Chapter Thirteen: Camp Madness
I sank to my knees, my strength fading; wheezing for air, yet finding little reprieve. I reached for a stimpack, but my arms refused to listen. So I sat there, slumped down in the dirt. My head felt the weight of the world upon it, my eyes heavy.
It'd be so easy.
I could do it.
Something jabbed into my right arm and I strained to take a gander; the stimpack was pulled and a hand reached for my shoulder, giving it a gentle shake.
Perhaps I should just sleep.
A second hand clapped down on my other shoulder and the shaking intensified. I shook my head as I felt my body become lighter. Raising my view, Addison was there playing nurse once more. I gave a weak smile, but her eyes only showed concern.
I moved to stand, but firm hands prevented me from getting up, "Just... stay down." I opted to comply.
So there I sat, watching as the others shuffled around the camp. Anytime I tried getting up to help, a stern Addison would firmly resolve to keep me down. I couldn't blame her either, not with the amount of blood covering me – I wasn't sure how much of it was my own.
The fight against the raiders was a blur after I rushed into the camp, all I could tell was the obvious: I made it through to the other end, and they didn't. It was readily apparent that I suffered a great deal of damage. My sorry state only exemplified that much. Whatever happened, my shotgun was... somewhere. It wasn't in my hand, that's about all I could say.
Where was my bag, for that matter?
I began looking around for either, but I gave up trying to stand – it wasn't worth the nurse's ire. Yet, no matter where I searched around me, I just didn't find them. Was it futile to search such a small area? Most likely, yes. Yes, I believe it was.
Without my book, I couldn't even communicate well. I made a motion of injecting another stimpack into my side, and looked to the nurse. Addison, for her part, seemed to understand what I meant. From a small pouch at her side, she retrieved a small cylindrical object and inched closer; as it entered my thigh, I, in my slowed stat, noticed it wasn't a stimpack. Before I could make any sort of protest, the contents were poured into my body.
It was slow at first, but my body began to feel at ease. I hadn't even realized how poor a state I'd been in. Of course, this all happened within seconds, and as the needle was pulled out I noticed what was put in me: Med-X. That explained why I feel so... fine.
Being as swell as I was, I could practically fly! Jumping to my feet, I stretched and rolled my arms, testing the mobility. When everything checked out, I started toward other parts of the encampment, no longer imprisoned by my own mortality.
Then everything went blurry and I felt pain. Pain in my face. Pain in my body. In fact, I couldn't really name a spot that didn't ache or throb. And the sudden darkness that filled my vision a moment ago didn't help. I could use a quick nap. I shut my eyes and listened as words became incomprehensible, and the world slowly swirled out around me.
I awoke with a shudder, my body told me it could wait only so much longer. Just like that, I began to stumble my way out of the encampment, looking for someplace quiet and out of the way. Not long after, I came near-tumbling back into camp.
My legs felt like mush, while my head felt like the warning sirens of a Vault door opening. It all culminated in my less than ideal walking. But as I swaggered around the camp, I noticed that the bodies of the raiders had been piled off to one corner and the bodies stripped of gear. Moseying on into one of the tents, I saw lots of armor, weapons, and other random supplies haphazardly piled up.
Seeing a water bottle at the base of the pile, I picked it up and took a swig; immediately spitting it out, and checking the label. But it was too dark to actually read. Bracing myself for the odd kick of the water, I took a big gulp of the stuff. It practically felt like fire going down.
Three swigs, five gulps; seven swings, eight gulps.
I felt floaty, like a veil had hoisted me aloft. I could actually be happy, I was happy! The world was bright, even at night! I could see and do anything! One-woman army! Hahahah!
Another swig, another gulp.
I was ascending toward the ceiling, nothing could hope to stop me! Just watch me go, go, go! Even now, even right now, I could feel the smile spread wide across my face! Yes, oh yes, it was glorious!
Et tu, water?
Squishy, squeezy; it matters not, it slurps right down! It comes right down! Crunching, munching; it comes right down! Grumbling, resisting; it goes right up!
Another swig—
I'm roused by a rough shaking. My heartbeat pounded in my head, and my throat dry. I could hear someone speaking beside me, but my brain just refused to translate the noise. My heavy eyelids slid closed, yet I had not a moment to fall back asleep as I was violently shaken once more.
Fed up, I sat up and shot a glare at the person shaking me, and then promptly fell over from the spinning. Kyle offered a hand to help steady me, but I wasn't in a position to be upright. After a moment, he handed me a bottle of water – irradiated – and I chugged it down, my Geiger counter singing all the while.
