Wasteland Odyssey: Volume 1

by Gazelly Ramasama

When vault 123 descends into chaos, Nathan and Sarah, are forced to flee the only home they've ever known for the harsh wasteland. They'll go on a continent spanning journey, experiencing all that life in a post-nuclear world has to offer. In this volume, Nathan and Sarah flee the vault, and quickly discover life in the Empire wasteland is harder than they ever imagined.

3. Chapter 3

My eyes fluttered open, struggling to make sense of the dark room I awoke in. Eventually my eyesight began to make sense of this unfamiliar place. Light filtered in around the edges of the door on the other end of the claustrophobic space, catching dust and particulates floating in its beams. Despite the dull ache towards the back of my brain, I managed to collect myself and recognize again where I was. I passed my first full night in the Wasteland. This was the first time I had woken up to anything else but the familiar surroundings of the Vault. For a brief moment, I had even thought that I was waking up in my childhood room. Out of fear that any quick movement would bring worse pain to my head, I shifted slowly onto my left side. Looking across the narrow space between our beds, I saw that Sarah was still asleep, her back turned to me, her shoulders rising subtly with each breath. Between us, resting on a chair were our Pip-Boys and my 10mm. Also, the canteen Chum gave me last night. Slowly, I reached over and picked up the Pip-Boy. Turning it on, I squinted uncomfortably as the light of the screen hit my eyes. Once they adjusted, I checked the time: it was late in the morning. After this, I set it back down to reach for the canteen; my throat felt horribly dry. But so was the canteen. I sighed, torn between the urge to not move and inflame my headache or get up in search of more water. I continued to lay there looking up at the ceiling as I tried to decide. I listened to the noises from outside; the sounds of people out working and chatting. Also, the creeks and shuffling from others moving above and beside my room. After a while, I summoned the strength to get up and move around.

I stepped outside, putting my hand up to block the glaring sunlight. I stood in the doorway for a moment, observing the townspeople go about their business across the courtyard that was the center of town. The pavilion in the center where the bulk of the party was last night was cleaned up. Some people sat at the tables chatting and munching on snacks while little kids ran around them. I passed those tables and headed towards the commissary. There Anthony was at the counter wiping it down as he talked to some people sitting near him. He looked away from them and grinned as he saw me coming. "There's the party monstah! I saw you puttin' them away last night. Here I thought you vault dwellers were prudes."

I groaned as I took a seat on the stool in front of him. The others at the counter snickered at me. I put the canteen on the counter. "Could you fill this up for me?" He kept his grin as he took the canteen to a barrel off to the side. "Where do you guys get the water from?" I asked him as he removed the barrel lid and dunked the canteen into the water.

"Mostly from the purifiers down by the river," Anthony replied.

He returned to the counter and set the canteen in front of me. Immediately I eagerly took the canteen and guzzled water down. Breathing a sigh of satisfaction, I set the canteen down. "So um, say I wanted to take a shower…" He looked at me uncomprehending. "Or bathe." I added.

He grinned and turned to the others at the counter. "Hey, get a load of this guy. Been here two days and already wants a bath." He turned back to me. "Just bustin' ya balls. Yeah, if you wanna take a bath every day you go right ahead but people around here ain't gonna appreciate you wastin' water like that."

"What do you mean?"

"Well you know, you gotta draw the water from the tanks out back. They only hold so much, see. And when they run out, someone's gotta go down to the river and bring back more. So you gotta strap the water drums to the brahmin, walk down the fuckin' hill, deal with the mirelurks, wait for the purifiers to fill the drum, walk all the way back up here, go down and do it again. It's a whole thing; takes like a day. Nobody wants to do that shit."

"Hm, good to know." I thanked him for the water and got up from the counter. Walking back out towards the center of town, I scanned the rim of the bowl created by the walls. Watching the guards walk along while others gathered at their posts chatting. I held my glance on the walls over top of the main gate, facing the direction of downtown New York City. Curiosity compelled me to climb the assortment of ramps and stairs to the top. Nobody paid me much mind once I reached the top, aside from a few guards glancing over to check on me.

I looked out at the road leading up to the gate. The trees from here to the buildings about 100 yards out were all cut down, allowing for a clear line of sight from here to the ruins. The nearby ruins were mostly picked clean of their debris, reduced to what remained of their skeletal structures and foundations. Vegetation grew in some spots, clinging to moist concrete or spilling out in vines over the sides of rafters and windows. Beyond them, the ruins extended out towards downtown Manhattan, all scrapped to varying degrees. I could see out at a considerable distance due to the town being set on a hill, but eventually, the ruins began to meld together with debris so that I could not clearly distinguish one building from another or see the streets from here to downtown clearly. Farther off I could see the gradual rise of the buildings ascending higher as they approached downtown. Their material makeup also gradually changing from old wood and brick to glass and steel. In places there even stood what must have been for the time, new chic and modern architecture. Round curves where typically there would be sharp angles. Structures totally fitted with steel and chrome. While many remained mostly intact with only panels of steel and sections of once vibrant paint rubbed away, some reached upwards with skeletal fingers of steel and concrete. Their innards had collapsed long ago, leaving frail shells to slowly be knocked down by the elements over time. Even farther beyond them were the towers whose shapes I could vaguely make out from this distance. Some towers I could tell had been cut in half, either by atomic blasts or by time. These once awesome structures cut short and now capped by rows of jagged teeth-like debris. In some places, a tower had seemingly toppled over but maintained its form, coming to rest atop the smaller neighboring buildings or against the greater ones. I looked out in awe at the sprawling destruction. Struck by a momentary feeling of sadness as I continued to stare, but quickly found myself with a yearning feeling. To see what was beyond the debris that obstructed my vision. To see those far off towers up close. To see what else remained of this once mighty city; the iconic places and locations that I had only read about, seen in pictures and movies.

"What are you doing up here?" Someone finally asked.

I turned to see the bald man who had held us up at the gate yesterday. "Just checking out the view," I said coolly.

"Makes sense." He stood next to me with his arms crossed in a way that pushed up his large biceps. "I'm Vigo. Sorry about the hassle yesterday. Just can never be too careful out here."

"Sure." I said absently as I continued to look out at the wreckage. "You guys always shake down newcomers like that?"

"If we don't know them, yeah."

"Even if they come to you screaming begging you for help?"

"Let's just say that raiders can be pretty crafty. We've seen a lot. Aren't going to make the same mistakes twice."

"Have raiders shown up wearing vault suits before, too?"

"Like I said, you can never be too careful," he said with a hint of annoyance. "But look, I'm not here to argue about how we do our job. Just wanted to give you a friendlier welcome." He stuck his hand out to shake. "We square?"

I looked at it for a moment in hesitation. But perhaps my hangover kept me from summoning the will to hold a grudge or maybe I was done with letting my anger get me into trouble. I shook his hand. "Yeah, we're square." I turned back towards the city. "You ever been out there?"

"A few times, yeah. But I like it much better here behind the wall," he said with a chuckle. "I'm more defensive minded. And you've got to be crazy to want to go out there. Up here on the wall, most of what we see are stray ferals and the occasional chemmed out raider making a suicide charge on psycho. Down there though, it's their home turf, among other things." He noticed my eyes locked on the distant ruins and perhaps the yearning in them as well. "Don't even think about it. You either have to be brave or stupid to go out there. Considering you just got here and barely survived a pack of ferals, I'd say you're pretty stupid if you want to go out there now."

I laughed. "You may be right," I turned to walk back down from the wall but turned back for another momentary glimpse at the wasteland.

After coming down from the wall, unsure of what to do next, I sat idly in the town center watching the townsfolk go about their business. I was lost in my own thoughts when Chief approached me. "Good to see you up and about. How do you feel?"

"Good morning," I said with a startle. "I'm feeling better, thank you."

"Got a moment? There's something I want to show you."

I stood up. "Sure." He nodded his head and began walking towards the bridge connecting the town to the fort. I followed slightly behind him awkwardly before rushing to be alongside him. "So um, how long have you been the Chief around here?"

"Hm? Oh no, don't let the name fool you," he said with a chuckle. "I'm Chief but not the chief. No, I'm just an old man who's been around a while; know some things. People tend to look up to me."

I smirked incredulously. "And that big house you live in with the office just for you?"

