Edit 5/17: grammar
Edit 5/25: A/N at end of chapter
Edit 6/15: word choice error
~(:(Chapter Three):)~
The sun had just set by the time all the boxes were loaded into the aluminum fishing boat. It was one of my better ideas, to use the river. It was faster and more efficient than tying everything to a brahmin and trying to lead it safely through the city. It was less of a risk, too, as long as I went at night.
Normally, the opposite was true. Travelling the Wastes on foot was safest during the day, when you could watch your surroundings and lower the chance of baddies sneaking up on you. On the water, however, you were out in the open with nothing to hide behind. Not to mention raiders liked to make their bases on the river's edge, using it like a natural barrier.
With the cover of night, I could slip by unseen. The boat motor being so quiet as it ran on fusion power also helped, which was good for me. I needed all the advantages I could get.
"You take care of yourself, now, little lady," Holliday drawled, hovering before me. "I don't wanna hear 'bout you takin' a one-way trip to the bone orchard."
We stood on the small floating dock attached to the wall of the dam, which was just a couple of pallets strapped to some tires. The bot's thruster was the only source of light, illuminating the area with a soft glow.
"Don't worry, I'll be careful," I said fondly. "I'll radio in when I get there."
"Well, alright then," he replied, his visual sensors bobbing as if he were nodding his head.
I carefully climbed into the boat, fixing the night vision goggles over my eyes. I had changed back into my traveling outfit, the leather armor buckled snuggly over my jeans, hoodie and arm coverings. Meg was secured in its holster and Mark was across my back. Pulling the green hood over my head, I swiped my bangs to the side. I usually kept my hair short—it was safer that way. The back laid flat down my neck, the front a bit longer to frame my face.
Flipping a switch, the motor came to life with a quiet hum and I untied the boat from the post.
"Safe travels, miss Sammy," Holliday said in goodbye.
"Thanks," I said, pushing away from the dock. "See you later, Holliday."
The bot turned and glided onto the motorized lift, clicking the button that would take him to the top of the dam. I watched him go up for a moment before gripping the throttle and steering the boat away.
I looked at my pip-boy, checking the clock. I had about forty minutes to get to the meeting point, plenty of time. Walking would have taken at least three hours, probably longer since traveling through the dense city was slow goings. By boat, it was nearly four times faster.
The first part of the river was quick, the boat cutting through the water. There wasn't much out this way, just woods and the occasional wild dog or yao guai. Further down the river is where it got tricky. As soon as the bascule bridge came into view, I slowed the boat to a crawl and steered towards the far-left bank.
The USS Riptide was permanently wedged under the bridge, the top cabin crushed between the partially raised roadways. The tugboat was still attached to the barge it had been towing, stacked with shipping containers and military vehicles, most of them still sealed. My skin itched just looking at it, wanting to tear into the crates and see the goodies inside.
It would be a fantastic place to salvage if it weren't already occupied. There was a small gang of raiders on board, maybe five of them, with one suited up in some power armor.
It wouldn't be that difficult to take them out. The bridge provided the perfect vantage point for a long-ranged assault and would give me the higher ground. The one with the power armor would be a bit challenging, but that's not why I hesitated.
I wasn't the type to just outright kill someone without provocation. Being raiders, they probably deserved whatever death came to them; they certainly wouldn't hesitate to kill me, or worse. I could justify killing to defend myself, but to be the one to start a fight, to take the first shot… I just couldn't do it. I learned that after my final lesson with MacCready.
Instead, I snuck by, keeping one eye on the barge and the other on the left bank. When I was a good distance away, I directed the boat back towards the center and continued at a slow clip. About ten minutes later, the landmark I was searching for came into view.
The amphitheater was like a beacon, lighting up the area in an orange glow from the large bonfire the residents kept ablaze. It worked well as a guide in the dark but smelt awful, rubber tires often the fuel that kept the fire going.
Right before the amphitheater was a small inlet separated from the rest of the river by a thin strip of land and two footbridges. I guided the boat under a bridge, ducking slightly to clear it. The waterway was shallow but deep enough for the boat to glide through without scraping the bottom.
Towards the end of the inlet there was a short dock, no more than a couple of steps with a post for tying up the boat. A figure stood there waiting for me with several more standing further up the bank.
The man on the dock was tall and his posture straight and strong, never one to slouch or be caught off balance. He was decked out in his usual gear, his dulled black armor secured over dark clothing, holding a combat rifle casually in his hands. When the boat drifted close enough, he shouldered his rifle and held out a scarred hand. I tossed him the rope and he caught it easily, knotting it around the post.