He watched as I downed the water, then said, "We couldn't find you when we woke up, then, after an hour's search, I finally found you up here... like that." He sighed, twiddled his thumbs, and his expression softened, "I just... don't know..."
It seemed like he had more to say, but was now reluctant to talk. I felt that. I put a hand on his shoulder as best I could manage in this turning world, and gave him a soft, comforting smile; then set to study my surroundings: I was on top of the tower, the two bodies were shoved to one side, and on the other was a sizable puddle of...
I don't even want to know what that is!
Lying on its side next to me was the bottle of water I found earlier, grabbing it, I tried reading the label once more. Now, with the new-found light of the big ball, I could read the plain words 'Vodka', and I set the bottle back down. I just want to curl up and hide – this is so embarrassing!
How could I not tell the difference between vodka and water?!
The sensation of the vodka going down is so drastically different from water. I thumped my head against the flooring, but was prevented from doing it a second time. I didn't need a mirror to tell how furiously I was flushed, and so I stayed down until I felt it mostly go away. Then I fixed Kyle with a stern look and pointed down.
As I tried to stand, I wobbled and nearly fell over, but he caught me once more. He bent down in front of me and motioned for me to climb on his back, and I did so. He then took a few steps to the ladder and began downward. Rung by rung we went lower, but I could feel myself slipping and no matter how tightly I squeezed I just continued to slide away.
Until, finally—
Tumhp!
I'd have groaned as I rolled over and rubbed my sore bottom. I then looked to see Kyle still halfway up and looking down apologetically. I slumped my shoulders and forced myself to stand. I then stumbled deeper into camp in the most straight of lines – that is to say, the furthest from straight – and found myself back near tents. Swinging inside one, I saw Anton messing around with a terminal.
He shot a quick glance when he heard me enter, but relaxed as he saw me. He clicked the power button and stood, "I can't quite figure the password out. Want to give it a shot?" I couldn't tell if he was patronizing me, or if he was genuinely wanting my help, but I resolved myself and nodded.
He then helped me over to the chair, and I set to work. With a push of the button, the terminal hummed to life. After some amount of time, I was in the root of the kernel and digging around for the potential password. It wasn't long after that, then, that I began typing in the password and the terminal opened its wonders to me (and Anton).
There weren't many interesting things in the terminal; a crude diary run by the leader, dubbed G., and a record of several shipments (of what, it didn't say). Lastly, I found a letter written to some boss.
Bosz
we be popin offf tha shapmantz 2 tha uzual plac at tha riht tihm
-G.
I cocked my head and tried to decipher it, and quickly found the answer: "We be poppin' off the shipment to the usual place at the right time." What an odd message.
I dug further through the terminal, but there wasn't anything else of interest; and while I didn't read the diary entries, if they were anything like that letter. Then I'd rather skip them. I pushed the power button and stood from the chair, feeling far steadier already. Nodding to Anton, I left him to his devices as I made my way out of the tent.
I found Kyle waiting for me, "I'm starting to not like that guy," he murmured in a hushed whisper. He then gave a fake smile and inquired, "Feeling better?" I gave a slow nod, and his smile suddenly seemed a lot more genuine, "That's good. Want to rest some more, or look around?"
I didn't need to think about it, and motioned looking around; then picked a direction and began that way. I could hear a certain someone diligently following behind, and if I so much as stumbled he was there to catch me. It wasn't long, then, that I found the next stop: a corner of the camp. A chest rested underneath an awning-like structure, and there was clear evidence that someone tried to bust the thing open, to no avail.
Kneeling down, I began to inspect the thing further: the locking mechanism was built-in and the strikes against the chest were in an attempt to cause the thing to malfunction or break. Grabbing my screwdriver from my boot and the bobby pin hidden in my hair, I set to attempting to unlock the thing. Twisting the bobby pin about, I then gave a gentle twist of the screwdriver, which I had jammed inside the opening, and after a moment it gave a soft click.
Returning the bobby pin and screwdriver, I pushed open the chest and the mouth gaped wide. I began pulling things out and organizing them beside me. Within a minute I had everything out and sorted, and then I began looking over them; sixteen '12Gauge Shots', another double-barreled shotgun, a 'Combat Knife', three 'Microfusion Cells', ninety-three '5.56mm Rounds', three '.32 Caliber Rounds', two '10mm Rounds', five batteries my Pip-Boy called 'Energy Cell's, and two 'Frag Grenades'.
