When I think of fallout I think of the good the bad and the ugly, with power armor and lazerbeams. Maybe a little bit of Unforgiven. A good western flick shows us humanity without the strong rule of law. It shows Morality in competition with the basic need to survive. That is what I like about Fallout, Cowboys with Lazerbeams to bastardize a joke from Austin Powers.

A little bit of disclaimer, I have not done any creative writing since I graduated High School in '99 and I have read little in the past few years to keep my imagination sharp. I am concerned that what I write may come across as unimaginative and dull but I figure that if I start writing and listen to people's criticism I will get back into the swing of things. So with that in mind here is my fallout fan fiction.

1-

The sun was already setting when he got to the old building. His chores earlier in the day had taken a bit too long and the errands he had run for old Doc Jackson had eaten further into the day. Still it hadn't deterred him as he had been planning this excursion for weeks. His father being out of town meant he wouldn't be missed and he could spend a few days out.

Most places had been picked clean years ago, but he had a feeling about this one. On his last expedition he had spotted it in a small valley. There were quite a few old dead pines in the valley and it would have been hard to see if it weren't for the recent tree falls that had exposed it to view from the trail. He would either find genuine prewar items here or perhaps things left behind by squatters that had lived there before he arrived. At least that was the plan every time he came out on these trips.

Sometimes he got lucky, most of the times he did not. He never knew what he could get exploring the ruins from before the war. Sometimes he would come out with nothing or maybe some old moldy food that had to be thrown out and sometimes he would find something useful that a trader might want or that he could use. Whether he found anything or not, the excitement of the exploration was enough for him. Everything else was just bonus.

There were risks though and to ignore them was to invite disaster. His father had taught him a lot about what to watch for. Droppings in the area could hint at people or dangerous animals in the building. Sounds in the floor when stepped on or the smell of mold could give warning about the risk of cave ins. There were signs for all sorts of risks and his father's favorite saying was, "Stay aware of your surroundings, it is the danger you do not know about that will kill you. If you pay attention and keep your wits about you, you will have nothing to worry about."

He decided to wait until morning to go inside. He made his camp where the employees must have parked their automobiles in that age past. The blacktop was mostly gone, broken up by years of hard weather, but the rusted out remains of one of the old cars was still there where it's owner had left it years ago. He tied a line between a fence post and the car and tied his old horse and brahmin to it. Then he started a fire and lay out his heavy blanket to sleep on.

He fed the horse and brahmin first, then got some smoked meat out for his two dogs. The mutts wolfed their food down quickly and stayed near him to beg for the scraps of his own meal. Of course he obliged by giving them the bones with a little meat in the hard to reach places. He checked his equipment for the next day, which was unnecessary as he had checked it many times in the last couple weeks, but his father had taught him to be thorough. He cleaned his rifle and checked to make sure all the mechanisms worked properly and went to sleep.

In the morning, after he and his animals were fed he put on his pack with his tools, picked up his rifle and slung it over his shoulder and assessed the building. It was low to the ground, only one story above ground. The walls were angled inward like some sort of unfinished pyramid. If he had a proper grapple he could probably have scaled it with his rope to see what was on the roof, but he didn't and he didn't feel it was worth it to try to jury rig one with the tools he had. He hoped there was a ladder or something inside so he could see it from the roof.

He circled the perimeter and saw that in the center of the building on each side was a door. All were locked, with a keyhole. There were thin windows equidistant to each other all along the perimeter but they were too small to climb through. At the most they probably served to let in daylight into the interior, but now after all this time, with no glass in them, they probably let in more than that.

He went to the door nearest his camp, which was on the northern side. He pulled his lock picking tools from his bag and started to fiddle with the lock. It was hardly a science for him, he had practiced a bit with a spare door knob at home and had actually used this knowledge twice in his escapades but he was no master lock pick by any means yet. After a few minutes of fiddling with the tumblers he was finally able to unlock the door with a satisfying click.

He left the dogs outside with his pack animals and knew they would stay there until he came back. Once he was inside he was happy to find that the air was dry and there were no moldy smells. Light came in through the door, the windows on the walls, and a skylight. The walls were the same gray stone as the exterior and he was starting to think that the building must have been some sort of utility station or other government building because of how stark and unadorned it was.

The room was rectangular with the length going into the building. There were 2 doors on either side and another at the other end of the room. There were iron bench seats arranged in the room in front of what appeared to be a receptionist's desk. Searching through the drawers he found a key that he thought might be useful but nothing else had survived the ravages of time.

He then decided to do what his father called a right hand search. This meant that he would go room to room following the right hand wall. This would help him be more thorough in his search of the building. The first door opened into a restroom with five stalls on one side and a large counter with three sinks and a long mirror that cracked long ago. The near wall had two hand drying machines and the far side had a first aid box. He checked the stalls but found nothing inside those. Then he opened the first aid box to find a very nearly complete first aid kit.

The parts of the kit were vacuum sealed in individual containers for longevity which meant they were still useful to him and had not been exposed to the ravages of time. There were several bandages, pain reliever pills, disinfectants, burn salves, medical tape and scissors that were all still functional. This in and of itself made the trip worthwhile for him as he could probably trade what he and his father didn't need to the town doctor. He packed them neatly into the empty main portion of his bag.

He glanced in the mirror before he left. His reflection looked back at him. He was surprised how much he looked like his father, average height and weight, brown hair brown eyes, close cropped cut and clean shaven so as to appear more professional. He was wearing his brown duster and the old jeans he kept just for this purpose with the patches from previous tears and the reinforced knees in case he has to do much crawling. He wore an old hat his father had given him with the sides rolled up and a white T-shirt under the duster that had sweat stains in it from the work yesterday.

He went on to the next room. It was another bathroom with another first aid kit. The next door was the one opposite the entrance he had come in from and it opened into the junction of a hallway that lead to the other three exit doors. There were lots of doors to choose from so he followed his pattern and went right. The door led into an office area with a half dozen cubicles. He thoroughly searched through them and the few things he did find that had not deteriorated beyond use were hardly of any use to him to begin with.

The next door was the exit for this end of the hall and he skipped it in favor of the door opposite the one that lead into the office area. Inside he found this entire quarter of the building was a large lunch room with two Nuka Cola vending machines, a cigarette machine, a fridge, microwave oven, a cabinet and several tables and chairs.

