Me too.

Vaniir, I certainly wasn't trying to discourage you from the style you were using - I really like it. I'm just explaining why you aren't getting the praise you deserve for this story.

Well, I wasn't assuming you were, and I'm glad you think it's praise-worthy.

By the way, I AM a hormone-raged teenager, but I am able to suppress that enough to make a story worth reading (not to brag).

One year anniversary FTW!

Part 2


Anger. Hatred. Intense dislike, whatever the hell you want to call it, that’s all I could concentrate on. Well, that and the fact that I stood before a towering, gear-shaped door that spanned almost the entire height and width of the cave. When I think about it, they all seemed like overkill. Couldn’t you have made a small, rectangular door that achieves the same purpose? I guess it wouldn’t have looked very protective, anyway, and those bastards at Vault-Tec wouldn’t have gotten any money if people didn’t feel protected enough to actually sign up for placement inside one of the monsters.

Anyway, back to the anger. It seemed too unreal, that anyone could be heartless enough to keep two innocent people out in the storm, so to speak. They at least could have given us some food and water, but no, that would ‘deplete their precious supplies.’ [censored] that. I knew damn well that they more or less had an infinite supply of water, and a massive supply of food. I’m talking three warehouses big. And they had like, what? 50 people, at the most? They could have lasted a thousand years with those supplies, even if they relinquished a small amount to us. Hmm… that reminds me of a song that my rebellious brother always listened to… Room a Thousand Years Wide, I think it was. Come to think of it, it wasn’t that bad. I guess I’m getting sidetracked, though.

I just couldn’t take it anymore. I gave up entirely on knocking (albeit with the stock of my rifle) and started firing shots into the ceiling. It was only after a few shots that I began to realize the futility of it. I just stood there, breathing heavily, trying to contain my rage. I was, eh, sorta calming down when I felt a hand on my shoulder. Good ol’ Marcus. He seemed tense, but just his touch drained the rest of the anger from my heart. I couldn’t be angry when he was around.

“Come on, Katrina. You know they won’t let us in, and I’m tired of seeing you do this day, after day, after day. You see those?” He extended an arm toward a couple rotting corpses lying to the left of the door. “That’s what you’ll become if you keep doing this. I don’t want to see you wasting away like some brainless wastelander. We should go.”

His words were soothing, almost too much so. That gruff voice, calming me down? Ah, it was almost laughable. I turned to him, a light smile stretching across my face. My voice betrayed my sudden light mood, though, sounding as dreary as a child who has to do some tedious chores.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. It’s just so- so unfair. The utter injustice of it is almost staggering.” He drew me into a tight hug, and I felt all of my troubles wash away. Well, all of them except for the fact that I hadn’t had anything planned for supper that day. It’s always something. You’d think I would be able to remember something as simple as freakin’ supper! Man, it’s just so… infuriating! Ah well.

I pulled away from him slightly, and we walked toward the door, arms around each other’s shoulders. Not long after we exited the cave, Marcus fiddled around with his Pip-boy. I think it was a 2500 model. I can’t really remember it anymore, but it wasn’t nearly as efficient as my 3000 model. His could only display text and play sound, no images. I guess that’s what you get for scavenging, though. At any rate, a few seconds later, the warm, reassuring, almost empowering voice of Three Dog came on the radio. I wasn’t paying much attention, but I think he mentioned something about a super mutant carrying pajamas or something. After he finished his ‘announcement,’ or whatever, some old song (well, I guess they’re all old, but you get what I mean) started playing. Something about a city by the sea or something. It wasn’t bad, to be honest, but it was no Metallica. Far from it, actually.

Megaton seemed to be glaring at us when I heard a loud crunch not far behind us. I got thrown back when Marcus was ripped away from me. I would have looked to see where he went, of course, except that I was literally thrown back. I’m talking ‘hit by a train’ thrown back, here. I slammed into a tree, one of the branches raking up my arm. It didn’t seem to be hurt much, since I couldn’t feel any pain, but that theory was thoroughly debunked when I tried to raise my hunting rifle. Big mistake. Pain ripped through it, and I gasped quite audibly. The pit-pat of a dripping liquid was all I needed to tell me I was doing some serious bleeding. Youch.

Still, hurt as I was, I couldn’t just ignore Marcus, who undoubtedly was having some trouble with his unknown assailant. He was laying on the ground about thirty or so feet away, aiming his revolver at a big-ass super mutant that was lumbering towards him. He seemed to fire a whole [censored] cylinder into it, to no effect. Not surprising, honestly. I have no doubt that had we been runnin’ and gunnin’, a single shot would have dropped it, but since we were in a dire situation, nothing. Fear started to grip my heart as the mutant picked him up and threw him. If I remember correctly, I was screaming in my head for him to land on some soft soil or something. He landed on a rock. What a surprise. His scream still haunts me. It was then that I decided I had to do something. It took all of my willpower to raise me rifle to an aiming position. When I was almost certain that it was aiming at the mutant, I fired. Its head split. Victory.

