Stories of a Wastelander, Part 2

“The Hotel Rexford was infested with junkies and mercenaries looking for a job. I ain’t got nothing against them though, not like I’m much different than they are, I just got better campfire stories. But not as many as that damned fella they call The Storyteller. I heard some of his tales, don’t think some of them are true. And what people tell me about his power armor seems like it doesn’t exist at all. Never seen a set that looks anything like people say it does. Probably modded with so much care that it looks like a real pre-war set of power armor. Anyway, I left my home, Megaton, for a more harsh one. I wanted to forget what I couldn’t. Never would. Still haven’t. The memory of something so terrifying that you near wet yourself when you’re as young as I was, that stuff doesn’t leave you. It may go away for a few days, months, years, but something will always bring the memory back. I haven’t really thought about it for quite a few years now. Only brought it back up because I want to write my story down in a journal, or journals, if I decide to make this a constant thing. From there, I started walking in the absolute wrong direction. I walked out to that Springvale school. I think that’s what it was called. I was almost past the ruins when a small patch of dust and dirt shot up from the ground, I immediately took cover behind some of the broken wall. I waited there until the raiders that were shooting at me ran out of ammo, then I ran. Though I got in a few good shots. First time with a gun, and such a powerful one too, and I was already hitting my targets. Damn. The chairs in the Rexford are torn and the stuffing are spewing out, and the coffee tables are covered in grime and dust. Terrible. I understand the circumstances we live in, but a “nuclear apocalypse” as pre-war Americans would’ve called it, shouldn’t be a reason we as a mostly civilized race can’t be a clean one. Trying not to get distracted by the junkies taking their Jet and Psycho in the seats next to mine. Maybe I should go back up to my room. Doesn’t really matter. I ran away from that school scared shitless. Coulda gotten my head blown off, or even a toe. I went back to Megaton, and met with Moira, the happiest person on this Earth. I certainly hope she’s survived this long. Such a beautiful, nice, and happy woman. She ran Megaton’s general store. She helped me fit into some stuff that would’ve helped with the bullets some. I changed out of Brahmin-skin suspenders and into a set of leather armor. I thought the jacket was badass. Really wasn’t when I think about it. Just a bunch of leather mended together to make a nice jacket. Didn’t really protect me from much. The only reason I didn’t get shot when I was young was pure luck. Moira gave me the whole set for a reasonable amount of caps. Something like 70, close to that. I thanked her, and said my goodbyes, knowing I’d never see her again. Though I have read her book, The Wasteland Survival Guide, the one that guy helped out with. The Lone Wanderer. He came along well after I had left. Maybe 8 years. I’ve hear a few stories about Project Purity. But I left too soon to experience any of the immense changes it had on the Capital Wasteland. I just wish someone could do something like that up here. I’m pretty sure that Enclave and the Brotherhood of Steel had their little war over Project Purity in 2277, last time I checked over somebody’s Pip-Boy it said it was 2286. Almost 10 years now since it happened. One more to go. Been a little more than 20 years since I left. Maybe I should go back and visit the Capital Wasteland one day. When I can afford not to go alone. Rather not go on a trip back home and end up dying halfway there. Only got to the Commonwealth the first time because of luck. Like I said earlier. I’ve got a shit-ton of it on my side. It’s already noon. Better be heading out. Going back to my home in Diamond City. Only came to Goodneighbor for the Memory Den. Nice place, better experience. Or… same experience over again. I just wanted one night with Miranda again. Anyway, gotta safely get past the damned mutants. I’ll write some more tomorrow evening. Wanna get breakfast with Vadim and Yefim in the Dugout Inn.”

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.