A search of the cabinet revealed a large number of packaged chips and other foods. He inspected each one for good seals and stacked them on one of the tables. He did not want to fill his bag with this stuff, but it would trade for a little bit if he did not find anything better. He closed the refrigerator quickly after opening it, the smell from inside ruining his desire to explore in there further. He pulled his pry bar from his sack and forced the cigarette machine and Nuka Cola machines open. He stood the two dozen bottles he found on the table with the packaged food but put the ten packs of cigarettes he found into his backpack in a compartment he knew was unlikely to be smashed.

He checked the other doors from the room he was in and found that two led into the other hall and the other into a closet with three pairs of work boots and 4 heavy winter coats. On close inspection he decided that all the boots were good and that 3 of the coats were in good shape but that the fourth was ratty and of poor condition. He put the boots on the chair next to the table he had stacked his prior loot on and hung the coats over the back of it.

He exited the lunch room from the door he had entered and following his pattern made his way to the junction of the halls and past the other two doors to the lunch room. He came to the door that lead out the back of the building into what was an exterior eating area. He left that door alone and went back down the hall to the next interior door. There were three tool and utility closets here that he found to be quite well stocked with useful things.

The first was where the facility maintenance tools and cleaners were stored. Many of these were in excellent condition since the closet had not developed any leaks. He gathered them up in a couple of decent wooden crates he found in the corner and set them in the hallway. He went through the cleaning agents and puzzled over which were still good and which were not. He eventually decided that because he couldn't discern the good from the bad he would leave them and perhaps come back once he found out how.

The next closet housed tools used in utility line repair. Many of these were in poorer condition, possibly from storage possibly from usage, so he sorted the ones in better condition out and added them to the wooden crates. There were a few unused heavy insulated work gloves as well that were in good condition and those got added to the crates as well.

The final closet housed an old generator and a water heater. He decided to leave those alone until he got done searching the rest of the place. He went around the corner to the third hall off of the junction and went to the door that led into what must have been the manager or foreman's office. It was about the size of the other office space but was only the work area for one person verses the several in that space.

When people actually worked there the room had been carpeted, unlike the other rooms he had been in so far. The carpet was in bad condition, since the windows and skylight had been broken for years and the elements had gotten in. there was a couch on one wall, on the opposite a wardrobe. Next to the door was a drinking cabinet with a small assortment of whiskeys on display and some good glasses. He passed that over and crossed to the large desk on the far side. There was a computer on the desk and the drawers and safe were locked. The computer was unresponsive as there was no power. He checked behind the now distorted picture on the wall and found a key there.

The key unlocked the drawers of the desk which contained only a few items of interest. These were a gold watch, a gold pen and a piece of paper that had the words Password: Light written on it. He tried figuring out the safe but after a while gave up on that, he could not hear any clicks as he turned the dial so he was unsure how he could open it. The key also worked on the wardrobe which had 2 business suits in fine condition in it as well as a pair of finely polished shoes and a shoe polishing kit. Finally the key worked on the drinking cabinet, which he plundered for all of it's alcohol and glassware, which went directly into his pack, underneath the cigarettes. He then put the shoe kit in next to the first aid supplies. He then took the business suits and shoes to the lunch room where he had stashed the other clothing items.

He backtracked to the boss' office door and followed his pattern around, again ignoring the exterior door and crossing to the final door in the hallway. It was locked, but the key from the receptionist's desk fit it and opened it. Inside was a stairwell leading up and down. There were 2 other doors on this level leading into the reception room. It was getting close to noon at this point and he figured there wasn't much to explore up top so he decided to check that out before lunch.

The stairs were in good condition and he was able to open the door and block it from shutting with a block that had been left for that purpose. He walked out onto the roof and looked around. There were four skylights and an air conditioner on the roof as well as quite a few bird's nests. The roof was actually three feet below where the walls came up providing a ledge to lean against. It drained through grates that led to pipes that ran down the building.

He looked over the northern edge and saw one of his dogs sleeping lazily away down at the camp. The horse and brahmin were munching on the weeds and the other dog could be heard barking playfully in the woods just beyond the camp. He called out to him and the dumb mutt came trotting back, obviously content with himself.

He came back down the stairs and went out for lunch. He gave the dogs a bit of his meal and then headed back in to see what was downstairs. The basemant had an odor to it. Musky, almost, it also smelled of excrement. The air was decisively more moist down there too. There was little light so he wound up his flashlight and slid it onto the clip he had made for it under the rifle barrel. It made him feel more comfortable in the dark with his rifle in his hands so that modification had just made sense for him.

He went through searching around in the dark and saw a furnace in the center of the room and a rack with spare parts for the furnace. He decided that when he as done searching the place out he would go get his electric lantern from upstairs to light it up and see what he could scavenge. He didn't do it immediately though because he saw a whole in the wall. Water must have collected in this room at one point and eaten away at the wall there and collapsed it. There was a small cave on the other side and he figured that must have been where the smell was coming from.

He only had to crouch a little bit and he followed the twists and turns as he went down the passageway. It was relatively wide and after a while it started to slope up and he figured it must have been dug by something big. He rounded a corner and found a place where there was a branch off. The branch went sharply back to the left and up. He followed it and it came to a stop in a large nesting room where he saw the remains of a few meals and quite a few things that glinted in the light of his flashlight.

He reached to grab the nearest one and found that it was snagged on something heavy. He yanked hard and fell when it gave and whatever it was ended up on him. In his light he could see the bones of a human hand. He panicked and pushed it away from him, scrambling to get up and grabbing for his rifle. He ran back down the tunnel but when he got to where it intersected the tunnel he came down he saw that whatever lived in the tunnel was between him and his escape,

It filled the tunnel from top to bottom and from side to side. He fired a shot wildly at it, hitting and stunning it for a moment, then fled the other way, hoping to find an exit to the surface. He ran until he felt that his side would split from the exertion. He finally saw light ahead of him and ran to it bursting into the open and tripping on a root at the tunnel entrance. He shouted with surprise and tumbled downhill and collided with a dead tree.

With a loud "whoof" the air exited his lungs and he had a hard time getting it back. He knew he had made a lot of noise because he heard his dogs barking anxiously and coming toward him. He looked around for his rifle and saw it a few yards away. He looked up to see where the tunnel entrance was and froze. There at the entrance, a dozen yards at most, was the largest mole rat he had ever seen. in the open it looked even bigger than it had in the tunnel. It could look him eye to eye on all four paws like it was and it was looking him eye to eye. A dark stain in it's fur showed where the shot in the dark had landed on its chest.

