A/N: Winter's greetings! It's been snowing here all week and it's kind of annoying at this point. I've shovelled my driveway three times and I'll have to do it again today... But that isn't why we're here, we're here because we're all mildly sadistic and enjoy watching characters get tormented! (That's foreshadowing). How this section of the story was really interesting to write because it isolated the characters in a way they haven't been since the beginning of the story. It's fun exploring how their personalities and interactions have changed since then. Anyway, that's enough rambling. Leave a review if you're so inclined and, as always, enjoy!
Chapter 102: Don't Make it Personal
Faraday's delivery route had been simple: the package was supposed to be moved along the main road up from an abandoned town to the southwest of the mountain. It was some device in a large shipping container. The only things he said he needed out of it were the three storage drives, the rest they could retrieve later.
The search was a bust.
After spending most of the morning on the mountain road leading down to the town, we didn't find anything besides a large house with a few trappers and more of the island's strange (even for this place) wildlife.
It only took a minute to clear the half-dozen trappers out. Longfellow was eager to assist, which I could understand. Even so, I had him stay back with Nate. More people meant more fighting and we didn't need to draw any attention.
As with the others I'd fought, these trappers were barely functional. It was almost trivial to sneak through the dense, hazy forest and up to the house. Slipping inside, with its crumbling walls, was even easier. While a few of them were on watch, they more or less stared in one direction the entire time. I managed to kill four of the six before any of them noticed.
A quick search of the house revealed no evidence of our objective.
Finding the trappers there was concerning. They would've attacked the couriers if they came up the mountain. The fact they hadn't probably meant they didn't make it that far.
So we continued toward the town.
The rest of the mountain road was clear of our objective which meant unless the couriers deviated from the route, they never made it out of the town.
"What can we expect from this town?" I asked Longfellow. We stopped near a small, sickly-looking pond surrounded by some kind of luminescent plant.
He tilted his head back, squinting at the canopy above us. "Ghouls. Lot's of 'em."
Ghouls? Why the hell would they land in a place with a bunch of Ghouls?
Probably because they couldn't land at Far Harbor.
"I'd put a bottle on trappers too. It's the kinda place they'd take over."
… That made it worse.
"Faraday would make these people dock somewhere there might be Ghouls and trappers?" Nate's distorted voice came through his helmet's speakers. "Seems like a pretty bad idea."
Longfellow shrugged. "Doubt Allen and his boys would let 'em dock in Far Harbor."
"Morons…" I muttered.
"Allen's just a big mouth tryin' ta' act tough."
I cocked my head at the old man. "He killed someone."
"Yeah, one 'a those cultists."
"Anyway", Nate interrupted. "Getting to the package will probably involve fighting then, right?"
While I'm definitely not one to talk about limiting engagements…
"Looking for alternatives would be preferable with our timeline. We don't know force strength or fortifications. If the town is inhabited by trappers, it's unlikely the transport got into or past it. The cargo might still be on or near the boat they used to move it."
Nate was quiet for a moment and I could feel his eyes on me through his helmet's small lenses.
"Are you trying to be Valentine?"
"It's a straightforward deduction from the available information."
The ex-soldier grunted. "Straightforward? Are you trying to call me dumb?"
"No." I shook my head. "But now that you mention it…"
"How are you gonna sneak into the town?" Longfellow asked.
"The shoreline. I'll use the water if I need to. I would like to get eyes on the town before I do. Is there anywhere with a good view?"
Longfellow nodded. "There's a bluff above the east side 'a town."
Another half-hour of trudging through the woods later, we arrived at the bluff. It was a good spot: plenty of trees and brush for visual cover and it provided an unobstructed view of the town.
It only took about five seconds to see Longfellow had been right.
The town was about the same size as Far Harbor, split into two halves by the waterway. Each half had a few dozen buildings, all in various states of decay. They were a mixture of wood and brick construction, none of them higher than three stories. Several boats were wrecked in the harbor but it looked like one, moored to a dock on the south end of the town, was still functional.
While I spotted a few Feral Ghouls on the east side of the town, that didn't catch my attention. What did was the 30-plus trappers on the west side. And that was only what I could see. There were some on rooftops, more idling in the streets, and I'm sure even more in some of the buildings.
Considering how much cover there was and how inattentive the trappers were, I didn't doubt I could eliminate most of them without firing a shot. The problem with that was it still provided opportunities to take fights I didn't need to. Without my shields… my armor was still incredibly resilient and I wasn't worried about anything they had getting through it. The problem was the more it got hit without its shields, the faster it would degrade. I have to treat it like a limited resource and fighting both the Institute and Brotherhood would be very resource-intensive.
"None of the boats in the harbor are big enough for a shipping container", Nate said. He had disembarked from his armor and was lying in the dirt a few meters to my right. His rifle didn't have an optic on it but the town was close enough to see that with the naked eye.
Longfellow was still behind us. "I know, back when we used this place before, people would use the west coast of the town to dock. Might be thataway."
"How many do you see?" Nate asked.
"12 Ghouls on the east side, 35 trappers visible on the west, more in the buildings", I said. I shifted my rifle to look at the west side of the town.
The buildings were blocking the coast but I could see… "Longfellow, is there land on the far side of the town?"