He laughed. "I see your point. That is my house, but I share it with all the other elders. It's our old folks' home you might say. That office there is mine. I manage the logistics around here. Supply distribution. Keep track of what we send upriver and what we get back. That sort of thing. Been doing that kind of work since back when it was just me, Mammy and a few others. Was always the pencil pusher. Had a knack for fine details. Our leader back then was the one with the big ideas. Came up with the idea of settling this town and actually had the guts to do it, but he needed people to manage the home front while he did the real rough stuff. That's where Mammy and I came in. We're the only two still alive from that original group, so we know a thing or two about keeping this place running."

"So if you aren't the chief then who is?"

"No one. Of course I would be lying if I said I wasn't a leader in this community, but I'm one of many. Everyone has an equal say here. Some of us just have a lot more to say than others. People who have it in them take charge of what they're good at."

"People have a particular reverence for you though."

"Well you don't see too many men live into their senior years in this part of the Empire Wasteland. Guess it's natural for most to show respect. Trust your word on things more than others." We reached the bridge to the fort where we had to step aside as a convoy of brahmin loaded with various scrap passed us. Their handlers tipping their heads towards us as they went by. Chief watched pensively as the convoy passed and headed towards the gate. "Mammy and I are all that's left of the founders. I think people look to us for guidance because of that. People want to know what this town stands for. What our values are. Help them make sense of what this town is and ought to be."

"You probably do know more than most, right? Being here since the beginning?"

He turned away from the convoy to look at me with a soft smile. "Hell, we were just a bunch of kids full of piss and vinegar. Wanted to make caps doing what few dared to do where none had succeeded. Our vision didn't go far beyond that. Thought we were invincible. Thought we were special. Guess you could say we were special given that this town still stands today, but the older I get, the more I think we were just especially lucky. Even then, we never did get rich like we had hoped, and few of us ever lived long enough to see what this town became."

"Quite the self-deprecating way of seeing things don't you think? I mean, maybe all this wasn't your vision, but nonetheless you founded a strong settlement here."

"I founded a scrapping operation based out of this fort. People came here to make caps just like us. But instead we made connections. Made families. Made a community. The people made this town. That's why I put more trust in all of them to run it."

I thought then of Overseer Denglar and Mr. Church; all the Overseers and those who aspired to the position that came before them. Momentarily I was struck with a sense of grief at the thought of Mr. Church's lifeless body; no telling what had happened to it or his legacy in that short amount of time. What could have been had he lived? Had the votes been counted in the way they had always been before? Had the vault never come to violence? So much importance did we put on the election of our Overseer. Perhaps his fate, and the fate of the vault, was inevitable.

Chief continued walking across the bridge. I followed somewhat from behind like I had before. We crossed the bridge onto the wide brick yard of the fort, lined with workstations for all manners of ways to break down, divide and build with scrap. I stood for a moment turning around me to see the different works, eventually noticing that Chief was waiting for me before heading to the other half of the fort. "I thought there was nothing but storage back there?" I said as I approached him.

"Mostly storage. But there is something else."

The cacophony of clangs, cracks and clatters of the workshops. The stomping, plodding and romping of footfalls on the stones. They began to fade away. Even the mixed noises of the townsfolk, grew silent. And suddenly, everything was still, as I looked at the row of five stone columns before me. Stacked vertically alongside each other. Their faces set with the names of the fallen. There, towards the bottom of the fourth column, were the names of my parents. I remained motionless, my eyes not even blinking as I looked on. Chief stood to the side; his head bowed in the direction of the stones.

A slight breeze swayed me, breaking the trance. "How did they die?" I asked coldly.

"They were ambushed," Chief said, "on the way back to the Vault… We heard the shots from the wall. By the time we got to them, they were gone."

"…"

"Tried to bring them back to you, but the way in and out was a secret they never told anybody. So, we brought them back here. Cremated them behind these pillars."

I approached the stones and dropped gently to my knees. My hands reached out and gently traced their names. With each movement of my fingers, I felt as though I were strumming my own heartstrings. A brief wistful smile appeared on my lips as I felt an odd sense of relief. Relief that I finally knew without question what happened to them. But just as soon as the smile appeared, it faded, as a pang of guilt hit me. "…The last time I saw them, I was angry with them." These words left my mouth unexpectedly, but I continued anyway. "Went to bed angry at them. They came into my room to say goodbye, but I pretended to sleep. Kept my back towards them and didn't say a word." I paused, as did my fingers as they completed tracing over the names. "The last image I saw of them were their shadows on the wall. It's haunted me ever since."

Chief's postured softened as he tipped his head downward in sympathy. "They both loved you very much," he said. "They spoke about you often." We stood there in silence. I repeated tracing the letters, trying to let what he said sink in. But the guilt was great. "I know it must be hard for you, for that to be your final moment with them. But there is peace in death." He paused again, looking over at the columns, his gaze seeming to look far beyond them towards the horizon. "Even for the living if they're willing to find it. I'm certain that their last thoughts were of you. They already forgave you. Now you just need to forgive yourself."

He left me alone then to contemplate in silence. My eyes fixed on their names; all of my focus poured into communing with them. In a way I did not have the courage to do before, as a mental block of anguish, guilt and resentment stopped me from doing so every time. But then the breeze blew through me and I inhaled deeply through my nose to catch the refreshing air. For a moment, my mind felt lighter and a clenching chain like grip around my mind that I did not realize was there before, began to loosen. Letting my thoughts flow honestly: I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I've missed you both so much. Felt so lost and empty since that day. So sick to my stomach…that I never said goodbye. That I never said I love you… I was so angry. I'm still, so angry…But I'm tired. Tired of this weight I've been carrying. I just want to be free…free to live my life. Free to have dreams again…I've made it. I'm finally out here now. For better or for worse. I just wish you both were here to guide me…Please, no matter what happens, watch over me…

I closed my eyes as a single tear pooled up before running down my cheek. But as this happened, a hand placed itself on my shoulder. I turned my head to see Sarah bending over me, her gentle eyes looking compassionately into mine. Wordlessly, she sat down next to me, on her side so that she would lean her shoulder against mine. A gentle breeze blew through again, rattling the nearby trees. Some of their leaves began to fall.

"I just can't seem to figure it out."

Sarah broke from the straw leading down into her Nuka-Cola. "hm?"

I looked on at the town square pensively. "What do we do next?"

She chuckled and grinned. "I've been wondering that myself." She looked down on the town square too. A jazzy song hung quietly in the air as this night would be much calmer than the one before. As the sun began to set, the dangling lights that hung overhead brightened and the light polls below flickered on. While some leisured in and around the collection of stores and the lunch counter, most people had already retreated to their rooms. A sparse few walked around the center of town and around the perimeter. Couples walked close to each other flirtatiously whispering. While others moved slowly and meditatively to unwind from the day. A few gathered at the tables to talk and play games.

"It feels like everything comes naturally to them. But nothing about being out here feels natural to me," I said.

She nodded her head sullenly. "I was taught to be a teacher. But they don't even have a school here. The kids just run around until they decide to work. Then all they need to know is how to do that job."

"How do you feel about that?"

"I don't know… On the one hand, I think an education is enriching for children. But on the other, what is enriching to someone out here? Maybe my sense of education and enrichment is different from theirs. I mean, the adults all seem to be knowledgeable about things you and I have no clue about. Maybe a good education out here is too different from what I have to offer."

I turned my head slightly towards her. Ruminating on what she had said while she took a sip from her straw. "I don't know if that's completely true," I said looking away. "They all seem to appreciate the books and things my parents brought to them from the vault. The same way we were excited and curious about things from out here when we were kids. Maybe there's something to be learned from each other."

She nodded slowly as she contemplated this, her lips squeezing on the straw. "I think you're right, but I guess I need to learn what those things are. Until then, I don't feel like building a school system from scratch." She smiled to herself, biting down on the straw before taking another sip.

I laughed too, lifting my head to the emerging stars above. "I understand how you feel. But I think I feel a different way."

"How so?"

"Well, I guess it kind of feels like I'm being pulled in every direction. There's too much drawing my attention; everything is so new to me that it's overwhelming. Like there's too many choices in front of me; too many places I could be in. All of it just makes me feel paralyzed."