It started down the hill, at first slow, but then gaining speed. He threw himself at his rifle and rolled clumsily next to it, his body still recovering from the roll down hill. It was almost on him when he shouldered the rifle. He had time for one shot and he had to make it count. He fired and saw one pink eye explode open, matched by a similar spray out the bag of it's head. To his horror it's inertia didn't stop. It crashed into him. He felt the air go from his lungs once again and a pain as it's front claw, developed to dig through packed dirt, stamped down on his chest. His first reaction was to just go down with the weight instead of resisting it and once he did the creature tumbled a few yards past him.

He got to his feet a few moments later and checked himself for injuries. Aside from where the beasts claws had slashed his chest all he had were nicks and bruises. He took his backpack off and miraculously the alcohol and cigarettes was in good condition. He fished for his first aid kit and removed his duster and shirt and used the disinfectant on his injury then bandaged it. He then put the shirt and duster back on and repacked the first aid kit.

The dogs were with him by then and were sniffing at the mole rat. He went aboveground back to his camp and got the lantern, turned it on and went back to the cave entrance. He went back to the nest and searched. He found a bracelet on the arm he had found before, a watch, a pair of glasses, a bag with assorted food items and tools, a skinning knife and a nine millimeter pistol with six rounds in the clip. He then went back to the furnace room and gathered the spare furnace parts he thought would be worth something into a wooden crate he found there.

He took the crate upstairs and set it with all the tools in the hallway. He called the dogs up out of the cave and shut and locked that door. He turned off his lantern and set it onto the crate of parts for the time being. He then looked around to see if he had missed anything and decided to go back to the boss' office. He tried prying the safe, he tried a bunch of random combinations. He finally decided to see if he could get the computer running by powering the generator.

He looked over the generator and there appeared to be nothing wrong. No corroded wires, the microfusion cells looked good. Everything looked as if it should work if he turned it on so he did. After a little bit of whining it finally kicked on at full life. The lights all throughout the building came on.

He went into the office and looked at the computer. It was on some sort of welcome screen. After a while it went to a blank screen with only the words Enter Password. He typed in the password and it gave him new options. Several options were for the assignment of work orders and a few were about costumer complaints and company requirements of this station. The final option said simply, Open Safe. He selected that option and the safe popped open with a hissing sound. Inside he found a stack of prewar money which he put into his bag and a black case.

Inside the case was a brand new Pipboy 2000 or at least that is what it was labeled and it was new when it was put into the safe. There was a card in the case that read, Happy Birthday, Johnny, you only turn 16 once. and a book called Pipboy 2000 and you! He closed the case and put it into the top of his backpack. He turned off the generator and salvaged the microfusion cells from it. He spent the next few hours packing up the tools, food and clothes onto the brahmin and decided to set off then, before more dangerous animals could be attracted by the dead mole rat.

He was close to home and already on the road when the sun set and the moon was full and already up so he was able to navigate the horse and brahmin safely down the road. When he got home he took care of the horse and brahmin and put them in their stalls. He left his equipment and his scavenged loot there in the barn so he could put it away in the morning. He fed the dogs and had a bite to eat and went to bed. He didn't even hear when his father got home that night, nor did the man wake him.

wow, I didn't think it would be that long, copy pasted the text from wordpad.

OMFG! This is... (Speechless)

It's so long, and full of info... I haven't read the whole thing yet, skimmed over to see the length, absolutely no spelling mistakes from my skim, but I'll be reading it fully in a sec! Just... OMFG That's good.

Damn, that was a good.


Good story, keep it up.

I've read halfway through, reads well, but a lot of "he"
And I would like to see a bit more character develop at the beginning. (whats his name???)


feed the horse mjam mjam.

left the name out intentionally. I even felt like giving the description of what he looked like betrayed the feel of what I was going for with the narration. I intend to reveal his name in dialog in the next chapter. I was thinking that he is not the kind of person that dwells on who he is that much so the narration was going to reflect that. if I was writing about a guy that thought about himself and who he was alot I probably would have given his name by now.

also, I didn't even consider a name for him until the middle of chapter 2 in a part where I reveal who he is and where he is from. The large amounts of he did bother me though. I am sure that after I reveal his name it will be a little better, but I think I could have composed the sentences differently to be less reliant on the word.

working on the second chapter now, mostly dialog. am currently unhappy with how it flows.

I have restructured this one 3-4 times. But I feel like this is as close to happy with it as I am going to get.

2-

He woke to the smell of cooking in the morning and new his father was home. He went down the stairs and saw the table was set with jerky strips, eggs and brahmin milk. His father was in the living room cranking the hand crank for the old jukebox so they could listen to the old music while they ate. He washed his face and hands in the bucket on the counter, "Good Morning, Dad."

"Morning Rick, Doc is going to be over for breakfast. Don't start eating before he says grace, you know how upset that gets him."

"Alright, What happened out at the Davis homestead? You were gone almost a week. It couldn't have been wild dogs."

"You are right it wasn't dogs. The old timer was right, it was rustlers ran off with half of their herd." His father was the Marshal of the territory and didn't much like talking about his work so Rick let it drop. There was a knock on the door and Doc Jackson let himself in. The old man was the barber, doctor and pastor of the town and was welcome in everyone's home. He had practically raised Rick and oversaw his academic schooling.

"What was that I heard Dan Miller? The old timer was right? What did I tell you, boy? No dogs take off with that many brahmin. Eh hehe!" The old man cackled gleefully for a moment, pleased to have guessed it right this time. He was a haggard old man who had seen maybe too much of this world, but his spirit was still strong and his hands were as steady and eyes just as sharp as they had been when he first took up the trade as a doctor.

He sobered up briskly and said, "Rick, who bandaged you like that boy? I know it wasn't me. Looks like the handiwork of a blind drunkard."

"Well, I did. I haven't had a chance to change it over this morning. Got marked up pretty good by the biggest mole rat you ever saw."

"Boy, you have no idea what I have "ever saw". I have been kicking around this territory since before your father was a twinkle in his father's eye. Now hold still and let me redress your bandage." Rick looked to his father and his father gave him that long suffering look that regularly graced his face when the old man was around.