Excellent writing!

Ah, I always love stories that tell both sides of the coin. Great work, and keep it up!

Thank you much, both of you!

God dammit, why did he have to be so heavy? It would have been enough work dragging him back to Megaton as it was, but I also had my arm to deal with. Not a pretty scene at all. Every few seconds, I had to stop and catch my breath, hoping that I wasn't hurting him by dragging him the wrong way. On top of that, I was losing a lot of blood. I'm talking pints, here. Well, maybe not that much, since I wasn't dying, but it seemed that way. I never really had realized how much a faint pit-pat can annoy you, especially in such a stressful situation as the one I was in.

Luckily, I was drawing near to Megaton's gate. Any second, and I would be in view of Stockholm, who hopefully wasn't nervous enough about raiders to run and get some help. I honestly have no idea why he was entrusted with the duty of watching over the town. I mean, sure, he was handy with a sniper rifle, but the fact that he could have a nervous breakdown any minute seriously brought down his credentials.

I was in luck, I guess, since it wasn't long after I was within view of Megaton that someone grabbed Marcus away from me gently. My vision started going blurry; I think it was probably because I knew he was safe, so my brain allowed me to take care of myself. I was lifted up by someone with serious muscles, Sheriff Simms, if I remember correctly. I'm not sure what happened next, since all of the voices seemed to be calling from miles away. All I remember was feeling something cold on my neck, then a sharp pain, and then nothing more.
* * *
I woke up suddenly, to find I was lying on a bed. I probably shouldn't have been so surprised, but honestly, I thought I had died. Of course, I didn't have much time to dwell on it, since I had sat up rather sharply upon awakening, leaning on my arms. [censored]. That was a horrible idea. My brain exploded as the signals from my arm finally connected. I fell on my right side, since my left was the injured one.

After several seconds, I sat up, carefully, this time. I couldn't see much, since my eyes were blurry with tears from the pain. I did hear a faint voice, though, and a foggy shape stood up in my periph, I whipped my head towards the shape, and as my eyes cleared, I began to make out the shape of a sheriff's hat on the figure's head.

"Sher-sheriff Simms?" I asked, my almost unable to form words from the effects of the drugs.

"That's right, missy, I'm right here, now lay back down, you need rest," he said, soothingly. I saw him sit back down, and I eased myself back down on the mattress.

"Where, where am I?" I asked.

"We're in your house. You've been here for a few days now. Doc Church said you needed plenty of rest, so he gave you something to help you sleep." He paused for a minute, and I could feel him staring at my arm. "Your arm's looking much better, but it still has a ways to go." I lay there for a little while, trying to collect my thoughts.

"Does anyone know what happened?" I asked.

He took a minute to answer, during which I assumed he was he forming the story. "Well, we don't know much, other than that you two were attacked by a super mutant. Or at least we think so. There was a lot of blood and a mutant carcass a bit north of town. Anyway, you came toward Megaton, dragging Marcus, and Stockholm saw you. He signaled to me, and I ran and got Moriarty to help you two. I could tell he really didn't give a damn, but I doubt he would ever deny a request from me. Pretty much since then, you two have been out."

I sighed. Marcus. "Can I go see Marcus?"

He looked hesitant, but quickly agreed. He helped me out of bed, and led me to the door.

This really should have been a part of chapter 11, but I really didn't want to screw with the chapter length; I want to keep them roughly the same size throughout.



***


Sheriff Simms opened the door for me, making it scratch against the floor. Ugh, that sound grates into my ears. I'm not even sure why. It might just be one of those psychological things, where it really has nothing to do with anything, really. It's not a bad sound, just annoying. Anyway, when I stepped through the doorway, I was greeted by an awkward combination of the scent of dirt and alcohol. Man, was that ever a nuisance. It almost made me gag, in fact. Were it not for the fact that I was preoccupied with the fact that Marcus was lying motionless on a cot on the far side of the room, I most likely would have. He seemed to be devoid of any type of medical treatment barring the injection tube sticking out of his right arm and a couple casts.

"How's he doing?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly.

"He's doing just fine," the voice of Doc Church, ridden with unintended sarcasm, said, "Lucas, how could you bring her here in this state? You know she can't be moving around right now?"

Simms fidgeted uncomfortably next to me. "Well, she was rather, ah, zealous in wanting to see him, and she was running out of meds anyway, so I thought I might as well bring her with me."

Church snorted. "Oh, of course, clearly it was okay to bring her, regardless of her broken arm that doesn't have so much as a sling on it. You needed more meds. I guess that makes it okay. Well, Sheriff, if you think you know better, then why don't you just take care of Marcus and let Katrina stay by herself? I mean, obviously, you're skilled enough to manage both of them without any problem whatsoever."

