ghouls?"
"Only what Dr. Barrows has told me and what little I've observed so far. He explained some people exposed to extreme levels of radiation may undergo an extreme mutation that allows them to adapt to this environment. They can heal cuts, bruises, even broken bones from radioactive sources. But their skin begins to deteriorate. Their hair falls out. Soft tissue and ligaments can also begin to fall from their bodies. It seems to correlate with muscle density. The more active a ghoul is, the less likely he'll start falling apart. They can no longer reproduce. But also, the aging process is halted." She looked down at her Pipboy, alternating pages on the screen. "I've spoken to some prewar ghouls like Carol and Winthrop. They were alive before the Great War and still remember it clearly." She trailed off, tired of rambling.
"You know enough." Charon was mildly impressed how much she knew. The healing part was often one fact most smoothskins rarely knew about them. Those that did only resented them even more for that benefit.
"I disagree." She rubbed her arms and shivered. "There's so much we can learn from ghouls. If we understood the mutation better it would do a lot of good. Maybe future generations can somehow inherit the benefits of being a ghoul. Or maybe we can somehow reverse the negative side effects. I won't know until I either find more people that have studied ghouls or start myself."
She focused on him and his reaction. His shoulders were shaking with stifled laughter. He looked more amused and less hostile at that moment. It helped calm her down. She'd happily take being a joke to him than a threat any day. Charon smirked at her, the smile making her feel like a little kid again. "So what's the first step, ma'am?"