The old man deftly redressed the bandages and went to wash up. "I don't figure you need any stitches but the distance between claws does show that it was a big beast which is something. We haven't seen a mole rat that big in these parts in years. We hunted them darn near the brink of extinction during the drought almost 30 years ago, when your grand father was still alive."

Doc washed up and they all three sat around the table. The old man said grace and they ate together. Rick and his father both preferred to eat in silence and swap stories after the meal but the old timer would have none of that. He liked to talk, they figured that is what drove him to being a preacher.

"Dan, what happened over at the Davis ranch?"

"Not much to say, four men I never saw around these parts before tried rustling their brahmin. They took so many it was easy to follow their trail. I deputized some of the ranch hands and we took off after them. They hadn't gone far, one of the brahmin had broke it's leg and they were too dumb to leave it. So we took them in ambush, had a quick trial and stretched them on the spot. Pat Davis was there and we put down the lame brahmin and decided the rustler's horses would make up the cost of the brahmin and the cut fence. I split their weapons and other supplies among the posse and took my cut and went on my way. Really just a typical ride and not a shot fired."

"Well, it's good it turned out that way. I often worry about those people on that ranch. They are pretty much on their own out there. If their radio didn't work and something bad happened out there, we would never know it."

"Hell, Ely, they have more people on that ranch than we do here at the J and they are pretty much self sufficient with their own well and water purifier."

"Hmph, well, they don't have a preacher out there so they don't have everything going right for them."

"Well, that ain't for me to say." Dan didn't like to get into conversations like this with the old man, trying to convince him to change his mind was like trying to convince a rock to move of it's own accord. "Rick, I saw your packs in the stables, looks like you ran into a decent find. What was it?"

Rick was proud of what he had accomplished the day before so he was more than happy to share his own story. "An old utility building a few miles down river from the water merchant's settlement." He said, "There was quite a few useful tools in there as well as some other assorted goods. I figure some of it could be useful around town here and the rest can be bartered off at market and get us ahead a bit. There is still some machinery back there that I believe can be salvaged for more if any of the merchants really take a liking to what I found."

"Hmm, that mole rat of yours makes more sense now. People have been going missing in that area, the guards over at Water Merchant's were suspecting a predator of some sort. They even set a curfew to keep people inside at night just in case."

"Yes sir, biggest mole rat I have ever seen. Bigger than a bear and mean too. I found the remains of several people in its lair. Killed it though, sad to say I did not butcher it as it was getting late and didn't want to be around when other predators came sniffing for blood. It marked me up a bit but not bad, I am going to go see if the doc thinks he needs to stitch it later this afternoon."

They were finished eating at this point and put the dishes on the counter to be washed later. They put their hats on as they walked out to the porch and his father said, "Well, I am glad your safe. Rick, remember when you are out there that if you pay attention and keep your wits about you, you will have nothing to worry about. I will check the area for more over sized critters and will warn the guards at the water merchant's when I go there next week. You sure are getting self sufficient, soon you won't need your old man around anymore."

He laughed at the joke they had shared for years.

"Dad, you and the Doc are all I got and even if I didn't need you the people of this territory do need you."

"You only say that because there are no girls your age to cause you to think with your other head but I have been thinking and I do think it is time for you to start considering what you are going to do for a living when it comes time. You won't be satisfied living under my wing all your life, and lord knows, boy, all it is going to take is someone being just a little faster, a little more accurate, a little meaner or just plain a little luckier than me and I won't be there at all."

The sobering thought put a damper on his good mood. His father never pulled punches and he knew that he was just thinking about his best interests. The silence was getting a little uncomfortable when the Doc piped up. "The boy could always apprentice with me. He is a bright kid and could pick up doctoring pretty quickly. Then he could take over my practice and let me focus on tending the flock."

Rick thought about it a bit. "Well, that could work out. I was also thinking about being a guard on a caravan. I am a good shot and I have excellent situational awareness so I would probably be pretty good at it. It would also let me see a bit more of the territory."

His father looked at him from under his hat. He was quiet for a bit, "Well, you got a few years yet before I think I am ready to hire you out to the caravans. Lord knows, boy, your mom would probably have my hide if she saw me put you to work on one of those and she were alive. You were her whole reason for being those last few years and why she had me settle down and get a respectable job. Why don't you give the Doc's proposal a shot first and see how you like it."

"Well sure dad I suppose that is a good idea too."

"Go on and do your chores son. Ely and I have a bit to talk about."

"Dad, when I finish my chores, do you want to help me sort through my haul from yesterday. You have a better idea of the value of things than I do."

The older men shared a chuckle and both got that old gleam in their eyes when they heard that and his father said, "Sure, son, finish your chores and we will go through the stuff and see if you have your old man's knack for scaving."

I am starting to think of a name for this, now that I have named the protagonist I am thinking about naming the story after him.

3-

Rick was done with his chores shortly after noon. He had lunch with his father and then the two of them went into the stables to check his packs. They set out two blankets, on one would go the items they would keep; on the other were the items they would trade. Over the next 3 hours the two of them sorted through the items and discussing the value of the ones they would trade. Later in the afternoon Doc came to visit with them and give pointers of the way scavenging used to get done.

When they were done they went inside, ate and listened to the old jukebox. After supper they sat out on the porch watching the stars and trading the same old tales. As the hours were stretching longer and it came time for them to break up their fellowship and turn in a shot rang out on the other side of town followed by shouts and screams.

"[censored], I don't need this tonight," his father said, "Ely, you better come with me. Someone might be hurt."

The two older men left Rick there and he knew better than to go with them. Their tempers could get short if it was a stressful situation and he was perceived to be in the way. He decided instead to get the Pipboy running and got it and the manual out and started fumbling through that. He didn't know how long he had been messing with the Pipboy when Doc came back around.

"Boy, you ought to turn in," the old man said to him kindly.

"What happened? Where is my dad?"

"Some caravan drivers got into a disagreement at the J and one shot the other. I got the wounded man patched up and your father is riding out to catch the other." The J was the name of the merchant stop. It was pretty much the reason the town existed, the other buildings had been built around it and the town earned its living off of the merchants as they passed through. There was a large sign in front of the building with a J on it and a large black top area around it; it had been a truck stop before the war.

"Alright Doc, good night, I will see you in the morning."

His father returned a week later, in that time Doc Jackson had started his formal training in how to deal with injuries and illnesses. They traded off the items from his trip to the utility station over the next month, each merchant only wanting to take choice items they thought they could sell. Those were good times for them and his father was not called away often.

