Genre: ?? *I'm not entirely sure*
Synopsis:
Post-apocalyptia. Mary is a Vault Dweller, living within Vault 101 with her father, James, a doctor and scientist. Mary knows how everything goes. We are born in the Vault, we die in the Vault. And, everyone knows that the Overseer is the indisputable ruler of Vault 101. It is a good, safe life, her father insists to her, away from the atomic wasteland. But, Mary isn't so sure, especially when her father leaves. The Vault. No one leaves the Vault.
Mary is forced to follow him, after lives have been taken and her own is threatened. She braves the Capitol Wasteland-- the ruins in and around Washington D.C.-- in search of her father. She faces raiders, ghouls, super mutants, and a peculiar wasteland wanderer by the name of Eugene who is willing to aid her in the search of James. Mary appreciates his help, especially after learning she was not born in the Vault after all and her father may have had his own agenda.
Fallout 3 fanfic.
Mary remembers most of her life as a blur, fleeting impressions. Monotonous scenery in the monochromes of blue and gray. The colors of Vault 101.
But her father is the color to the dismal underground life as well as the small flame of warmth in the metal corridors. It is cold here, it has always been cold here, but none of the others her age seem to notice-- or care. Every time she brings it up with Dad, he merely smiles ruefully or sadly-- she can't quite name it, and points out that the Vault is temperature controlled.
Of course it is. It is always cold.
She grew up motherless, but that didn't bother her too much. she never had a mother, never knew one. She died during childbirth (complications that weren't Mary's or anyone's fault). So, there was always Dad. Mary wasn't particularly troubled over this-- it only upset her when Dad din't understand girl things. Mom things. When those conversations happened, Mary would retreat to her room and curl up with an old, black and white photograph of Mom. Dad always said she looked just like her. Mary didn't see the resemblance, but perhaps she wasn't old enough yet.
It was always cold in the Vault.
For the most part, Mary considered the Overseer to be a grumpy man, but she didn't say anything because his daughter Amata was her best friend. Mary had the feeling that Amata wasn't as close with her father as Mary was with Dad and that she might had been slightly jealous. But, she never acted on that jealousy. They were too close for that-- had too many mischievous adventures for that. Amata always planned them, and Mary always went along with it, no matter how many times Dad became cross with her.
It was always cold in the Vault.
Jonas was always there too. He was friend to both Dad and her and took the role of a fun older brother, sometimes uncle. He had helped babysat her when Dad was busy with his experiments. He had helped built her BB gun. He had slipped her candy Dad wouldn’t let her have, and told her funny stories when she was sick. But he also helped Dad with his mysterious experiments, so the Overseer didn’t like him. Her and Jonas had a common enemy.
It was always cold in the Vault.
She had nightmares sometimes-- they broke the cold monotony. When she was young, they were simple doughy creatures that emerged from under the bed. Then eventually, as she got older, they did too. They became bullies-- like Butch when he punched her on her eighth birthday party. She'd assured Officer Gomez and Amata that it was nothing and that she could handle herself, but Dadknew. Dad always knew. He'd scared off enough monsters to know. She was a quiet person that didn't normally stand up for herself. Amata called her "pushover" but Dad called her "passive." But, she was kind and generous too and didn't tattle when Amata stole comic books or when Butch tampered with the plumbing. Dad knew though, especially when she didn't tattle.
It was always cold in the Vault, but Dad was always there.
She'd been brave enough to ask about Mom a few times. That was when Dad supplied her with the treasured photographs. Now every time she thought of mom, the grainy face would appear in her mind's eye, as well as Dad's voice reciting the Bible verse-- Revelations twenty-one, six. She knew it by heart.
"You're so much like her," Dad remarked once. Mary bit her lip.
"Was she passive too?" Dad smiled his rueful smile and didn't answer. Only suggested that she go practice her BB gun since Jonas was on duty that day. She didn't like playing with her BB gun that much.
She asked others about Mom-- Old Lady Palmer, Officer Gomez, and Beatrice. However, no one knew much about her mother, or at least anything that she didn't already know.
"I wouldn't recommend asking that question around," Mrs. Palmer hinted in a low whisper, eyes darting at the Overseer just as he passed them.
Mary understood. The Overseer didn't like her mother. Perhaps that was why he didn't like her very much.
It was always cold in the Vault, but Dad was always there.
PROM
Prom in Vault 101 was a celebrated event. It was one of the few times one could wear something other than the standard jumpsuit. Most of the clothes donned were old, dirty, and threadbare pre-war outfits passed down from the long line of families. Mary was nearly convinced Dad didn’t have anything for her.
“It was your mother’s,” he said proudly, showing her the pristine green satin dress. “She always took good care of it.” Mary marveled at it, knowing Susie Mack didn’t have anything as beautiful.
