8. Ghoulish Ventures

Beth POV

Stand By Me by Ben E. King

I wake up to the sounds of something scurrying about. When I get up, I see why. Robert is pacing back and forth in the living room. When he notices me coming down the stairs, he doesn't turn or even look at me. He just offers a quiet, "Morning," and continues his pacing. I stand here at the foot of the stairs, watching him for a little bit. He has his left arm crossing his body, holding up his right arm—his right hand placed on his chin as he stares at the floor in front of him.

I move over to him and put my hand on his arm after watching him turn around and come toward me. He stops, looking up at me finally. "We'll find it," I say.

"…I hope so." His face shows sadness, as if he sees the task impossible.

"How long have you been up?" I ask, looking at the couch, it appearing to have been abandoned after hours of tossing in it.

He looks at his watch, blinking as if he can't get a read. "I don't know," he finally says. "A couple hours? I couldn't sleep very well last night." He turns to resume his pacing. "Had another dream—it woke me up."

Grabbing his arm again on the way back, I look at his face. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I had one a lot like it the other night. It wasn't a nightmare. Just… different." His brows furrow, and I feel he doesn't want to expand on what he means by that.

"What time is it?" I ask. He looks at his watch again. Still not able to see the numbers clearly, he shakes his head in annoyance and practically heaves his arm at me. "It's almost 4:30," I tell him after looking at the face of his watch. "The sun's gonna start to rise soon. We can leave right now if you want. It's a bit of a walk."

He looks at me, his eyes bright suddenly. "Right now?"

"Yeah, why not? Med-Tek isn't exactly close, and if we don't, you're just going to wear yourself out pacing like this. Might as well put that energy into the walk there, right?"

As soon as the sentence is out of my mouth, he's pulling his duster and hat on. "Let's go, then."

"Well, I have to get a few things together first," I explain. "Ammo, some food, meds… some armour," I say looking down at my vaultsuit that I now constantly live in.

"Tell me what to grab," he says. "The more I help, the sooner we leave. The sooner we leave, the faster we get there."

I chuckle at his enthusiasm, then cut myself short, remembering his reasoning. Somberly, I head up the stairs with him close in tow. Opening the cabinet on the wall, I say, "Get that bag over there, please." I point to the bookshelf. "I normally use that when I go on book runs, so I know it can hold a lot." He brings it to me and I immediately start to fill it with clips of ammo, Stimpaks, RadAway, and some tatos and purified water. I hand the bag to him, "Think you can carry that for a while?"

"I'm pretty sure my body has enough adrenaline right now to carry the world for a week."

I giggle, "Okay, Atlas." He looks confused, so I explain, "Atlas was a god in Greek mythology. He had to hold up the world after…" I let my words trail off after I see his confusion go from bad to worse. "Nevermind."

I think of something suddenly. "Oh, yeah." I bend down under my bed and drag out an assault rifle and hand it to him, taking the bag from his shoulder and setting it on my bed.

"What's this?"

"Uh, it's an assault rifle," I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I know," he says, giving me an annoyed look. "I mean, why are you handing it to me? You already have your combat rifle." He looks over in the corner at my rifle with its automatic receiver and suppresser.

I smile at him. "Well, sniper rifles aren't always practical. So when we're close range, bam!" I gesture hugely with my arms to the rifle in his hands. "Assault rifle in their face." I hold my arms up like I'm aiming a rifle and make a pop noise. "Dead. Problem solved."

"This is mine?" he asks, his tone very surprised. I nod at him, the smile still on my face. "When did you get this?" He turns it over in his hands, checking it out.

"When you had your back turned yesterday. I was at Arturo's, and when you weren't looking, I bought it from him. Remember when you were looking for me but couldn't find me for a bit and it freaked you out?"

"It didn't freak me out," he says, his tone not as convincing as I assume he wanted it to be.

"Oh, okay," I agree with a roll of my eyes. "Anyway, I snuck it home when you were hunting for me all over the city." I laugh. "Arturo told me you'd made two full laps around the bases before I came back. But, yeah, I just made it seem like I was hiding from you." I laugh again. "Got you good, didn't I?" I pat his shoulder. "Merry… Birthday." I turn around to my leather armour laying on top the dresser.

As I fasten the second leg piece on, I hear him say, "Thank you, Beth. You didn't have to. Really."