Several weeks later, Rick and his father made a trip to the Water Merchant's. It was a settlement built around the remains of a waste water treatment plant. It had been converted to turn the water from the river into clean drinking water years ago and the Water Merchant's Guild made a fortune off of it. They took along several items for trade that none of the caravan merchants had wanted and a small list of things to bring back to the J.

They spent three days at market there and visiting family friends. On the third day a middle level water merchant came to speak with them. "Hello, I am Third Year Foreman Herschel and I would like to talk to you about some items you sold one of our shopkeepers yesterday. We would very much like to find out where you acquired it."

"Sure, let me see which item you are speaking about," Rick said. "Ah, yes, I got that from an old utility building a few miles downriver from here. That is just a replacement part. There are several working machines inside."

"Really," the merchant responded excitedly. "If you can lead one of our salvage crews to this location, the Guild would be happy to reward you based off of a percentage of the value of the salvage. What do you say to a finder's fee of ten percent?"

"Well, my son does need to get back to his studies," his father interjected. "I would hate to see his training stalled over ten percent, but if you were willing to go twenty percent I would be willing to let him go with you."


"Marshal Miller, as always you drive a hard bargain. I will accept this extortionate deal because of my respect for you and because of how much we need these parts, but if we do not find anything we need, he won't get a thing."


"You know me. If I did not believe there was something of value I would not be wasting your time." The older man extended his hand to the merchant. "Do we have a deal Foreman Herschel?"

"We do Marshal, be ready to go in the morning boy. We do not need to keep you away from your studies too long."

The next day Rick headed off with the salvage crew to the old utility building and his father, back home. Foreman Herschel was in charge of the crew and he and his men made for good company on the ride. They were particularly interested in how he had acquired a functioning Pipboy. It was not far and they set up camp close to the spot where he had a few months before.

They spent the better part of the first day setting up their salvage equipment and doing a security sweep of the area. The large mole rat was merely a pile of bones scattered across the ground now and no animal had moved into its burrow which the men sealed after scouting. He took the foreman through the building and showed him where the different machines were, the air conditioner on the roof, the hot water furnace and generator in the utility closet, the computer in the office, and the furnace in the basemant.

Rick decided to stick around with the salvage crew while they did their work. It ingratiated him with the men because he was willing to help out and not afraid to get his hands dirty. They taught him quite a few new things about how to troubleshoot, assemble and disassemble the machinery they were working on. Also, the Foreman taught him a bit about how to discern which chemicals were good and which were bad when they went through the utility closet together. After a week of work they had stripped the place clean, even taking the light tubes and electrical wiring that they could get at as salvage as well.

He said goodbye to the rest of the crew while Herschel appraised what they had salvaged and when he paid him he said, "Rick, you have done a fine job here boy. If you ever need work, you come on down and apply to the Guild and I will make sure they accept you."

Rick thanked him, shook his hand and started the ride home. The sky was red and smoke from fires to the south could be seen from the road. It was a little early for fire season but it was not unheard of that they start so soon so he was unconcerned. Later, he was to find that he had every reason to be concerned.

Well, the dialogue feels a bit stiff... A little too formal in places. But you know what, that's the only complaint I have. Congrats on making a nearly perfect fic! :goodjob:

yeah, I know exactly what you are saying there. That whole second chapter had to be rewritten 4-5 times just to get it to where it is. hopefully in the next installments I will improve.

4-

As he came up Sunset Hill towards the J he realized that these were no wild fires. They were too strong and too localized for that. A sick feeling in his gut told him what it was but his mind refused to believe it.

He saw the bodies of the Taylor kids in their yard where they had been playing. There was no sign of their parents, but the house was burning so he was unsure if they were inside. He jumped off his horse and the old mare stood there patiently for him to come back. She had seen fire and death before and knew that she was out of danger where she had been left.

Rick checked the children's injuries. Slashing wounds, like a knife all over their bodies. He could tell that whoever had killed them had meant to inflict as much pain and terror as possible before they died. He felt numb as he remounted his horse. He road past the J and barely saw the signs that it had been looted, his eyes slid over the bodies of his neighbors in the street without registering what they were. He finally came to the end of the road where an old man's body lay in front of his house. His heart broke inside him as he ran to the old man.

Amazingly, Doc was still alive. His breathing was labored and his strength had left him. His eyes focused on the young man and he said, "Boy, I have been murdered."

Rick held his old teacher to him. "No, you aren't going to die. You can't die"

"Enough of that nonsense, boy, listen to me," He said through his pain. "I am old and have been ready for this day for years. Raiders came shortly after dawn. The people they didn't kill, they took with them. Who knows what they will do to them. Your father was with them, he was injured badly but they took him anyways. You have got to find them."

"But I am just one, what will I do when I find them? Who will help me?"

"No one will boy, you have only yourself to rely on. This is a hard lesson to learn as young as you are but we all have to learn it eventually."

"I can't, I don't know what to do."

"No, you can." He shouted through a spurt of coughing. "Your father and I have taught you everything we know. Now, promise me you will do it." The old man was using every reserve he had. His grip on his bible was loosening. Rick knew that he could not tell the man no in his last minutes.

"I promise it. I will find the people and I will do everything in my power to save them."

"Good boy, I am proud of the man you have grown to be." He leaned back and shuddered his last breath.

Rick had never felt so alone and hopeless as he did in the moments after the death of his old preacher. He held the man who seemed so diminished now, so much smaller and frail than he had been in life and cried. He sobbed like a child. He cried until the tears would no longer come. In the dark, after the sun had set and the fires had died down, he wept for the last time in his life.

The next day, he set about burying his home. With the aid of the old mare he gathered the bodies of the townspeople at the cemetery and used a shovel he found in one of the gardens to start burying them. About midday a caravan stopped and the men and women that worked it pitched in and helped him. They offered to take him on to the next town but he declined it. Instead he used his pay from the water merchants to buy the supplies he needed. The people of the caravan bid him farewell and told him they would tell the other towns of the region what had happened there.

He stood silently at the cemetery staring at the freshly turned dirt. There had been too many dead and they had buried the last of them in the Taylor's garden. He mounted up and started south, following the trail the raider's carts had made in the dirt. It was not hard. The ground was soft from a recent rain and the thick and heavy laden tires had left deep imprints in the ground. No, he had learned to track from the best lawman in the territory, it was what he would do when he found them that he had to puzzle out.