"Maybe we should ask them if they have a GOAT up here too," she said with a smile and a laugh.

I laughed at her joke, but as its meaning began to sink in, something occurred to me. "Damn Sarah, they really don't have a GOAT up here, do they. Nothing to tell them what they're good at and what to do with it… Nothing telling them… what to do."

"They figure it out for themselves," she said, her voice trailing off as she began to think about what she had said too."

As we settled into contemplative silence, the sun set fully over the horizon, and darkness began to surround this intimate little bubble of scrap. Eventually we heard the clunk and clang of boots falling on the metal walkways behind us.

"What's up vault guy and gal," Cherry said as she plopped down between us on the edge of the catwalk. "Whatcha been talking about?"

Sarah turned to her. "Just trying to figure out what to do with the rest of our lives."

"So, what did you come up with?"

"Not much yet," I replied.

"Hmm," cherry murmured as she looked up and away, thinking of something helpful to say. "You know, nobody here expects you guys to slot right in. There's no shame in taking your time to figure it out. I mean you did just get here." We all chuckled. "But seriously, I'm sure we do things differently than in the vault. If it takes you two time to learn, that's no problem." I chewed her words over in my head, focused on coming up with something to ask her but did not know what to say. She asked us then about what we did back in the vault. Sarah explained that she was a teacher. "What about you, Nate?" Cherry asked. "What was it like being a mechanic."

"Hm? Oh, well I was a maintenance man. Fixed things around the vault."
"Did you like it?"

"… I learned valuable skills… but no, I didn't."

"Hmm, well there's always a use around here for someone good with tools and stuff. Someone who knows something about mechanics, too."
"Yeah?"

"Oh yeah! You should talk to Ralph about it. He'll have something you can do."

"Ralph huh," my mind wandered, as did my eyes. Looking back over the town until they rested on the lunch counter, where I saw the ghoul standing, holding a beer while he chatted with the Mr. Handy cook, Chesterton. Curious thoughts took me.

The Next morning, I approached Ralph at his workshop. His back was turned to me, sitting on a stool while he tinkered diligently with a defective Giddy-up Buttercup. As I got closer, nervousness took me and I hesitated to get his attention. Instead I watched him awkwardly. He picked through the gears in the horse's guts, working delicately to pry them out one by one.

Finally, I mustered the courage. "Excuse me."

Undisturbed, he continued working out the gear he was focused on. Once he lifted it out, he set it aside and reached for a nearby glass of water. Then he turned around. "Need something?"

"Um, yeah. I was wondering if you could use some help with anything?"

He took a slow sip of water as he considered it. "What can you do?"

"Um, I can help you with that horse. I know how to pick things apart and put them back together."

"That's good." He turned back around to the toy. For a moment, I stood in place again. Unsure of whether he had accepted me. But eventually, I shuffled awkwardly to his side. Where I watched him poke around in the mechanical guts. He seemingly paid me no mind until he finally asked, "Can you hand me that wrench there. I think I need to get this nut out."

"Uh, sure."

"Thanks."

Some time passed like that. Little words were exchanged aside from Ralph's requests for tools or an extra pair of hands. This arrangement began to gnaw at me. Building up memories of dissatisfaction. The pressure compelled me to break the silence. "So, what's your plan for this thing?"

"… If I can get this thing working, the kids will love it. Until they probably break it. A working Giddy-up Buttercup is worth a lot of caps too. May be better to sell it upriver. Guess I don't know yet."

"Where'd you get it?"

"Scavs brought it in." At that, Ralph sat up and cracked his back. He stood up and walked to the far end of his bench to pick through drawers of various parts.

"I hear you do a lot around here," I said. "Real jack-of-all trades."

He smiled. "I've picked up on how to do a lot of things in my life."

A plethora of questions began to pass through my mind. 200 years. What an unimaginable amount of time to be alive. So much history and experience contained within one person. An intense urge to comb through all of it took me, but I was unsure of how proper it was to prod into his life. I tried to contain my curiosity with less intrusive questions. "You weren't here when this town was founded, right? What brought you here?"

He plucked less damaged parts from the drawers and returned to his stool. "That was a long time ago. Hmm… Think I had come from Jersey. Heard rumors of a settlement of ghouls somewhere in Manhattan. Wanted to find them but I couldn't cross the river. So I had to go far up north and come back down. That's when I found this place."

"Did you ever find the ghoul settlement?"

"No, Manhattan is a perilous place. Didn't get far South. I kept coming back here with my tail between my legs. Eventually, I gave up. This place was good to me though. You don't find many places that are good to my kind. So I stayed."

I thought about my initial reaction to his appearance. There was no denying that it was an unsettling site to see, doubled by his likeness to the ferals I had encountered before. I could be forgiven though, as I was not familiar with his kind. It interested me though that such a reaction could be maintained indefinitely. That even for those more familiar with the wasteland, Ralph was viewed still as a monster. "There's a lot of persecution of your kind in the wasteland?"

He smirked as no doubt a number of incidents came to his mind. Perhaps he found my naivete amusing. "Yeah."

"How come?"

"Because I look like a zombie, kid." He said with an exasperated laugh. "You can't say that when you saw me it didn't scared you."

My cheeks turned red with some embarrassment and I struggled to respond. "…when we first left the vault, we were chased by a group of… ferals, I guess you would call them."

"There's plenty of people out there who see me and those things as one in the same."

"But why, you seem fine?"

"I do, but for many smoothskins, they see me and they see a man who can turn at any moment. That one day I'll wake up with a taste for human flesh. Some people also see my kind as too clever to be safe around. When You've lived as long as I have, you learn a lot about how to get by. That can be intimidating; people think you're always scheming and never attached to nothin'."

"I see." Feeling as though I had come too close to a sensitive subject, I relented with my questions.

We settled back into the quiet rhythm of work. After a lunch break, Ralph was tired of tinkering with the horse and ready to move on to other tasks. I followed along dutifully as he showed me the various jobs he kept himself busy with. Salvaging valuable metals from the scrap hauled in. Maintaining the jungle gym structure of catwalks and shacks. Reinforcing weak points in the wall. He even showed me the crane responsible for so much of the construction of the town. Explaining to me how it works and what is needed to keep it operating. After a long day of manual labor, we grew comfortable with each other. He thanked me earnestly for the help, reaching out his rough calloused and scabbed hand. With a friendly smile I took it, thanking him for the day's education and the opportunity to help out. We parted there, going to rest before dinner.

Despite the rest, I came to dinner still weary. Probably had it not been for my hunger and the delicious smell, I wouldn't have had the motivation to get up at all. A bottle of cola helped as well, and by the time I had sat down with my food I had forgotten how tired I was. The meal was tasty and hardy. A big plate of spaghetti with tato sauce, which was much thicker in substance than the vault's tomatoes, and well-seasoned leftover meat from the party. I dug into my food, half listening to the conversation next to me. Sarah was chatting with Dr. Casandra Day, whom she had chosen to work with while I was working with Ralph.

"Dr. Leonard is a grouch, but really when you get past that he's a nice man," Dr. Day said.

"I'm sure it's hard to not be jaded when you've been a doctor as long as he has," Sarah said through a giggle.

"He's been a good mentor to me."

"He really likes to tease you about those books."

"Oh he just gets grumpy when I know something he doesn't."

Just then, Cherry crash landed next Dr. Day on the bench, much to Dr. Day's chagrin. As Cherry set two plates on the table, Dr. Day scooted over in a huff. "Hey Cass," Cherry said.

"Stop calling me that," Dr. Day said in a suppressed whine.

Cherry paid her no mind as she dug into her food like I had. Shaking her head, Dr. Day returned to her conversation with Sarah. Which did not go on for long as Cherry looked up excitedly. Chum had come up to the table, his rifle again strapped to his back. "Hey Chummy! I saved you a plate."

"Thank you."

"You gonna join us?"

"Sorry I can't. I need to get back up there."

"Ugh, you never stay and eat! Come sit down for a bit."

"Next time."

"You always say that," Cherry said with a grumble. Chum apologized again before taking his plate and heading out. Cherry turned to watch him leave. "I'm not going to save you a plate anymore!"

"You always say that, too," Dr. Day said in a low tone. An amused smile spread across her lips. "Have you ever thought about changing your tact?"

