"Blood, Sweat and Tears"

[AliasTheory]

@Cheesyball: Thanks for pointing that out!

[AliasTheory]

<--- BACKWARD

 

============================

Chapter 27: Bittersweet

============================

 

Fire burning from the ruins of the entrance of the National Guard Depot, we don’t stop running towards the wasteland’s moonlit-horizon, and we don’t look back - not even for a second, and not even for the sinkhole that inevitably swallowed that edifice of war’s brains. After all, nobody really wants to remember the dreadful past and whatever crap happened in there. Fear and murder. Hate and anger. You want to take all of those terrible concepts, cram it into a fat wad of mush and punt it into the distance, to leave it all behind and be buried, just like that military technology: to be lost and forgotten forever. But only in a way. There are only certain parts you really forget. Anyone from the wasteland should know that all your regrets and crimes – your sins – live on in the very back of the mind, tearing away at whatever remains of the soul. They never leave you be. Those mere feelings become uncontrollable, emotional monsters, and I bet with enough time, they’ll turn you into a real one.

 

At the same time, in the blinding whiteness, there is always a door. There is always an escape, though finding it is the hardest part. And it’s definitely no “automatic”; not everyone can do it just because they try very hard. So I’m a young adult and I say an inexperienced fool, but try to take this from me: you need friends. Someday, you will dig yourself into a radioactive ditch so big that you won’t be able to climb out of no matter how hard you try, because you’ve become your own evil without even knowing it.

 

I was there once.

 

The Geiger counter fidgets and jerks, and you think your fate is sealed. Then, in miraculous fashion, saviors arrive to remind you who to be. They pull you out of the hole and help you find the door so you can close it. Maybe you can even pull each other out. From thereafter, it’s a memory: you visit it by choice, whenever you want to open that door. You see the past, but perhaps it’s not as crystal-clear as it once was. You remember feeling some kind of pain, yet you don’t relive all of the terrors. In turn you learn to love it all, because you know yourself better than anyone.

 

In truth, they are you.

 

----------

Out in the middle of the wasteland, a small, two-tiered concrete structure proudly stands in the middle of nowhere, considerately surrounded by fractured walls of concrete slabs. There are no trees in sight, rather just a bunch of shriveled shrubs and decaying vegetation. I have to think those harmful chemicals that came from the depot had something to do with it here, the area being even more brown and dead than other parts of the wasteland.

 

We make the concrete structure our temporary home for the night. The walls I mentioned are not perfectly stitched together, crevices here and there, and a larger gap on the far side welcomes us somewhat like a doorway. Scavenging for some fuel, we manage to gather enough wooden branches to start a small fire for some light and heat. Embers drift into the star-littered sky. These nights are becoming a little dimmer, since the Moon is beginning to turn its darker half to the Earth. On nights were the Moon is in full, it’s almost not necessary to bring about the flames. Fires attract too much attention, anyway. Only do it if you gotta.

 

Butch and I unpack the MREs we recovered from the depot, us feeling anxious to eat. However, Saya is quick to point out that we have four packages, and when counting Lyn, there are five of us. Saori had never really answered Butch’s silly question during our escape. I take action.

 

“It’s alright. Saori can share with me. I’ll just take some leftovers.”

 

“No thanks.” Saori gives a light smile and shakes her head. “It’s for you guys.” After her little outburst, I have to think she feels the slightest bit guilty, so she has to say no, right?

 

“Come on,” I invite. I look at the labeling on the package. “Hey look, this one has pork in it. Don’t cha like pork?” I nudge it close to her face. “Don’t cha? I know it tastes—“

 

She’s grinning. “Nope. I don’t want any.”

 

“—really good,” I continue. “I know you want some.”

 

She glances away quickly in thought. “No…because then we’d be sharing germs. We’d be sharing germs! Yes! You said so yourself. With the water.”

 

“I have good oral hygiene.” I unzip my bag and pull out a small plastic jar of baking soda. “I also said it isn’t like the germs will kill you. But see? Good hygiene.”

 

Saya peeks over my shoulder. “You use that stuff?” she asks. “I’ve never seen you use it…”

 

“What stuff?” Butch asks. He’s with Lyn, busy prepping the other meal packages.

 

“Baking soda. For teeth.”

 

“Why don’t you just use a chew stick or something?” Saori extends her tongue mockingly. “It’s easier.”

 

“No, no, the baking soda works,” I say. “That’s the important part. You see, it’s a good antacid. Sometimes I have it with some water to help with all the acid indigestion problems I have. It gets to me at night. But you can—”

 

“—actually rub it on your teeth to prevent acid—”

 

“—buildup.”