"Nah, not 'til you get to the factory on the far shore."
"Something is burning on the water."
Nate hummed. "That has to be oil or fuel, right?"
I nodded. "Probably. If it is, that might be the courier." I twisted to look back at Longfellow. "You said your people don't use this port anymore?"
The older man, sitting against a tree beside Nate's vacant armor, nodded.
"It would make sense for Acadia to use it, then", I said as I turned back to the town. "The trappers moved in recently."
Pushing myself back, I stood and retreated from the side of the bluff. "I'll be back in half an hour. Head back to Acadia if things get hot."
Nate followed suit and nodded.
"Head back?" Longfellow asked, eyebrow cocked. He stood from the tree and squinted up at me.
"Yeah", the ex-soldier replied. "He'll be fine."
"That other group was a lot smaller, friend."
I picked the empty backpack up and slipped my arms through the loops. While I could understand his uncertainty without having any prior knowledge of me, I still didn't have the patience to explain why he didn't need to worry.
"Head back to Acadia if things get hot." Maybe I should have been more cooperative but there were too many things going through my head. I needed to find some focus. "I'll meet you there."
Dogmeat paced up to me, tail swishing back and forth. Something stopped me from telling the large German Shepherd to stay with Nate. Even if he couldn't come with me to the boat if it was on the far side of the town, he'd be fine on the eastern shore. As long as there was enough coastline, he wouldn't need to go in the water.
"15 minutes." I didn't need to remind Nate to radio if something happened. I looked down at Dogmeat and jerked my head down the hill to the south.
We moved through the forest quickly, careful to avoid the brush and loose ground. It only took a couple of minutes to reach the road that ran into town. Other than a few scattered houses, it was empty.
As we crossed to the coast, I kept my rifle trained on the east side of the town. There were several Ghouls visible from our position. None of them responded to our presence.
The town itself was cramped and strangely oriented. Both sides of it were organized around the small, 200-meter-long harbor. It was hard to believe anything larger than a passenger vehicle would fit between the decrepit, crumbling buildings. There was even less space than in Far Harbor.
Unfortunately, the beach itself was rocky and uneven. The problem wasn't footing, it was maintaining sound discipline. Careful movement and sound-deadening soles could only do so much with half a ton of armor and large, armored boots on uneven, rocky terrain.
Despite my best efforts, I couldn't stop the occasional clack from underfoot. Dogmeat didn't have that problem.
As we neared the town, I dropped to a crouch and slowed. Talking from the other side of town drifted across the small harbor. It was sharp and stuttering like whoever was talking wasn't sure how to form the words correctly. Given my experience with the trappers so far, the fact one of them could speak was a surprise on its own.
Directly ahead was a small wooden dock that looked like it was about ready to fall into the water. It creaked and swayed dangerously with every wave that rolled past it.
After clearing the few visible buildings on the far side, I moved up to the edge of the harbor. No Ghouls.
The point where the docks met the shoreline as it sloped up into the town made a natural alcove, perfect for Dogmeat to hide.
I pointed to the divot. He slipped over to it and laid down.
From there, I could see several ships, or what used to be ships, broken and scattered across the opposite shore. There must have been parts of at least half a dozen crowding the beach. Judging by the haphazard distribution, that was likely a result of the tide washing them up onto dry land.
10 minutes until I had to be back.
"Stay", I whispered.
Slipping into the water, I waded across the channel and onto the far shore. Still nothing. If these guys had established any form of perimeter, there was no way I'd be able to get to that point without being spotted. Just like the first encounter I had with them, that level of preparation seemed to be beyond them.
As it was, I made it to the first wreck without seeing anyone on watch.
More voices now, maybe five or six. Just like the first, their cadences were strange. Maybe… 'guttural' would be the best word for it. They sounded like what I'd assume proto-languages might have been.
Except they weren't speaking a proto-language.
"- heard them in days", one said.
I checked the next ship and moved to it, careful to maintain visual cover from the town.
"Dumbasses got caught. Stupid spot, that near Far Harbor."
Supermutants. They sound like Supermutants.
That wasn't a pleasant memory.
As soon as I rounded the next wreck, I reached a large rock that jutted out from the town all the way to the water.
And peeking out from around it was the bow of a large, green boat. Flames licking at the water were visible just passing it.
Probably my target.
"Don't matter. Those idiots won't come here."
I frowned. Allen might be stupid enough to.
Slipping around the water side of the rock, more of the boat came into view. It was tilted on its side, half-resting on the beach. The rear of the boat was sticking off the shore, murky water lapping at its hull. I could see the dark, oily shadow of fuel in the water. Fires were burning all around it. The boat's fuel bunkers must have been ruptured when it hit the shore.
"Should take their stuff. Lots of good gear."
A boat that size, maybe 40 meters long, could hold thousands of liters. Diffused in water like it was, that could burn for a long time.
"Nah, not going to that place. Too close to Far Harbor."
As I crept further around the rock, the cabin came into view-
And the mystery of what happened vanished.
The wood and glass structure was riddled with gunfire. Most of the windows had been blown out and I could see dried blood on the pockmarked interior walls. Whoever was piloting the boat had been ambushed on their approach and it crashed into the shore.