5-

He followed the tracks south, inspecting camps as he came to them, for two days. The camps were over large for the number of people he was starting to suspect they had. They were also very untidy, with waste being left where it fell and items being left behind. He was not just finding items left on the wayside, but also bodies too. The townspeople were slowly succumbing to their mistreatment, but aside from the random cruelties inflicted upon them alive and dead he took comfort from the knowledge that they were not being consumed.

On the third day they turned west and north. On the third day he also found his father. Upon examination he found that the only wounds on him had been inflicted during the attack on the town and that aside from those he had not been maltreated. He even found evidence that someone had tried to tend his injuries. Maybe, if he had been able to rest in a bed he would have been able to survive the wounds. But he had not. Rick buried him there in a shallow grave. He could only think of his father's old saying, "All it takes is a man who is just a little faster, a little more accurate, a little meaner or is just plain more lucky than you and it is all over."

He continued following their trail as they wound north and west. They were getting harder to track and he was spending more time figuring out which way to follow them each day. After a week of travel in this manner he came across another small settlement burned and looted. There was nothing living in the town except for him and his horse so he continued through. He felt a twinge of guilt for not burying their dead.

The raiders did not stray from their north westerly direction except to find a path down an embankment or across a stream or to raid a town. In the third such town he found another survivor. The man was bad off, crippled below the neck from a spinal injury, with no one there to help him he would die of hunger, or thirst, or maybe a predator would get to him. Rick gave the man a drink of water from his canteen and spoke with him for a time. When the man fell asleep Rick pulled his rifle from its scabbard on his horse and fired one shot at close range. He had never killed a man before and though it was a mercy he still felt terrible about it.

After that town he stopped looking for survivors. Eventually he tracked them into what he knew was Salish lands. He knew that if they were caught on native land there would be no hope for them. He only prayed that the warriors would not kill the prisoners or him for that matter.

The terrain had sloped upwards into higher lands as they had gone north and sometimes the path they took would lead to sharp cliff faces into deep gorges. It was easy to track the raiders here as the carts they were using would slide down the embankments they tried using and leave massive gouges in the earth in those spots.

He was three days traveling into their lands before he encountered them. He was crouched down inspecting the raider tracks when he became aware of their presence. He looked around cautiously but could see no one. He worked his way back to his horse and laid his hand upon the rifle scabbard, still looking around for what had startled him. Before he could draw it he heard a strong, clear voice from the top of the gorge say to him, "If you draw that rifle, you will be dead before you get it into firing position."

He looked up to the man that had spoken. He had stepped from behind a rock at the top and had his own rifle tucked into the crook of his arm. The man wore animal hide leathers; aside from that and his long black hair he wore no other adornment. His eyes pierced down at the young man, and Rick knew that those eyes were casting judgment on him.

Rick held his hands above his head and said as clearly as he could, so that he would not be misunderstood, "My name is Rick Miller. I am the son of Marshal Dan Miller and the godson of Doc Ely Jackson, who studied with your shaman years ago. I am tracking the raiders who killed them both and who have members of my town held captive."

The warrior stood above him, quietly going over in his mind what the young man said and whether to believe it or not. After a while he made a sharp hand gesture and a dozen other warriors came out from ambush locations around the gorge. The warrior said, "I am sorry to hear that. Your father and the doctor were good men and held the respect of my people. The raiders you track passed through here yesterday. We saw them pass through the mouth of the gorge, but I am afraid that they will not live long. They have passed into the lands of the Accursed."

The name brought shivers to Rick's spine. It was a story told by women of the territory to scare children into not going out at night. The Accursed were cast out from the tribes during the long winter when food was scarce. Instead of starving like the others they had broken the gravest of taboos. They had consumed the flesh of their dead. When the tribal elders had found out they were cast from their society and banished west. While in exile they became more feral and took their perversions even farther. Instead of waiting for someone to die, they simply killed them.

They started raiding their old tribes and many joined them. Vicious fighting like only that of brother verses brother can be broke out between them and the battle only ended after many had died. A pact was made. The other Salish tribes would not interfere with the Accursed if they would not hunt their kin any longer. So the Accursed claimed their large territory and raided other settlers for food until the winter was over and other sources of food came back. They no longer needed to raid for food but this did not stop them from cannibalism, instead they hunted anyone who came onto their lands and consumed the flesh of their dead as a delicacy.

"I must follow them; they have my people with them. I must rescue them." The desperation in his voice was evident.

The old warrior looked at him solemnly. "We will not stop you if you go there, but we cannot aid you. The size of the raider's group will draw every Accursed that catches wind of them but they may ignore you in favor of the larger prize. Either way, keep your rifle at hand. Good luck to you."

With that he signaled to his warriors and spoke a few words in their language. They filed out of the gorge and within moments Rick knew he was alone again.

6-

Rick led his horse out of the gorge through the western exit. He was appreciative of the warrior that had warned him of who resided in these lands and almost to accentuate what the warrior had said he saw the ghoulish site of skulls planted on spikes a hundred yards away from the gorge exit.

The land was flat in that area and the ground was parched and dry with a layer of ash from the recent eruption of one of the mountains west of there. The tracks of the raider's convoy could be seen easily in this and he was able to make better time than during the previous few days. The rest of the day he was able to make fantastic progress and he came into some hills with the burned out remains of an old growth forest around them. The sky was dark as the ancient volcano in the mountains to the west erupted again and ash filled the sky. Rick wiped down his horse and fashioned a lean to in a stand of trees at the top of one of the hills and brought the horse inside it to keep it out from under the ash and used the feed bag to keep it out of the horse's mouth and nose. He used a scarf for himself.

After a few hours the ash fall stopped and he was surprised to see several large campfires on the hill to the west of him. They were several miles away so he could not make out who or how many but he hoped it was the raiders and he started running through his mind what he would have to do to free the townspeople.

He slept lightly that night and woke up the next morning ready for whatever happened that day. He broke camp and led his horse to a better vantage point to watch the other camp. It was the raider camp and he watched them pack it up into their carts. They tethered the carts to two Brahmin a piece except for a larger one that had four and had a man and woman sitting on it as if rulers over the lot. This final cart had a pair of horses tethered to the back of it. Then the townspeople, obviously the slaves and menial labor were tethered themselves to the back of the carts. The raiders took positions around the carts, some leading them and others in security positions and the whole lot set off down the hill on the northern side.