 

“You’re too funny.” Saori softly laughs.

 

I remain serious. “You going to share or not? Saving lives without any sort of repayment?”

 

“…I guess I have no choice, huh?” She gives in warmly. “Well, I’ll have some, Drew. Thanks. I appreciate it.”

 

“No problem. Also, I think you might want this.” I hand her the Stealth Boy we had recovered at the depot. Playfully excited, she covers her mouth with her fingers and slowly reaches for it, as if she was ashamed or thought my words weren’t genuine.

 

“Just take it, girl. You can tinker with it. It’s in your job description.”

 

Following a series of labeled directions, we finish prepping the meal packages and leave them to cook, elevated on a large slanted chunk of concrete. Around our little concrete fortress, aside from Butch and Saya who are paired together, everyone just hangs around their own little sector. All of us quietly stare into the darkness beyond our residence except for Saori, who seems to have set up a small bench of some sort after moving smaller slabs of rock around. I listen to the tinkering of the metal tools as she tosses one after the other around her work area, she enthusiastically ready to move to the next step to solve the mechanical mystery that’s all too obvious: the one of the prototype Stealth Boy. Why didn’t the device work back in the depot? If you had the knowhow, or at least enough to understand what is going on, who wouldn’t want to mess around with toys made by geniuses hired by the government? Again, this is stuff that was made before the world went to he**. These are the works for the future we never had.

 

A couple minutes pass, and the meals are extracted from their packages. Steamed trays of corned beef hash, blocks of pork, stew and rice emerge. It’s a surprise that the food appears appetizing after who knows how long, but also that we get a hot meal this time. Unless we really travel prepared, perhaps across the entire Capital Wasteland, we don’t eat hot food. Normally it’s just whatever you can get by eating in order to survive.

 

There are some nice tea powder packets that Lyn and Butch placed on the side next to the utensils, but the cheeses looks terrible and rotten. I fling mine into the fire and we begin to eat away.

 

“Hey, this stuff is pretty good,” Butch comments.

 

The rest of us eat in silence. Slouching in the corner, I periodically pass the single plastic spoon to Saori, cuttings small slices of the shockingly tender meat for the both of us. I chew my food slowly and lazily. Saori is always quick to hand the spoon back to me, and I frequently have to tap her shoulder to remind her of her turn. I take note of her workspace and see that her rifle lays flat on right of the concrete bench, the flashlight beaming to the left.

 

“Saori, do you need some more light? Doesn’t your hand get in the way of what you’re doing?”

 

“Nope! I’m fine.” Suddenly all sunshine and rainbows, she begins to lightly hum to the tune of “Happy Times” away to the night.

 

So that’s what nuts and bolts will do to a girl.

 

Today was an exhausting day, even if it wasn’t one of those days we have to desperately fight for our lives and come out alive by some miracle. There are always those weird days that I feel you go out and accomplish a whole lot, more than you might have expected, and then the others where you actually do jack squat. In the end, you feel dead beat no matter which happens.

 

So I feel somewhat tired, but questions remain unanswered tonight, chiefly one: how did Lyn know the code to get into the bunker? I’ll just count on the idea that the other three forgot because they have too much on their minds. People can only take so much drama.

 

“Ugh, Saya, would you stop poking at the fire?” Lyn squints and begins to bat away at the pestering sparks around her face. “The wind is getting all this crap in my face.”

 

I notice Saya carefully poking the fire with a spare needle of a branch, her ponytail gently blowing in the breeze.

 

“Oh…sorry.” With the wind softly cooing and the fire crackling, her voice is still hard to hear over. She tips the stick into the fire, only to spray even more ashes into the air. “Ah!” She retracts. “Shoot…”

 

“It’s okay,” Lyn remarks. “You don’t need to apologize again or whatever.”

 

Oh yeah. That’s the other thing. Someone has been acting awfully nice lately.

 

I want to talk with Lyn again. I extend my arms to push myself back up only to notice I feel a bit roomier than before. I turn to my left and almost unsurprisingly, Saori has magically disappeared again along with the Stealth Boy. Everything else lays intact. I survey the immediate area of the campsite and she’s not anywhere to be seen.

 

Wow, where did she go?

 

Slipping between the concrete barriers and back into the wilderness, I peek around the nearby corners of the campsite in search of the girl’s slender figure. The fine browner and taller grasses of the area rustle at my feet, waving along the jagged, irregular slopes of red dirt. Putting my hands in my pockets, I leisurely stroll around the perimeter in the cool night air, kicking a small chunk of rock down the hill along the way. When I reach the next corner, I spot Saori teetering away from me to the following corner, her feet lined heel to toe, her arms extended to their fullest. She’s also holding what is presumably the small, spherical Stealth Boy in her right hand. I quietly approach her.