As soon as he was done, I launched out of the boat, my arms locking around him.
"Jack," I mumbled into his chest. He smelt like leather and gun oil and home. That small bit of tension I always felt when alone dissipated as he returned the hug. His hold was too tight, making our armor pinch together uncomfortably, but I didn't dare say anything. I needed the friendly contact.
"Sam. Glad to see you in one piece," he said just as quietly. He gave me a squeeze before pulling away, the strength of it forcing the air from my lungs.
"Run into any trouble on the way?"
"Nope. It was quick and quiet, as usual," I replied with a grin. Jack gave a rumbling hum in approval.
"Good. Let's keep it that way," the ghoul's voice rasped, his eyes already scanning the area for enemies. In other words, let's hurry up and get moving.
"Right." I hopped back in the boat and grabbed my backpack, slipping it over my shoulders. Reaching over, I unhooked the fishing net I used to hold down the cargo and flipped it up.
Jack gave a low whistle and the figures up the bank made their way down. Through my goggles, I recognized three of them as Neighborhood Watch, armed with their signature submachine guns. The other four were drifters, judging by their clothes, two of which I recognized as Goodneighbor regulars. The last two drifters I didn't know.
I asked for a big welcome and I wasn't disappointed. I did wonder how they managed to convince so many to leave the safety of the city. Knowing Hancock, he probably bribed them with chems.
We set to work, quickly unloading the boat while Jack gave quiet instructions. We had the system down pretty well, having done this a couple dozen times. Two of the Watchmen kept guard while the rest formed a line up the bank, passing the cargo to the top where it was stacked and tied down to two litter gurneys. We were done in under a minute.
Before leaving, I released the fusion core from the boat motor, stuffing it into a side pocket on my bag. I then reached into the docking port and popped out the contact pin. Now, the boat was basically dead in the water, preventing anyone from stealing it. Even if someone had a fusion core, without the contact pin it wouldn't work.
Jack helped me out of the boat and up the bank, his grip firm on my elbow.
"We've already cleared the way so it should be smooth sailings," he said once we reached the road with the others. "Still, keep your head on a swivel. You know the drill."
"Roger that," I said lightly.
He nodded and turned to the rest of the group, his face becoming serious. He was in "soldier" mode, his demeanor exuding authority.
"Right. Vin and I will take point, Joe and Tony will bring up the rear. The rest of you, stay in the middle," Jack's gruff voice commanded. "Follow the person in front of you, keep close together. Stay quiet and watch your feet. We don't want to attract attention by kicking around trash. Understood?"
The drifters nodded with apprehension, not accustomed to taking orders. The old ghoul could sometimes be a little abrasive, but that was just his way of showing he cared. I was used to it, others not so much.
"Let's move out."
We got into formation, the drifters carrying the loaded gurneys between them. As we trekked into the decaying city, the tall buildings gave a sort of comfort that the riverside road did not. Sure, the city was dangerous, but it felt safer than being out in the open; plenty of cover and dark corners to hide in. Of course, that's what made it so dangerous.
Jack and Vin led the way down narrow alleys and side streets, more from memory than by sight. Distant and not so distant gunfire echoed around us as I constantly scanned the area for enemies while helping the drifters over the rubble.
The route wasn't direct by any means but it was the safest, taking us discreetly around all the known danger zones. It went north then zig-zagged east, eventually backtracking southwards and ending on the westside of Goodneighbor. It took almost forty minutes but we made it in one piece; that was the important part.
The neon sign glared sharply through my goggles. I tugged them down and let them hang around my neck, blinking to adjust my vision. We filed through the city door and I could feel the collective sigh of relief as it closed securely behind us.
The Watchmen broke off from our group to go back to their posts, giving us a nod. Jack and I led the drifters to the Old State House. I held the door as Jack directed them to the side room where the supplies would be kept until they could be distributed. They lowered the gurneys with a groan.
Slipping the backpack from my shoulders and setting it against the wall, I took the time to thank them. The two I didn't know got a handshake and a mumbled "thanks." The others got a warmer welcome.
"Ian, it's been a while," I said, grinning at the odd drifter.
His head was completely shaved and a pair of sunglasses hid his eyes. He was always wearing them, even at night, and I wondered how he was still able to see.
"Hey, Sam. Good to see you," he said as he pulled me into a brief side-hug.
"Thanks for your help."
"No problem, kiddo," he replied, walking away before I could give him a scowl.
The last drifter was a dark-skinned woman with a kind smile. She enveloped me in a sincere hug, her too-thin arms comforting.
"Sammy, you look well," she said, holding me by the shoulders.