Then I caught my first glimpse of a trapper. She was standing just outside a door on the starboard side of the cabin. Her clothes were… strange. She almost looked like someone strapped a bunch of old SCUBA gear over a leather jacket and worn overalls. It was just as disjointed as their speech.
I stopped and waited. Unless she walked to the edge of the bow and looked over, she wouldn't see me. Under normal circumstances, I'd skirt around the rock until I was under the boat's bow but I didn't know with these people. They were too irregular and they didn't do much that made sense to me.
She was mumbling something under her breath. I couldn't hear well enough to make it out.
Or maybe whatever noises she was making weren't coherent.
30 seconds ticked by without any movement.
To hell with it.
Again, careful to keep my boots as quiet on the loose rock as I could, I hugged the rock, rifle trained on the boat's rail.
No movement.
The bow was maybe two and a half meters off the ground. If I stood up straight, I'd almost be able to see over it.
Either she needs to come to the edge or I need to get up there fast enough to keep her from raising the alarm.
Since I had no idea if she'd come to the edge, I'd have to get up there.
As I reached the underside of the bow, I moved down the starboard side until I was in line with the trapper.
Then I jumped up onto the deck.
The trapper's eyes were just starting to widen when I landed in front of her.
She didn't have the chance to react otherwise when I wrapped my left hand around her throat and squeezed.
I didn't crush her neck the same way I had Castle's. That had been slow; she deserved to suffer. This was quick and violent. She was scrambling for my hand. With her trachea and practically everything but her spine crushed, she wasn't able to shout an alarm.
Shoving her to the ground, I watched and listened for any other trappers as I waited for her to fall unconscious.
About 15 seconds later, she stilled and I lowered her body over the side of the boat.
The deck itself was in relatively good repair but, up close, I could see clearly into the cabin.
Judging by the amount of dried blood, there had been several people inside when the trappers opened fire.
Even the mailman gets killed around here…
Unfortunately, the deck's wooden boards groaned under my weight as I crept down the starboard side of the cabin. That trapper had been the only one I saw on the boat and, hopefully, the others were too far away to hear.
My objective came into sight around the side of the cabin: a light blue container large enough to fit a car.
Before I emerged onto the ship's main deck, I scanned the town beyond to make sure no one was looking. The collection of decrepit buildings was clear. The ongoing conversation was coming from somewhere farther in.
When I did, I saw the crate had been opened. Inside was a piece of equipment I didn't recognize. That wasn't a big deal, Faraday identified the storage drives he needed: 3 30-centimeter-wide drum-shaped objects. All three were lying on the floor of the container.
Collecting them, I slipped back behind the cabin before pulling the backpack off. Faraday had supplied me with three sealed plastic bags just in case. That would come in handy.
10 seconds later, I had the drives sealed and in my backpack.
I dropped over the side of the boat, hurried past the now-dead trapper, and backtracked along the shoreline.
A minute later, I was slipping past the last shipwreck-
Dogmeat wasn't in his hiding spot anymore; he was standing on the shoreline, facing the town on his side.
It only took me an instant to see why: three ghouls were pacing toward him. They were moving slowly.
Why?
It didn't matter, I was still 50 meters from the waterway.
I broke into a sprint. Maintaining footing on the slick, uneven surface was difficult, and my armored boots sent rock spraying out behind me.
Despite the terrain, I reached the water a heartbeat later and drove my legs into the ground.
Soaring across the 15-meter-wide harbor, I came down between Dogmeat and the Ghouls. One was directly in front of me. I dropped a shoulder as I barreled into it. The thick titanium plate slammed into the thing's face. I felt as much as heard the wet crunch as the front of its skull turned into mulch.
The thing crashed into its friend and both of them went tumbling to the ground.
An instant later, I was on the last one. It was just starting to register my presence when I drove my forearm into the side of its head. The blow flung it to the ground beside the other two, its skull likewise shattered and neck bent at an awkward angle.
A quick, messy stomp, and the only remaining one was dead.
"Why did you come out?" I asked, turning to Dogmeat.
Not like he's answering that.
No but… why would he come out?
He could have outrun the Ghouls if he wanted.
The German Shepherd was still in a half-crouch, staring at the bodies. His teeth weren't bared and, while he was coiled, he didn't look like he was ready for a fight.
Had he stuck around as a lure?
That was the only thing that made sense. Why would he use himself as bait?
I'll have to worry about it later.
"Come on", I whispered.
Dogmeat's large, brown eyes shifted from the Ghouls to me and he stood.
We moved back down the shoreline. Once we were far enough away from the town, we crossed back to the north side of the road and climbed back to the bluff.
Nate and Longfellow were waiting for us, the ex-soldier back in his borrowed power armor.
The two of them skipped any quips and I took point with Dogmeat as we moved back through the forest, up the mountain.
Why had Dogmeat done that? Why had he just… stood on the beach? He wasn't there to fight, maybe he didn't want to fight. Against three Ghouls, it would make more sense for him to avoid them. If that's the case, why didn't he just leave?
The three of us were quiet as we climbed back to the road leading to Acadia. The Fog was drifting through the trees and across the road as a stiff breeze carried over the mountain.