I face him, placing my chest piece over my head and buckling it. "Did, too. I hired you to keep me safe, right? This is me helping you help me. Don't think of it as a gift if it bothers you. Just think of it as a… wise investment." I turn back around to put my arm pieces on.

"It doesn't bother me. Actually, the opposite. I really appreciate it." He scoots the bag of supplies over so he can sit on my bed. "I'm just not used to people being nice to me like this. It's been so long since anyone has given me anything." He continues to look at the gun in his lap. "It's a nice one," his tone is full of admiration.

"Should be," I reply, strapping on the last arm piece. "Arturo said it's like a plasma gun, too. I don't see how. Looks like a regular rifle to me."

Robert looks like he couldn't believe what he heard. "It's a legendary plasma infused assault rifle?" He looks at it again, as if for the first time. "This must have cost a fortune. Beth, I can't accept it." He goes to hand it back to me.

"Um, no." I shove it into his chest. "This is yours. It was a gift. Plus, Arturo said no returns. It didn't even cost that much—I have plenty of caps."

"Oh, yeah? How much was it?" His tone tells me he doesn't believe me.

I pretend to adjust my armour. "Not that much," I lie. "Doesn't matter how much it was anyway, cause it's yours. Now, are we going to go on talking about it or start our trek?" I look at him with my eyebrows raised.

He stands up and grabs the bag on the bed, slinging it over his left shoulder and gripping his new weapon with his right hand. "Let's go get that cure." He moves his way past me and heads down the stairs.

"That's what I thought," I smile.

As we walked through the city ruins, we stayed quiet. Whether that was to a mutual reasoning of not wanting to attract hostiles or not, I wasn't sure. But once we got out into the open, we started talking more. Robert decided it'd be a wise decision to not bring the price of his assault rifle up—which was smart.

As we kept walking, I told him a couple stories of when I was younger, to which he was extremely intrigued due to their Pre-War nature. When we reached Bunker Hill, I talked about the time I took a field trip there with my school. It's seen better days, I said. It didn't have gaping holes in the obelisk back then. I continued to tell him how my friend and I had wondered off and got into trouble when a parent chaperone found us. We did have fun, though. Most people weren't allowed to go where we did, so I saw more than the other students. Totally worth the licking I got.

As we were getting nearer still, he told me a few more stories about living in Little Lamplight. He told me about the best and worst parts of holding the mayor position—which he kept for three years. He reminisced about what little he could remember from before his mayoral run, considering he was ten when he took on that position. He told me about a place called Big Town—the place where all the "mungos" went after leaving Lamplight. They probably still go there, he said with a sigh. Poor kids.

And before we knew it, Med-Tek was in sight.

"Wow, that's it. We got here quick," he comments on the building—it sitting across the road, not two hundred meters from us.

"Yeah. That'll happen when you're talking. Car rides were the same, even if it was cross-country, you'd be there before you knew it."

He stops me by grabbing my arm. "There're ferals on the outside, so I imagine the place is infested with them on the inside." He points to the entrance. "There's some around that door," he shifts his finger to the parking garage on the building's left, "and probably more in there." He grips his rifle more securely. "We have to be careful. They're ruthless creatures. They claw apart anything they can reach…" I pat his arm, knowing his mind must be on Lucy.

"We'll be fine," I assure him. "We're prepared."

As we advance toward the lab, he steps in front of me. "Let me go first. I've been here—you haven't." I don't argue as he leads the way, his body in a protective posture.

We crouch down when we're across the street from the building. "So, how're we going in?" I ask. "Stealthy or guns blazing?"

He looks at my rifle, the suppresser on the end. "Stealth out here. I don't know about in there. Depends on how many there are and the layout. I haven't made it inside yet." He pulls the sniper rifle off his back and looks at me, his brows raised.

"It doesn't have a suppresser," I state. "And we're too close now. If you wanted to snipe, should have done it when we were back there." I point in the direction we came from.

"Can I use it?" he asks, pointing to the end of my rifle.

"The suppresser?" He nods. "On your sniper rifle?" He nods again. "Can you even do that?" He takes the end of my rifle and unscrews the silencer from it, screwing it onto the end of his own. "I didn't know you could do that," I say, astounded.