 

“You mind telling me what you are doing out here?”

 

Startled, Saori immediately draws her small handgun and whips around to point it at me, her eyes large in fear.

 

I put my hands up. “Whoa, whoa-”

 

“Holy sh**, Drew! You scared the he** out of me…thank God it’s you.”

 

She’s breathing so hard, I can see her chest rising and falling. She puts away her gun.

 

“Sorry,” I say. “You just disappeared for a moment, so I went looking for you. No crazy wasteland wildlife here.”

 

Closing her eyes, she sighs in amusement. “Well, how do you know? There’s lots of crazy stuff out there.” She reclines against the concrete wall to face the hills so dimly lit by the moonlight, and her bright expression begs me to join her.

 

“When you and Butch were fetching your little sticks,” she begins as I proceed to accompany her, “Lyn doubted me. She didn’t think I could figure this thing out. But then I thought, why not?” She twirls the Stealth Boy with her thin fingers. “If this thing was in some emergency bunker, wouldn’t you wanna be able to use it right away? Maybe there was a trick to it, or the parts weren’t working quite right. And then–”

 

“You don’t have to tell me,” I say reassuringly. “You figured it out already.”

 

“Yes! Yes! I did!” Her voice elevates. “Here, I’ll show you!”

 

Man, she works fast. We sit down on the rocky earth. Cuddling against my shoulder, she holds out the small device in front of me in her right hand. One hemisphere is glass of a dark green tint, shimmering in white light, and a sector of tiny squares crawling around the surface. The rest of the body as far as I can see is grey and metallic, though upon closer inspection, is intricately cut with many holes, tiny screws binding countless metal panels to the frame.

 

“See? When Lyn first saw this back in the bunker after we were trying to revive you, I think she thought this glass part was a monitor of some sort. The little squares over here make it look like a computer keyboard or something.”

 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” I admit.

 

“Over here,” she whispers. Her left arm goes around my neck. She rolls the sphere so I can see its other hemisphere, and I can see what looks like a small latch and a button. “Push the button,” she giggles, excitement seemingly uncontained. “Right there!”

 

“Uh, okay.”

 

I follow her directions, although they seemed for most part self-explanatory. Upon hitting the button, the latch disengages itself without a sound. An entire chunk of the inside gradually flips towards me to reveal what looks like some tiny numerical pad. After flipping, it shifts away from the center of the device to expose what looks like a true, digital monitor behind the device’s outer shell. There’s only a part of a sphere left now.

 

“Wow.” I scratch my head and look into her eyes. “That was kinda cool.”

 

“It IS cool! Some parts were a bit loose, so the latch wasn’t releasing itself properly. So I fixed it, thanks that star-shaped screwdriver I never got to use before! Now we just have to make some rough measurements to get it working here. I need three dimensions in feet, so I am just doing the quick-and-dirty heel-to-toe method. And I can wing the height part. Anyway, from what I can see, the glass part you saw on the front is for the emitter.”

 

“Emitter?”

 

“I’m guessing Lyn needs that part for Project Purity. There’s some powerful piece of technology inside this that generates a force field through the glass that refracts light around a focus point. It uses your everyday energy cells. In short, it’s like the stuff inside the bubble doesn’t even exist.”

 

“That’s amazing!” I think aloud. I consider all of the uses this device could have. Think of its uses during our travels! What if we had it when navigating some abandoned building or something. Or maybe just wandering at night, period! We’d be safe from so much danger.

 

“So as long as some Wastelanders are foolish enough to think an entire building or random clutter peeling into existence is natural,” Saori laughs. A second later, she gives me a puzzled look.

 

“Can you read my mind or something?”

 

“Hehe. You guys talk really loud. Almost louder than Sis when she’s mad.” Both of us bewildered, Saori and I look above us and spot Saya and Butch leaning over the concrete wall, looking down at us with big smiles. Saya waves hello.

 

I look back out into the darkness and smirk. “How long have you guys been eavesdropping?” I ask. I’m not entirely upset.

 

“Only from the part where Saori started talking about me,” Butch chuckles. “I was there to see it all. You two were getting all comfortable.”

 

Saori turns red. She looks so embarrassed, probably because she was getting all excited over some piece of technology. Or being with me. That’s actually more likely. Or both.

 

“I’m going to pinch your cheeks!” she threatens.