"Rain", Longfellow whispered. "Gonna be a good one."
"Is that something to worry about?" Nate asked.
I glanced back at them. That sounded like something we didn't need to be talking about while trying to avoid notice.
Unless it was important.
"Clears out the Fog. Riles up the things that go 'bump'."
"So the wildlife gets more aggressive."
"Yep. They don't like when their fog gets messed with, even if it's the ocean doin' it."
If that's the case, we'd be staying inside unless absolutely necessary.
"How soon?" I asked.
"Later today", Longfellow said. "Probably into the night and tomorrow."
… That can wait.
"We can discuss it at Acadia, then."
X
Faraday was at the front door when we arrived, waiting. It swung open as soon as we were past the perimeter. While I wanted to tell him that was stupid and he needed to stay inside, their security wasn't my responsibility. Chase would probably get on him about it. That was enough for me.
Once the technician had retrieved the drives, he hurried down the hall and into the observatory's main room.
"Like a little goddamn kid", Longfellow muttered.
Nate laughed. "I need food, water, and a piss. I have no idea how I stayed in one of these for two days straight." He looked at me. "Don't say it."
I shrugged. "You get used to it."
"That isn't the 'it' I didn't want you to say but it isn't any better."
We found Valentine in the bustling second-floor workshop, talking with Kasumi. The young girl was sitting at a bench, working on what might have been a relay. I wasn't sure, it was a lot larger than the ones I'm used to.
A half-millennium of development will do that.
"The tin can band returns", Nick said with his usual, crooked smile. "Considering Damon doesn't look like he's about to break someone, I assume things went well."
"You can give him the rundown", Nate said, waving a manipulator at the detective. "I'm getting out of this thing."
I grunted. "Yes, it went well. Faraday has his storage drives." I looked from Nick to Kasumi. "What's going on here?"
Valentine turned to the young woman. She hadn't looked up from the workbench.
"Main relay for the generator fried one of its contacts. Didn't know until I powered it up and got no juice. We don't have any spares I can find so I'll have to make another one."
What? I cocked my head at Nick.
"Power ain't getting from the generator into the wires."
"I know what a relay does."
He shrugged. "Then what do you want?"
"... Anything re-" I stopped myself. That probably wouldn't be helpful to say. Nick said he'd get Kasumi back to her parents, it's better if I let him do that. "Never mind."
After a few minutes, Longfellow left to find somewhere quiet and Nate came back without his armor.
As had become all too common, I had nothing to do besides wait until others finished their preparations. I still didn't know what the timeline was for either getting the Molecular Relay running or prep on our Tektus replacement.
That was the worst part about the whole 'waiting' thing. At least, back when I worked for ONI or was part of Fourier's team, we had timetables. I knew how long I had to prep, when I'd be deploying, and for how long.
Hell, I didn't even know what Nate's people would organize for assistance once we reached the Institute. We didn't have any way-
I blinked.
Kasumi built or repaired that radio Kenji was messing with…
"Kasumi", I said, pulling the radio from its pouch. "Can you boost this handset's signal to reach the Commonwealth?"
The young woman finally turned from the partially disassembled relay and squinted up at me. I held out the radio.
"Any reason it needs to be this and not any old radio?"
"It's encrypted."
She frowned. "Encrypted? People use encrypted communications?"
"Yeah."
"That should be easy enough. Unless someone back there has a more powerful transmitter than one of those", she pointed at the radio I was holding, "it's gonna be a one-way conversation."
Dez probably has something set up. "Should be fine."
She crossed her arms. "If I'm gonna do that, I want to know about your armor."
… What? "What do you want to know about it?"
"Anything you can tell me."
I huffed. "You said 'That should be easy enough.' That's a lot of information for something that should be easy."
"You need someone to boost your radio's signal, I don't need to know about your armor." She shrugged. "Up to you."
Nate looked up at me. He was doing a bad job of suppressing that stupid smile.
If I was being honest, I smiled too.
"I'll tell you about the hard-armor's material and construction."
"Done." Kasumi held her hand out. "I just need a few hours."
I blinked. That was easy…
Offering her the radio, I glanced at Nick. Unlike Nate, he wasn't bothering to hide his amusement.
He didn't say anything; neither of them had to.
Even if I was amused by Kasumi's 'negotiation', I knew they were amused because they thought it would bother me.
It was too common and I wanted to throttle both of them.
Kasumi stood from her workbench and marched toward the stairs to the lower floor-
Running.
Someone was running behind us. The steps were too light for an average person. Chase.
When I turned, I saw the Courser emerge from the staircase leading to the upper floor. Her eyes landed on me as soon as she was in sight.
Great.
"Damon", she said as she hurried through the large, busy room. "I… hate to ask but I have a lead on that missing Synth and I don't have time to mess around. He's been MIA for five days now."
"What do you need from me?"
"His trail went cold to the south of Far Harbor. I'm going to try picking it up from there. He knew Acadia was on the mountain. I nee- want you to search further up the mountain for him. Bringing Longfellow would be a good idea. I don't know much about him but I know he's an expert woodsman."
Missing for five days? He's probably dead.
"Do you suspect foul play?" Nate asked.