She also fidgeted with it when prom night arrived; she wasn’t used to dresses. She wanted to tug and pull at her hair too, but Beatrice reprimanded her after spending three hours on it. So, Mary tried to refrain from acknowledging she had any hair.
“You look fine, so stop fidgeting,” Dad instructed teasingly. “Who’s picking you up again?” Mary pushed down the skirt of the dress again, frowning.
“Freddie.” It was Amata’s doing, really. She’d insisted that they had so much in common. Susie clarified later that their commonalities were being freaks and nerds. Mary wasn’t as confident after that. She didn’t really like Freddie that much anyway. She’d just tried reaching out to him because he was one of Dad’s patients.
Freddie was punctual as to be expected. He stopped by with a red face and stammering compliments. Dad behaved himself by not giving him a hard time. Eventually, after several painful pictures taken by Dad, they left to go meet up with Amata.
“Your dress— it’s amazing!” she stressed. Mary blushed at the compliment, surprised to see Amata hanging off the arm of Butch.
“It was my mom’s—”
Her words were drowned out by the loud thrumming of music coming from the Atrium. Butch steered Amata and Freddie sheepishly followed his lead, keeping an iron grip on Mary as he ledt them with the others of their generation.
Mary mostly lingered in corners, trying to pay attention to Freddie’s nervous words. Amata took advantage of her date and of the night, dancing to the crackly, pre-war music as much as she could. Mary could tell that Butch wasn’t much of a dancer, but he mostly complied with Amata’s requests.
Mary decided to ask Freddie for a dance, but after the first few steps, regretted it immediately. Freddie was worse than Butch. Much worse. They hadn’t even suffered through the first half of the song before Mary’s embarrassment got the best of her. She relieved Freddie from the responsibility of dancing, and he seemed grateful for it. Blushing, they both returned to their corner.
There was an awkward silence at first but Freddie was determined to address a subject on his mind, a subject Mary wasn’t particularly prepared for.
“So I was thinking, after graduation, we could take up an apartment together…”
Mary’s ears were burning, and she quickly excused herself to the bathroom, fleeing before she even heard Freddie’s response.
The bathroom was cold— as always— and her skin felt feverish.
Then, after staring at her flushed reflection in the mirror, it crashed on her.
Mary didn’t want to be trapped in the monotonous life of the Vault. She didn’t want to make the choice between Freddie or Tunnel Snake as a… mate. Neither were very good choices anyway.
However, before she could spiral even more into this shocking self-realization, Amata appeared in the bathroom. She looked annoyed or impatient. Or both, probably.
“Where have you been?” she asked.
Mary didn’t respond— because the answer should be obvious if Amata found her there in the bathroom— as Amata dragged her away. Mary wondered how long she’d hid in the bathroom.
“What’s going on?” Mary asked when Amata didn’t take them back to the Atrium.
“The after party!” she exclaimed, as if it should have been obvious.
Oh, right. There was that. Admittedly, Mary hadn’t much attention when Amata talked about the after party.
The after party turned out to be in the DeLoira apartments. Butch assured everyone that his mom was staying with the Armstrongs for the night.
“What about the goods?” Wally asked.
Yeah, Butch had those too. Whatever they were. Mary wasn’t sure, but she shouldn’t have been surprised when Butch began handing everyone— Paul, Amata, Wally, Susie, Christine, and even Mary— their own bottle of vodka.
As the sole freak of the group, Mary held back. She was dubious and had never consumed alcohol before in her life. Not to mention what would happen if the Overseer found out. Or worse, Dad. Their apartment was in close proximity with the DeLoira quarters.
“It’ll be okay,” Amata insisted with a sincere smile. Mary knew it wouldn’t be but accepted her bottle without complaint, remembering her dad had a preference for scotch.
The night wore on. Mary wasn’t sure for how long. She sat in a corner— this time by herself without Freddie. She wondered what had happened to him. Was he still waiting for her?
She drank her vodka in a series of sips. The sharp, bitter taste that coated her tongue eventually ebbed with each sip, slower every time. The burning taste didn’t exactly leave. Only spread— from her mouth to her throat, to her head, to her chest. She’d barely finished half the bottle before they were passing out more. She took the second without a word.
Mary looked around to see how everyone seemed perfectly at ease, loose and all converged in a rough semicircle. She was still alone in her corner. She’d almost convince herself to leave when Wally Mack— of all people— approached her.
Without thinking, Mary downed the rest of bottle one, mildly pleased with herself that she didn’t choke on the buzzing liquid.
Her head swam.
“Mary,” he greeted with an easy smile. She wondered if he was intentionally being seductive, and if so, why with her?
“Yes?” she said, almost breathless.
“I remember what you said the other day— before we took the G.O.A.T.” Mary blinked, trying desperately to remember what she had said. She just had a vague impression of helping out Amata.
“Oh?” she prompted.
