Chapter 1

"Open it up!"

I watched as a series of pulleys and winches pulled the wrecked bus backwards, the flat tyres crumbling into the dirt as its chassis squealed in protest at being pulled backwards into the rest of the makeshift fence. The guard stood to the side on a ramshackle platform kept his hand held out to me in an order to stop, like an old-world traffic warden, until the bus had been fully pulled back, before lowering it with a nod.

I returned it, but didn't move from my position, letting the welcoming party meet me halfway.

A gaggle of people ambled their way towards me, four plus their leader. Many of them clutching makeshift weapons of some kind, an old fire axe here, a plank with some nails in there – only one had a rifle and the whole things had been cobbled together from various parts it was impossible to tell what model let alone whether it would fire.

Their clothes had certainly seen better days, and whilst the world had ended long ago, most folk still knew how to dress themselves, hard-wearing outdoor clothes or scavenged military equipment was held together with patchwork repairs and duct tape. Head and facial hair whilst unkempt wasn't untidy, as if some effort to look presentable. They looked filthy, malnourished, but determined to survive.

But I probably looked just as bad if not worse, considering I'd been out in the Wild for a week straight.

Their leader walked at the helm of the group, holding herself with a higher conviction than the rest. Matted ginger hair was kept back in a short bun, and blue eyes analysed my every move hidden behind some delicate looking eyeglasses. A red snood around her neck made her stand out visually from her fellows – and what looked to be a well-worn pistol poked out of a hip holster.

She stopped and folded her arms; her men stopped a step behind her.

"Did you get it Victor?" She asked.

I shifted my weight to my right and swung the heavy duffel bag in my left hand off my shoulder and held it out for second, thankful to have the load off. Before placing it on the ground before her, keeping my eyes trained on hers. I let gravity do the rest of the work as the duffel fell handles first towards her as I adjusted my posture and massaged my numb shoulder.

"It was there like your man said it would be Kath, seeds, stims and alcohol – nothing more than roaches there so the only issue was the hike back." I coughed, as I gestured to the bag. "See for y'self."

"No, I trust you – this is the fifth time you've done a run for us like this, I know you're not trying to fuck us." Kathleen shot a painful smile, lines forming in the corner of her eyes. "Just following the protocol is all."

"I know I know" I held my hands up to stop her. "It's nice getting the welcome wagon each time, makes me feel like I haven't been forgotten about."

That got a bark of laughter from one or two of the men behind, Kathleen let it peter out on its own, before waving a hand to me to follow, and turning about face.

I adjusted the rifle strap across my chest and followed, some of the men stayed behind, presumably to swap shifts on guard duty, whilst two followed a couple of paces behind as we entered the small settlement.

"I know you'd want nothing more than to get a hot shower Vic, but…." Kathleen trailed off.

"I'd like to get paid first and foremost honestly" I replied.

"Oh, don't you worry, I got it here" She held out a small bag, which I took from her and opened. I glanced inside at the contents – it was the usual payment, not much use for money, much better to work for supplies for the road and life in general. In the bag was my typical fee: Food, Water, Medicine, Ammo for my rifle, as well as a bottle, filled with an amber liquid.

I muttered a thanks and held it in my right hand as I began to resume the journey towards the main residential section. Kathleen stopped me with an outstretched arm. Gloved palm facing away from me, she turned her head towards me.

"Look, I'll get right to it. We have something else for you and we could really use your help right now – no breaks unfortunately."

"That really depends on what it is yeah? Mind filling me in?" I gently pushed her arm down and turned to face her side.

She sighed and rubbed her eyes, glasses pushed up to her forehead. "Couple of days back while you were out on that supply run for us we had someone else come back in from another run – said they found something worth checking out."

"And that is?" I crossed my arms.

"Looks like an old military checkpoint not too far from here on one of the back roads, God knows how no-one has stumbled across it now, but we are pretty far out in the sticks to be fair. He said it looks substantial too, actual buildings there not just some shitty roadblock."

"You want me to take a look then?" I asked Kathleen as she turned to face me, I wasn't sure of what expression I was pulling but she responded with a pleading look.