 

“Oh no, I’m so scared!” he taunts, being sarcastic. He climbs down from his perch. “She’s going to pinch me!”

 

It’s been a while since I’ve felt this happy. Things sure fell apart today, and even if Butch and Saya may not be at their high points, at least for right now, I feel like we are a real family again. Their squabbling reminds me of the good old days. It’s not necessarily about being a kid at heart, but simply just living as a kid without any worries.

 

Saori turns to me. “Drew, could you measure this last dimension here for me? Same lamea** method I used. I need to hurt him right now.”

 

“Sure can.” I put my hand on her shoulder. “But you have to do something for me too.”

 

“Hmm…?” She tilts her head.

 

“Keep the temper under control. That’s all.”

 

----------

 

I finish measuring things and head back inside the walls. Butch, Saya and Saori all sit on the second floor of the concrete structure, legs dangling off the edge. It seems Lyn has fallen asleep on a small towel in the nearby corner where I saw her last. There goes my chance about asking those questions, I suppose. Unfortunately, I’ll have to put it off until tomorrow morning. I’ll have plenty of time then.

 

“Yo, Drew!” Butch calls. “Come up here!”

 

I race up the convenient staircase of rubble to reunite with my friends. Our small campfire burns below us, albeit a bit weaker than earlier, smoke rising in front of us.

 

I pat Butch on the back. “Hey dude, you’re still alive. Congrats.”

 

“So, what’d you get?” Saori asks, poking her head out from behind Butch.

 

“I got a solid 50 feet. Though you have to remember my feet are bigger than yours.”

 

“Not a problem,” she remarks, fiddling with the insides of the Stealth Boy. “I only needed a rough estimate.”

 

With her thin nails, she is able to precisely input data into the device. Then she reaches across Butch to hand it to me.

 

“Don’t you dare drop it into the fire,” she warns, passing the sphere. “Go place it upright between those rocks behind us or something. And hold the button this time. Don’t do anything smart.”

 

The three stare at me with ambition as I get up to cradle the piece of technology in a small patch of rubble. I place my thumb on the button and embrace for whatever is to come. In moments, the device begins to rattle violently, and I release my grip. The rattling stops. A soft sound, much like a large puff of air. Out from the glass opens up a blue, semi-transparent grid to span all the heavens, from one end of the campsite to the other. Hexagonal shapes tessellate above us, their perfect edges radiating with a white light until all the patterns irregularly evaporate from sight, each giving out like the death of a star in the cosmos.

 

Saori beams with pride.

 

Saya gazes into the sky. “That was really neat Saori.”

 

“I’ll try check to see that this thing actually makes stuff see-through and crap,” I volunteer.

 

Making my way down, I back peddle away from the campsite through the most conspicuous entrance, dragging my feet up the slope as I do it. I pass Lyn as I leave, her head on her backpack, she gently rolling in her sleep.

 

The orange hues from the campfire begin to fade, and the world begins to lose its color once more. I keep my eye on the flames, but suddenly I blink, and the concrete skeleton and the fire melt away, my surroundings now reflect being in the middle of the nowhere. I take a deep breath and smile to myself, knowing with time, no technological mystery is too big for Saori to debunk. Reaching forward, I poke the space in front of me with my pointer finger, as if to pluck a string from the most beautiful violin in the world. The light-bending shield ripples, the tessellating patterns briefly visible, the world within at a closer inspection appearing to be made from pure water.

 

Without warning, a slender hand darts out from the invisible dome and drags me in. I find myself in mere inches of Saori.

 

“Jesus! What is your proble-”

 

“So, what did you think? Did it work? Did it?” she says, all excited again.

 

“Heh. Geez, chill out. But it sure did. Never doubted you.” Giving myself some breathing room, I direct her outside with my thumb. “Step right there if you don’t believe me.”

 

“No, I believe you. Though I just wanna take one quick check…!”

 

Fingers sliding off my arm, she slips past me and turns around. Her lips come together in awe, a lone finger hiding them, no different than every other time something piques her interest. Once she finishes her study, she steps forward only to lose her balance on the way down. I catch her in my arms and once again, we are face to face.

 

“Hah. The ground is a bit lower here. You keep doing that and I’m going to have to save your life once, too.”

 

“Nah.” Peacefully, she rests her head on my shoulder. “Lyn didn’t believe I could get that thing working tonight, and I did.” I can feel the muscles in her cheeks moving.