Cherry turned back around with her head cocked to the side. "Oh yeah, how do you figure? Maybe try the whole being nerdy and prissy thing."

"You're such a ham, Shannon."

Sarah and I struggled to hold in our laughs. In doing so, I found myself looking away, happening to spot Chum climb his way back up to his spot on the wall. I thought of the canteen back in my room.

"Hey?" I called out as I approached the wooden pillbox. Making sure that I could be seen from inside.

Chum looked at me, pulling the tarp cover entrance back to see better. "Hi."

I came closer to the entrance and pulled out his canteen. "Just wanted to give you this back."

He looked at it for a moment before realizing what it was. "Oh yeah. Thanks."

"No. Uh, thank you." After a moment of awkward silence, I turned away from him to leave, but stopped myself at the site of the Wasteland bathed in the blue light of the moon.

"You doing alright?" he finally asked.

The tension dissipated and I began to relax, still looking out at the Wasteland. "Better than I was I guess."

"Yeah, I can see that. You didn't look as miserable to me when I saw you down there."

I blew air out my nose and cracked a small smile. "I appreciate how kind you all have been to me. Appreciate you helping me out the other night." He merely nodded his head in response. "Um, can I come in?" I asked. "Kind of curious about what its like to be up here."

He hesitated for a moment before making space at the entrance and gesturing for me to come in. "Not too sure if it will be all that interesting for you."

I had to lower my head to get in but once through the entrance, the floor dropped down in three short steps and the ceiling turned out to be higher than I realized, allowing for me to stand up. "Well it seems like you prefer to spend your time up here, so I wondered what makes it so special." I took that moment to glance around at the space; a wooden box long and wide enough to fit two, maybe three, comfortably. On Chum's right was a small table mostly taken up by a wood stove, with a flat top large enough to rest a kettle on. To the right of that was another chair for a second person. Beyond that was another exit from the box. The pill box had various items scattered around. Under Chum's seat was a collection of books, papers and various items presumably for entertainment. Under the other seat were boxes of tools, ammo and gun cleaning equipment. Sandbag piles lined the walls facing the Wasteland. Those walls themselves being already reinforced with thicker wood and metal in some places and built in such a way as to leave a narrow space to view outward. That space could also be camouflaged by netting that was currently pulled to the sides, leaving a clear view. The red glow from the stove made for a cozy space to watch the stillness of the Wasteland from. I sat down on the spare chair.

"It's hard getting any privacy around here," Chum finally said. "But it's easy up here. Nice and quiet, too."

I looked out towards the ruins on the neighboring hill. Saw the moonlight glow off their white stones as I settled into my seat. "I can see that." Meditatively, I continued to look at the landscape. "It's beautiful." Chum made no response. "I mean, growing up in the vault, you can only imagine what it's like. The only references we had were pictures and books from before the war. But all I really knew were the steel walls of the vault. Guess I didn't really know what to expect. It's beautiful, but sad at the same time…"

"Yeah," he finally replied in a low husky tone.

"Have you always been here in Hell's Gate," I asked.

"No." He hesitated to say more. "I'm from a settlement upriver."

"What's it like?"

"Nothing special. I didn't like it that much growing up."

Realizing that I was approaching a sensitive topic, I chose not to ask more about it. "How long have you been here for?"

He bobbed his head as though he were counting the years with each bob. "Think it's been about six." I wanted to ask what brought him there but figured that would bring conversation back to his hometown. Instead we sat in silence, but this time there was an air of comfort. I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms and legs while my eyes scanned the distance. Suddenly, he leaned forward in his seat and pointed towards the Northeast. "Can you see that light over there?" I looked in that direction but saw nothing. "Maybe you can't from where you're sitting. If you come over here and look through the binoculars you might see it." I moved to his front left side where he had a pair of binoculars. He directed me to look out towards the Northeast direction, but I was confused. Expecting to see a lone light somewhere in the ruins. But then he told me to look upward. There I could finally see the faintest glow of far-off lights. "That's Van Cortland. Closest settlement to us," he said.

As my eyes grew familiar with what I was seeing, I could make out the lights better. Especially when they reflected on the clouds above. "Ever been there before?"

"A few times to trade, yeah. They live off of scrapping like us. Nice place, but they're more exposed to ferals over there."

I took the binoculars back to my seat so I could scan across the river. As I put them back up to my eyes, I asked "you've traveled a lot up and down the river?"

"Not really." He hesitated to say more again. "I left home when I was a teenager. Drifted through a few places. But I could never wander far from the Hudson. My whole life I've never been more than a few miles from the river."

"How did you wind up here?" I finally asked.

He paused for a long minute. His gaze focused on the river for as far as he could see it until it disappeared from his line of sight. "I don't quite know." I stayed silent as I tried to understand what that meant. Finally he explained. "I told you I know a troubled kid when I see one. Because I was one, too."

I lowered the binoculars from my eyes, "How so?"

"I was a junkie. Tried pretty much everything: jet, med-x, day tripper, psycho—anything. Didn't care what it was as long as it made me feel different. Ran with a group of punks for a time until I couldn't do it anymore."

I shifted in my chair, setting the binoculars down on the floor and leaning in to listen. "What happened?"

"Like I said, not too sure. Think I loaded myself up with the biggest chem cocktail I could get. One last party… at some point I blacked out. Must've fell into the river." His face contorted and he bobbed his head again as what little memory he had ruminated in his mind. He sighed, "Cherry found me washed up by the dock. Brought me back here so the docs could take care of me. Helped me get clean, too."

"Wow," I said in a low breath. "That's incredible."

"Everyone says it's a miracle. I floated a long way down the river to get here. Should've been torn apart by mirelurks ten times over." He leaned back in his chair as a slight chuckle escaped him. "That's why they call me Chum."

I snickered, "how do you feel about that nickname?"

He cracked a slight smile. "I don't mind it. Really, it's not just a nickname."

"Hm?"

"After I got clean, I told myself that who I was before Cherry dragged me out of the mud, was dead. They drowned or got eaten. The person who survived by a miracle, would start life over, new name and all."

I could only imagine the intensity, the radical change that Chum must have undergone from such an experience. And what was it all for? That must have been the great question that he committed himself to answering every day. The thing that drove him to seek peace and quiet in this secluded part of the wall. For what purpose would a 'junkie', as he called himself, be spared from sure destruction, and be given a second life? At that, it occurred to me that perhaps Chum and I had, though the circumstances were much different, something in common. Perhaps the weight of that similarity was what pulled us towards each other. I thought then about Cherry. At first her obvious flirtation with Chum seemed to me like an act, or at worst, a refusal to accept unrequited love. But perhaps there was more to it that I nor anyone else in Hell's Gate could really understand. "You and Cherry must be close, huh. Despite appearances," I said.

He stared absently at the floor as another smile escaped his lips. "And what about you and Sarah," he asked, looking up at me with a glint of mischief in his eye.

I felt my cheeks tingle, "huh? No, we're just friends," I blurted. "Practically like siblings. We've known each other since we were babies."

He smirked, "I see."

Days passed. The leaves in the trees began to change color, dry out, and fall to the ground more often. A chill grew in the air. As Sarah and I settled into a new routine, life in Hell's Gate grew familiar. The attention we drew began to dissipate, easing the anxiety we had felt as we became just another member of the community. We moved comfortably around town, endearing ourselves to folk. Finding the people and places we preferred to spend our time with. Most of all, Cherry and Chum. We grew accustomed to Cherry's boundless energy as a source of fun and excitement, while I also enjoyed the calm and quiet conversations with Chum in his guard post. Though there were times when Cherry and Sarah crashed our 'boys club'. Even then, we enjoyed the close company. In that intimate space squeezed into the pillbox, we got to be in our own little world as we chatted and played games.

Every morning when Sarah and I woke up, we set ourselves to work. I continued to work with Ralph, seeking him out every morning to be briefed on what new projects we had for the day. Sarah was as eager as I was but more forthright in her desire to try new things. She would float from station to station and person to person looking to make herself useful for some tasks she was not acquainted with. Happy to learn the ways and means of the town. When the day was done, we would join others at the tables for meals, sometimes lingering around the table or at the lunch counter to chat. Other times, we would meet up with our newfound friends, typically Chum and Cherry, to pass the time. But on some nights, Sarah and I felt overstimulated from the day, instead choosing to retire to our room or some quiet place to talk or even sit quietly with our thoughts. The books I brought from the vault were helpful, too. Indeed, peace, quiet and privacy were hard to come by in Hell's Gate. But this was not all that different from life in the vault.