Careful to make sure they could not see him, Rick followed them. He counted thirty two raiders, nine slaves and four carts. They moved at a leisurely pace until shortly after noon when they took a break to eat. After about an hour the leader grew impatient and ordered the procession to begin again and they continued on their way.

They came to a point where the forested hills were more prominent with higher slopes so they followed the base of the hills while still trying to maintain their course. Eventually they came into a valley that was just large enough for one of their camps and they camped there. Rick moved back up a hill behind them and camped on the south slope so that they would not see him there. He then moved up to an observation point and watched them and observed their movements looking for anything that could allow him a chance to get the people out.

Towards the middle of the night several of the raiders decided it was time to commit violence on some of their slaves. The scene was revolting so he turned his head away, but could not block out the cries of the slaves and the laughter of the raiders. He returned to his camp and was trying to come up with a plan when he heard movement on the east side of the hill he had encamped on. He edged up to a crest line to see what was going on and he saw a dozen near naked men and women with bright and colorful markings over their bodies creeping silently up on the raider camp. He looked down at the camp and saw more people marked the same way fully encircling the camp.

This was his oppurtunity. When these Accursed attacked the camp he could slip in and rescue the townspeople. He readied his rifle and proceeded towards the camp. The attack was already starting when he crested the hill.

7-

The camp was in chaos when Rick crested the hill. The sudden attack from the darkness had caught the raiders off guard. A half dozen people were already dead as he took stock of the action. The raiders responded quickly though and got to their weapons rapidly. Soon gunshots could be heard from inside the camp.

He ran down the hill hoping that no one would fire on him and entered the camp just in time to see a screaming raider get pulled out into the darkness. His blood ran cold as he saw that some of the cannibals had stopped to devour portions of the raiders without heed of the battle around them. Rapidly, he moved to the side of the camp where he had last seen the townspeople. It seemed that that was where the fighting was most chaotic because the raiders there had literally been caught with their pants down.

He came around one of the patchwork tents and shouldered his rifle. He fired rapidly, but calmly; placing his shots and making them count. His first targets were a pair of Accursed feasting on the innards of a raider. Three shots, then two into a raider coming out of the tent he was using for concealment. As he reloaded he searched for the townspeople but aside from the dead ones near the fire he could see no others.

A war cry shrill enough to make his hair stand on end came from his left and he was able to bring his rifle to bear just in time to catch a boldly painted warrior in the chest with his first shot. The frenzied warrior kept coming and he had to dive to the side to keep from being impaled. His legs got caught in the tent strings and he came down hard and he lost his grip on his rifle. He scrambled for it but the enraged tribal was on him and biting deeply into his shoulder. Pain shot through his body and he rolled fiercely across the large campfire singing himself only slightly but causing the Accursed to scream loudly in pain and lose his grip.

Again he went for his rifle and turned to bring it to bear, but the cannibal was aflame and causing great havoc and chaos on the rest of the camp. He scanned quickly for other targets and found none in the immediate area. Calling their names he ran from tent to tent searching for the townspeople he had come to save, but he only found the dead. He felt a bitter shame as he checked the last tent and realized that he had failed them and his mentor. Rage filled his heart as he decided that if he could not save them, he would avenge them.

Outside of the tent Rick could hear the fighting near the heart of the camp. He reloaded his rifle and crept back out into the night. As he approached the center of the camp he saw that the raiders had moved amongst their carts for cover and were firing out at the savages that had surrounded them. A wild yell rang out as a large Accursed warrior rushed for the carts and the others surged forward to join him in his attack. Several died crossing the open space but there were enough to break into and through the raider perimeter and the fighting went to hand to hand in places.

As he approached Rick saw the leader of the raiders, a man in a heavy steel shoulder and chest guards with spikes and other adornments to show his rank within his society, using a sledgehammer to fight off the Accursed in the center of the fight. The man knew how to fight; he killed his attackers as they came. Rick worked his way into the fight, killing any raider or cannibal that got in his way. He finally got to a good firing position and drew aim on the raider. An Accursed rushed in at the raider and took the bullet meant for his adversary. Rick cursed and fired again. This time he rushed the shot and instead struck another savage that was rushing the raider, He cursed again and fired a third time, again missing when the raider was knocked prone by another charging Accursed that took the shot for him. Rick felt like some kind of sick fate was laughing at him. The raider turned and made eye contact with him, grinning.

The grin turned to a look of surprise and the man reached towards Rick and shouted. He thought the man might have discerned that Rick was not trying to save him and smirked as he took aim once again, no interruptions this time. A piercing sensation from his upper back ended his attempt. He looked down and saw the tip of a spear sticking out of his chest just a little above his right nipble. He struggled to breath and tried to turn towards his attacker but instead fell face first into the dirt. It tasted bitter in his mouth, as bitter as the defeat he felt in his heart.

Awesome. Amazing. All there is to say. :goodjob:

thank you, there are so many places I can't go with a pg 13, but I hope broad allusion works and is acceptable. I might do some more tonight if my game crashes again.

8-

He came to in the heat of midday. Its harshness was only mitigated by the shade from the tent that he was lying in. A dry breeze partially cooled the place while reinforcing in his mind his urgent thirst. A hard man was changing his bandages efficiently while speaking with someone on the other side of the tent.

"...and I am telling you now, Wes. If we pack up and leave now, even if the wounded ride the whole distance you want to go in the carts, half of them will die on the first day. Give us a week of rest in this place and we can reduce that to one or two."" He turned his attention to Rick and grimaced. "Stop moving kid, you are making my job harder."

"Water," was all Rick was capable of saying at that moment and the man gave him a small canteen to drink from.

"Ah, good, our mystery guest has awoken," said the man at the entrance of the tent. Rick had a hard time focusing on him but when he did he gasped in recognition, nearly choking on his water and spilling some. The man at his side grabbed the canteen and cursed.

"If you are going to waste the water, I won't give any to you."

The leader of the raiders laughed hard at this and said, "Derek, give him back the canteen. He saved my life and deserves at least that. Keep an eye on him. If he goes anywhere it is your ass. When he is strong enough to walk bring him to my tent." He turned, but before leaving added, "You have three days and you are authorized to use our store of stimpacks to speed their recovery, but I trust you not to waste any on those who will die anyways or those that would heal otherwise. We don't have enough to waste like that and, doctor, make sure you keep at least 5 for me and Daisy."