 

I have to think that after we get Project Purity working and lock the Enclave out of its purposes, after we stop being stupid vigilantes, we can all just settle down for a while. We’ve got enough money for a couple months. The Brotherhood might finally understand what we were doing, and Lyn would be satisfied at last for finishing up James’s work. We could settle east side by the gulf, though on second thought, Mirelurks make too much noise. Perhaps we could settle countryside, or even right back in Megaton. There’s plenty of options…

 

“You can put me down now,” Saori says.

 

The tips of her black boots aren’t even touching the ground. Snapping back to reality, I place her at her feet.

 

“Well, I’m tired. It’s late.” She yawns and stretches as she walks back to the campsite. “The Stealth Boy will last for tonight before it needs a recharge. So we are safe tonight. Anyhoo, I’m going to sleep. Somebody wake me up tomorrow…or today? Nope, tomorrow. Also, dibs on the far corner.”

 

Saori has always tended to ramble when she’s tired.

 

“And thanks for believing in me.”

 

----------

Butch remains on the second tier of the concrete structure, Saya digging through her bag in her corner below, her back against the wall. I get back up to the top and take my seat in beside him, hanging my feet of the edge, though things seem to feel a bit lonelier. Saori isn’t here, and the excitement of her discovery is no longer present. Butch now has a rather indifferent expression, staring into the darkness outside the campsite.

 

“Long day, huh?” I begin.

 

“Long day.”

 

We come to a halt. It’s like neither of us know the next words to jump start the conversation again, brain dead and soulless. But that’s not really the case. I shake myself alert.

 

“Hey, look man,” I say, “I’m sorry about today.” I know he’s a little down there too, since silence allows a man to hear himself. Crimes and the past are never really buried, especially the murders we never wanted to commit.

 

“It’s cool. I’m alright.”

 

We take a deep breath and exhale. Sitting up here is almost so serene I could just fall asleep right here in this very position. I drop my head a little and close my eyes.

 

“She likes to draw,” Butch says.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Saya likes to draw things as of recent. To help remember things.”

 

“Remember what?” I mumble. “What does she draw?”

 

“I dunno. Flowers and trees. The moon. Small dogs. Sometimes Amata. Stuff girls like.”

 

I open my eyes to locate the girl. Mellow, she now has a clipboard and a pencil; her legs are tucked close to her body to help form a solid surface for work. I was never very good at drawing things outside the classic “stickman” drawing. It’s where everybody started back underground. I never saw much of a reason to go beyond those fundamentals, and the Capital Wasteland surely doesn’t cater to those with that kind of skill at all. But I guess it is whatever it takes to find oneself in this unforgiving place.

 

Butch opens a bottle of beer, the glass a muddy brown.

 

“Saving up for the rough times, aren’t you?” I ask.

 

“I guess so. You want some, bud?”

 

I lightly shake my head as to refuse. “Suit yourself,” he utters. He takes a big drink from the bottle, and then looking slightly dissatisfied, sets the drink beside him. Maybe it didn’t taste as good as it should have. If so, that would be fine, as I’m not much of a drinker, anyway.

 

I can’t help but stare at Saya in the corner, fine strokes of graphite aiding to realize whatever fantasies she dreams of.

 

“You know, I’ve always wondered why she’s so shy,” I mention. “Sometimes even hesitant to fight for our lives or even her own.”

 

Butch forms a smirk. “Heh. She would never tell you.”

 

“So there is a reason.” All this time, I had basically assumed the girl was naturally shy and sensitive. Some people are, just as others are more outgoing, envious or even irritable. I had just never considered asking; only helping in the most immediate way possible. “Wait a minute,” I think. “Butch, how do you know her story?”

 

“Well,” he crosses his arms, “I’d say I was there. You wanna hear it, don’t you?”

 

“I’m all ears.”

 

Butch takes a breath in preparation. “You remember the chemist back in the Vault? Actually, of course you do. Naomi was her name. Very pretty. Everybody knew her as the wife of the Overseer and the one who taught chemistry at the school, and was raising those plants in the lab.”

 

I grin as I gaze back into the past. “Tough classes. Remember those bubbled multiple-choice tests? Whenever the question was hard, we looked at the clock. The sector the second hand was in was the letter you filled in.”

 

He has to chuckle at the thought. “Yeah. Anyway, you also probably remember the chemical spill when we were around five years old or so.”

 

“Oh yeah. I remember that. Tons and tons of warning signs. There was this clear yellow stuff leaking out from under the lab door, and I thought it was pee.”