“Yeah, and it made me realize something. How I don’t have to take orders from Butch. I’m a leader myself— much better than Butch. I should be responsible for the Tunnel Snakes, not him.”
Mary blinked and appeared to look interested, convinced that that was not what she had been trying to tell Wally at all.
“But you saw that potential in me. You recognized my greatness.”
Mary continued drinking, unable to recall if they had passed out any more bottles. There always seemed to be more vodka in her hand, and she felt obligated to finish it off— out of politeness than any sort of addiction. Eventually, Wally’s words made sense to her. Their previous conversation had sparked an interest in him for her. He realized that she was the prettiest girl out of the entire class and the only reason she was labeled as a “freak” or “dork” was because people were jealous of her. They were perfect for each other, he argued.
Only, the more that Mary drank, the more that a feeling of self-loathing began to overcome her. She felt a dire need to curl up in herself, to wait out the dormant emotional pain of being inadequate. She wanted to believe Wally’s words that she was pretty and such, but she couldn’t.
So, when he began touching her, Mary didn’t protest. The self-hate made her inadequacy strong enough to the point where she felt she couldn’t stop it. She didn’t deserve it, but somehow for some reason, she still needed it. When she reached that conclusion, Wally had one hand on her breast, one on her waist that kept moving, and his mouth on her neck.
Her head kept buzzing, kept swimming.
Then, a familiar voice broke though the loud haze. Mary didn’t realize it had gotten loud, but it must have been with the way it suddenly became quiet.
“What on earth? What the hell? Drinking? You’re in trouble— all of you. You’d better be glad it was me that found you. What if the Overseer saw you like this? I’m very disappointed—”
The voice stopped, but Mary didn’t want it to. Wally moved away from her, bringing her into the line of sight of this new person. And she was standing, but she didn’t remember doing so.
“Mary?” said the familiar voice.
“Dad,” she responded.
Then everything went black.
HANGOVER
Mary awoke slowly, struggling to open her eyes against the bright light. Her head hurt immensely, and she was freezing. She shifted to pull the blanket she thought was hers over her shoulders. At least, it felt like her bed, but she had no recollection of getting there.
The movement caused her stomach to clench, and the bubbling sickness began rising. She groaned.
It must have been a loud groan, because Dad was suddenly there, in his lab coat. She blearily blinked up at him. He didn’t look very happy. In fact, as she focused more on his face, he looked considerably angry.
But, bless him, he had a metal pot held out for her. She took it gratefully and heaved the bubbling sickness. Her stomach wrenched uncomfortably when she finished, and she wiped her mouth. When she looked back up, Dad was holding a bottle of purified water. She traded the metal pot for it and sipped gingerly.
“Drink,” he ordered. “We’ll talk later.” He left the room without another word, and misery and dread began lodging in her stomach. She had making him angry.
She remained in bed for the rest of the day. Dry-heaving, drinking water, sleeping occasionally. Eventually, the headache dissipated but never entirely. She couldn’t remember exactly what had happened the previous night or what Dad actually witnessed, and that bothered her. She wondered if the others had hangovers.
Sometime during the afternoon— or what she guessed was afternoon— Dad took a break from work and stopped in again.
“Feeling better?” he asked shortly, still unhappy.
Mary nodded weakly, though in truth she felt terribly— not so much physically as it was emotionally.
“Well you need to get out of bed. Try walking.” She thought the punishment unfair, for when she stood up, a wave of dizziness came crashing over her. She swayed dangerously, but Dad held firmly onto her elbow. By pathetically stumbling, she managed to cross the length of the bedroom before Dad, mercifully, let her sit. He took her temperature, frowned, and mouthed something inaudible to himself.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I’m trying to determine if you have an infection or if you just react very negatively to alcohol.”
Mary’s face turned bright red at the mention of alcohol. Dad noticed.
“Oh, no need to be ashamed. I’ve got enough problems than to worry about you.” The statement cut her deeply, and she didn’t meet his gaze.
“That’s a bit unfair,” she said quietly. Dad sighed and passed a hand over his face.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m just really disappointed with you right now.”
“I’m sorry.” He sighed again.
“I know. Look, honey…” he trailed off, shook his head, and headed for the door. “You can get back to bed. I’m going to try to find you some aspirin.” Mary blinked.
“Don’t you want to know what happened?”
“I already do, and I didn’t need Amata to stop by to tell me.”
“Amata stopped by?”
“To see how you were feeling. It was before you woke up. Everyone else is doing their assigned jobs for the day.”
“Except me,” Mary mumbled. Well, she worked with Dad, training to be a doctor herself, so it didn’t really matter much. But she still felt rather guilty.
“You consumed the most amount of alcohol.” Mary was surprised.
“How do you know?”
“Because I took blood samples, and I know you.” Mary tried remembering how much she did drink, but couldn’t. It all ran together.