"You, too," I replied, returning her smile. "Thank you for helping tonight, Jen."
"No, thank you," Jen said, a serious look on her face. "You have no idea how much it helps. We are truly grateful."
"That we are."
I turned to the new voice, spotting the red frock coat easily. Hancock stood at the bottom of the spiral staircase, a satisfied smirk on his face. His ever-present shadow, Fahrenheit, was right behind him, standing a couple inches taller than the mayor.
"Hancock," I said warmly. Jen gave my shoulder a pat and made her way to the door.
The ghoul's smirk stretched into a grin, making the corners of his dark eyes crinkle.
"There's my girl," he said lightly, his arms held out in an invitation.
I walked the few steps towards him, my arms wrapping around his middle. The smell of cigarettes and chemicals made my nose tickle as my face pressed against his clothes. It wasn't really a pleasant scent, but it was Hancock's and that made it familiar. His hold was solid as he hugged me back.
"I missed you, sunshine," his voice rumbled in my ear. The sound of it tingled down my spine and my stomach fluttered nervously. My face heated instantly as the blush spread across my cheeks.
Oh no. No, no, no, how could I forget? I grimaced, cursing in my head.
It started not long after the…incident, my feelings for Hancock changing into something more. At first, I didn't understand what it was; all I knew was that it felt different and uncomfortable. These new feelings were only one of the reasons I decided to go off on my own and it wasn't until later I realized what had happened.
My back slammed against the side of the brick building, the raider's forearm pressing into my throat. He had pulled me down one of the alleys, away from the main street, away from the Neighborhood Watch. I tried to push him away, my hands clawing at his torn clothing, but I wasn't a match for his strength.
"A feisty one, ain't ya?" he slurred, the whiskey potent on his breath. "Fine by me. It'sno fun if they don't put upa fight."
He pressed harder against my neck and I struggled to breathe.
Goodneighbor wasn't like Diamond City. They didn't have the laws, regulations and strict entrance requirements that the "great green jewel" did. Goodneighbor was open to all—a place where you were free to live your life as you wanted, as long as you didn't start trouble. It was something I usually agreed with. Until now.
"C'mon, girly," the raider said as he pawed my side, tugging at my hoodie. "I'll show ya a good time."
I gasped for air, pushing with all my might. The fear coiling tightly in my chest made my attempts frantic. It wasn't enough, I wasn't…
'Eyes, throat, groin, knees,' Jack's voice sounded clearly in my mind, weak points of the human body that he repeated over and over during our training.
His rough hand dug into my hip as he leaned closer and I jabbed towards his throat with extended knuckles. The raider gave a strangled cough as he stumbled back a step, a hand clutching his neck. It gave me enough room to hike my leg up, kneeing him hard in the groin. He grunted sharply, his arm falling away and I darted down the alley.
I just needed to get to someone, anyone who could—
The raider tackled me from behind, a high-pitched scream bursting from my mouth before the force of hitting the ground silenced it. He turned me over, my long hair clenched tightly in his fist as he kneeled over me.
"Little bitch!" the raider screamed, his hand flying towards my face. The night exploded in stars as white flashed, my mouth tasting like copper.
"You're gunna fucking pay for that," his grip constricted my throat, choking me.
My blunt nails dug uselessly into his wrists. This was it—I was going to die here alone, killed by a raider. Just like mom.
A feral sounding roar filled the small alleyway and then a streak of red collided with the raider, tearing him away. I coughed and sputtered, trying to catch my breath as the two rolled, each struggling for control. Hands tugged me upwards and my head spun.
"On your feet, Sam," came Fahrenheit's voice.
I stood on shaky legs, Fahr's hold on my arm keeping me steady as the sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed loudly. I turned to look and saw the raider on the ground with Hancock over him, just like the raider had been over me. Hancock was wailing on him, the punches wild and savage as the raider tried to block them. One brutal fist connected with his jaw and the raider's body went limp. But the ghoul didn't stop.
"Hancock," Fahr called. The mayor continued to throw punch after punch, his face contorted in a snarl. The cartilage in the raider's nose crunched.
"John!" she yelled, and he finally paused long enough to realize the raider wasn't fighting back anymore.
Hancock looked at us and his pitch black eyes landed on me. He was on his feet, his stride eating up the short distance until he was right in front of me. His scarred hands cradled my face with a gentleness that clashed with the violence from just a moment ago.
"You alright, sunshine?" his gaze moved over me as if he were looking for injuries.
"Y-yeah."
The word came out in a croak. My throat felt raw like I had gargled battery acid. Hancock homed in on the side of my mouth, his thumb brushing over my lip. It stung and I winced.