 

Smiling, he shakes his head in disbelief. “Too much information, bro. So, a week following the chemical spill, I overhear from the big man himself that Naomi has some sort of viral infection according to the medicine guy, who was talking to them. Jonas was for the clinic, so this was a different dude.” His tone darkens. “One day, Naomi says she couldn’t move her ring finger on her left hand. Paralyzed. Nobody had any idea why it was exactly happening, but the doc’ was saying, ‘Oh, no, it’s fine. I can fix you.’ And you wanna know the truth? Nope! That idiot didn’t have a goddamn idea what would happen.”

 

Butch picks up a piece of rubble and chucks it into the distance.

 

“The paralysis is spreading fast. You might have noticed this. A week later, Naomi can’t move two of her fingers on the same side. In a month, she can’t move any of ‘em. In another, she couldn’t move her wrist. She kept on trying to continue working regardless. Then some small tumor growth appears later on, which would mutate and kill if unremoved. So the medicine guy said that after a bajillion years that he finally got the cure. The Overseer says to Saya and Amata their mom is going to be okay after school that day. Those two girls were always nice to me, so I stuck around a lot. But I’m the only other one who knows what the big man is talkin’ about, and for what? That’s all a big lie now.”

 

He throws another rock and sips his beer.

 

“He never really got to test that, did he? The medicinal chemist.”

 

Butch deeply breathes again. “You remember ‘Robopocalypse?’ Everyone called it that afterward. The Mr. Handy robot in the surgery room had everything you really needed for a real operation: anesthesia, probes, scalpels, Army/Navies, you name it. It was made for the Vault. But when it came time to deliver the medication and do the tumor removal, things began to fall apart. Literally.” He stops for a moment. “Fu**in’ sh**, dude. The other chemist guy comes in that morning and has the liquid stuff ready, and the operation is gonna begin. I’m there as a friend. Naomi is in the white robes and says she loves the girls and the husband. Amata leaves for school like a good student. Naomi goes under anesthesia, but everyone there knew something was wrong when that Mr. Handy began sharpening those huge blades. Not the small ones. That buzzsaw.” He heaves a heavy, disappointed sigh. “That sh**y, defected bucket of bolts,” he spits.

 

Tightly closing his eyes, he looks to the side as he does a slicing motion with his right hand. Then he makes his hands into fists.

 

“There was never any fu**ing surgery. That wasn’t fu**ing surgery.”

 

Distraught by the details of the past I never knew, I look back down at Saya. She joyfully sways from side to side, still drawing. That girl only wants everyone to be all fuzzy and happy. It’s the simplest wish that’s impossibility.

 

“I’m horrified,” Butch continues. “I say I’m going to leave, but I watch from afar through the glass window.” His talking pace slows. “There’s red everywhere. The chemist guy is slaughtered to he**. The robot had basically broken down on the spot, and it’s smoking from the back, all splattered and crap. And the body right below the blades that is covered in the purple-blue sheets can’t be seen, though there’s lots of red streaks, and we all know what’s under there. The Overseer bawls his eyes out, as do the few others there. Talk to Saori; she’ll tell you too. Then there’s Saya, and she didn’t look as heartbroken as the rest.”

 

“She believed with all her heart that her mother was still alive, didn’t she? Despite the bloodbath.”

 

“Yep.” He looks back at the dark horizon weakly and lightly shakes his head. “Stubborn girl. The left hand of Naomi hangs from that bed and Saya rests her head against it, being all teary-eyed. And then I’ll never forget it: the left arm of Naomi sloshes to the floor right in front of that girl’s feet. Inside that lifeless grip was a pendant of the family. Written with love. And the doc’ said to not bring anything inside the operating room. That piece of sh**! Why’d she have to bring it! It’s like she knew she was gonna die.” Butch shuts his eyes in pain, but his voice never comes close to truly breaking. “Nobody talked about it after. Amata saw the corpse, all cleaned up of course, and she became a stronger person. I look back, and I want to be strong for Saya too. Especially after what happened today.”

 

I think aloud. “And Saya is here with us, shy and always traumatized of blood, but she has to deal with it anyway because we’re screwed up out here. Furthermore is the fact that she has to try be that robot too, and in the worst sense possible: just a damned machine that can kill without a second thought. And her sister…is probably just a memory. She just lives on in paper now and so does the rest of her family. Out here, everyone in there is as good as dead.”

 

I close my eyes, can’t even bearing to think about it. I look again at Saya, who is still so happy drawing things, or whatever it is that girls draw.

 

“How can we ask Saya to keep going on like this? Doing what we do?”

 

Butch just sighs. “Dude, it’s been two years. And it’s nobody’s fault, except the a**holes who made that robot. The wasteland ain’t gonna change, like you say all the time. I’d have to say that girl is doing great thanks to you.”