He unscrews it again and points to the muzzle of his gun. "See these threads?" I nod as I examine them. "Yours has them, too. See?" He raises my gun and points at its muzzle. "If the threads are the same size, the suppressor can be exchanged between guns."

"How'd you learn so much about these things?" I ask.

"I picked up a sniper rifle when I was ten and never looked back. I used to practice my shooting in a tower right out front of the Little Lamplight entrance. One gun led to another. And believe it or not, the mayor and security positions were kind of a combination. So, I got comfortable with guns at a young age." He screws the suppressor back on the end of his sniper rifle, making sure it's screwed tightly.

"This is a good enough distance." He holds still for a second then says, "And the wind is quiet." He puts the weapon up to his shoulder, looking down the scope toward the ghouls. "I see three outside the door. And at least one in the garage. There's probably more, though."

The way he handles his rifle fascinates me. He holds it with such care and respect. His hands are precisely where he wants them, and it wouldn't be too far a stretch to compare the way he handles it to how a person caresses a lover. Such strong hands…

He backs away from his scope, looking at me. "You ready to kill these fu—uh, I mean, bastards?"

"Shoot," I say, pun intended. He apparently doesn't get it, as he gives me a face that says, Obviously, I'm not going to run after them with a ball-peen hammer.

He aims once again, killing the one laying on the parking garage floor first, making sure the others don't notice. I have to admit I'm surprised my silencer works on his rifle, but since he said it would, I shouldn't have doubted him. After he drops the one closest to us, he works his way to the two ghouls closest to the door. Once they're all disposed of, he quickly unscrews the silencer and puts it back on the end of my rifle. "Quite a show, sir," I say, catching him off guard. "Never seen anybody use a sniper rifle before," I add. "I didn't realize it was so intense."

He raises a single eyebrow. "Is it?"

"Like you don't know." We stand up from our crouch and start walking toward Med-Tek again.

"Actually, no. That was a real question. I can't tell if it's intense—I'm so used to it now. It's been twelve years since I started." He looks at me as we keep walking. "How was it 'intense?'"

"You were hardly breathing, for one. And you shifted your gaze to the next one as soon as you made the kill. It was almost like you were a machine."

"You kinda have to be," he says, looking a bit down the road. Always looking for threats. "Humans don't make very good snipers honestly. Emotions can get in the way for some. But as for the breathing part—how else are you gonna get a straight shot? Breathing just shifts your aim. It can mess up the whole kill. Plus, I didn't want the others to notice before I wiped them out, so I had to be quick moving to the next one."

I nod. "Makes sense. Think you can teach me one day?"

He looks back to me, smiling a little. "Absolutely."

We made it to the security terminal—after killing tons of ghouls—and I was able to hack it successfully. I always thought computers were a huge waste of time, Robert had said, to which I responded, Well, maybe I'll make you hack the next one. Comes in handy sometimes, wouldn't you agree? I then pointed to the terminal I just cracked that had shut off the security lockdown. He just shrugged, not wanting to admit it. We then spent roughly the next hour cleaning out floor after floor of ghouls. They put up a fight, and took their fair share of bullets, but we got by—somehow—unscathed.

Finally, we made it to the core of the research lab.

"So this is where they performed all the experiments," I say, thinking about all the holding cells filled with ghouls.

"I don't know which one would be worse: knowing you're going to be experimented on, or slowly being turned into a ghoul," Robert says. He shakes his head. "If the cure is here, it's all worth it though. I know that sounds selfish, but—"

"I know," I cut him off. "I understand. I'd… think the same way if I were in your shoes." I look around the main chamber and find it void of ghouls. "Does that make us bad people?" I grip the bag slung over my shoulder with our supplies in it.

"Not particularly," he responds. "Just means we're willing to do anything—kill anyone—for the ones we love. I don't think that really makes us bad. Just loyal."

"Did you come up with that just now to make us feel better about doing this?"

He passes me so I can't see his face. "Not important." I laugh at his evasion. Whatever works. "I'm surprised there's no ghouls around here," he comments, looking around the heart of the lab.

"I was thinking the same thing a second ago. Maybe they all migrated to the other levels and we killed them already?" He shrugs. "Guess we'll find out." In sync, we raise our rifles, ready for the fight of the irradiated humans to continue.

