Chapter Nineteen: Progress
What was I doing? I can't... I can't remember, I can't figure it out. I feel like I'm at the bottom of a murky lake, where regardless of how I might struggle, I won't ever find the surface. I can feel it. I'll be out of air here shortly, and I'm not sure I know the way out. Then why? Why can I still breathe? Why haven't I drowned? Yeah, I'm losing my mind. So what was I doing?
I wish the pain would leave me, it feels like thousands of tiny pinpricks, but it has to be an illusion. Right? Yeah. Yet, then, why do my ears ring? Where'd the buzzing come from? How am I supposed to get out of here? Of course, I'm still sinking. I can't even see my fingers. Am I asleep? This has to be a dream. Yet, it feels different. It feels as if I belong here; like I've always been here. Or maybe I just came back?
It doesn't matter.
I think I get it: I must be dead. Right? The explosion must have killed me. Or was it the ghoul? The strange ghoul. Yeah, I remember everything. I put up a desperate struggle. And this must be my punishment for being so rash. At least I can rest peacefully. I know I shut down the alarm. I did what I needed. I can rest.
But then why do I feel like I have something more to do?
Why am I even out in this wasteland? For Kyle? No, he might have given the idea and asked for my assistance, but that wasn't why I was out here. For Mom? No, otherwise I would have taken her with me. What happened to her? I hope she's okay...
This darkness feels crushing.
Do I... do I not have a reason for being out here? Have I really just been going with the flow? No, I've been traveling with Addison and Blake. But that doesn't make their objectives my objectives. Right, it just means I'm tagging along for the ride. I'm directionless. Right?
No. I need more information. That must be my goal: gather information. Without it, I'll just continue walking around like a headless chicken, only able to react as the situation dictates. I can't do that any longer. I need to know what's out there. I need to know that I can keep my friends safe. I need to keep them safe.
I have to keep them safe.
Perhaps, then, that is my goal? But what if I'm not enough? What if I can't keep them safe? What if the worst happens? What if I get separated from them? What if... they betray me?
"She's waking up!"
"What? How? I'm fairly certain she has a concussion or worse. I wouldn't be surprised if some of her bones were broken too."
"I don't know either. But she's certainly up."
I tried to crack open my eyes, but was blinded by a light. Even as I opened them again, I was forced to immediately close them once more. As I attempted to get up, I found an immense pain shoot through my entire being and a grimace erupted across my countenance. I wanted to cry; and maybe I did a little.
A hand found my shoulder to gently push me back down, "Hold still, I'll give you another stimpack." But I vigorously shook my head, which only brought on its own set of pain. Once more, I attempted to open my eyes, and once more I was forced to close them.
I grabbed the hand on my shoulder and pushed it away, and attempted to push myself up. Slowly I began to rise, and right before I started to fall back, a hand cautiously held me up. "If you're going to insist on getting up, at least let me help you." After a few seconds, I nodded, and just like that, I was helped up.
Finally, after opening my eyes, I tried keeping them open as long as possible, bearing through the pain the light brought on, and the blinding light slowly cleared away. The details around me came flooding in all at once to the point it felt like my head would burst, yet it was far better than being unable to see a single thing – at least, that's what I told myself.
"Here," Kyle cautiously took his hand from my back and proceeded to hand me my book. "How are you feeling?" I reached out with my left hand and shakily took the book. It felt heavy in my hand, and I could only blink in response – both to the development and as a response.
My body felt heavy. It felt sore; as if every fiber of my being was weighed down by an anvil. I forced a smile and wrote in my book: Better now. I chose not to elaborate.
"Um, well, that's... good?" Kyle scratched the back of his head and turned to Addison, huddled down not that far from him. "What, uh... what do you think?"
"I'm not a doctor, but I really don't think she should be up – little less than awake."
Harsh.
"Hmm, maybe. I'm just glad she's... uh, fine," his cheery tone sounded forced.
Just how bad could I really be? I could move; I could see. What else is there that one needs to be considered... not okay? I flashed another smile and attempted to get up more, but a stern hand kept me down. Despite the gentle pressure it felt like a metal baseball bat descended upon my collarbone, and I swallowed the near-non-existent spit in my mouth to keep from showing the pain.
Where are we? I wrote.
"Back up in the weapon's development floor; thanks to you blocking the door, the ghouls can't get in, so it's been our base camp of sorts while you rested up." I nodded and began looking around. "We weren't sure when or even if you'd wake, but here you are – awake."