I have no idea what the hell Doc Church's problem is. He went off on a rant about Sheriff Simms letting me come here. I mean, of all the things to complain about! It was my idea, and he seemed to be utterly oblivious to the fact that Sheriff Simms couldn't have stopped me if he wanted! He seems to just be an old roach these days, with nothing better to do than overcharge people on supplies and then drive them away with derogatory remarks. It's pretty obvious that if he weren't such a skilled doctor when it's so hard to find one, he would have been long gone, driven out.

"Please, stop, it was my doing. I really wanted to see him, and I absolutely do not want to be drugged into sleep again! Let me just stay here a while." I interceded.

Doc Church turned to stare at me with penetrating eyes. "Fine. You can stay here for a couple hours, but then you have to go. Lucas, make sure she doesn't break anything." He turned and walked back to his 'office' of sorts.

I dragged a chair up by Marcus' bed and sat down, almost breaking into tears. Seeing him, my love, Marcus, all broken and beaten, lying there with a tube in his arm, was almost too much to bear. And it was partially my fault. I mean, neither of us could have predicted the super mutant sneaking up on us like that, so that wasn't my fault, but I had been so distracted by my own wounds, I hadn't even thought to help him. I just sat there, wallowing in my misery that stemmed from something I couldn't change.

Comments and suggestions are always nice.

Sometimes? sometimes the atmosphere changes. Your goals seem meaningless, everything you've worked for just melts away, sinks into the dark waters of unwanted logic and reason. You just don't care. All it takes is one slip-up, one lapse in concentration, a single moment without deliberation, and it all goes to waste. You never think it will happen to you, always to someone else. Unfortunately, we're all someone else to someone else.

So it happened to us. I have to establish this, first of all. I have morals. Love Marcus as I did, it just didn't feel like we were far enough to be considered 'together.' It may have been lack of experience on my part, but then again, I had never had a serious relationship before. I'd dated guys in the vault, of course? for like a week at a time. Not very substantial at all.

Where there are no precedents, rules must be made, policies established, and guidelines enacted. All well and good, but if you suddenly have no recollection of those things already inducted, or for that matter no longer give a damn, everything you have strived for, constructing and demolishing where necessary, goes to the dogs. It might take a small tap, or a massive blow, but when it all comes toppling down, you're [censored] out of luck.

It was my folly. If I hadn't decided to let my hair down, none of this would have happened. It had been a long day. Most of it had been spent helping out Walter. There were a number of leaks in the water purification system. It had to be shut down, and repaired with some scraps. Of course, there were no spare parts lying around, so I, in all my fetching glory, had to go to some ruined town not too far from Megaton and retrieve them. Whoop-de-doo.

It probably would have been much easier if I had had some help, but I didn't I don't know why they hold me to such a high standard. So I can point a gun and hit a target from thirty frikkin' feet away, doesn't mean I'm Grognak the Barbarian. Who do they think they are? I'm not some sort of servant to do anything and everything at everyone else's beck and call. I mean, I was willing to go get the scraps, but all in all, it was going to weigh twenty pounds or more! Like I can carry that much AND defend myself along the way. Fantastic way to end the week.

And then there was the task of actually repairing it. I didn't have a [censored] clue what I was supposed to do. At least Walter was willing to show me how. That certainly took a fraction off of the workload.

Well, it took nearly all day, and I finished far after Marcus had come back from wherever he was, hunting. He took the three people that would have been able to help me most, too! Granted, he couldn't have known that I would end up having to do all of these repairs, but it was nonetheless frustrating.

So, I'm sure anyone would want to unwind a little after such a hard day at work. There's no crime in that, right? Wrong. Well, I suppose if I had moderated it like I had planned, there wouldn't have been. Unfortunately, nothing ever goes the way we plan.

I? well, we got drunk. I had never really drank much alcohol before, and that was probably the main problem. I wasn't really thinking, either; didn't want to control myself, really. Aside from my temper, I had always been an uptight person, for lack of a better word. I had never really let myself go, and I wanted to change that. Turn a new leaf, start a new chapter in the book of my life. What a huge mistake.

One thing led to another, and before either of us knew it, we were upstairs doing it. Being drunk, I didn't really care. Honestly, I wanted to. Again, though, I was drunk, and so my brain wasn't exactly working right. But in my drunken stupor, I made that one mistake. The one that would ignite a fuse in the chords of time. Almost literally, in fact. But that's a story for a later time.

Suffice it to say that were it not for that one folly, I wouldn't be sitting here in a cold, dimly lit room in the heart of the Citadel. All my plans had been torn from me; all my desires, hopes, dreams crushed into fine dust in the wake of an atomic bomb's detonation blast. Whenever I think of it, it brings tears to my eyes, confusion to my mind, and a glowing warmth to the core of my body. Sometimes, the memories even seem to be in the present?

ah ha! i finally read through all the posts. I've been reading this for the past two days and never wnated to comment until i got as far as i could by reading it.

I really like the dialogue in your story, very descriptive of tone and features. The first person perspective really allows you to go very in depth on the characters personality and thoughts. When it comes to character deveopment and dialogue, you far surpass my skill and I wish to read more of this in the future.

Thanks. Always nice to have someone who appreciates it.