As I walk around to the other side of the sealed off room, I look in the windows and find no ghouls in there either. I keep going, finding a small staircase leading to another room. Turning around, I spot a terminal on the wall. Laughing, I say, "Hey, you'll never guess what I found." He comes up behind me.

"Hm?" He spots it then, giving me a queer look. "No."

"Oh, c'mon!" I grab his arm and drag him over to it. "You'll never know how to get into stuff without knowing how to hack them." I grab his rifle and set it down on a table to the right and raise his hands, dropping them smack on the keyboard.

"That's what I have you for," he mumbles, clearly unhappy about my persistence.

"Well, I may not always be around."

He turns to me, alarm on his face. "You better be!"

"Just hack the terminal, Robert. It'll make me happy." I smile at him until he grunts and faces it. Satisfied, I turn to investigate the small stairway.

"I don't know why this is so important to you. It's just an annoyance. But… there." I hear the door to the sealed room open. Turning to him, I give him a thumbs up and a cheeky grin.

"Not that hard, huh?" I say smugly. He turns back to the terminal, rolling his eyes.

As I face the stairs once more—intent on seeing what's in the room—I hear a shuffling behind me. Thinking it's Robert messing with me for vengeance of making him hack, I ignore it. Then I hear him shout, "Look out!"

I turn to see a putrid glowing one barreling towards me. Not able to move in time, I feel its blow strike my neck and part of my chest. As I'm falling, I hear the sound of Robert's assault rifle going off repeatedly, but the ghoul doesn't stop his attack. I've heard bear mauling stories, but never thought I'd live through something similar. As its attack continues, I slip into darkness.

MacCready POV

Stand By Me by Ben E. King

"Just hack the terminal, Robert. It'll make me happy." She smiles at me in such a way I can't say no. Grunting out my displeasure, I face the terminal, looking through the options. It's not that I don't know how to use terminals, I just prefer to use my skills toward other things—like survival. Or reading comics.

Finding the correct password within a few seconds, I say, "I don't know why this is so important to you. It's just an annoyance. But… there." The door slides open, turning to her, I see a sassy grin and a thumbs up.

"Not that hard, huh?" She sounds so complacent. Rolling my eyes, I face the terminal again, seeing if there's any other options I might've missed—like turret control.

I hear a small movement from inside the room I just opened the door to. Lab rats? I wonder, chuckling internally. Before I know it, I see a putrid glowing one plowing toward Beth. "Look out!" I yell at her.

Even though it's just one ghoul versus the near dozen that took my wife, I can't help the flashbacks. Instead of Beth's face, for a split second, it's Lucy's face I see. Instead of the semi-lit up room we're in now, it appears dark like the metro for a moment.

Coming back down to reality, I see the ghoul swing at Beth, tearing at her neck and chest. She screams out in pain as her flesh is ripped and radiation soaks into her body from the attack. I pick up my rifle she set down and let loose a whole magazine into it, but its battering doesn't stop. She's now on the floor, seeming to struggle with consciousness. I reload and let another clip into the ghoul, knocking its legs out from underneath it. I run over to it and bash its head in with my stock until it falls still, dead at last.

I go up to her, her body laying not two feet from the dead bastard. Her eyes are closed and her breathing is shallow. She appears to be unconscious. "Beth!" I shout anyway, just about throwing my new gun down and kneeling by her. I look toward a small staircase she was heading toward before the attack. Running up them to see if there's anything that can help, I see a small couch to the left. Dashing back to her, I throw the bag with our supplies over my shoulder—she must have dropped it—and pick her up as quickly and carefully as I can. Sprinting back up the stairs, I place her on the cream coloured couch. Looking down at her, I can see her injuries more clearly.

She has a series of deep gashes on her neck, reaching down to her chest. There are small blood stains on the torso of her vaultsuit also. I just stare at her wounds for a moment, until I realize I need to take action. I turn to my left and see a cigarette machine. Grabbing the top of it, I throw it facedown onto the floor in front of her. Plopping myself down on it, I put the bag on the floor to my right and open it with such ferocity, I'm surprised the zipper doesn't break.