"What do ya want to do with him, boss?" one of the Neighborhood Watch said.
Two of them had picked the raider up, each holding on to an arm as he sagged between them. His nose was broken and blood was pouring down his face. A low moan sounded from the raider as he started to regain consciousness.
"You want us to throw him out?" the other said. The small alley was starting to feel crowded.
Hancock looked at my lip again, his eyes hardening.
"No," he growled, dropping his hands to his sides. He turned to the Watchmen. "The raiders have got a bit too comfortable around here. Looks like they need to be reminded who's in charge."
The mayor turned back to us, those black orbs glancing over me again. "Take him to the street."
Giving Hancock a nod, the Neighborhood Watch dragged the beaten raider down the alley towards the center of town.
"Fahr," Hancock called to his righthand woman.
"I've got her," she replied. A moment passed, the two long-standing companions sharing a silent conversation with just their eyes. The mayor then stalked down the alley, leaving me with the armored woman.
"Can you walk?" Fahrenheit asked. I nodded but stopped, the movement hurting my neck. She slowly let go of my arm.
"Good, let's go." She turned, following Hancock.
My vision went blurry as the events caught up with me. I almost died. I almost died and Jack wasn't here to save me. He wasn't even in town, having gone to The Slog to check on Gramps and the others. If Hancock hadn't shown up, if he had come just a moment later…
A sob worked its way up my sore throat. Fahr stopped, whirling around.
"Sam—shit."
She walked back to me as I hadn't moved. My eyes were firmly to the ground as tears streamed down my face. Fahr put a hand on my shoulder, shaking me.
"Hey, look at me. Sam, look—"
I lifted my head to look up at her. She grimaced, the burn scar on her cheek pulling oddly. Tugging the sleeve out from under her arm brace with her teeth, she used it to wipe roughly at my face.
"Enough of that," Fahrenheit chided, her tone softer than I'd ever heard it. "There will be time for crying later. Right now, we got unfinished business."
I sniffled, wiping the rest of my face with the sleeve of my hoodie. It came away smeared with red.
"You good?" she asked. At my nod, she smiled. "Good."
Fahrenheit led me out of the alley towards the Old State House, her hand glued to my shoulder. As we got closer I could hear shouting and loud voices, as if the whole town was gathering on the street.
"What's going on?" I asked.
"You'll see," she replied, a vicious grin stretching her face.
Coming around the corner I could see a large crowd forming on the main street between the State House and Hotel Rexford. It really did look like every resident was there, standing around the scene in the center, jeering and pressing in for a better view.
"Fucking raiders!"
"Bastards, all of 'em."
"Kill him!"
Fahr pulled us through the crowd, pushing people out of the way. Some grumbled but stepped back when they saw the tall, armored woman. I wasn't sure if I wanted to see what was happening; Commonwealth justice wasn't exactly pretty. With the people of Goodneighbor this riled up, I doubted this would end good for the raider.
Breaking through to the center, Hancock paced before the crowd, a switchblade in his hand. The two Neighborhood Watch stood to the side, still holding the bloodied raider between them. He was awake now and struggling to get free.
"—home to junkie and drifter alike, a place where all us freaks can live free!"
The residents cheered at the mayor's words, calling "hell yeah!" and "damn right!" Hancock turned to face the raider, pointing the blade.
"But some would say we are weak, pushovers," the ghoul continued, inciting boos. "That they can come and take whatever they want, with no consequences!"
More jeers and heckles sounded, the pitch of the crowd rising as their voices echoed off the buildings.
"Are we gunna let them?!" Hancock shouted and was met with a resounding no.
The bodies around us rolled and pressed in tighter, jostling me forward. Fahr pulled me closer to her side, keeping me in place. The crowd was one step away from becoming a mob, screaming for justice, demanding the raider be killed, gutted, torn apart.
Hancock gave a nod to the Watchmen and they threw the raider forward with such force he went down on one knee. He glared up at the mayor of Goodneighbor, wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. He got to his feet, pulling a combat knife from his back pocket.
My eyes widened at the sight. He had a blade the whole time.
Hancock smiled, the grin more a baring of teeth as the two slowly circled each other in the makeshift ring made by the people gathered.
"There's only one rule," Hancock said, twirling his blade. "Don't fuck with Goodneighbor!"
The raider charged, swinging wide with the knife. Hancock was fast, though, stepping out of the way with the ends of his coat whipping around. The raider swung again, the mayor blocking this time with a solid grip on the man's wrist and jabbing out with his own blade. The raider caught Hancock's hand and the two wrestled for a moment before breaking away with flashes of metal.