My thoughts would still linger on the fate of the vault, but as days passed, I could feel my attachment to my old home thinning. My life was no longer entwined with it. I began to see more clearly the positives of living on the surface, which showed me the ways in which my life down there was discontenting, and in many ways, miserable. I had lost many reasons to still be sentimental about the bunker I called home. But there was an exception to this, which Sarah felt even more acutely. I empathized with her in the times she would become distant, getting a far off look in her eye as she noticeably recalled the violence, and no doubt agonized over the well-being of her parents. I too felt these moments though perhaps not in the same way. Her parents were also like family to me. An adopted mother and father for whom I trusted so much in. Their bringing me into their family was the brightest source of light in my life in the past few years. Outside of that though, the death of Mr. Church and the ensuing deaths of our neighbors was also the death of my hope for the vault. This was liberating in a way, but still I grieved for it like one grieves for the loss of their childhood. Or in darker moments, how one grieves when their dreams are crushed right in front of them. And I would reflect on how this must have been at least a portion of what it must have been like to witness the bombs drop. The Old World Blues, as I've learned to call it.

It fascinated me; the land around us once called New York City, now reduced to the name of the Empire Wasteland. A great burn scar of humanity left on the face of the Earth. Though much of the sights from the wall became commonplace to me, still I would find myself at times transfixed on the environment. But especially when I stared out into the endless stretch of ruins. So massive in its scale of destruction that it never ceased to overwhelm my comprehension. It was a world far mor alien than I could have even imagined when I was a child. It scared me, but at once excited me. The thrill, the discoveries, the adventure, that could all be out there. I thought about it often. Watched Cherry and her team return haggard but triumphant from their expeditions with envy. My curiosity about this world, and the one before it, abounded.

Eventually, there came a day when the envy and curiosity consumed me. I enjoyed working with Ralph and enjoyed talking with him. The nuggets of history and occasional stories he told were prizes to me. But as I reflected more on the discontentment with my life back in the vault, the more similarities in what I had done then and what I was doing now with Ralph, graded on me. I liked to learn from Ralph about the ins and outs of Hell's Gate, but the work itself was not why I was drawn to him. I knew I wanted to make a change, but before I could do that, there was still something I wanted to know.

Ralph and I were tearing apart a rusty refrigerator for useful parts. It was on its side. I knelt by the backside of it, taking pieces apart in search of a working cryo cell. Pausing to watch Ralph take an angle grinder to the refrigerator door's stiff hinges. Dust and sparks flew up onto his protective face shield. The hinge was the last one to cut, so when it did the already loosely hanging door fell to the ground. He set the grinder down and lifted up his shield, looking at the door, pleased with the work he had done. He went then to his bench to gather some tools.

I watched all throughout this, waiting nervously to ask what I wanted to ask. "Hey, Ralph."

"Yeah?" he said inspecting his tools as he brought them over.

"Can I ask you something."

"Sure thing, kid."

I hesitated for a moment before asking. "Can I ask you about the war? The Great War?"

He looked up from his tools at me. With a resolute face and a small smile, he set the tools aside and sat down on the fridge. "Whatcha want to know?"

His open willingness took me somewhat by surprise, and all the questions I had floating in my head suddenly couldn't come to mind. "Well… what was it like…before the bombs fell?"

He laughed a little. I'm sure this wasn't an easy question to answer. "Where do I start?" He grumbled as he worked to pull those memories from his long past. "My name was Junior. Ralph Jefferson Junior. Grew up outside of D.C. The oldest of four. My father, Ralph Senior, was an honest man. Worked on the docks for a frozen food company. My mother cleaned houses." He stopped, putting his hand over his mouth and chin as he continued to recall the memories. "I didn't always get along with my dad. Especially when I was a teenager. Thought he was a square. I watched him pull overtime and take double shifts most days of the week. Whenever I saw him all he wanted to do was sleep or eat. I resented him for it. Didn't understand what the point of his life was. I think really, I was just afraid that I'd end up like him. So I messed around for a while after I became an adult. Got my girlfriend, Tessa, pregnant. So we settled down in a little apartment. Got married before the baby came."

My heart grew still at the knowledge and the almost casual yet melancholy way that he recounted his life 200 years ago. As though he knew it was his life but he spoke about it like it was ancient history to him. "You had a family?" I asked.

"Yeah… Tessa and I had two kids. A boy, Darren. And a girl, Virginia. I remember I went to work at the Corvega factory. Tessa was a nanny for some white folks." At that he shook his head. A listless smile spread across his face.

"What happened? When the bombs fell?" I asked with bated breath.

He looked away for a moment, this was a memory burned into his mind. One so painful that he lost the casualness with which he had spoken before. Dark clouds formed around his eyes. "I was at the plant when it happened. The whole place shook like there was a great earthquake. The booming was so loud, and it just kept going. Hurt my ears so bad that I was paralyzed. When it finally stopped, half the plant had collapsed. Those of us that survived went outside. Everything was destroyed. Some places were completely obliterated. All that was left of the people who were outside were their shadow, and there was glowing dust in the air… I'll never forget the sight of the mushroom clouds; massive horrifying things."

"What happened to your family?" I asked with some hesitation.

His head tilted towards the ground. "I went straight home to find them. Our apartment building was completely blown away. Down to the foundation. I searched for them and the rest of my family in the hope that they had evacuated somewhere safe. But I never found any of them. Being out there, exposed to the glowing dust, it changed me. I accepted that it would kill me. But it didn't."

"I'm sorry, Ralph."

"It's okay, Kid."

We settled back into our work. Quietly continuing to take apart the refrigerator. While Ralph stripped the plastic from the inner lining, I continued to take apart the backside, finally recovering the cryo cell, but it had already been spent. Tossing it to the side, I looked over at Ralph again. "What was it like? America, I mean."

He kept his attention on prying out the plastic inside the fridge. "You guys have a lot of knowledge stored down in that vault. You must've learned about it didn't ya?"

"Yeah. We learned a lot about that time. It's very important to us, and I've always been fascinated by it. But I never met someone that was actually there to see it with their own eyes."

He pulled a part out from the fridge. Tossing it to the side, he leaned back on his calves before choosing to sit back on the ground. His arms rested on his knees and stared into the fridge while he thought about it. "To be honest kid, I don't know how much insight I really have. I didn't care much about what was going on around me. I had my family and I had my job. That's all that mattered." He paused to reflect again on his life before. "To tell you the truth, it was miserable."

"Miserable?"

"Well, I guess I can't speak for everyone. But when I remember that time, I don't remember much that was good. I loved my family. But it was hard for us to get by. My wife and I had dreams of buying a house but that faded away. We could barely even afford rent and food. Everything was so damn expensive. I thought working at the plant would be a step up from what my dad had done all his life. But it just wasn't as good of a job as it was when I was growing up. And before the bombs fell, I knew I was on the chopping block. They were bringing in new models of robots to take over the shop floor." His gaze wandered around at the other workstations lining the top of the fort, the bustle of work and the plodding of brahmin strapped down with scrap to trade. "My kind weren't treated well back then either. It was hard to get a decent job."

"Your kind?" I was confused for a moment as I knew there weren't ghouls back then.

He chuckled, "I didn't always look as beautiful as I do today, kid. Before I was persecuted for being a ghoul, I was persecuted for being black." Embarrassment for my naivete took me but he paid no mind. I realized then how much was overlooked when I was learning in the vault. How much these things were glossed over. "I guess it could've been worse. I could've been Chinese," he said wryly. "Ah but I don't know. My kind had a long run on the bottom of the totem pole. But those poor fellas were rounded up into camps. Nowadays though I realize how silly it was to consider it a contest for who got the biggest shit end of the stick." There rose in me an impulse to challenge some of what he had said. To refute what I could or at least pose another, more positive perspective. Rooted in the knowledge I had from my education, which he conceded I had more of. But that felt wrong to me in that moment. Nonetheless, I felt as though the knowledge I had, and the experience he had imparted, were clashing with each other in my head. I struggled internally to reconcile the two, so I chose to say nothing. He continued. "To be really, brutally honest, kid. If it weren't for the loss of my family, I don't think I'd miss that time all that much. I don't know if it's right of me to say, but I feel like the old world deserved to die. At least, it felt like it was already dying, before the bombs fell."