 

He’s right, and so was I. The wasteland changes for nobody, so we need to change for it. Make Saya the long-range specialist and talk about her problem. They are the only things I can really do, anyway. In the end, she must mask her feelings to some extraordinary degree. The scars are all inside, deep and unfully healed. Saya must be the bravest person here to shoot some man’s brains out after that, even if she’s never met the guy.

 

“She snipes things like a charm when the things aren’t alive,” I nod.

 

“Sure does,” Butch laughs. He finishes up the rest of his beer.

 

I pause for several seconds, and then pick myself up off the ground and turn away.

 

“Tell her I said I’m sorry.”

 

“Sorry for what?”

 

Another pause. “Actually, you know what? Hold on a second.”

 

I run down to my bag, tear off a half piece of paper, grab a pencil, and run back up. Using the cement wall as my jagged writing surface and make a note:

 

=============

 

Tell Saya I’m sorry that I never knew of her untold story, the story you and Saori know too well, and the story she could never tell. I never knew about it for fifteen years, and I’ve been her brother for at least half of them.

 

Tell Saori I’m sorry for being a jerk when I asked if she loved me. Things seem fine now, but I need to get that off my chest.

 

I’m sorry for having to make you bring up that awful story again. It was obviously painful. And I thought you were a man of few words.

 

To everyone: I’m sorry for being insensitive and being suicidal at the depot.

 

(Also) to everyone: Thanks for giving second chances.

 

=============

 

I hand Butch the paper. “That should cover about everything, I think.”

 

He looks at the paper and blinks a couple times. “Fu**in’ sh** dude. Fu**in’ sh**.”

 

“Buuuuutch?” Saya whines from below. “Why are you saying those mean words?”

 

“It’s nothing!” he replies. “I just stubbed my toe on…”

 

Butch laughs it off. He redirects his attention to me.

 

“Whatever, Drew. I can do it all.”

 

“You better, because I’m sleeping in tomorrow. Tomorrow we go back to Underworld and finish up here. No more mind-control device bullcrap for a while. Yeah?” I give him a thumbs-up.

 

“Not a problem,” he says. “Not a problem.”

 

FORWARD ---->

Edited August 18, 2011 by AliasTheory

[AliasTheory]

Sorry for the late update or whatever. I kinda crammed this, and it's not revised or anything. Typos are probably everywhere, but the edit button always saves the day.

 

School starts in mid-September for me, so expect even less updates, since there will be intense other art projects, epic video gaming and studying.

[frakle]

moooooore.....

[Odile]

It is nice to read more of your writing AT.

 

You know, I had never really had much of an opinion of Butch until I've read your interpretation of him. I like him, in his way. :)

 

But yes. MOAR! I want to see where the adventure leads!

 

(And I know, you like critiques, but I'm terrible at them. I like everything and offer nothing constructive in return *dances out of thread* :3)

[AliasTheory]

<--- BACKWARD

 

============================

Chapter 28: Keep the Promise

============================

 

As transcribed by Reginald Rothchild of the Capital Wasteland’s Brotherhood of Steel. Washington D.C. – The Citadel – The Pentagon

 

~Hey, Roth! You fell asleep at the computer again, so I’m just going to type this here. Are you ever going to stop doing that? My dad says if you are going to knockout and drool on the keyboard all the time, you should go work in weapons storage, because nothing really goes on there anyway! (Actually, he didn’t say that. I did.) Anyway, I took your coffee mug (your hands are really clammy!) since we’re running out of these up in the briefing rooms. Sorries about that! <3

 

But keep on working and whatever…once these memories are all transcribed for that kid and his girlfriend, the tech is all ours for the taking. Who knows why he wants ‘em.

 

-Sarah

 

<The sounds of thick grasses rustling in the wind. There’s nothing else.>

 

Male voice, well-aged, southern accent: Wonderful! You’ve shown up, just as we had discussed, and you obviously still possess the locater chip.

 

Female voice, young adult: *groans* Sir…I’m really, really tired. I didn’t get much sleep last night. Can’t we talk...later? Some other day?

 

M: <serious> You’ve had your one day of reprieve to recover. And to answer your question, no; we will take action after 24 hours, and as we had also discussed, I cannot contact you during that time in the ruins of D.C. My Eyes patrol only the farther reaches of the wasteland, where I must say less…intelligent life exists. The Boat City and the Citadel are clearly not some of those places. I won’t have any rulership until I have any means to do so. Meeting head on with a rebellion is not on the agenda; we seek peace.