The ghoul lifted his hand, a bright red line on the back of it. He licked the trickle of blood, a spark of something feral in his eyes. He was enjoying this.
I looked away but Fahrenheit tightened her grip on my shoulder.
"Watch," she commanded.
I shied away, turning my face into her. I didn't want to see Hancock get hurt, didn't want to see the violence. Fahr bent her tall frame towards me, speaking in my ear to be heard over the roaring crowd.
"This is what it takes, Sam," she said, her voice both soft and hard at the same time. "This is what it takes to survive. You have to be strong, and don't take shit from anyone."
A cheer sounded through the crowd and I looked up in time to see the raider stumble back, a long red gash across his bicep. His face contorted, hatred burning in his eyes.
"Fucking ghoul!" He snarled, charging again at the mayor of Goodneighbor.
Hancock blocked the raider's strikes, pushing them away. Once, twice, three times before he moved into the raider with a quick step. Hancock locked the raider's knife arm in a hold, trapping against his own body, and slammed the switchblade deep into his stomach.
Another cheer went up, this one louder than before. With a savage jerk, the mayor drew the blade across, gutting the raider, red spilling out—
I squeezed my eyes shut but it was too late. That image would be forever burned into my mind. When I opened my eyes, the raider was face down on the ground, unmoving. Hancock stood facing the crowd, his fist thrust into the air with the switchblade still gripped in it.
"Of the people, for the people!" He shouted the words that had become Goodneighbor's motto, but his gaze was all for me, those black orbs unwavering.
The voices of the residents started to merge as they chanted Hancock's name. My eyes widened as I stared at him, an odd feeling coming over me. His coat waved behind him, standing there in that pose… he looked like one of those superheroes from the comics or maybe a knight from the old books Daisy would read to me. The ones who defeat the bad guys and rescue the princesses. A knight in bloody armor.
I groaned silently to myself.
But I couldn't like him in that way, dammit. He was the mayor of Goodneighbor, he was Hancock, he was… uncle John. Even though I had never called him that to his face, it was basically true. I doubted he would want me like that, anyway. Hancock had all the confidence and ruthlessness I didn't. He was strong and I was… well, I was just me.
My eyes met Fahr's over the ghoul's shoulder. She gave me a knowing smile and my grimace morphed into a scowl. She just grinned wider and winked, her eyes sparkling with contained laughter.
I pulled away first, my hand tugging on my hood's drawstring awkwardly. It was actually just a knotted shoelace, the original string long gone.
"So, how was the trip?" he asked casually.
"Fine," I said too quickly.
Hancock's head tilted slightly as he studied me. His eyes were completely black so they looked like two dark pits, common for ghouls. It was hard to tell exactly where he was looking without a visible iris but I still knew. I could feel his stare, like a physical force pushing at me.
"You wanna see the goods?" I asked, forcing my voice to sound calm and unaffected.
He looked at me for a second more then straightened.
"Yeah, let's check the stash," he replied smoothly.
I turned and headed to the side room, Hancock's booted footsteps following leisurely behind. Several boxes were already opened and Jack held a clipboard and pen, taking stock of all the items. His tall frame was crouched over a box, counting its contents.
"This is good, Sam," the ghoul said without looking up. "Really good. Much more than last time."
I couldn't keep the smile off my face at Jack's praise. It was hard to come by and he only gave it when he thought it well deserved.
"I had a good week," I shrugged, trying to sound indifferent. Hancock lit up a cigarette and snapped his gold lighter closed with a flick of his wrist.
"No kidding," the mayor said, smoke trailing from the corners of his mouth. "Where'd you get all this stuff, anyway?"
"Some trading, but mostly scavenging," I replied, partially avoiding his question.
"You're staying to the north?" came Jack's gruff voice.
The dirt under my fingernails was suddenly very interesting as I picked at it. Jack paused for a moment before his head turned in my direction.
"Sammy," he grumbled, a warning in his tone.
My eyes flicked to his. Unlike Hancock's, Jack's irises were a brilliant blue, the same color they were from before he became a ghoul. The sclera was a dark red, making the blue stand out in a striking contrast.
"Hmm?" I hummed, pretending to not have heard him. Jack wasn't fooled, his mouth flattening into a hard line as he glared at me. I gave an exasperated sigh.
"Yes, Jack, I've been staying to the north," I said, my gaze drifting away as I studied my nails again. "Mostly."
It was his turn to sigh. He tossed the clipboard on top of a box and stood, his body turning to face me.