Looking in the bag, I see several Stimpaks and a few bags of RadAway. I hold her arm up to where I can see her radiation level on her Pip-Boy. It's too high for my comfort. Setting her arm down, I grab a bag of RadAway and prepare a needle. I'm not real sure how to proceed. "Should I just stick it through her suit?" I wonder out loud. "But the wounds…" I look from her neck to her stomach. "I can't see them." Man, I do not want to do this. I realize the only way I can get to her injuries is by unzipping her vaultsuit. "I do not want to do this," I say as I unzip it. It's not like you're doing anything wrong, I think to myself. You're helping her. She wouldn't care, right? Seeing her torso clears my thoughts immediately. She's not torn up as much as extremely bruised, but hurt badly all the same. Above that however…

She has deep lacerations on the side of her neck which extend down to her chest. Clearly, that's where the ghoul had swung the hardest, causing the most damage. The strong desire to help her takes away all the distraction of seeing her practically half-naked.

Working with purpose, I slip off her right sleeve and insert the prepared RadAway. Moving from that, I take a Stimpak in my hand and get ready to inject it only to stop a few inches from her skin. Even in her unconscious state, her face is contorted in pain. It bothers me. Knowing there's only one way to fix it, I inject the Stimpak into the side of her neck, careful to not stab her artery. I take another and inject it into her abdomen, around the bruising. Looking again into the bag, I see a syringe. I've never been so happy to see Med-X in my life. I take it and inject it into her arm near the RadAway needle. I guess she remembered to bring it this time. I think back to when she was shot in the shoulder and I'd wished I had some for her.

I don't know what else to do. I just sit here, looking at her. I thought I'd have enough wasteland knowledge to know how to continue caring for her. I run over a list of things in my head that I've seen doctors do—I seem to have not missed any steps. Stimpak, RadAway, Med-X… At least she doesn't need surgery. Anything else? I feel like I'm missing something. Think! As hard as I'm thinking, I can't come up with anything else. I look at the gashes on her neck and chest as the Stimpak I injected there takes effect. Slowly but surely, the wounds start to heal up. Slower than her bullet wound in Goodneighbor, but they're healing. After a few minutes pass, the slash marks on her skin appear as pink slits, like minor injuries that have naturally been healing for months. I look down to her torso, to the bruising there. They're yellowish, showing their healing rate, and slowly disappearing altogether.

As I continue to watch her, still not sure what else to do, her breathing starts getting faster, like she's having a panic attack. I start to wonder if she can feel all the pain, if she knows what happened. Then without warning, on the height of the fastest breath yet, so exhales. And doesn't inhale.

I sit here for a second, just looking at her in shock. I've done everything I can. There are no doctors for miles around—no help coming.

Then, I'm no longer sitting. I stand up so quick, I get lightheaded. Leaning over her, I grip her shoulders—not in a death grip, but not as gently as I should. "Beth!" I shake her a little bit. "Don't you die on me! You can't do that to me!" Still unresponsive, unbreathing, she lays there. I let go of her shoulders and fall back down onto the overturned vending machine. Grabbing her hand, I hold it in both of mine. It's warm, lifelike, human. "You can't leave me…" Tears threaten to fall down my face. "Bad enough Lucy was killed by ghouls… Not you, too." The tears make their damned appearance. "You're too good. Not you, too…" I put my head down onto her arm and cry, "I love you."

She takes a breath, a gasp for air. I jerk my head up. She's now breathing at a normal pace as if nothing happened—like she's just sleeping. Her face is no longer twisted with pain. And since her wounds have all but healed, it appears she just laid down to take a nap… with her vaultsuit unzipped. A minute after I pull myself together, I carefully take the RadAway drip out from her elbow, put her arm back in her sleeve, and zip it up.

The time couldn't be much past midevening, but I'm so exhausted. The walk, all the ghoul slaying, then the attack and having to tend to her injuries… It's been a full day. I stand up again—at a better pace that doesn't leave me lightheaded this time—and stand the cigarette machine back up on its feet. Moving the bag of supplies out of the way a bit, I sit on the floor and lean against the front of the small couch near her head. With my back to her, the only way I know she's okay is by hearing her breathing—slow and steady.

I lean my head against the arm of the couch, which isn't that comfortable, and listen to her in my ear. I'm beyond happy that she's okay. Thinking that she gets to live another day, tears come out of my eyes for a whole new reason. I smile and close my eyes, drifting off into slumber.

A/N: Close call there. And like I'd mentioned in the Intro to the fic, that there might possibly be a thing called "magic," so to say. Well, I belive this was a good example of said thing. Yup.