August 17th, 2279

The temperature was starting to cool. Zack stirred in his sleep, turned on his right side and opened his eyes. Darkness was just starting to envelop the land. The moon was in its last quarter, a half moon, sitting just above the eastern horizon. The moon provided decent light for traveling at night which Zack preferred to do. The temperature is better, there is less water waste through sweating, and it was harder to be spotted by people, whether they are friend or foe. Zack glanced around to his right, did not see any dangers, and his instincts told him the same thing. He sat up and rested his back against the rock outcropping that had given him shade while he slept. He opened his pack, pulled out his container of food, and pulled some Brahmin jerky out and munched on it. It was very salty and dry, but his stomach welcomed the nourishment. Zack put the container back in his pack, and reached for his canteen and took a mouthful.

Zack looked down and made sure his boots were tied tight. His boots were some old work boots that he was able to acquire which were ankle high and faded black. Satisfied with his boots he then dusted off the lower part of his pants that had been lying in the dirt while he slept. They were some old pre war combat fatigues. He wasn't sure what country that they had been from originally, but they have held up very well for him over the years. At one point they had been a dark black he supposed. They were now a charcoal grey from years of the sun beating on them, as well as wear from daily activities. The knees and shins had been reinforced by Zack. He put extra padding in the knees for the times he had get down quickly and didn't want to worry about injury. For the shins he sewed some pieces of heavy plastic on the inside. You never knew when you needed to run, and you did not want to get you shins taken out by random objects such as jutting rebar. It also provided support against attacks, any decent raider knows someone cannot fight or run if they cannot stand. So they usually opt to attack your legs first.

Zack had a leather belt that he wore on his waist. He didn't actually need the belt to hold up his pants, they fit him quite well. The belt was used for attaching his gear. On his right back side it held a small string closed pouch which had a few caps, bobby pins, and some chewing gum. On his left side he wore a sheath which held his combat knife that he had owned as long as he could remember. To the right of this he had two small buttoned pouches that held a speed loader in each for a .44 magnum. Over this belt he wore another, which was hanging at a crossed angle, his holster. The holster held his most sentimental possession, his dad's revolver. It was grayish black in color with a reddish wooden grip. The barrel was of medium length and sat snugly in the holster. The revolver was weighted well for a man of Zack's size. Along the strap he was able to store more rounds of ammo. He had only about eighteen on there at the moment; it could however hold double that. Zack did not have it fully filled, he did not like to have his rounds exposed to the elements for too long. It sometimes made them become useless if they got wet or too hot.

Tucked into his pants was a short sleeved, faded, dark blue shirt. The shirt had been snagged on many things over time and had quite a few small holes. This did not bother him though, because over this he wore a tan leather duster. The duster was dirtied up a bit, but it was made of strong material and had held up against the worst. The lower back part had a few chard blackened spots from a fire. Zack at one point had to run through a building as it was burning around him. He kept the sleeves rolled up to his elbows when he traveled at night, but wore them long to during the day to protect against the sun. There were large pockets on each side of the duster that were empty at the time. He used these for quick spots to put any useful items he found while traveling, and then later he moved them to his pack. He did not like to stay in one spot exposed too long. In the mid back part there was a small slit. A leather strap slides inside through here which hooks to the other part of the strap and exits through the opening in the front of the duster. The strap attaches to a metal pauldron on Zack's left shoulder. The pauldron is composed of strong steel and angled up a bit to protect his neck as well. Most people, being right handed, usually attack with melee weapons at an arc to the left side, and the pauldron protects this area.

On the outside of the upper arm on each side of the duster, he has sewed on leather pieces which were about six inches in length for added cushioned support. On his hands he wore fingerless leather gloves. Around his neck he wore a grey cloth garment, similar to a scarf. He usually wore this wrapped around his head and face when he traveled during the day, or when a dust storm was fast approaching. With it wrapped around his head and his tinted goggles on, he was sure he looked menacing to others, but he was good at heart.

Zack rubbed the top of his head a few times, getting any dirt and debris off of it. His hair is dark brown, but he always keeps it buzzed cut. It helps his head stay cool, and keeps the bugs from making a colony in his scalp. Zack reached down and made sure the revolver was strapped in tight in the holster. He had always seen his father with this revolver when he was young. It was one of the few things remaining of his father. Growing up, Zack did not get to see his father as much as he liked. His parents and he lived in a small settlement outside of New Vegas called Blue Diamond. It was where Zack was born and lived during his childhood. His father worked for the Tull family in New Vegas. He worked security in their casino, as well as any dirty work they wanted accomplished as well. There were a few families fighting for control, but the Tull's were one of the most powerful. His father would sometime be gone for weeks doing a job, coming back with bruises and injuries, but he hid his work from Zack as best he could. He did not want Zack to worry. His mother hated that he had to work for the Tull family, but it was the only way to provide in the area. If you were not working for one of the families in the city, you were considered an enemy or collateral damage.

Zack crouched down by the end of his bedroll, the night was still silent. As he rolled it up he thought of a pleasant memory of his father. His father always taught him how to work hard, shoot expertly, and play strong poker. There was one day when his father had come back home in the early morning after have been working all night. Zack was only six at the time, and he had rushed up and gave his father a big hug.

"Hey bud boy, I see that you missed me. Didn't think that I was going to come home for a bit when I left last night?" His father had asked.

"I thought you were going to leave mommy and me alone again." Zack responded while looking up at his father with a wide grin. "Are you going to teach me today daddy. Please?"

"I suppose I could. It's about that time for you anyhow." He put his hand on Zack's head and ruffled up his hair.

"Hey, cut it out!" Zack said as he laughed.

"Don't think you could do me a favor, grab some food from your mother, and I'll meet me down where I shoot?"

"You got it daddy!" He then ran to the house to find his mother.

His father spent most of the morning with him. He first went over the proper safety for handling a gun, and then how to load it by releasing the cylinder latch. He then showed him the proper way to hold his revolver, aiming techniques, and squeezing, not pulling the trigger, when you had a target. They practiced on old rusted tin cans that rested on boulders. Zack was a horrible shot in the beginning, but he was able to get his own small .32 revolver later that year, and practiced frequently with it.

"Now remember Zack, don't aim with your gun, aim with your eyes. If you have to kill when your life is in danger, don't kill with your gun, kill with your heart." Zack's father had told him when they were done for the day.

"You were such a great instructor." Zack thought as he was still crouched by the rock outcropping.

Zack took the now rolled up bedroll, and attached it to the underside of his pack. He put his canteen over his right shoulder, with it hanging at his left side. He stood up with his pack in one hand, put the straps through each arm, and rested it on his back. Zack looked around to get his bearings, and then began to travel northwest.