His statement hit me with great force. It was contrary to everything I had been taught. Everything I had been raised to believe. Like a wrench in cogs of my own world view, I felt a grinding sensation in my mind. Because of this I remained silent. So we settled into our work once again. Absently I continued to labor for the rest of the day, but mentally I was consumed in trying to make sense of what I had been told. Perhaps he is right. Perhaps America by the time of the war was not the America that I had envisioned or been taught to believe in. But did that detract from what it stood for? Did that take away the legitimacy of its ideals? The core values on which it was founded? The great legacy of the nation before its decline and eventual fiery end? My heart tells me no. There's something there worth preserving. Something-a core good at the heart of the nation that deserves to live on. But seeing how it is apparently more complicated than I understood, maybe I need to learn more. Maybe I need to discover what exactly that thing is for myself.

The end of the day came. I watched Ralph finish cleaning up our workstation. I greatly admired him and his story. But in that moment, I felt a clear sense of resolution. It really was time for me to move on to something new. I confessed this then to Ralph. Thanking him profusely for the time spent working together, and for answering the questions I had, which no doubt must have been difficult for him to answer. He understood, giving me a pat on the shoulder, he thanked me for all the help one last time. He enjoyed our time together. I could tell that he knew what I had been thinking about. But he said nothing about it. Only told me, "Good luck, kid."

Cherry swiveled her hips and tossed her head from side to side, dancing in the center of her room at the back of the school bus. Lit intimately with lamps of pink and red as Christmas lights hung overhead. A wide variety of knickknacks and oddities lined shelves as well as random pre-war posters that plastered the walls. Blankets, quilts and curtains covered all the windows except those facing toward the center of town. As the opening piano and drums of The Wanderer played on blast from a holotape player in the corner. While Sarah, Chum and I sat to the sides watching. Sarah and I smiled from our bench seats along the side of the bus facing the town center. I rocked back and forth, tapping my foot on the floor. Sarah had her hands up by her chest as she swayed back and forth. Chum sat opposite us in a chair nodding his head along with his eyes closed as he tried to contain his Cherry belted, "Ohhh well I'm the type of guy who will never settle down! "Where pretty girls are, well you know that I'm around. I kiss em' and I love em', cause to me they're all the same. I hug em' and I squeeze em', they don't even know my name! They call me the Wanderer, yeah, the Wanderer. I roam around-around-around..." Well there's Flo on my left arm," she reached out to Chum, "and there's Mary on my right," She switched over to me, "and Jaime is the girl, well, that I'll be with tonight." She finished by rushing over and taking Sarah by the hand. Pulling her up to where she was so they could dance. Sarah laughed and grinned as Cherry showed her how to do the Twist. Whipping her head away to sing the chorus. Sarah reached over to me then, pulling me up with them. Chum smiled from his chair, still rocking along to the music. Until Cherry grabbed him as well. Hoisting him up and taking hold of both his hands. Laughing as she dragged him around with her dancing. Chum went along.

After another minute, the song ended. We broke apart from each other back to our respective seats. Cherry plopped down onto her bed against the end of the bus. She let out a sigh of excitement. "I love that song!" she looked over at us. "What do you guys want to hear next?"

Sarah tugged at the collar of her jumpsuit. "I don't know but I think I could get some air." I agreed. She got up, pushing the curtain next to her open. Which divided this half of the bus from the front half. Chum's room was on the other side. Not as well decorated nor as warm as Cherry's half of the bus. Chum got up to join us while Cherry stayed to look through her collection of holotapes. Sarah pulled back the lever to open the door. The rush of cool crisp air felt good as we spilled out onto the patio area in front of the bus. Lining up along the railing of the patio, we looked out over the town. I followed Sarah's example and took a deep breath of the chill air.

"Ahh, that feels good," I said.

Chum lined up next to Sarah so that she was in between us. He looked out at the rest of town. "Times like these it would be nice to smoke cigarettes again."

"Gross," Sarah reacted.

With an amused look on his face, he continued to look out over town. I looked over at him, thinking about how to bring up something I was thinking about to him. Finally, I asked "Chum, If I come up to your post during the day, do you think you could teach me how to shoot?" Sarah perked up from her slouching over the railing, looking at me quizzically.

"Don't you have that 10mm?" he replied. "You never learned how to use it?"

I wasn't sure how to respond at first. "Not really." After a moment's pause, I added "I'd like to learn how to shoot that rifle of yours too."

He shrugged his shoulders. "Sure, why not."

Sarah still looked at me puzzlingly; about to speak when Cherry cranked the holotape player inside and opened up a window so it would travel better outside. She came dancing out of the door as a quick guitar riff played. "I've been to Nagasaki! Hiroshima too! The same I did to them baby; I can do to you! 'Cause I'm a Fujiyama Mama and I'm just about to blow my top. Fujiyama-yama Fujiyama. And when I start erupting, ain't nobody gonna make me stop."

"Turn that shit down!" someone shouted.

The 10mm went off with a loud pop. Kicking back into my palm and tilting up slightly. The kick and the ejected casing caused me to flinch. "You're getting a feel for it," Chum said from his chair off to the side. "But you need to get more comfortable. Squeeze don't pull. The gun is an extension of yourself. You should know when it's about to fire, and not be fazed when it does. That way you can keep focus on the target and get rounds off accurately."

I brought the pistol down to my side, taking a seat on my own chair. We were outside the guard post where we had first met each other that first night. "This thing is kind of bulky," I said. "Hard to hold it still."

"I'm not a fan of 10mm's myself. But its bulkiness reduces the kick at least." He reached into a bag by his side, pulling out a number of glass bottles and cans. He took the cans first and chucked them at different lengths out past the wall. While I reloaded a clip.

I stood up then, loading the clip into the gun. Turning the safety off, I lifted the pistol to be level with my eyes. I evened up the sights as best I could while the pistol swayed around slightly. I took aim at the nearest can and fired. The bullet kicked up the dirt in front of the can, jostling it around. "Shit," I muttered. Taking aim again, I fired another shot that this time went over the can. I grumbled.

"You want the front post to be level with your rear sights," Chum instructed. "Your target should rest on top of the post." These instructions replayed through my mind as I took a stance and brought the sights up. I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. Then fired. The can flew up into the air with a plinking sound. "Onto the next one," he ordered me. I let off a few rounds into the farther cans, missing some shots still but hitting a few of the targets. I squeezed the trigger again but there was only a dry click. "Make sure to count your shots. It could save your life in a fight." I went back to my seat to reload. "Make sure you practice reloading, too."

I sat silently while I reloaded the clip again. As I was doing this, I heard someone come up from behind me. I turned around to see Sarah. "I want to learn how to shoot, too," she said pointedly. It was my turn to look at her quizzically.

"Why not," Chum replied. I finished loading the clip, handing it and the gun to her. She inspected them awkwardly as she carried them to the edge of the rampart. Chum ran through the same instructions that he had given me. "Go ahead and fire a few rounds off to get familiar with it."

She struggled in much the same way that I had. But there was a noticeably more anxiety about pulling the trigger. She flinched and closed her eyes every time it went off. Chum repeated the same advice he had given me, encouraging her as well to take deep breaths to calm herself, squeezing the trigger as she slowly exhaled. She finished off the clip. I gave up my seat so that she could reload. After that, she went back up. This time to take aim at the cans. Once again, Chum gave similar instructions. Slowly, she brought the 10mm up to take aim. She paused there for a moment, taking another deep breath before finally firing at the nearest can. It ripped open before bouncing up. "Nice shot!" I praised. But before anything else could be said, Chum ordered her to continue. She fired away, missing some shots like I had but ultimately was more accurate.