 

F: …I’m tired.

 

M: Don’t be a child. Where are the other four as well as your residence? Remember that I can see you and your surroundings.

 

F: …The stealth technology is in use tonight. We managed to retrieve three of the prototype Stealth Boys…and one of them is working. Mmm. So we’re safe from the dangers of the wild tonight. <laughs softly> Some accomplishment…

 

M: Perfect. I was just about to ask you about those devices, and it seems we have extra. So both components are secured then, and Project Purity simply requires some handiwork.

 

F: Not exactly. We don’t have the other part. It’s back at Underworld in storage. It made more sense than lugging that biga** log around anyway, risking damage and whatnot. Your other “enhancements” will come soon enough. I can figure it out, too.

 

M: I see. And I suppose this is the time to give you our final ingredient, yes? The patrol was out on this far side of the wasteland today, merely several miles from where you are now. That made things very easy, so here you are.

 

<metal cranking sound, quiet tinging of glass>

 

F: Okay. Thanks, I guess.

 

M: Take this matter seriously. Recall that I cannot get in touch with you in the city or anywhere near the Project, and this is precisely why our goal is so difficult to realize. The faction’s identity cannot be compromised or misunderstood any further. If you lose that glass, it’s a dream-crusher for both you and me. I will have no power or control, and you, well, won’t be seeing him for good.

 

F: <alert> No…!

 

M: Yes, see, you remember our deal very well. But just think about it upon your success! You could both settle down by the Boat City itself, though it may not be the wisest idea, since I have reports of an absurd amount of racket by those pesky crustaceans. Maybe that tiny little town of Megaton is more appropriate…those paranoid, pitiful people.

 

F: My friends aren’t paranoid. Or pitiful.

 

M: <amused> Ah…that’s right. You’ve changed, but surely you haven’t grown TOO attached to them? <snickers> Love is a mixture of some dangerous chemicals, if I may make some guesswork about you.

 

F: What? No, I’m fine. I know why the rest were picked and you have said it yourself: because we have ties – up here. And even we are all from some lousy Vault, it turns out we’re more knowledgeable than most wanderers. We survive, we eat, and we live. For God’s sake, we’re all here, sitting under the stars, relaxed and calm. It’s a great feeling. You know, the last time I felt that-

 

M: Rambling on and on, are we?

 

F: Ah...well…sorry.

 

M: I was merely making sure of your feelings. But good; if that is the case, then you should have no problems putting them behind you. The remainder must be eliminated, and for a cause.

 

F: I know. If I really want to put my mistakes and the rest of entire Vault in the forgotten past, then killing is a must. Then it can truly just be me and him. Together at last. But please, sir, could you make their deaths merciful? Nothing too harsh.

 

M: That can be arranged. Then, may you have a real future. You may try…

 

F: Alright. Thank you again for this miraculous opportunity. I won’t fail you.

 

M: Don’t fail me for him. I think you should keep that in mind.

 

F: Yes. It is all in secure hands now, Mr. President.

 

FORWARD --->

Edited August 30, 2011 by AliasTheory

[Keanumoreira]

Sorry Alias. I haven't read your last three chapters yet. Been busy the last few weeks. I'll get on it soon though, so don't stop the updates. :happy:

[frakle]

moooooore...

 

 

yes. i just read that in like 2 minutes and i'm already hungry for more :whistling:

 

but that's because the story is so good!!

 

i bet the female is Lyn or Saori

[AliasTheory]

I've been busy lately, so I can't update more frequently. And this chapter was meant to be short.

 

@frakle: Nice to hear that you think the story is good. Personally, I think my storyline is a jumbled mess of information, but that's because there haven't really been any revisions.

 

Also...inb4whyisthischaptersoshortthistimeyousuck (since nobody said anything about that!)

[Keanumoreira]

I've been busy lately, so I can't update more frequently. And this chapter was meant to be short.

 

@frakle: Nice to hear that you think the story is good. Personally, I think my storyline is a jumbled mess of information, but that's because there haven't really been any revisions.

 

Also...inb4whyisthischaptersoshortthistimeyousuck (since nobody said anything about that!)

 

Well, before you took that huge gap in your writing, your story was vibrant with detail, suspense and good structure. I was even jealous during this Golden Age, lol. But what happened? I read your updates now, and they're good, but they're not as good as that level of mastery I saw before. Sometimes I think that someone else wrote this instead of you. I'm not saying it's bad, I'm just wondering where it all went. All and all though, you've got a good thing going on here, and writing 28 chapters and sticking with it is an accomplishment in its own right. :thumbsup: