» Fri May 27, 2011 2:55 pm I jumped from behind cover again and took aim.
I squeezed off a couple of rounds, the rifle recoiling against my shoulder. But I'd missed again - they were still too far away. A few bullets flew past my head making whizzing sounds before I ducked back behind the section of shattered freeway.
I hated it when that happened - it was beyond terrifying getting shot at. To make matters worse one of them had some sort of machine gun, an assault rifle or something. Some coldly calculating part of my brain told me that I'd be far better off if I could get my hands on THAT, but the chances of that happening were looking pretty slim.
How many of them were there? Three maybe? Men...just ordinary men. Not mutants or other unknown horrors. Nonetheless, the odds weren't too great. They were coming closer as well. I could hear them jeering and taunting quite clearly now.
I'd wasted another two bullets and had only one more round in the rifle. I'd be better off using another weapon. It would have to be the shotgun. I never liked the shotgun. It was such an awful thing. More like the kind of weapon my rapidly approaching enemies would use. I wished I still had my 10mm pistol from the Vault. I always felt comfortable with that - it was accurate and discreet. Civilized, even. But it had worn out to the point of malfunctioning some time ago. I simply didn't know how to look after firearms.
I tried to remember how many shells I had in the shotgun. I couldn't recall exactly. Five or six...eight at the most. Might be enough if I shot straight. I'd shoot the one with the machine gun first. Did the others even have guns?
What was I doing there anyway? It was an ongoing challenge managing to stay alive on the outside, never mind concentrate on getting things done. After a couple of abortive forays into the wasteland, chased back into the safety of Megaton by some beast or old malfunctioning robot, I asked a tough looking mercenary type for some advice on how to stay alive.
"If it doesn't kill you it'll make you stronger" was his response "You've got to get in a few fights!"
I was certainly doing that alright.
They were very close at this point. I could hear the scuffling of their feet and the clatter of the rubble as they approached. My heart was pounding. I tightened my grip on the shotgun in an attempt to steady my shaking hands and leant against the concrete surface. I could barely breathe, overwhelmed as I was with the horrifying nature of what was happening. Another couple of seconds and they'd be on me, spraying me with bullets and setting upon me with their improvised clubs. I was outnumbered and outgunned. It was hopeless.
But then, I had felt exactly the same when cornered by those crab-like creatures. I had to overcome my fear and give it my best shot. I took a deep but ragged breath. It was now or never, anyway. What did I have to lose?
I jumped from behind cover again and took aim.