Chase shrugged. "I don't know at this point. The only info I have is he was worried. He ran off on his own before we could organize an escort and his trail ends about two miles out of town."
I frowned and jerked my head at the other two. "Take them. Nate can provide security and Nick tracked down Kellogg."
"That wasn't exactly the same", Valentine muttered.
"Remember what you said about me and adapting?" I asked.
Nick cocked a non-existent eyebrow at me. "Okay. Copycat."
"Alright", Nate interrupted, frowning. "Give me a few minutes to get geared back up…"
As he went to get back in his armor, I left to find Longfellow, Dogmeat padding alongside me. I went from an errand boy to search and rescue. Really putting my talents to use.
What else am I doing?
Yeah, yeah.
The old man was in the small, well-lit, and clean cafeteria off the workshop, leaning against the back wall, nursing a cup of coffee.
"Chase is asking us for help finding a missing Synth", I said. "I'd like your help."
"Hello ta you too." He set his cup on the table beside him. "How missing?"
"Very."
Longfellow frowned. "Remember that whole 'rain' thing?"
I nodded. "I'm requesting your help, not ordering it."
"Uh-huh." He shoved himself away from the wall with a groan and stood. "Just like you gave me the choice of bein' stuck with you until your little mission here's over or dyin'." Longfellow stopped in front of me. "I don't feel like gettin' a Fog Crawler up my ass. If I say we gotta go, we gotta go."
"Understood."
"Good", he replied, nodding. "Then I'll go along with your 'request'."
X
The rain started as a drizzle, a soft tap, tap, tap off the foliage around us. It didn't stay that way for long.
An hour after we left Acadia, it was a downpour. There was enough I could feel it through my armor. Longfellow was prepared for it, apparently. He'd brought a large poncho with him and pulled it on as soon as the drizzle started.
Dogmeat… wasn't as lucky. We didn't have anything for him so he was drenched, hair clinging to him as we crept down the mountain road.
Longfellow had also been right about the Fog: most of it dissipated with the rain pummeling the island.
While I wasn't concerned with my ability to handle whatever wildlife wanted to come after us, I'd rather not. Tracking an unknown target in an unfamiliar environment was already hard enough. Especially since that target was in a panic when they were last seen five days ago.
That meant they likely weren't thinking rationally. That expanded the places we had to search. We couldn't stick to logical locations like buildings or, maybe, caves. This Synth could be anywhere.
It was raining hard enough small streams were running across the road, carrying loose dirt with them.
That explains why the edges of the roads are degraded so much more here than in the Commonwealth.
I felt Longfellow pound on my shoulder and turned to him.
"Gonna be honest, big guy", he called over the downpour, "this Synth's probably dead."
"Agreed."
"Two miles south of town and here's a big area for two people and a dog."
In the last hour, we'd searched every likely location Longfellow could think of near Acadia. There had been two small houses, each at the end of dirt roads. Both were so dilapidated, they didn't offer much more protection than being outside. The first one's roof had completely collapsed and the second was missing most of three walls.
There had been a small cave at the base of a rockface a klick north of Acadia. It was large enough to support someone for a while but there were no signs of habitation.
"Yeah." I turned to study the forest again. Aside from the sharp descent off the south side of the road down 200 meters mountain, everything felt the same as the rest of the island. It had rained long and hard enough, the trees were saturated and water was pouring from their leaves to the ground below.
And it was loud. Almost like I was in a shower.
"You wanna head back?" Longfellow called.
"No", I said. "It's only been an hour. We'll check as many likely positions as we can."
The stretch of road that would take us further down the mountain, with its exposure to the massive fall down the hillside, was several hundred meters long. Erosion had eaten away at the edge of the road, narrowing it to maybe half a dozen meters.
We could move up the steep embankment above the road to avoid a potentially hidden channel under the surface. Unfortunately, I was heavy enough, in the downpour, I might start a landslide.
But something was telling me that stretch of road was dangerous.
Was… someone watching us?
I looked back up the road in the direction we'd come, then up the hill above. It was raining hard enough someone could be following us and I wouldn't hear it. Neither would Dogmeat.
We could drop straight down the hill and avoid the road.
Just before I could voice the option to Longfellow, something caught my attention through the downpour and foliage. My first instinct was 'animal'.
It wasn't. While the glimpse didn't last long, it was long enough to see, whatever I saw, had several sharp edges.
Uncamouflaged armor.
"Contact", I snapped and took aim up the hill. "Off the road."
Longfellow didn't hesitate: he turned south and made for the edge-
Someone leaned out from behind a large tree about 50 meters up the hillside above us.
My sights snapped to his head. He was aiming at me, wearing what might have been an old army-issue helmet and green combat armor.
Gunners…
The Mk18 barked and a bullet passed through the bridge of his nose.
As he slumped to the ground, I mirrored Longfellow, providing him and Dogmeat cover.
Then a dozen more Gunners appeared from behind various trees and foliage and opened fire.
Oh shit.
Most of the gunfire was hurried. Volume fire for suppression. They were trying to pin us down.
I took a deep breath as time slowed and the rain around me almost seemed to freeze in place. I picked my next target, one a few meters from the man I'd shot, and put her down too. Then a third.