"This could be a jackpot; we can't afford to miss this." Kathleen leaned in, "Food, meds, supplies… Guns? Hell there could be an old Mr Handy or something there but whatever is there we need to try and get there first ahead of anyone else who may know about it."

"You think others may have got the scent – so to speak?"

"I dunno?... I hope not, all I'm saying is I want someone reliable who can get in and out with the good stuff and get it back here – it'll be worth double."

"Double and a half – then I'm taking a break." I countered.

"Done – I would have given you triple honestly" Kathleen put her hands on her hips as I groaned at my bartering failure. "Look, we all appreciate it Vic, once this is done, we'll leave you alone for a bit I promise."

I looked back at the gate I'd walked though; we'd hardly covered any distance since then. My muscles ached and I needed a drink – plus that sun was getting low in the sky. Night would roll in, next couple of hours maybe? And I'd rather not get caught out in the dark, not in the wild.

These people need supplies though, that includes me, and I've done a double-header run before plenty of times, this wouldn't be the first time. Plus, the last one was a cake walk, just a long hike out with some bug stomping nothing difficult.

Fuck's sake.

"OK, show me on the map." I knelt to take my pack off – and Kathleen knelt beside me, as she filled me in on my next destination.

Hopefully just a quick in-and-out, how hard can it be?

The hike back out from the settlement had become familiar routine, landmarks for me stood out on the horizon: pass the wilted tree with the broken branches, turn left at the burned-out red car with the roof down, keep to the right of the mass grave from years ago. This time was different however, instead of heading east, towards the majority of civilisation, towards supplies, towards people, towards danger – I was heading north-west, towards the unknown, towards adventure, towards certain death.

Even in the warming light of April, it chilled my bones.

Kathleen had given me all the details I needed to chart a course to my destination – I'd been on the road for three days now, and apart from the odd critter here and there – there wasn't much to see. Doesn't make sense that the military would've had a checkpoint or whatever this far out in the sticks – but it's a 'jackpot' apparently.

I was close anyway, and as I rounded the last bend, following the old back roads, I saw it, and what a sight it was. I stopped and fell to one knee, taking a canteen of water from the side of my pack, I took a swig of water as I observed my final destination.

This is a hell of a lot bigger than some 'checkpoint' Kath… What the hell have I gotten myself into?

Two watchtowers flanked the road ahead, nature already starting to re-claim the space with ivy and moss. Behind them, various roadblocks and concrete barriers dotted the road – placed in a manner to slow oncoming vehicles down to slalom their way through the gaps but not to make the road impassable entirely. I could just make out the faded star of the US Army symbol on one or two the barriers.

Further back however was what was more interesting – a structure, some kind of pre-fab presumably set up for the military, two floors in height, beckoned to me. Nature had done it's best to reclaim this as well, with a single bush growing out of it's roof, and various shrubs dotting the foundations.

Structurally it looked sound, and it seemed that the building was set up to become a more permanent fixture at some point, but whatever happened here meant that the Army had to bug out as quickly as they came. The air was quiet, the hilly landscape either side protecting me from the worst of the elements – moisture was heavy in the air and the sky threatened to burst, giving the landscape and view ahead a grey, moody look.

I placed my canteen away and fished out a pack of cigarettes from my jacket pocket, slid a single stick out and popped in in my mouth. A second later when I found my lighter, it was lit and perched between my lips as I waited and surveyed the scene ahead, waiting for any kind of movement. The only sound being my breaths as I smoked the decades old cigarette.

It would be a very short walk to the front door of the building, any kind of fencing protecting the structure had been victim to the elements or not had time to be erected. Front door entrances where usually not the best move, but in this instance I couldn't see another way in. I didn't bother to finish the cigarette as I pushed it into the dirt and unslung my rifle.

A simple bolt-action like this wouldn't be the best indoors, but it'll have to do.

I stood, readied my weapon, and walked around the towers and barricades towards the main building. Taking care to stop and observe the high-ground positions either side, and taking a non direct route to avoid being jumped.

But it was as quiet as ever, the only noise being the clump of my old boots on the dirt.

I reached the main door without incident, standing at the ready to the side of the single door, metal, corroded and worn, but it looked like it would be fine to use, albeit noisy. I placed my back against the wall and looked back from whence I had came – nothing. I checked further down the road, which was a mirror image of the way I had came but with the addition of an old truck that had been abandoned, might be worth checking on the way out.

