Back on the road again, this time with a companion, Rose returns to her goal in bringing the parcel to the recipient in Memphis.
Feeling better than he did before, Harold had no problem keeping up with her as he walked alongside her over the uneven road.
"Who are we meeting in Memphis?" Harold grew curious about Rose's determination to get there.
Sheepishly, she apologized to him before saying how she had the explicit instructions given to her about saying that information.
"But you said something about a parcel," Harold pointed out to her.
Frowning, Rose admitted she was loose with her words in that regard, but it was the only way of getting Mal to help her to some extent.
"I suppose you do what you can in your situation," Harold gave an acknowledging nod before he was asked how he knew about the Vault.
Shrugging, Harold responds that everyone who lived in the Wasteland knew a vault dweller or another, even they themselves came from a nearby vault.
Rose's circumstances weren't unique, although her need to deliver a parcel to someone in Memphis, however, might be unique.
"There's other vaults?" Rose grew curious before Harold nods as he regaled about the vaults that dotted the United States before he suddenly stopped, looked away briefly, and went quiet.
Rose asks him what was wrong, but Harold wouldn't answer her, instead pushing her onward.
Stopping every now again, they took regular breaks, making sure there weren't any hostiles near their makeshift camps.
Harold explained the different things he witnessed in the Wasteland that were of importance to Rose's safety.
Brown recluse spiders, famously known to flee once light shines on them or they detected a threat had grown to a once impossible size, now lurk during hot nights, and aren't shy anymore.
Their venom had grown with their size to the point that it didn't only cause necrosis of the tissue, instead it was acidic, and ate through tissue within moments of it being injected.
Thankfully, they stayed solitary like their normal counterparts, but if they ever came across a nest, they better have a fire source at the ready.
And that was just the brown recluse.
Another spider that had mutated after the bombs dropped was the common trapdoor spider.
It too grew into a dangerous size and only got deadlier with their trapdoors.
Capable of lifting large flat stones to use as doors, the spiders buried themselves deep within the earth, and will use their webs to trap unsuspecting prey so they can easily grab them and pull them back into their holes.
They too were solitary, but like their contemporaries, the females were much larger than their male counterparts, and aggressive too.
While they didn't have necrotic venom like the brown recluses, what the trapdoor spiders have are long gnashing fangs they quickly impale prey with.
Those were the spiders that Harold knew about.
The next dangerous things he witnessed were wasps.
Considered the bane of everyone come spring and summer, they too amassed in size, and unflinching when attacking anything they suspect a danger to their hives.
Harold stressed that Rose be especially careful with the wasps, because they evolved to spray a pheromone upon their deaths that doesn't wash off easily, and once she's covered in it, the wasps will never leave her alone until she either manages to wash the pheromone off, kill the colony, or painfully dies.
They seemed to stay relatively the same as their contemporaries in one regard, however.
During the day they're active, but come nightfall, they retreat to their hives.
And if Rose ever wanted to know, it wasn't pleasant accidentally coming across a hive in the middle of the night.
They were much more aggressive during that point and would be willing to latch themselves onto anything they suspected of as a threat to their hives.
"And of course, the ants," Harold sighs.
As expected, they too horrifically mutated, and weren't active during the night.
The difference is they don't have anthills, instead fissures in the grounds with chewed up dirt around the fissures acting as a plug and to ward off excess water from seeping through it.
Like the other examples Harold had been providing, it wasn't pleasant if someone accidentally fell into the fissures.
Death wasn't always swift.
Those were just the insects that Harold knew about, there were more dangerous things lurking around that he hadn't the chance to see yet and dreaded the thought.
"You… saw a lot," Rose frowns.
Slowly nodding, Harold admits that he did.
Mal wasn't lying when she said the Wasteland wasn't a bowl of cherries, but Harold couldn't deny the vaults were any better.
"So, you have any family, anyone missing you?" Rose broached.
Shaking his head, Harold answers that his family died a while ago, and well, he was too wrapped up in his work to find time to date.
It wasn't important enough for him to find time, anyway, most people he met weren't the sharpest tools in the toolbox.
"Yourself?" Harold raises his brow.
Nodding, Rose replies with a frown, "My dad. Mom died a while ago."
Giving his condolences, Harold pushed up his glasses as he took a swig of filtered water.
Once they were well rested, they went back on the road, close to a shanty town just before the ferries as Mal mentioned.
Along the way they found some bottle caps scattered across the uneven terrain, but Harold warns Rose that the total amount wouldn't be enough for, at most food, since ammo and weapons were hot commodities in the Wasteland.
"And most aren't susceptible to bartering either," he then added.
Even if they were, they were to the point that it would be impossible with them unless Rose was a savant at bartering.
"We can do it. If Mal can, so can we!" Rose puts on a cheerful smile.
Appreciating her optimism in an oppressive setting, Harold points out, "She has a Mr. Handy."
And now a weapon that can do serious damage.
"And I appreciate the optimism, but we're not exactly fictional characters," Harold brought up.
Still optimistic, Rose persevered with Harold closely beside her as they made their way through the Wasteland with the sun setting as they arrived in West Dixie.
It stunk worse than it looked, but the two had no other choice but to cope with the smell as they went past filled bars trying to find a place to settle for the night.
Tomorrow they can resume their trek to the ferries.
"Do you think we have enough?" Rose asks Harold's opinions as she checked a sack filled with bottle caps.
Thinking it over, Harold responds with a thoughtful, "Maybe."
Though, Rose would need to be careful causally carrying around a sack of bottle caps.
"Sorry, I'm just… new to this," Rose apologizes for making the mistakes she was doing.
Smiling at her, Harold waves his hand as he accepts the apology, and says that it wasn't her fault.
Though, he warns her to be cautious next time.
This will be a test to see how Rose handles situations, since shanty towns were a hodgepodge of eccentric characters, equal chances of being dangerous, and whether she had a chance of surviving the Wasteland.
"I'll be careful, Mr. Harold, don't worry," Rose flashes a smile as she assures him that she has everything under control.
Unsure about this, Harold shakes his head as he follows her around the shanty town looking for an inn.