A few rounds hit me by the time I moved to the fourth Gunner. None of them were powerful enough to do anything but glance off.
As I squeezed the trigger and dropped that one, I started backing down the hill-
A bright flash lit up the forest and an exhaust trail leapt at me.
I dove to the side and the RPG passed just over my shoulder. It slammed into a tree behind me, blowing it into a barrage of splinters.
"Move!" I shouted and scrambled to my feet on the unstable, slippery forest floor. "Down the mountain!"
That launcher could very easily cause a landslide. I didn't want to get caught in that.
The damn hillside didn't slope away from the road fast enough to give us cover from the Gunners.
Their gunfire didn't slacken as I retrained my sights on the advancing mercenaries.
Two more launchers fired, both aimed at the roadway above us.
So they are trying to do that.
We had seconds.
Turning, I grabbed the back of Longfellow's poncho just before he could get out of arm's reach and wrenched him back toward me.
"West!" I barked.
The old man shot me an irritated glance but complied. Dogmeat was already running along the hillside.
I did my best to stay between them and the Gunners. I was their only useful physical cover; trees wouldn't do anything to stop rifle rounds.
We had 50 meters to clear the hillside. With the bad footing, Longfellow would take 15 seconds to get there.
An absolute eternity in a gunfight.
Fire was still pouring down from the Gunners' position. More than a dozen were up there with that volume.
The terrain was bad enough I couldn't even return fire effectively. Between trying to stay level with the other two and maintain my footing, it was pointless to shoot back.
Rounds were still raining down around us, passing close enough to produce a loud crack over the downpour. Several trees were shredded by gunfire-
Three whumps went off ahead and to my right in quick succession.
Then a loud crack I'd only heard once before when I dropped the side of a mountain on a Covenant Remnant convoy.
Longfellow screamed and stumbled in the wet dirt. He half-ran, half-fell into a tree, and tumbled to the ground.
The ground was shifting.
I reached him an instant later as the entire mountainside rumbled.
And then the ground turned into a stream.
My feet were swept out from under me and I slammed down on my right shoulder. It panged to remind me it wasn't quite healed.
Dogmeat was just ahead of me, struggling against the sudden flow of dirt.
At the same time, gunfire was still pouring down from the Gunners.
A round pinged off the back of my helmet as I felt the ground start pulling me down the mountainside.
I grabbed Longfellow and pulled him to me.
Dogmeat slipped and started falling after us. He yelped just loud enough for me to hear over the gunshots and the sounds of the mountainside crumbling.
We were passing between trees and bushes as we were carried by the land flow. Every few seconds, I felt the ground try to swallow me but we remained on the surface.
The landslide took us over a small drop and I slammed down on my back-
Then twisted before crashing into a tree to shield Longfellow from the impact.
That slowed us enough for Dogmeat to catch up. I grabbed him too before shoving us away from the tree to avoid getting buried.
I couldn't hear the gunfire anymore but I wasn't sure if we'd been carried out of their line of sight or the landslide was drowning it out.
We crashed through some underbrush before another tree bore down on us. I managed to shove us away just before we slammed into it-
A mass of dirt crashed down on top of us and threatened to bury us. We emerged before it could but the flow tried to tear Longfellow away from me.
I pulled both him and Dogmeat onto my chest.
What felt like a century passed as we were at the mercy of the landslide. I lost count of how many times we were almost buried or crashed into something. At a point, I stopped trying to control our slide. It wasn't as if there was any real way for me to direct us.
Eventually, our fall began to slow as I felt the mass of dirt shove against my boots.
But that meant the mountainside still above us would start piling up.
And it did.
A mound of earth crashed down on top of us and, this time, we weren't pushed out the bottom of it.
My right hip panged as I tried to twist and shove us forward. The dirt fought to keep me in place, more driving down on top of us. I couldn't let it. Even if the weight didn't crush the other two, they wouldn't be able to breathe.
My head emerged above the sliding mountainside and the still-moving ground pushed me forward. It tried to drive me back under but I managed to stay up.
A few seconds later, we slowed to a stop.
It took another moment of struggling against the mud coffin around us before I made enough room to push myself out.
"Longfellow, what's your status?"
No response.
Shit. Is he unconscious?
I shoved more of the dirt away and pulled the mud-covered man out. Dogmeat was beside him, curled into a ball, eyes squeezed shut. His normally light brown and black coat was caked with dark brown grime.
One thing at a time.
Longfellow wasn't breathing. Had he been under too long?
Carrying him to solid ground beside a large, knurled tree, I set him back down and checked again.
No breath. If his heart was still beating and his airway was obstructed, I could still help. My armor has an internal AED but…
As I tilted his head back and pulled his mouth open to check for obstructions, my stomach dropped.
Blood was flowing out of a hole in the roof of his mouth. As the torrent of rain washed the mud away, I saw the bullet's entry on the left side of his head. It had hit him just above the ear and traveled downward through his mouth and out the right side of his jaw.
For a moment, all I could see was the red slowly streaming out of the entry wound. His heart had already stopped, otherwise it would have been gushing.
Without the landslide, the only sound was the rain pounding down on us and the forest around us.
I'd gotten someone else killed.
