November 27th

It was supposed to be a simple supply run. Stimpacks running low and blood's no good on the surface. I wonder if 111 denizens still have healthy blood, but I'm not going to risk a clotted artery for skimping on quality blood. Since no one else here is a vaultdweller like me, the blood of anyone could be mutated into who knows what. Blood donation also doesn't seem like a great idea; we need everyone to be in top shape all the time.

But this may have overdone it. The Kendall Hospital seemed like it would be the perfect place to search for more stimpacks. I can't believe what this place got turned into; Ellie gave birth here and now, it's like the earth itself has birthed the stuff of nightmares from it's womb. I can't believe I had to strap six mines together with duct tape and drop it on that Deathclaw's head before blowing it all to hell with a missile launcher. I'm glad those raiders were packing heat all things considering. That thing took three missiles to the face and then proceeded to claw, maim and eat it's way through the different stories. I think the other raiders must have fled; they were probably smarter than me.

I got out with my life with plenty of stimpacks and radaway and I'll need it. I think that place must have had waste lying around because I'm feeling very queasy. Hopefully, this will last me,

November 4th

Shaun. The ruins of the highway spell your name. I recall when Ellie and I were stuck in traffic when you were still 3 months old. We could have been stuck there on our way to the airport. The sweltering heat of a summer's day on the windshield, the air conditioning on. Your mother wasn't the nicest while stuck in traffic. With you on board, neither of us could even smoke our stress away. Your mother, she was lane switcher, that woman. She couldn't stand just waiting and listening to the music.

Those memories, Shaun, are more precious to me now than most good days in the wastes. Almost. Now, the Minutemen keep sending me around, trying to get me to save settlers, like it's the wild west all over again. This isn't good for me, I can tell. You won't have to wait much longer, my son, I will find you.

November 16th

This man, Paul I think, he approached me today. Or, actually, I found Paul, his wife and the barman arguing in the Colonial Taphouse. Too familiar, like I never left the old bar in Lexington. Didn't think fists would swing this fast, though; Cooke's not like the men from the Bugout Inn. Not like my guys. Paul's woman appears to have a drinking habit and the two have a boy. I can't say I approve of those kind of habits, but then I did expose Ellie to smoking.

Paul comes up to me. I feel for him; if I was in his place, that fistfight would have been the way this conversation started. Seems like the misses is having an affair with the barman. I suppose with the war, the discipline's loosened up in the bars. Can't imagine Jeff to have something quite so stupid at our bar. Rest in peace, Jeff.

But see, Shaun, business and family do not mix. If Cooke had just kept his hands in his pockets, Paul wouldn't be asking me to rough him up. And that is what I will do as well; this is one job I'll sit out. No lover or scorned heir will find work with me to mix in with their feuding. Child molesters escaping the law I'd have drowned in a soup bowl before I take aim at someone's tryst. God, never thought I'd be able to write something like that down before the war; now it's like it doesn't even matter.

Paul will have to solve this himself or find another contractor.

Im interested, i like the vagueness, well done