"Dammit, Sam. We talked about this," the ghoul said, rubbing at his temples. "It's not safe."
For you was the part left unsaid. I knew the Wastes were dangerous, especially for someone like me, but it still stung to hear it.
"Yeah, 'safe' being a relative term," I mumbled, thinking about the raiders and deathclaw I encountered just outside Lexington.
"You know what I mean." His jaw ticked. "The only reason I let you go off on your own was your promise to stay north of the river."
Let me? A hot anger burned in my chest at the thought. The anger was easier to deal with than the hurt. Did he not think I could make it on my own? All the time and energy I put into scavenging so I could prove I wasn't a burden… was it still not enough? Did he still think of me as a child that needed looking after?
I wanted to scream and cuss but that would be childish and just prove his point. Instead, I gestured to the boxes angrily.
"Do you want the supplies or not?" I asked, trying to keep my tone even.
"That's not what this is about," Jack said through gritted teeth.
I crossed my arms, looking between the ghoul and the small mountain of goods. "Well, I think it is!"
We glared at each other, both unwilling to back down until Hancock stepped up, putting a heavy arm around my shoulders.
"Come on, Jackie, cut the girl some slack," the mayor said with a smirk. "She did a good job and she's still in one piece. That's gotta count for something, right?"
Jack glowered a moment longer then turned away with a huff, picking up the clipboard again. I should have felt some satisfaction but I knew better. The old ghoul may have dropped the subject for now, but he was definitely going to bring it up later.
"Hey, Hancock," Fahr called. We turned to see the armored woman holding up a box, Hancock's name written on the top. "I think this one's yours."
"For me? And it's not even my birthday," the mayor drawled. He removed his arm, reaching for the box.
I grimaced, not really wanting to see his expression when he found it full of chems. He was either going to like his "gift" or be disappointed and for some reason, neither reaction sat well with me.
Deciding to retreat, I turned and headed back to the foyer.
"Sunshine?" Hancock called, his tone confused.
"I gotta check in with Holliday," I explained without turning around.
I snatched up my pack as I walked, stomping up the spiral staircase. The radio was in Hancock's sitting room on the second floor but before I called Holliday, I needed to put away my things.
At the landing I continued ahead and opened the door to my room. The space was small, originally a closet or storage room. It was just big enough to fit a single bed, a nightstand, a small dresser and a steamer trunk for the few items I kept here. There was a near-identical room across the way that Jack had claimed for himself.
After tossing my backpack onto the bed, I made my way across the hall into the sitting room. The radio was set up against the wall on a desk, right next to Hancock's personal terminal. I sat in the swiveling chair and tuned the radio to my frequency.
Those that were a part of our little communications network had their own station. Jack said it was more secure than using the same frequency for everyone because it was harder to monitor multiple stations at once. I looked at the piece of paper taped to the wall in front of me. There weren't many entries, only six so far. It listed the frequencies that corresponded to designations and callsigns. No real names or locations, for safety.
At the top of the list was the designation for the dam with River Rat and Cowboy written next to it. Second was Goodneighbor with Switch, Ghost, Hotshot and Mini. Diamond City was next with Cupid and Angel, then Drumlin Diner with Mama Bear, Patty and, more recently, Pitbull. Valkyrie and Mayfly were at Oberland Station and lastly, Gramps, JoJo, Sissy and DeeDee at The Slog.
Right next to the list was a large map of the Commonwealth with dozens of lines and markings made in pen. Jack had spent a good while dividing the entire area into zones with quadrants and location ID numbers. It was how the designation codes were assigned. Each zone had a corresponding word, part of the NATO phonetic alphabet, Jack called it, with four quadrants. The dam was designated delta-four-one-eight because it was inside zone delta, in quadrant 4 and had the location ID 18.
It seemed like a lot of unnecessary work but it had a purpose. Once I had programed all the data into my pip-boy, a project that took more than a few days, I was able to relay my location to Jack without actually giving it away to anyone listening in. Only two other copies of the map were made. One was with Cupid and the other one with Gramps.
Turning back to the radio I hailed Holliday. He responded almost immediately, which left me feeling a bit guilty. He must have been hovering by the radio this whole time just waiting for my call. Our conversation was brief but comforting, signing off with a goodnight and a promise to check back in tomorrow.
Afterwards, I sat in the chair a moment longer. I was tired, more tired than usual. Carrying all those boxes and bags up the stairs and into the boat was a bit of a workout but nothing I wasn't used to.
I took in a breath to sigh. The air caught in the back of my throat, causing me to cough. Pain pulled oddly in my chest with each heave as I coughed several times before it settled. What the heck was that? I wondered. Dread pooled in my stomach with a shocking realization, like a bad omen or foreboding premonition. I knew exactly what it was.