Despite the main chamber of each floor having the same facade, the number of doors and labels was quite unique. The two doors on either side clearly noted this as being the second floor. Several bags were piled in the corner, a few bedrolls were outstretched nearby, and a few edible goodies and liquids hovered near each roll. The few bits of decoration that had once stood around the chamber had been moved to help enhance the door's protection.
I checked my Pip-Boy and the chronometer showed that just over half a day had passed since I fought the strangely-armored ghoul. The auto-doc feature told me I was out of critical condition, yet most of my limbs were in a poor state; at least, that was what I thought it meant, it wasn't exactly written for the layman. The auto-inventory system, a catalog of my things, showed a lack of a shotgun and all explosive material. Lastly, I investigated my armor, and, like I was coming to fear, it was slowly coming to a state of disrepair.
My attention was drawn back by some shuffling, as I looked up I could see Addison standing and heading to one of the side rooms. A moment later, Anton came out of the other, "Good to see you up, Miss. After seeing the fight, I could only speculate toward the... uh, harrowing strategy you pursued."
I rolled my eyes and smiled, while Kyle commented, "Like you could do any better."
"No, probably not."
I tuned out the rest of their argument as my mind shifted inward. Yet, I didn't make it far. A sudden rush of vertigo flooded my senses and the next thing I knew I was on my back and Kyle was hovering over me. I clearly wasn't in a state to do much, and they wouldn't let me even if I could get up. It left me with a very clear answer for what to do, and that was translated with a single word: Sleep.
"Yeah, fair. Good night, Miss."
Kyle hummed for a moment, sighed, and then shifted my blanket further up, "I'll be here if you need anything."
I woke with a start, a clattering of metals and other such objects crashed against the floor. My eyes flicked open and my hands quickly searched for my gun, but found only air. I pushed myself up and saw that Kyle was standing before a mess, his expression one of concern and worry. Upon seeing me awake and moving his eyes began to show regret. Deep regret.
Finding myself now awake, and unable to get back to sleep – I tried – I began to fiddle with my things once more; checking the time, my condition, and then stretching. It seemed I was out for about half a day, yet that was, oddly enough, enough time to recover well enough. The stretching relieved built-up tension, likely from not having moved all that much. I could feel my bones creak and the pop only soothed away my weariness.
Looking around, I quickly found my book and wrote to Kyle, who had by that point picked up his mess and began moving toward me: Where are the others?
"The others decided to explore the lower floors, they left a couple hours ago. I offered to stay up here and keep an eye on you." He looked down and twiddled his thumbs, "Sorry if I woke you."
I simply shook my head, stretched once more, and then began to stand. With a little effort, I found myself on my feet. Taking a gander, once more, around the room, I couldn't easily spot my things, but I eventually spotted my bag on the opposite side, next to one of the doors. I... walked – if it could even be called that – to my things, lifted my bag up, and took a couple steps.
As I took another step, I teetered and Kyle's hand shot out to help steady me, "Woah! You sure you should be up?" I nodded. "If... If you say so," he didn't sound convinced.
After making my way back to the bed, I plopped down, and began unloading my bag. Setting additional ammunition in a pile, organized by type; weapons in their own pile; food and water in a mess; and went about organizing my things. Then I began dismantling the guns, cleaning and repairing where I could, and then reassembled them. By the time I was done, I'd fixed up one of the 10mm pistols I had and gotten rid of the two poorer conditioned ones.
From there, I began to eat a few things. I hadn't realized it until I looked at the food pile, but I was hungry. Really hungry. As if I hadn't eaten anything in over a day. So I set to devouring my meal: irradiated water, cram, and potato crisps. Not the best meal, but I was full afterwards.
Once I was packed up, I jumped to my feet, feeling much more spry, and slung my bag over my shoulders, quickly securing it in-place. I'm headed downstairs, ya comin'? I wrote to Kyle. He didn't answer at first, but as I made my way to the elevator, his blank expression snapped away and he rushed to ready himself up.
"Y-Yeah, of course! I'm not letting you go alone!" He thought for a moment, and then added in a near whisper, one that I barely detected, "I can't let you go alone again..."