I collected the things, handed some to Kyle to carry for me, and made for the center of camp. There, I found my bag and stuffed most of the things into the bag. Taking my shotgun and the new one, I set to add them together, as best I could; but I made little headway on that. Slinging the bag over my shoulder, I set for the tent with the loot.
With Kyle's help, we pulled most of the stuff out and had started organizing them. Unlike the chest, this stuff was a mess, haphazardly thrown under cover and into a pile. After about half an hour, we had most everything laid out. Once the last thing was in place, I began looking through them.
Raider armor of different assorts, weaponry, and ammunition. What was good, I think, was that there were also food items, liquids, and a few things I couldn't quite name at a glance. Lastly, some medical supplies. Once everyone else showed up, we'd divide this stuff and head off. For that, though, we'd need the others.
Pulling my book out, I wrote to Kyle, We need to find the others. I kept it succinct, as I didn't need to be wordy with explanations, bogging down the process. He muttered a quick acknowledgement and left. I walked to the tent where I last saw Anton, and pushed open the flaps. He was still hunched over looking through the terminal, I couldn't tell what he was doing, but he stood after a moment and turned off the machine.
"Is it time to get moving?" he asked. I shook my head, and covered part of a page to read Loot and then made a 'come with' gesture. He nodded, "I see."
Like that, we went back to the piles of loot. Not long after we arrived, Blake strolled up followed close behind by Addison, and Kyle a few paces behind her. With everyone gathered, I set to listing out everything that we had gathered, furiously scribbling onto several pages. Then, when I was done, I tore them out and handed them to Kyle, so that he may read them aloud.
"Uh," he hesitantly took the pages from me and looked them over. Resolving himself, he began to read out the contents, "'This camp has lots, these pages list everything that we sorted: two hundred thirteen 5.56mm rounds, one hundred twenty-two 10mm rounds, thirty-one .38 caliber rounds, twenty-nine 12gauge shots, two microfusion cells, and one .308 caliber round.' Wow!" he exclaimed.
The others went to say something, but Kyle continued, "Let's see, after that, it then lists weapons; 'Two sawed-off shotguns, seven 10mm pistols, four Chinese pistols, three assault rifles, one .32 pistol, one Chinese assault rifle, and a combat knife.' Not as many as I thought..."
Turning the page, he continued, "After that; 'fourteen stimpack, two Bloatfly meat,' um... why is the meat crossed out?" I shook my head and pointed toward the paper, and he seemed to let it go, "'nine frag grenades, six med-x, two psycho, three jet, four rad-x, seven radaway, two mentats, one vodka, twelve irradiated water bottles, three beers, four scotch, two whiskey, and one wine.' It then goes on to more edible food, 'Five Blamco mac and cheese, two gum drops, three cram, two potato crisps, two Salisbury steaks, four pork n' beans, one sugar bomb, and one YumYum deviled eggs.'" At that, Kyle heaved a small sigh.
I smiled as the others glanced from the pile to me, then back to the pile. They were likely amazed at how quickly I wrote out the items, but it wasn't that difficult; all I had to do was write what my Pip-Boy had shown me over the past few hours. I even opted to leave out the armor, since it seemed like none of us wore the raider's preferred... uh... style.
As the others began to discuss ways to distribute the goods, I began writing out my idea for handing out the loot. Moments later and I held up the completed draft, Wee should first figure out what everyone is in need of, what they could go without, and then go from importance of each item; food carcan be spread out evenly, it shouldn't be too particular who has what – meals can be pooled, items shared, after all. The others took a moment to mull over what was written.
They then set about discussing who needed what; Blake needed more 5.56mm rounds, .38 rounds, and could carry anything else given to him – bar drugs – and perhaps a few grenades; Addison mentioned needing more medical supplies and food; Kyle mentioned needing another gun; and Anton said he'd be fine with anything. With that in mind, we began divvying up the goods among us. The food was given out more or less evenly, while the ammunition was mostly divided between Anton, Kyle, and Blake; I'd made a note about having gotten some a short while ago from a chest. Meanwhile, Addison was given one of the sawed-off shotguns (Kyle getting the other) and a handful of ammunition, she might not have liked it, but it would be very helpful to have extra protection.
After everyone got their things, we took note of the alcohol. Looking to one another, we set to disperse that; Blake taking most of the scotch, Addison taking the rest; Kyle getting the wine; Anton getting the beers; and I was left with the vodka. I'm not sure how I felt about it, but it was what it was. Nothing I'd do about it now; besides, it might not be so bad.