No, not yet. Not now.
I leaned back, letting my head fall against the chair's backrest. All the energy seemed to bleed out of me, leaving me physically and mentally drained.
"Chems?" came Jack's grumble.
I turned my head to look at him leaned against the entryway, a frown creasing his forehead. Hancock and Fahr made their way across the room, finding their usual spots on the couch. The said box of chems was dumped on the center table as Hancock shuffled through them with a smile on his face. I decided to ignore my issues for now. I'll deal with it later.
"It's pronounced trash," I said, wrinkling my nose.
Fahr gave a bark of laughter, lounging in the corner of the sofa.
"Well, you know what they say," the mayor hummed, opening up a Mentats tin. "One woman's trash is another ghoul's treasure."
He threw a smirk and a wink my way. Hancock switched the Mentats for Jet, shaking the inhaler to see how much was left. Satisfied, he brought it to his lips.
"Careful," I called, making the ghoul pause. "You don't know where that's been."
His face stretched with a cocky grin. He stared at me, holding eye contact as he pressed the applicator and breathed in deeply. I rolled my eyes with a snort.
"So," Jack said from his spot on the wall. "Tell us about that trouble you mentioned over the radio."
"What trouble?" I said, stretching in my seat. "Oh, you mean the raider-deathclaw combo I ran into… up north?"
I put emphasis on the last words, eyeing the pre-war ghoul from the side. His body tensed slightly, his shoulders going stiff. Hancock, who had been taking a drag off his cigarette, inhaled sharply and began coughing, forcing the thick smoke out in bursts.
"Jesus, Sam," the mayor wheezed between coughs.
"Badass!" Fahrenheit chuckled, a fierce glimmer in her eyes. "Where's Mac? He'll wanna hear this one."
~0~
Jack reclined on the tattered red sofa, a half-empty Gwinnett beer held loosely in his hand. His other hand rested on Sam's shoulder, her head buried into his side as she slept.
Hancock had called down to The Rail for MacCready. Once the merc arrived, Sam told them about her encounter. Mac and Fahr cheered as she described taking the deathclaw out with a single bullet—a lucky shot, she'd said. Hancock snarled when the raider had chased her down the alleyway, making vague threats towards anyone who would hurt his sunshine. Jack could only give the occasional nod, anxiety tightening his chest with every word.
The old ghoul worried about his charge, the girl he'd come to see as his daughter. He liked to think his own daughter would have grown up to be like Sam; strong, intelligent, resourceful. Jack knew she was capable, he made sure of it himself. Still, Sam was so young.
He glanced down at the teenager curled next to him. She looked small and vulnerable as she dozed, one arm hanging off the edge of the couch, the other hidden in the pocket of her worn-out hoodie. The same hoodie she wore when she was six that fit her more like a dress than a jacket. It was still too big on her.
"I don't like it," Jack muttered, his face pinching.
"Here we go," Fahr sighed from behind the Live and Love magazine Sam found for her. It was one of the woman's guilty pleasures.
Hancock, who was resting his head against the back of the opposite couch, straightened to give his friend a teasing grin. "Easy, now. Don't go all 'papa bear' on us."
"She's too young," Jack said, ignoring the comment. "She should move back here, where it's safer."
"Sam's not a child anymore, Jack," the mayor replied, fingering a cigarette out of his pack. Hancock had to admit it was unsettling, picturing little Sammy facing-off with a deathclaw and a gang of raiders. But he could also admit she was a tough cookie. Just the amount of supplies she gathered month after month was impressive. Sunshine brought in twice as much as any caravan had in the last year, all by herself. He'd come to depend on her.
"You can't protect her forever."
Jack fixed him with a glare.
"The hell I can't," he growled lowly.
Hancock lit the cig and snapped his lighter closed with a sharp flick. The mayor had come to depend on Jack, too. He remembered when the odd pair first came to Goodneighbor, a favor called in by Wiseman. A stern giant of a ghoul, dressed in black duds, with a small, smooth-skinned girl in oversized clothes, clutching his hand. They definitely received more than a few stares.
The old soldier had taken it upon himself to train up the Neighborhood Watch, and he did a damn fine job. They were organized, coordinated and more disciplined than this town had ever seen. The last supermutant raid had been repelled so hard and fast the residents didn't even have time to hide before it was over. It must have sent a clear message, because nobody has tried to attack Goodneighbor since.