This Synth was probably dead and I- I knew that. He'd been missing for five days in this environment. Why hadn't I declined Chase's request? Why hadn't I done this on my own? Why hadn't I been more careful about someone following us?
My jaw clenched.
How the hell was I supposed to know the Gunners were on the island? How was I supposed to know they'd come after me?
Does it matter? Longfellow is dead.
Closed my eyes. That didn't get rid of the sight of his blood.
… I need to check on Dogmeat and get moving. They'll probably follow me down here.
Right.
Standing, I marched back to the hole I'd made. Dogmeat was still lying in it, curled into a ball, muzzle pressed under his hind leg.
"Dogmeat", I said. My voice was hoarse, even to my ears.
He didn't respond.
I reached down and set my hand on his side.
Dogmeat jerked away with a sharp yelp.
It didn't take a genius to figure out he was hurt. I couldn't tell what was wrong with him covered in mud.
I saw him facing off with the wolf back in the woods in the Commonwealth, still and confident. I saw the German Shepherd bounding around me, barking excitedly when I came back from the Raider base. I saw him calmly lying beside Cass a few days later as she pet him, there to comfort her.
These motherfuckers killed Longfellow and hurt Dogmeat.
"I'm sorry", I whispered as I slipped my arms under him. "We have to go."
Dogmeat flinched and let out a short, pained whine but he didn't recoil again.
Lifting him from the small hole, I looked up the hill, eyes narrowed. The goddamn Gunners were up there somewhere. What the fuck were they doing here?
Later.
I set off at a slow run, trying to keep from jostling Dogmeat as much as possible. Longfellow's body receded into the gloom behind me.
Another person I wasn't good enough to keep alive.
As I ran, I shifted Dogmeat to my left arm and pulled my radio out.
"Nate", I said into the handset, "do you copy?"
A few seconds later, the ex-soldier's voice came through its speaker. "I copy, you find anything."
"Negative. We were attacked by Gunners. Longfellow's dead and Dogmeat's injured. Get back to Acadia, I'll contact you when we're safe."
"Copy that", came the reply. It was stern and robotic, a tone I'd heard from him and plenty of other career soldiers before.
I slipped the radio back into its pouch and focused on getting us somewhere safe.
Goddamn Gunners.
X
I came to a stop after 10 minutes of running through the rain-drenched forest. Luckily, I'd managed to avoid the few wild animals I'd come across during the journey.
As much as I wanted to head back to Acadia, I couldn't lead the Gunners back there and I needed to evaluate how seriously Dogmeat was injured.
While I would have preferred something more innocuous, the small, three-house neighborhood I stumbled across would have to do. All three houses were clear, probably because they were barely standing.
They were all one story, situated at the base of a large rock face overlooking the ocean.
With how heavy the rain had been, most of the dirt had been washed off both of us.
Dogmeat was curled up in my arms, his head pressed against the armor over my left bicep.
And he was shaking. Hard.
"I'm putting you down now", I said quietly as I ducked into what was left of one house's living room. Most of the wood and cloth furniture was rotted or destroyed. The only still-recognizable thing was the large, sturdy-looking coffee table in the center. The roof was at least intact enough to keep it dry.
Why I felt the need to tell him that, I didn't know. He's a dog.
But it just felt… wrong not to.
Kneeling, I set Dogmeat on the old, well-worn wooden floor. Some mud was still caked into his coat. A little dirt could wait.
There weren't any wounds apparent on his head, shoulders, front legs, or chest. I moved back to his stomach and-
A 10-centimeter-long, shallow furrow was carved into the left side of his stomach. Blood was seeping from the narrow wound. A graze. It would need to be disinfected, not much else.
How did he get hit there? The Gunners were to our right?
My eyes drifted to his right leg. It was tucked up against his side.
Dogmeat recoiled again the instant I touched it. This time, instead of yelping, he let out a low, guttural growl. His eyes were open now, fixed on me, teeth bared.
I stopped, hand frozen just over his wounded leg. Even when we first met, he'd never done that.
He's injured.
"It's okay", I whispered in as calm a voice as I could. "It's okay. It's just me."
The growl faded into a whimper and Dogmeat uncoiled. His eyes were large, almost pleading.
"I'm sorry, I have to see what happened."
Very slowly, I lowered my hand onto his right hind leg. Dogmeat whimpered again but did his best to hold still.
It only took me a heartbeat to find the wound: a small hole, half the size of my finger, just behind his knee. The round passed through his leg and left that graze in his stomach.
With the landslide we were buried in, there was a high risk of infection. I needed to clean it and get it closed.
But the only things I had on me to do that were alcohol and a few Stimpaks. They would work… it would hurt a lot, though.
If it's the only option I have…
"I'm sorry", I repeated as I pulled the small bottle of alcohol from its pouch along with a Stimpak. "This will hurt."
After I unscrewed the cap, I spent a few seconds stroking the large dog's still-dirty back. He needed to be calm when I disinfected the wound. It would hurt less.
At least, that's how I rationalized petting him.
"It's okay", I whispered, placing my left hand on his hips and holding him in place. "It's okay."
Then I poured alcohol into the wound.