The doctor handed the canteen back to Rick with an admonishment not to waste anymore water and went over to the next tent to check on the patient there. Rick watched him and looked around at the other men lying in the tent. He heard groans and crying from the other men. Derek did nothing to ease their pain or fear but he did make sure their wounds were clean and well dressed

After he was done with his rounds the doctor sat down at his table and opened a container he had set upon it. After counting the contents he took out a notebook and looked it over. He wrote briskly on it then brought the container over to the first bed. He looked down at his patient and said to him, "Congratulations, Rat, you get to live." He took out a syringe, inserted it in the man's arm and injected the full amount of fluid into him. After a short period of time the patient's breathing became more regular and the doctor moved two cots down to the next patient he selected.

Derek continued down the line in this manner, skipping quite a few and injecting the medication into the rest until he came to Rick's cot. He looked at him and said, "I have already dosed you with this as well as some buffout and med-x to get you through the worst of it. You are lucky you have gained Wes' favor or he would have let you die, but do not take that for granted, any wrong move and he could kill you or have you killed at any moment. Just remember that here. Amongst the Bloodclaws, Wes holds the balance of life and death, do you understand?"

Rick nodded and the man continued while he dosed him with two of the precious stimpacks, "If you want to live, you will need to play by their rules. These people are extremely simple. You either kill, or you die. You got that? You had better make sure you understand that. I do not know what brought you into our camp but I am certain that Wes does so do not try to trick him. Honesty will get you far with Wes, he may punish you for what you say, but he will be far worse on you if you lie to him."

With the meds pumping through his body, Rick was feeling a lot better. He could feel the tissues knitting themselves together and could feel the strength flowing back into the effected muscles. He asked, "Why are you telling me all this? I am no raider; I will not become one of you."

The man shook his head sadly and said with finality, "No, boy. You are wrong. You will be a raider or you will die here. There is no doubt about that. There is no leaving the Bloodclaws. Even if you could escape the camp, they would hunt you and kill you and anyone who gave you shelter."

wow, do not use the quick edit button or you will lose quotation marks and other things. good thing I caught that.

That's a glitch. It happens occasionally but not all the time. It's when the forums fail to recognize the quotations as being part of an available language on your computer or something similar. Anyway, you shouldn't post so quickly. Once a day is good, it gives people more time to read so they don't get intimidated by the length.

hmm, maybe I should save them on word when I write them then. I am trying to cut down on length per article, the first chapter was 5 pages long the rest have been about 1 page, but yeah I could start saving them and releasing them in more metered doses.

Looks good, keep on going.
It's good that you listn to the comments, it seems to improve your writing with every post.

I always use word. also quite handy for grammar and spelling.
And a good way to overview everything and edit easily

At first I didn't know I had word, but one day I saved a chapter I was working on in wordpad and when I loaded it again the computer decided to load it in word. It was nice seeing the little red and green lines show up.

been a while, rediscovered this a few weeks back on a whim and decided to do a little more writing.

9-

Rick lay in his bed while the Stimpaks worked wonders on him, healing his injuries far faster than naturally possible. He watched the raider’s doctor make his rounds between the cots in the two tents for another hour. The man was in his mid forties with graying brown hair and a strong jaw line. He was of average height with a strong build. He When he was satisfied he sat down to rest and make notes in his notebook. He looked up after a few minutes and caught sight of the young man watching him. “Boy, you had better get some sleep, the Stimpaks should have you healed up by evening, then Wes is going to want to see you. I am Derek and have been with the Bloodclaws for about four months. I didn’t have much choice joining either, it was join or die. I chose to live. It hasn’t been much of a life but it is better than being dead as far as I can tell. What’s your story kid? How is it you came into our camp during an attack by cannibals?”

The man’s frankness was endearing but the young man had little reason to trust him. “My name is Rick,” he said. “I saw your tracks headed into the Accursed lands and thought you were merchants that didn’t know the lands. I thought to warn you away.”

The older man looked across at him, his face unreadable. “You are a terrible liar. If you are smart you won’t try that with anyone else here in camp. I am probably the only one that will forgive you for it, and that is only because I have used so much of my stores on you already that I don’t want to undo what I have done. Listen to me; whatever brought you here, it will be better for you if you admit it, than to lie about it. If you don’t trust me that is your own loss, but I swear to you, if you try that stuff with Wes, he will eat you alive.

“I am offering you a chance here, because I think you might just be worth the effort, not like the rest of the new flesh. I can be your friend, show you how to navigate your new life, or you can try to make friends with these other bastards and see where that takes you.”

Rick lay still listening to the older man speak and did not respond. He thought over what the man said and what he would have to do to stay alive and to avenge his people. After an hour, Derek walked his rounds. When he stopped at the fourth cot he cursed and drew the man’s blanket over his face. He continued down the line and when he got to Rick, he checked his bandages and was satisfied at the recovery the young man had made.

“You look alright,” he said, “get up, and get dressed, I am going to make the rest of my rounds then we are going to see Wes. Remember, Tell the truth and things should go well for you.”

After a few minutes, the two of them emerged into the red light of dusk. The sun was setting behind the mountains and the sky was dark with ash that was beginning to fall again. Rick noticed that the camp had been moved out of the valley they had been in before. They had moved north to a hill that gave them a good view of the land around them. There were fewer tents unpacked than before and the raiders were staying closer to the wagons. There were still almost twenty of them. One of the carts had been left behind and there were no slaves to be seen. Directly across from the medical tent was a large pavilion, with its side walls strapped up. The majority of the raiders were crowded inside of it, eating at makeshift tables. The sight of food reminded Rick of the last time he had eaten.

As they approached the pavilion, he saw Wes sitting on a prominent dais watching the raiders eat like a king watching his subjects. A good looking young woman was seated on cushions at his feet, talking pleasantly with him. Whereas Wes was large and imposing, dark of skin and hair color, she was small and lightweight, with pale skin and red hair. Her armor was less imposing than his, a hardened leather jacket over pants and combat boots. It was clear from her confidence that she was second only to Wes in this band. Silence fell on the tent as the raiders noticed the pairs' approach.

I like it. I especially like the fact that it's read in 3rd person (He, him, his) instead of 1st person (I, me, my). I get tired of reading things where it's the perspective of the person all the time. Anyway, great job. I look forward to reading more.