The doors dinged open and we stepped inside, riding the elevator to the floor below. I wrote my plan and showed it to Kyle while we waited for the ride to come to an end; once he was through reading – something that took nearly the entire ride down – he nodded and his eyes grew with determination. The doors gently slid open and we stepped out.
Ghoul corpses littered the chamber, the door to the stairwell was permanently fixed in a non-closed state due to the small pile blocking the clearing. Each of the doors, save for the one at the end of the hall, was left open, and noises were coming from one of the rooms on the far side. It was a short walk to the room, and as we entered we were greeted by a large machine being operated by Addison.
It whirred and hummed and did all the things I'd expect a large machine to do, even flashed with lights here and there. Addison glanced at us as we entered then turned back to the controls, but after a moment her face screwed up and she looked back at us once more. "Oh!" she cried out. Checking the controls one last time, she hopped over and immediately set about studying me. After a moment, she asked, "How are you feeling?"
I thought for a moment, then posed and flexed, like some macho fighter. Even that felt draining, but I stretched once more and flashed her a smile. Just in time for Anton to come sidling over, "Seems you are feeling a little better, Miss." I nodded.
Blake wasn't far from them, standing next to the machine, his left arm uncovered and a small wrap dampened red was covering near the bend of his elbow. His pistol was in hand and he simply nodded my way, so I nodded back. When I looked back at Addison, I noticed she, too, was bandaged. And as I scanned the machine, I quickly figured out why: both had their blood drawn.
I wasn't sure what the machine was or even had any guesses, but I wrote and asked how long they expected it to take. "It's a very meticulous process. It scans a dozen samples, reads out the deoxyribonucleic acid, and then writes it all down in an easy-to-understand graph! It's quite state of the art!" Addison cheerily explained.
The way she explained it, at least, made it easy to understand. It could read a dozen sample's DNA structures and give results that even a layman could understand. That was, I admit, my understanding of the explanation. It was neat, but I couldn't glean any sort of reason for needing that information; nor could I come up with any reasons.
After asking once more, by pointing to time, she answered, "About an hour, maybe a little more." Despite my best effort, a smile slowly crept across my lips, and I nodded. I nodded far too eagerly that it hurt, but I didn't let it show.
I held up the page showing my plan to the others. I could hear a faint gasp as eyes flicked between the page to me, and then back again. I watched as eyes clouded with thought and as they cleared when a response was formulated. Addison started, "That's... that's insane."
"Holy shit," Blake swore in simple fashion.
My smile only grew into a grin at their responses. This was going to be fun, and I knew it. "We found a ghoul that has kept her mind. What do you plan to do about her?" Anton cut in, bringing me down from my strange sense of euphoria.
My hand found my chin as I pondered for a moment, then jotted down something quick: She should be fine here, no?
He sighed, and then stepped closer, "Of course, Miss. Shall I accompany you in your endeavor?" My grin began forming once more and I nodded a hasty response, and then motioned for him to follow.
At that, I turned and left the room leaving Addison and Blake to their own devices, and Kyle and Anton on my heels. Since my shotgun was busted in my fight with the armored ghoul, I held my nicely repaired 10mm pistol in hand as we stepped through the door to the stairwell.
"Oh, before I forget. Here," Anton reached into his bag hanging at his side, and produced a few magazines full of ammunition and handed them to me. "10mm rounds, about fifty or so, I believe." Without any hesitation, I took them and slid them into my own bag.
I motioned for the two to stay close and then tried to signify that they should stay prepared, their assault rifles were held at the ready. Step by step, we carefully descended, weapons quickly brought to aim at the slightest movement. We weren't taking any chances.
It didn't take long, then, that we reached the floor below. The door leading in was shut, I pushed it open a crack and peaked through. My vision was filled with ghouls. Lots and lots of ghouls. More than we encountered after the alarm was set off.
I thought for a moment, then wrote down a quick plan of action for the others to execute. But before that, I asked whether any of them had any explosives and to hand them over. Anton carried two frag grenades, while Kyle seemed to have something called a plasma grenade – I hadn't the foggiest idea what it was. At that, I handed the frags to the two of them and informed them to throw them toward the sides of the group, while I would throw the plasma grenade into the center. If things went well, we would rid most of them before they could react.
On my fingers I counted down, and as I balled my fist, I kicked the door and we all tossed our grenades inside. By the time they smacked across the ground, the explosions rang out. But there was something I wasn't expecting: a green flame erupted through the center of the room, disintegrating any ghoul the fire licked, and sending a massive wave of heat across my entire body, despite it being a good distance from myself.