Dogmeat didn't yelp, he screamed. It was long and shrill and piercing. I gritted my teeth as he writhed under my hand, trying to break free.
I felt his scream in my chest. I couldn't stop, though. The wound needed to be treated. He'd likely need antibiotics too.
A deep breath.
I did the same with the graze on his stomach and the scream turned into an angry, guttural bark. Dogmeat twisted and snapped at my hand. I pulled it back before he could bite.
"I'm sorry", I muttered as I set the bottle aside and picked up the Stimpak.
It took a moment to get the needle shield off with one hand while also restraining a writhing dog. Once I did, I pressed the needle into his thigh and injected the mystery drug.
A few seconds passed and the damage began knitting itself back together. After a little under a minute, both wounds were closed.
As soon as they were, I pulled my hand away and Dogmeat leaped to his feet. His teeth were bared again and a low growl was rumbling in his chest.
I held my hands out to the side. "You're okay now. I'm… sorry."
He was a dog. Why was I talking to him like he could understand me?
Dogmeat stayed where he was, still growling.
Pulling my handset back out, I clicked the transmit button three times. Nate responded almost immediately.
"We're back at Acadia", he said. "What's your status?"
"Safe. Dogmeat is… treated and we're mobile. I'm leaving him there and moving to find the Gunners."
"Hold on", Nate said. "There are too many unknowns and, if Longfellow was right about the weather, we need to be careful. Come back to Acadia, we'll figure this out."
…
That wasn't what I wanted to hear. It wasn't what I wanted to do. The Gunners showed up on an island 300 klicks from the Commonwealth and tried to ambush me.
And now Dogmeat was angry at me. It shouldn't have been a big deal; he's a dog.
It didn't matter how many times I repeated that, feeling him glare at me- it was uncomfortable. I remembered his excitement seeing me again. Or how he reacted to Cass whenever he saw her. He was always so… happy.
Seeing him like this felt wrong.
"They attacked us, Nate. They killed Longfellow and shot Dogmeat." I looked back down at the German Shepherd. He wasn't growling anymore but his ears were still pinned back and his eyes were locked on me. "If they came here for me, coming back to Acadia puts everyone else in danger."
There was a pause on Nate's end. Keeping the others out of harm's way was important, and he knew that, but both of us also knew that wasn't why I didn't want to go to Acadia. I could get back without being followed.
I wanted to go after them.
And kill them? Am I not supposed to be… changing that?
I didn't start that fight. They came after me. They tried to kill me. If I don't do something about it, what comes next?
Why are they even here?
Why don't I ask them?
"I'll meet you somewhere safe", Nate finally said.
"I'm hunting them down", I insisted.
Another brief pause. "I know. Go to that house from this morning."
"... Copy that."
I slipped the radio back into its pouch and looked down at Dogmeat.
"You can't stay here", I said. "You'll have to follow me, even if you're upset."
He didn't respond because of course he didn't. He's a dog.
Turning, I ducked back out of the crumbling house's living room and into the rain. A few seconds later, Dogmeat crept out, his eyes still drilling into me.
We set off, the German Shepherd maintaining a few meters' distance between us. I tried not to think too much about it.
An hour of creeping across the rain-drenched forest island later, the house came into sight. We hadn't been far, if I'd gone straight there we could have made it in half the time.
The Gunners were not following me again.
Every two minutes, I'd stop and backtrack. My path meandered randomly through the forest and I kept a fast enough pace anyone following us would have been obvious.
It was a pain in the ass with the wet, slick dirt constantly fighting me but it was far from the most difficult terrain I'd dealt with.
Our rendezvous, the half-collapsed house I'd fought the Trappers in earlier, was dark and still. No way Nate wasn't inside; he had less than half the distance to cover I had.
I pulled my radio again. "Nate, do you copy?"
"I copy. We're inside the house."
Who had he brought? Chase? It would make sense considering our guide was dead. "Understood, coming in."
Slipping through the last row of trees, I climbed onto the front porch and pushed the door open.
Nate was standing in his armor in the center of the living room. He had his rifle trained on the front door.
As soon as I stepped inside and closed it, he lowered the weapon. I could feel his eyes on me from behind the narrow lenses in his helmet.
"I'm fine", I said and glanced down at Dogmeat. He had paced to the right side of the living room. "He'll need antibiotics. We were on an exposed roadway, the Gunners had the high ground. They blew the road and caused a landslide. Longfellow and Dogmeat got hit. I used a Stimpak on him but Longfellow was already dead."
That 'status report' was as detached as any other I've given. It didn't feel like that.
I'm doing a lot of 'feeling'.
"Who did you bring?"
"Valentine and Chase both volunteered." He jerked his head toward a door behind him. "They're in the kitchen."
Two more people who didn't need to be involved with this. Two more people who could get themselves killed on my watch.
That isn't fair; I shouldn't have had us on that road but how was I supposed to know an armed, organized fighting force would be coming after us.
It doesn't matter. Even not knowing, I should have avoided that. I'm getting sloppy.
Then this is a great opportunity to not be sloppy.
Right. It only took someone dying for me to do that.
"We'll wait for the rain to stop", I said. "Then, I'm killing them."
Next Chapter: 2/14, It's Personal