"Not bad," Chum said, nodding his head. Sarah was surprised by her own performance. She looked down at the gun in slight disbelief. Smiling to herself. While her and I gushed about how it felt to use it, Chum reached into his bag for the bottles. "I'm going to throw these into the air. You two try and shoot them before they hit the ground." Sarah reloaded the clip and handed the gun to me. Stepping up to the range. I readied myself, looking at Chum to let him know I was ready. He nodded, then tossed the bottle in a high arch up into the air. I fired three shots in rapid succession but failed to hit it. The bottle shattered on the ground. I cursed. "That's alright," Chum assured me. "Don't shoot at where the bottle is. Shoot at where it's going to be." I nodded and readied myself again. Once again, he tossed a bottle up. Following his instruction, I took aim just ahead of its descending path. I fired one shot. Miss. Another shot. Miss. Then a third. The bottle exploded.

"Yes!" I pumped my fist. Sarah applauded and Chum nodded in approval. Then he pulled out another bottle. I spent the rest of the clip but I hit that one too. A proud smile lit up my face as I watched it explode and the glass sprinkle down to the ground.

It was Sarah's turn next. Taking my example and with her found confidence in her own ability, she was able to hit the first bottle in only two shots. She made quick work of the other bottles before her clip ran out. I was impressed watching her but felt an edge of competitiveness welling up in me. I hatched a plan to best her and started fiddling with my Pip-Boy. "I've got two more bottles left," Chum showed us.

"Can I try something?" I asked. "Can you guys throw both of those bottles into the air?"

"Pretty cocky of you, isn't it?" Chum responded.

"I've got something in mind." He shrugged his shoulders, handing the other bottle to Sarah. They held them, waiting for my call to release. I took a stance to ready myself. Looking at each of them, then out towards the range. "Now!" They threw the bottles up into the air. I extended out my arms. My Pip-Boy made a noise like a camera shutter opening. The two bottles became overlayed by a green holographic outline. Percentages appeared next to them. Without aiming, I moved my gun hand in accordance with what caused the numbers to increase. Firing when they reached a suitable probability range. One bottle at 76% exploded on the first shot. The other at 54% missed on the first shot but broke in half on the second.

"What the hell was that?" Chum asked incredulously.

"V.A.T.S" I replied with a cocky grin.

"So that's what that's for," Sarah mused.

Chum looked down at my Pip-Boy with wonder before a mark of displeasure spread across his face. "You're not going to use that every time, are you?"

"Hehe, no. It takes a lot out of the power cell. It will be a while before it has enough charge."

"Good." He then reached for his rifle. "Think you two are ready for something bigger." He came over and handed me the rifle. Taking it in both of my hands, I marveled at the look and feel of it. Its heft compared to the 10mm was obvious but it felt much more comfortable to hold. Examining the rifle, I could see that it had gotten a lot of use but was well taken care of. Chum probably cleaned it regularly. While I held it, Chum removed the scope. "You should get familiar without the scope before you use it." Using the sights on this seemed like it would be easier, as they had a slight glow to them that would clearly show how well they lined up compared to the iron sights on the pistol. "This here is the bolt. You pull it back to load in your rounds. It fits five plus one in the chamber. Just push the bolt forward and it will load one in." He activated the bolt as he showed me. When he pulled it back, there were no rounds loaded, so he handed me some. "This is chambered in .308. It's going to have a lot more kick than the 10mm." After I loaded in my rounds, I pushed the bolt forwards and walked up to the range. "Put the stock tightly into your shoulder." I did as he instructed and lifted the rifle to be even with my eyes. Immediately I noticed that this was much harder to keep up than the 10mm. My left arm struggled somewhat to keep the barrel end lifted. The sights, which I had naively thought would be easier to balance, bobbed up and down.

I took aim at one of the nearby cans and fired. The can made a sound like ka-chunk, before the top half of the can launched upward, tumbling down some 10 yards from its original spot. I felt then the butt of the rifle dig into my shoulder. The force took me somewhat by surprise, as I didn't know fully what to expect from the kick. My shoulder buzzed a little from the impact. I pulled the bolt back, the spent casing popped out, then I loaded another. This time taking aim at a can further down range. The shot missed, kicking up a mound of dirt that nearly buried the can. I took a few more shots, missing two before the third one hit the can directly, driving it into the dirt. "It's harder to shoot a rifle when you stand straight up like that. Especially when you're new to shooting," Chum commented. "You can stabilize the rifle easier if you kneel or lay down." Taking his advice, I knelt down, resting my left elbow on my knee. Sure enough, the rifle stopped bobbing up and down. I drew in a deep breath and took aim at what little of the can stuck up from dirt it was driven into. Another ka-chunk from a direct hit and the can flew up in shreds of shrapnel from the dirt.

Sarah took the rifle next, seeming to struggle more with holding the rifle up than I did. She chose to kneel first. Her first couple of shots were inaccurate and she moved the rifle from her shoulder to sooth the pain. "Keep the stock tighter to your shoulder," Chum instructed. "But not against the bone." Sarah nodded silently, hesitantly pushing the rifle back into her shoulder. She breathed a deep breath to calm herself, then looked down the sights. One shot. Hit. She pulled back the bolt and slapped it forward. Another shot. Another hit. The can flipped up into the air and tumbled down the slope before catching on a rock. Sarah activated the bolt again, homing in on that same can again. The shot blasted through the tattered remains of the can, exploding it and the rock behind it into pieces. Sarah beamed with pride at her marksmanship, before resting the rifle on the railing to rub her shoulder.

We took another turn to practice with the rifle before Chum said we were ready to use the scope. He reattached the optic. Explaining to us how it worked with readjusting the sights. "Alright, you should be zeroed in." He pointed to the ruins on the ridge of the lower neighboring hill. "See those stones over there. Pick one and aim for the center of it." Sarah went first, choosing a solitary stone to shoot up. Her first shot was a direct hit that punched a shallow hole into the surface. Chum observed the shot with his binoculars. "Nice shot." Sarah proceeded to strike the stone in and around the first hole. By the time she had run through her ammo, a decent sized chunk of the stone had been taken off its face. I performed mostly the same, but my shots were not as concentrated as Sarah's. Nonetheless, Chum praised me for staying on target.

Chum was satisfied with what he had seen from us and we had our fill of practice for the day. I handed the rifle back to chum and started helping Sarah put away the ammunition. Chum went into his pillbox to grab his cleaning tools. But while I was picking up spent casings from the floor, I noticed Sarah stop what she was doing to look back out at the range. "Look over there," she said quietly. I turned around to see. Emerging from somewhere behind the ruins was a human figure walking out in an erratic stumbling motion. Its arms curled up to its chest and its raisin looking head jerked around to get a sense of its surroundings. Chum came out from the box, monitoring the creature as he came over to us. "It's a ghoul. Must have been attracted by the gunfire." Sarah and I stared out at it fascinated. This was the first time we had seen one since that night we left the vault. Even then, it was the first time seeing one so clearly in the daylight.

Still keeping his eye on the ghoul, Chum came closer to us, and extended the rifle out to me. I looked at it with confusion before it dawned on me what he meant for me to do. I looked at the gun and back to the ghoul with hesitation. A pit began to form in my stomach. But I took the rifle anyway. Bringing it over to the railing, I knelt down and rested the barrel on the rail. I looked down the scope where I could get an even clearer view of the thing. What remained of its clothes hung in loose tatters around its body. Its flesh was unnaturally wrinkled in places like it was close to falling right off, while in other parts it was oddly smooth as though it had been worn down by the elements. Its skin was ghostly pale as though it had spent much time underground. Its face disturbed me the most. Scrunched up along the sides by that unnatural loose skin. Its facial features however were mostly worn away. It had no nose, lips, ears or eyebrows, only beady vacant eyes. Its almost conical head was topped with long wispy strands of what remained of its hair.

The sight of it dug deeper the pit in my stomach. I realized that the scope was swaying all over the place as my hands grew clammy and shaky. I looked away from the scope to steady my nerves. After a few seconds, I returned to the scope, and put all my focus into centering it on the ghoul. I pulled the trigger. The bullet wizzed past the ghoul's head. As it did so, the ghoul jerk its head to the sound. "Fuck," I muttered, pulling the bolt back. I peered through the scope again. The ghoul had been disturbed by the first shot and was now shuffling around quickly trying to make sense of the noise and find the source. I fired again. This time, the bullet made contact with the ghoul's left shoulder. I could hear it let out a gurgling roar as its arm fell limp. It pivoted around looking for the source of the shot still. I cursed again as I pulled back the bolt. I took aim this time for the center of the chest. The bullet rang out and traveled to the ghoul's lower abdomen. It let out a great roar, stumbling backwards and bringing its working arm to its gut. Its blood poured out from the wound. The ghoul let out another roar of pain as it began to stumble in our direction. I couldn't look at it any longer. Guilt overcame me and I broke out into a sweat on my face and hands.