From there, we opened fire on any ghoul we still saw moving, and, just like that, we cleared the ghouls in the hall. As I stepped inside, I took a gander around, mostly to spot any remaining hostiles. But I didn't see any.
This room could only be described as a hall. It was massive compared to any other floor in this facility. A dome roof interlaced with support beams for additional support, the walls reinforced with cross-beams, and even if I could jump twice my height, I wouldn't come close to touching the lowest section of the roofing. It was certainly tall. It also wasn't any smaller than the other floors, even with just this hall alone. The elevator was to our immediate left, and the stairwell door behind us.
Scattered around the floor were the corpses of our foes, flipped over tables, and supplies haphazardly strewn about. It was, by all regards, a mess. From there, I motioned and we spread out and searched the place. The supplies were a bunch of clothing, a few bits of spare ammunition (single rounds), hair brushes, and other miscellaneous things.
I picked up one of the hard clothing and discovered it was actually a piece of armor. Flipping it over, I found it was a chestplate. I held it up and tried to gauge its size, and, after a moment, I was satisfied. I took my security armor vest off and slipped it into my bag before squirming into the armor. My Pip-Boy immediately marked it as a polymer combat chestplate. It wasn't the prettiest thing I'd seen, a dull, rusted green, but it was surprisingly comfy.
Next, I found a pair of greaves and placed them on. After a single step, they jiggled too much and so I took them off. Shaking my head, I set back to the task at hand: searching.
It didn't take long, then, that I found a ghoul still moving. It didn't seem too conscious of me, as it mostly sluggishly flailed its arms at its side, like a newborn duckling testing its wings. Kneeling down, I brought out my knife and sank it into the creature's back, right near the heart – unless I mixed up the sides. It didn't matter. Within moments the thing stopped moving, and I wiped off the blade and slid it back into my boot.
Noticing something on the ghoul, I picked it up and turned it in my hand. It was a couple bottle caps. Perplexed, I began checking other ghouls, and I occasionally found more. As I reached to check another, my attention was drawn away by a confused mutter, "A door?"
On the far side of the hall stood Kyle, looking at the wall. I was going to start questioning his sanity, but as I drew near I found he wasn't wrong – perhaps, then, that, too, meant I was insane. Hidden right along the wall was, indeed, a door. And sitting right next to it, carefully embedded into the wall was a terminal. Booting it up, I began to search the contents. It wasn't locked. And it only had one operation: 'relax door'.
I cocked my head. What could that even mean? I decided to step away and examine the door itself. Pushing it, pulling any point I could leverage, and kicking it all failed to open the thing. I thought about using an explosive, but I didn't have any. All the while, Kyle just stared at me, perplexed. Finally, as if he couldn't hold it in any longer, he asked in a hushed tone, "How are you doing?"
I motioned toward the rest of the room, then a ghoul, and then him. "You... won't answer?" I turned my back and put my focus back on the door, yet I couldn't actually bring my focus toward the door. Instead, my ears were focused on any and all movements. After a long silence, Kyle sighed a deep and heavy sigh and then trudged away, whispering to himself (or perhaps me), "She didn't answer..."
Minutes passed. I wasn't sure exactly how long it had been, only approximately, but I was getting ready to give up. Stepping closer, I slumped, face first, against the cold metal surface. Then. Slowly. Real slowly, I drew back and slammed my head against the wall. The force of impact rang throughout the hall, and I felt the world spin. I teetered but didn't fall. Balling my fists, I pounded at the door until my fists hurt.
Flexing my sore digits, I wiped off my brow, and set to looking through the terminal once more. Yet, once more, it only held one operation: 'relax door'. What was that supposed to mean?! How could a door rel—
I thumbed the keys and at once the operation was selected. A small click resounded on the opposite side of the wall, and then a long, low groan as something else clacked. Just like that, more things began to click or clack, and within moments the wall itself began to move. Retreating into the ceiling, I watched as the entire wall shifted out of view.
By the time it had disappeared, Kyle and Anton were by my side. I looked at each, yet Kyle avoided my gaze and Anton was fixated on the object before us. It wasn't until I turned my attention forwards that I understood the wonder sparkling in Anton's eyes. There, sitting in a small bank was what could only be described as a wonder of science: a mainframe.
-Transmission in Progress-