I took a breath, shouldered my rifle, and gripped the door handle with my off hand – ignoring the restricted access signage. I grimaced as the handle squealed as I pushed the lever downwards – and even more so as I slowly pushed the door to, and poked the muzzle of my rifle through, the rest of me following behind.

I stepped through into the black, closing the door behind me.

"Whatever's in here will either be excellent or shit…" I mumbled to myself as I reached behind me to grab my flash-light.

With a click, I illuminated the darkness, revealing more barricades, hastily erected and not quite finished – a staircase was present to the right but interestingly, behind the barricades at the back of the room, where storage crates. A lot, of storage crates – with larger containers behind, I couldn't rightly tell how big the room was, but it certainly seemed to stretch on forever.

As I crept forward, dust heavy in the air – the smell off mustiness tickling my throat. I sucked air in through my teeth as my boot bounced off something metal – sending it sliding forwards with a clatter.

I waited.

And waited.

Nothing.

I glanced down at the offending object – a tool box. Lid open. Screwdrivers, nails, a hammer – the usual dwellers of a toolkit. A roll of duct tape slotted in neatly in the side. A flash of inspiration overtook me as I placed the flash-light in the crook of my neck and reached down and took it, it was unused and as quietly as I could managed, I slowly unravelled the tape, and stuck some to the barrel of my rifle, before taking the flash-light, and taping it to the weapon. All the while my eyes kept darting up and around, to make sure I wasn't jumped. A quick slash with my pocket knife, and the job was complete - I placed the tape back from where it came – silently thanking whomever had left it there many years ago.

I watched my footing as I headed towards the nearest small storage crate – checking my corners and watching my six – glancing down towards the long black corridor of shadow between the containers. I opened the closest one, revealing….

"Fuck yes" I whispered – medical supplies looked up back at me, as I reached down to take as many as I could. I slung my pack off my shoulder and opened it up, stuffing the goods inside.

A clatter sounded from up-stairs and I stopped, breath hitching in my throat.

I turned my head to the right towards the staircase. I needed to clear that floor before I did anything else.

I slowly closed the lid of the crate, raised the rifle to my eye, and advanced towards the stairs, careful to not make too much noise. As I approached the bottom step, I glanced at the sign detailing the floors.

G – BARRACKS & STORAGE

1 – AUTHORISED PERSONNEL ONLY

"Not much room for the GIs to sleep in…. What the hell where they doing here?" I mumbled

Step by step I crept upwards, sweeping my muzzle around the landing to the second set of stairs. A grimace flashing on my face every time the stairs creaked or groaned under my weight. The door to the upstairs was closed – but didn't look locked at a first glance.

As I reached the top step, I could've sworn I heard another clatter.

I repeated my movements from outside – ready up, deep breath, handle down, door open, muzzle first, me second.

Various machinery and equipment greeted me, nothing like I'd ever seen in a military outpost before – it looked like monitoring equipment? I couldn't rightly tell, and it didn't help that most of it was off. Wires and cables trailed across the floor towards the far wall of the room. The room itself seemed smaller than the one downstairs, due to the size of the machines lining the walls – everything in the room was caked in a layer of dust.

My eyes followed the cables, as did my body, slowly making my way towards the back of the room, until my flash-light illuminated the termination point.

"What the hell?…." Confusion overtook me.

At a first glance I could be forgiven for thinking it was a Protectron charging station – but up close I would be a fool to continue that assumption. It was roughly the same size and shape. But it was completely opaque, no glass to speak of. It was not nearly as ornate as the charging stations for public spaces – more utilitarian. Almost sarcophagus like in a way. Brushed aluminium still retained some sheen as I could barely make out my reflection in the martial.

Along the front, some words had long since worn away, leaving no trace as to their meaning – only thing that remained of some indication was a single red chevron – adorning the front of the station. I'd never seen anything like it. A set of cables hugged the wall, towards a nearby terminal – the dim green glow giving an indication that the back-up power or whatever this place was running on was still going, but only just.

I heard a wail from downstairs – and footsteps, bare footsteps. My heart sank to my boots and bile rose in my throat as both a fear gripped me, and a vile stench graced my nostrils.