Then Sarah touched my shoulder, "Nate? Can I try?" A sense of relief took me as I gave up the rifle. Stepping away from the railing, I realized that I was dizzy, so I sat down on the chair. I wiped my forehead of sweat and looked on at the distant figure of the ghoul, which continued to stumble in our direction, its eyes now focused on our position. Chum stoically watched it from his binoculars as Sarah activated the bolt and put her eye to the scope. A few suspenseful seconds had passed before there was a crack from the rifle. I could not see the fine details—not that I wanted to- from where I sat, but I could make out a red mist exploding from the side of its head. The ghoul fell forward onto its knees before collapsing to the ground.

Chum continued to stare through the binoculars. "Yeah, he's dead."

Later that night, Sarah and I laid in our bunks quietly. The wood stove in the corner crackled with warmth. The dim orange-red light from its flames pulsated through the room. I stared up at the ceiling watching this pulse come and go; its rhythm lulling me into a meditative state. The pulse of the red stood out to me. With each passing I recalled the blood seeping from the ghoul's gut shot wound that I inflicted. My train of thought descending down a path of bloody memories burned into my mind from the vault. Chief among them, the image of Overseer Denglar stumbling backwards, as a dot of red on his chest expanded to consume him; the look of disbelief on his face before it went cold and vacant.

"Sarah?"

"Yes?"

"That ghoul today…"

"Yeah… the poor thing." A sympathetic tone I wasn't fully expecting from her.

"I couldn't stand the sight of it. Made me sick to see it like that."

"You didn't want to hurt it," she said with certainty. Her statement hung in the air for a minute. To be honest, I don't know if I really thought of it that way. More than anything, I was initially frustrated that I couldn't pick it off cleanly. But its human resemblance made uncanny by its animal like behavior deeply unsettled me. Nonetheless, I could see beyond a doubt that it did feel pain in the way it panicked from its wounds. The way its blood flowed like any humans would. The way it cried out that ungodly roar when I punctured its gut. I was overwhelmed by the reality of what it means to wield a weapon in this savage land. Naively, I must have assumed it would be easy.

"How did you do it?" I asked absently.

"What do you mean?"

"You took that rifle so calmly, and just ended it." I realized as I said it that my words may be misconstrued as repulsion. But Sarah answered plainly.

"Somewhere inside that thing is a human being. I don't know how much of them remains, but the thought of someone being trapped in a body like that horrifies me. So I put them out of their misery."

I mulled this over. "You're such a kind soul, Sarah."

"You are too, Nate."

I smiled meekly but even that quickly dissipated as something came to mind. "I didn't mean to torment it like that."

"I know you didn't."

"…I didn't mean to kill Mr. Denglar neither."

She stayed silent for a moment, no doubt thinking carefully about what she could say to comfort me. "We're both victims too, Nathan. You're not a bad person."

Just then, there was a knock at our door. Sarah got up to answer. When she opened it, I could see Mammy standing in the frame, a mound of folded clothes was stacked in her arms. "Sorry to bother you," she said. "I just finished sewing up these clothes. I thought you'd like them. With the weather getting colder you should really wear extra layers."

Sarah took them graciously. "Thank you so much, Mammy. "Maybe we won't stick out like a sore thumb anymore, too." They both giggled.

With that, Mammy wished us a good night and turned to head home. As she did however, another person appeared behind her, Chum. His appearance startled her at first but upon recognizing him, she gave him a light pat on the shoulder and wished him good night as well. "Good night, Miss Mammy," Chum replied as she stepped past him. He came closer to the door frame so that he could peer in and see me as well. "I'm going hunting tomorrow. Thought that maybe you would like to come with me." He turned to Sarah. "You can come too of course."

I sat up in my bed. "Hunting? You mean, outside the wall?"

"Yeah."

My answer was instant and obvious.

It was early in the morning and the sky was overcast. Few people had emerged from their rooms yet so the town was still and quiet. I stood idly with Sarah in front of the general store munching on a piece of bread. My eyes were still tired from waking up so early but my excitement had launched me out of bed, into my new clothes and out the door within minutes. Now we both stood waiting for Chum to collect supplies from Dave's weapon kiosk. I looked over at Sarah who was shifting around and messing with her new clothes. They kept us warmer and made us look more like we belonged in Hell's Gate. But the material was new to us. We had spent our lives in vault jumpsuits, so these clothes felt awkward and uncomfortable at first. Sarah wore a brownish-red jacket, which she had buttoned up to her collar bone, stitched with multiple pockets and a thick brown leather lining. The blue of her jumpsuit still poked out above the buttoned part of the jacket. Her pants similarly were made of leather and well stitched with other pieces of leather and cloth. I wore an army jacket refurbished with a wool lining and a few patches of cloth over holes in the canvas material. My darkly shaded khaki pants were loose fitting and stitched with multiple pockets up and down the leg. Unlike Sarah, I had chosen to take off my jumpsuit entirely, as I only wore a gray shirt under the jacket.

Sarah took notice of me looking at her and smiled back. "What are you looking at?" she teased.

I smiled as well. "It's strange seeing you in anything but your jumpsuit."

"But I do have my jumpsuit on, see" she said pointing to the blue part peaking out from her jacket.

We both chuckled. But after a moment my face grew more serious as I felt compelled to ask something. "Are you sure about this, Sarah? I mean, going out there. You really want to do this."

She smirked and shook her head. "Oh Nate, did you really think I was going to let you go out there without me."

"Huh?"

"You're silly. We're a team. We're all we've got. There's no way I would let you go out there alone." As she spoke her cheeks turned a little pink. "If something happened to you and I wasn't there…"

I smiled softly, flattered by what she had said. "But do you really want to go out there? Not just for me."

"Do you remember when we tried to sneak out of the vault as kids? I wasn't just following you. I wanted to see the outside too." She came over to me and tussled my hair. "You think you're the only one with dreams." I looked away sheepishly. It was my turn for my cheeks to turn color.

Chum returned to us then with two rifles and boxes of ammunition. "These are on lease, so take care of them. We have to give them back to Dave when we come back." He handed Sarah a rifle similar to his but noticeably not as well maintained. The wood stock was coursers and the metal of the rifle barrel looked worn in places. My rifle looked as though it was fashioned completely by some wastelander from what was available to them. The barrel looked as though it had been homemade from left over piping and was tied together by crudely bent pieces of metal that strapped it to a wooden stock. This rifle also functioned differently in that it had a magazine slotted into the bottom that fed rounds into the chamber. Showing some concern for its soundness, I examined the rifle closely, shifting its weight around in my hands and shaking it to see if any of the fittings were loose, but it passed my rudimentary inspection. Chum then handed us each a box of ammunition. We took out the cartridges and stored them in our pockets before loading our rifles. Chum checked with us to see if we were ready. At this, Sarah and I both gave each other looks. The nervousness was evident in both of us, but I also could not contain my excitement. I still had some concern for her but since the previous day when I saw how she handled that rifle, I knew that she was as ready as I was. I gave her an assured look of confidence, so she did the same.

With that, Chum led us to the gate, nodding up at the keepers as we approached. They nodded back and activated a nearby generator. As the thing hummed to life, the gate began to creek before it slowly swung open. Chum moved forward. "Let's go." And so we took our first confident steps into the Wasteland.

Author's Note:

Thank you for reading the first three installments of Wasteland Odyssey! I hope you look forward to subsequent chapters as much as I look forward to writing them. As stated before, you should expect new installments uploaded every month. Feel free to leave reviews and questions as I do plan on responding to some of them. Tune in next time as Nathan and Sarah's adventure into the Empire Wasteland starts in earnest.

P.S.

I noticed I had made a mistake when uploading chapter one by not uploading the final version of the chapter. My sincerest apologies: I don't believe the edits will significantly change parts of the story, but I do know that there are entire paragraphs that are different or added, so I would suggest going back to read.

-Gazelly