"Alright, look." Hancock took a long drag, his scarred cheeks hollowing more than usual. "From what I've heard, Sam knows how to handle herself. She's one helluva shot and she plays it smart. Shoot 'em at a distance and beat feet to safety, just like we taught her."
"That's a best-case scenario, and you know it," Jack grumbled, looking down at his charge. "It won't always be so easy… if that's even what happened."
"You know Sam doesn't exaggerate her stories, unlike some people," Fahrenheit chimed in, sliding her gaze to her boss.
"Hey!" Hancock pointed two fingers at her, his cigarette pinched between them. "That story with the molerats and weedwhacker is completely true."
Fahr gave an unconvincing hum of agreement as she turned the next page in her magazine.
"She's only sixteen," Jack protested, refusing to give up. "That's not even legal."
The mayor's brow rose so high it disappeared beneath his tricorn. "Legal? Jackie, the world ain't been 'legal' for over two-hundred years."
The pre-war ghoul turned away, his eyes clouding over with "the look." It was the same look the older ghouls got, the ones that remembered a time before the world turned to shit.
Hancock mentally kicked himself for bringing it up.
"Besides," he continued. "Mac was the same age when he went off on his own and look how he turned out!"
The three turned at the teasing remark to look at MacCready. The merc had been silent the whole time, his face drawn in concentration. He sat on the other side of Hancock, perched on the armrest with his elbows resting on his knees.
Hancock snatched an empty box of Dandy Boys off the table and tossed it, hitting Mac in the shoulder.
"Huh?"
"You got smoke comin' out your ears, kid," the ghoul said with a grin.
MacCready scowled. "Not a kid."
"Look like one to me. You and Sam could be siblings."
"I'm ten years older than her!"
"And I'm thirty years older than you, that makes you a kid."
"You're all kids to me," Jack grunted, interrupting their bickering. "I'm the oldest one here."
"Nah, pretty sure Daisy's got a decade or two on you," Mac said.
Hancock chuckled, throwing an arm over the back of the couch. "Don't let her hear you say that."
The conversation died down, the old wood of the State House groaning as it settled. The silence was broken by the soft rustle of Fahr turning another page and Hancock's quick inhale of Jet. Jack took a drink from his beer, his eyes landing on MacCready. The merc's face was creased in thought again.
"What's on your mind?" the old ghoul asked.
Mac looked up, realizing the question was directed at him. He opened his mouth then closed it, shaking his head. "It's probably nothing."
"Spit it out, merc," Fahr snapped. MacCready sighed, taking off his hat and dragging a hand through his shaggy brown hair.
"Those names Sam heard. Red, Cal, Leah…" he started.
Jack's gaze sharpened. "You know them?"
"Maybe," the merc frowned, turning his hat over in his hands. "When I joined the Gunners, there were these two guys, a Commander Red and Lieutenant Cal. The Commander, he must have argued with Winlock for a good hour, tryin' to get that assh- uh, that idiot to sign me over to his team. But Winlock wasn't havin' it and said the only way he was gunna give me up is if the Commander gave him someone named Leah."
"Same names," Jack muttered.
"Yeah," MacCready nodded in agreement. "I mean, it can't be coincidence, right? One name, sure, but all three names together?"
"Might be somethin'," Hancock said around the cig hanging from his thin lips.
"Sam said they looked like raiders," Fahrenheit added.
"Could be a covert mission. Sometimes we would send a team to infiltrate a raider gang. Gather information or take them out from the inside," Jack mused.
Mac looked at the pre-war ghoul in surprise. "That's right. I forgot you used to run with the Gunners."
Jack stared at the beer bottle in his hand, his thumb rubbing along the neck.
"It was a long time ago," he said quietly.
The room fell into silence again as Sam murmured softly in her sleep. The teen's eyes fluttered open as she stretched, only to roll onto her back and continue her nap. Her hand subconsciously traveled to her hip, resting over the handgun in its holster.
Jack repositioned his arm over the back of the couch with a frown. On one hand, he was glad Sam was in the habit of keeping a weapon close, even at rest. It was a necessity. He only wished it wasn't.
Nowhere was truly safe, not even within the walls of Goodneighbor. There was always a risk, always a threat lurking around the next corner. A raid, a chemmed-out junkie, one of Hancock's old enemies, or maybe a new one. At least Sam would be with the others, with him, instead of on her own. The old ghoul just wanted her safe.
"So, did he do it?" Fahr asked quietly.
MacCready tilted his head "Hmm?"
"The Commander."
"Nah. Told Winlock to go screw himself."
"Ha, sounds like a charmer."
A/N: Totally took that last line from Pitch Black. It's one of my favorite movies, I just couldn't help myself.