I pivoted on my heel and raised my rifle in time to see a lumbering form reach the top of the stairs, once a person, now no longer so, hideously emaciated with little clothing to speak of, and covered in a mix of dirt and faeces, something from a nightmare – something that no-one wanted to end up as.

A Ghoul – a feral one.

A flash of light and a bang echoed throughout the building as my rifle barked, and the ghouls head exploded into paste, coating the walls either side of it with barely oxygenated blood. I was already halfway across the room, cycling the bolt on my rifle by the time the body collapsed in a heap backwards down the stairs – and more howls came from below.

"Shit shit shit shit!" I seethed, I should have checked below before coming up here! Why? Why didn't I check!

I kicked it's feet out of the door way and slammed the door shut, spotting an old wooden desk to my right I slung my rifle over my shoulder and pulled with all my might on the desk as I slid it into position in front of the door. Quickly a filing cabinet and chair joined the makeshift barricade – I was trapped, but it would keep the ghouls out, I hoped.

All at once there was a crash on the other side of the door – plastic-composite bulging from the hinges as however many ghouls fought over themselves to get past this obstruction to get at their next meal.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck oh fucking hell!" I ran to the other end of the room to see if there was anything, anything at all that could help me out against the onslaught I was about to face. My eyes hovered over the terminal I had seen earlier.

"No, don't have time to hack, takes me an age and I don't have that!" I whined, spinning about to check on my fortifications – watching for half a second as a hand grabbed the door edge as it buckled under immense pressure, before getting caught between it and the frame and pulling back.

I looked back at the terminal – it was connected to the charging station just to it's right, sometimes these pods have emergency releases, it was worth a shot.

I launched myself at the terminal, praying it wasn't unlocked, when met with the password screen I cried out and slammed the table in frustration – similarly to the former humans outside the room. I looked back at the computer bank in front of me, and stuck my head underneath the main seating area.

I found what I was looking for, a panic button, hopefully it would do something, anything!

I heard the distinctive sound of plastic snapping and glanced back – to see a grotesque pus ridden face hollering back at me arm out stretched. It too exploded into deep-red mist as I put a bullet through it, and half a second later another took it's place.

I cycled the bolt, looked down at the panic button, and hit it with all my might, as if somehow my extra force would guarantee a more forceful result.

Amber lights blared from behind me, an old tube-radio began to warm up and play a warning klaxon, the cycling of air, of coolant, of whatever joined in the cacophony of noise soon after. The pod! It was opening! I pressed my back against the wall – in an effort to avoid being the first thing whatever stepped out of that pod saw.

"Please be a Mr Gutsy please please please" I prayed – I was banking on the thing to come flying out all buzz saws and plasma pistols blazing, and I could try and slip out in the chaos.

The pod opened, the dust in the air billowed outward as the internal air met it – I heard a creak, a groan, and then something fell forwards out of the pod – catching itself before it face planted the floor. All the while the ghouls made more progress on the door, it was only a matter of seconds now.

But it was certainly no Mr Gutsy that fell out of that pod – but I didn't have time to gawp as the ghouls had made enough of a hole to clamber through and make a beeline towards me.

"Hey, Hey! Wake the fuck up goddammit – come on!" I bellowed at the machine as I fired my rifle into the first ghoul, catching in the shoulder and sending it into a spin until it crumpled in a heap. "Come on come on!"

I cycled the bolt, and fired again.

Missed.

Again.

Hit.

Again.

"Come ON! Fucking load your software for gods sake!" I shouted at the machine, two shots left, I fired.

Hit.

I hadn't realised that the machine had already slowly raised it's head, trying to pull itself to one knee, it's face bathing the scene in front with a warm yellow glow.

"-I am trying, what…. What is…. What is happening?-"

"Help me!" I pleaded with it it, not even questioning it's manner of speaking "Please help!"

There wasn't as many ghouls as I thought, a small blessing, and I'd managed to down four but I was trapped with three more coming in. I didn't have time to reload – I only had a pocket knife and everybody knew that you don't engage ghouls in melee – it's suicide.