Our group dispersed for a short while as they placed their goodies with the rest of their things, then returned back to the center of camp – I waited and watched them come and go. Once assembled again, we set about making a fire, as the light began to dwindle. Flammable materials were tossed into a pile, mostly-clean sitting objects set around them, and then Blake did something and fire poofed into existence – like an excited child bursting through the door, ready to show off their new toy. Everyone slowly shuffled for a seat, almost as if we were filing down the street.
In our seats, the fire crackling brilliantly before us, the mood settles into an awkward – and nearly eerie – cloud, which hangs over our heads. Finally, after an eternity and a half, Blake pops something open and brings it to his lips, before downing most of the contents in a single motion. Addison looks to him and asks, "May I?"
He silently hands over the bottle, and I notice the label: scotch. She takes it and knocks it back, downing more of the sloshing contents. It's then that I notice that Kyle has a bottle of his own in his hands, a deep musky crimson color; he takes short, frequent swigs. Now, even Anton is opening a bottle of his own, brown and dirtied, it must be the beer; he takes infrequent gulps, whenever it strikes his fancy.
As I watch the others drink, I can practically feel the air shift and the cloud change. What was awkward before was now relaxed, however I still noticed that things weren't quite changing. Not at first and not with any haste, but as the seconds ticked to minutes, Kyle spoke up, "Hey... so, Blake. Uh... thanks... thanks for, um... fixing up my leg during the fight."
Blake gently cast his gaze upon Kyle, who sat across from him, and a slight smile etched over his features, "Don't worry about it."
"Miss Addison was frozen stiff," Anton remarks to my left.
Addison perks up slightly from across from me, and begins to stammer, "W-Well, I-I... uh—"
Kyle shot Anton a glare, "That doesn't matter, she did what she could."
I felt an exhausted smile spread over my lips, and my shoulders sag. With that, I stood, and the potential fight came to an end. I regarded each of the people around the fight, looking into the eyes; whether they could actually see mine or not in the lighting, I knew not. They held momentary confusion, but I didn't wait for whatever came next.
I can't.
I just can't stay any longer.
Grabbing my bag, I slinged it over my shoulders and made my way into the darkness outside of camp. I heard a couple shouts as a few called out to me, but no one followed – and I imagine they went back to drinking the night away.
What is wrong with me?
Shaking my head, I begin heading West of camp, making a quick note in my Pip-Boy about the location, and dive deeper into the blackness beyond the fire's reach. It doesn't take long for my eyes to acclimate to the dark, and takes even less time for me to draw a weapon. Laser rifle in-hand, I set through the wooded area. After some time walking, I entered a clearing; the trees all but avoiding the area.
Scanning the clearing, I looked for anything out of the ordinary – it wasn't obvious at first, but then I noticed a cave entrance right in the ground. Cautiously approaching, I took in my surroundings: the ground glistened and it offered a slight resistance to my weight, the cave started out fairly small but opened as it went deeper (at least from what I could see).
Do I risk it?
While I was hesitant to find out what was down there, I was far too curious to turn back now. With a press of a button, my Pip-Boy began to shine and I carefully descended into the cave. If it wasn't obvious before, then it is now: there is an ever-growing resistance to my steps, each pull up becoming ever-so-slightly tougher. Finally, I found I could barely get my foot up, it wasn't without some extreme effort that I got it free.
At that, I turned to leave; but a low-hiss filled the tunnel, followed by a short series of clanking – as if two hard objects were clacking together. One step forward, I glance back and my vision is filled by—
Two steps, this one coming much faster than the last, I lock eye to eye to eye to eye to—
Five steps, my feet are stomping forward, I need out, I catch sight of something long and pointed drop down from below it.
Eighteen steps, my Pip-Boy's light fully illuminates the creature: it has a dark chitinous shell, two furled, gnarled fangs, a deep, dark stinger protruding down from its derriere; eight long, bent legs, each a menacing jet black, and eight blood red eyes, each scanning my features.
Thirty-three steps, I'm most of the way out, the large creature continued to stare, and I took in its size – it easily had to be four feet tall, and could only barely fit through the cave's entrance (I hoped).
Fifty-seven steps, I was outright running now, taking occasional glances back; it wasn't following, only regarding me from a distance.
Eighty feet, I was nearly out, I turned back and it was gone.
I didn't turn back as I cleared the entrance and booked it straight back to camp. When I returned, I went straight for the tower and stood watch for the creature.
-Data Recovery Unsuccessful, Transmission Terminated-
-Level Up-
-Perk Acquired: Fleet Footed; You're fast on your feet, running is 10% quicker, but stamina drains 5% faster whilst running.-