A ghoul was effectively on top of me now, I could smell it, I tried to swat it away with the butt of my rifle – it stumbled back but a second was upon me before I had a chance to react. It pushed me to the floor, dust swirling up from the impact, and it took everything I had not to let it sink it's rotting teeth into my neck.

"Please!" I cried, tears of fear and stress starting to build in the corner of my eyes. "PLEASE!"

All at once, the ghoul was yanked off me with little effort and hurled away – taking the third out with it. The one that I had knocked down before was trying to right itself, and was on it's knees when a metal arm smashed it back down again – causing enough blunt force trauma to incapacitate it.

"-Hold on!-" A heavily modulated woman's voice announced to me – I didn't even register who it was, I was trying to calm down and pull myself to my feet. I fumbled around for my rifle, which had clattered across the floor as I'd fallen – the flash light had knocked itself off in the fall so I was working pretty blind. Only the yellow optics of the robot flashed and danced around the room, along with the sound of a ghoul being pummelled by metal limbs.

It was only when I had stood upright and readied my rifle once more, that I realised the woman's voice was coming from the robot, and it was yelling in anger as it slammed it's arms into the ghoul for a fifth and final time, as the former human finally lay still. My breath was ragged and hitched in my throat as I shakily aimed my rifle at the robot, ready to fire in an effort to escape – I already had one foot poised to dart towards the door.

I was forcing the sick back down in my throat as I did so, the stench of the decaying ghouls not as offensive as it once was, but still pungent non the less.

The robot turned to meet my gaze, still on it's knees straddling the corpse of the ghoul – seemingly aware that I was now a possible threat. It was only now that I could take stock of what sort of 'bot I was dealing with, and it was certainly no Mr Gutsy.

I'd seen one before – only a couple of times mind. A RobCo model Assaultron – a pre-war combat 'bot designed with both lethality and mobility in mind. More agile than a Sentry Bot, more deadly than the Mr Gutsy units. All wrapped up in a humanoid form, a decidedly female humanoid form – someone in the R&D department must've had a 'thing', either way they weren't to be messed with.

At over 6 foot in height and easily over 500 pounds fully loaded, most folk knew that despite the feminine looks it was best to steer well clear – not that would stop the most "interested" of parties, whether it be for the looks or the tech that you could get if you cracked one open. The one that kneeled in front of me, silently staring at me however was very different to the usual sort found out in the Wilds.

First clue was the looks – old military logos and designations? Gone. The olive-drab standard paint job? Stripped down the to the bare metal, with the addition of a red chevron on the breastplate. The red-hot glow of the head laser was absent, replaced with dual-mounted yellow sensors, 'eyes' of a sort.

There was definitely more articulation in that body than a typical run-of-the-mill 'bot too, it had moved in an almost humanoid manner, still artificial, but definitely more mobile and 'free' than other robots of it's type. It seemed to have no weaponry to speak of, and even the claw-like hands that most Assaultrons possessed was different – they where slender, less grabby and blunt force trauma instruments and more tools for manipulation and holding, closer to hands despite the three 'fingers;.

Most oddly of all though, is that they wouldn't just kneel there and stare. Was it analysing my status as a threat? Other combat 'bots I'd encountered usually didn't hesitate when it came to attacking. I shuffled in the direction of the door – it's head following me as I did so. Maybe it had short circuited?

"I am a US Citizen!" I spoke to the kneeling Assaultron – I'd heard from passing traders that sometimes an old US military bot will hesitate if it thinks you're not actually a 'Commie sonofabitch' – it was definitely worth a shot.

It was at that moment I realised that it was, sobbing? It was hard to tell as the robot was completely stationary – with no chest to rise and fall – but there was definitely a modulated female voice sobbing away.

"-W..Were am I?… What's happening….I… I…. I….-" There was an artificial groan as almost the energy from the robot seemed to fade away, and it slumped it's head with a sigh, lights fading in brightness and changing to a blinking pattern that illuminated the room every half a second before plunging it in darkness. Had it 'passed out'? Can robots actually do that?

In the timed glow of the room, surrounded by the bodies of the recently deceased – I started at the 'bot that kneeled in front of me. Unable to move out of sheer confusion and terror, and wondering what the hell had happened.

"What the fuck?…."