“So, what did happen?” Dad sighed a weary sigh and leaned against the door frame.
“Amata took you to their after-party, which was held at the DeLoira’s. Butch provided his mother’s stash of vodka. You protested at first, but then Amata and the rest convinced you to go along with it, against your better judgment. You didn’t want to, but you did, because you felt like you had to for some reason. And you kept going until they could take advantage of you.”
“They didn’t—” but Mary stopped herself when she suddenly remembered how close Wally had been.
“And then, you became depressed and couldn’t stop.”
“But—” she began to defend, but Dad silenced her with a glance.
“I’m not very happy with you, Mary. You need to learn to stand up for yourself, to say no. You’re your own person, not someone else’s plaything. The world isn’t exact a kind and forgiving place, and I won’t always be here to protect you.”
“The world?” she questioned. Dad raised an eyebrow.
“The Vault,” he elaborated, and he left the room.
Mary flopped back on her pillow, feeling the inadequacy swelling through her chest and wondering if Dad really believed that the Vault was the extent of the entire world.
Jonas entered the room some minutes later. His mere presence brought a smile to her face. At least he didn’t look disappointed with her.
“Hey, sport,” he said, taking a seat next to her.
“Hey, Jonas.” Her smile faltered. “How angry is Dad?” Jonas shrugged as if it weren’t a big deal.
“I think he’s angrier at Amata, but he won’t tell the Overseer.” Jonas paused when he saw his words weren’t making her feel any better. “Don’t sweat it. He’ll get over it. He always does.”
“But how long will it take him this time?”
“Give it a day or two. Besides, all this— it’s just a part of growing up. Your dad knows that.”
“Dad says I need to grow up.” Jonas scoffed.
“Please.” He stressed the word into two syllables. “When he’s in one of his moods, your father drinks like a fish. Even you know that.”
“I think there’s a difference, Jonas.”
“Just because he’s got a few years on you?”
“Considering he doesn’t pass out at parties.”
“You know, I think a party would do him some good. He’s been so stressed lately.”
“With the… experiments?” Jonas’s entire behavior changed. He became more cautious and eyed her suspiciously.
Mary didn’t know what the “experiments” were; she just knew Dad and Jonas experimented. The only reason she even knew about that was by hacking into Dad’s computer to read his coded files and by eavesdropping some of his conversations with Jonas.
“I guess you could say that,” he said carefully. “But taking care of the health of everyone in the Vault does take its toll. You know that— you’ve been working with him long enough.”
Mary only nodded. Jonas stood up.
“Here,” he said, handing her a glass soda bottle. “Your dad didn’t want you to have this, but it’ll settle your stomach better than water.” Mary took the Nuka-Cola, knowing there wasn’t many left in the Vault. She smiled.
“Thanks Jonas.” He grinned back.
“No problem.”
ESCAPE
It was three years later when Mary left the Vault. She was nineteen, terrified, and also fatherless.
No one left that cold Vault. We are born in the Vault. We die in the Vault.
Except, Dad had left.
She’d remembered their last conversation. He had been irritated for no apparent reason— Mary guessed it was another disagreement with the Overseer, but he had brought up prom night. He warned for the millionth time that he wasn’t going to always be there to hold her hand.
“You’ve got to know these things.”
People would take advantage of her— he’d said it enough times, but no one had taken advantage of her then. As a matter of fact, it hadn’t happened in a while. People left her alone. She couldn’t imagine what had prompted his sudden outburst, so she had went to bed that evening puzzled and rather hurt.
Only to have Amata wake her the next morning and relegate that Dad had left the Vault, Jonas had been killed, and she was next.
No one left the Vault. But Dad did, causing a serious breach in security. They thought Jonas had aided him, and that she knew about the plot as well, making her next in line as an alleged accomplice.
Mary’s stable world had begun slowly shattering from that moment. All she knew was life in the Vault, and then she had to leave with the entirety of Vault Security pointing guns or police batons at her. The only one that didn’t was Officer Gomez who warned what Amata already told her.
Mary had never killed anyone before, but when she stepped into the blinding light of the outside world, hands shaking around the 10mm pistol Amata gave her, she couldn’t make that statement.
She blinked, trembling, and the Wastelands focused before her into a vast sea of brown and emptiness. She gingerly stepped toward the rock crags that guarded the Vault 101 entrance, looking below at the fragmented road and an innumerable amount of rusted debris.
She knew nothing of the Capitol Wastelands other than reading some files on the Overseer’s computer. There was a town called Megaton nearby and that would be the best choice for finding Dad. She consulted her Pipboy for the direction, and remembered the holotape she picked up from Jonas’s desk.
She listened to Dad’s hurried and unhelpful explanation, listened to him saying how life in the Vault was the best for her, how he didn’t want her to follow him. And finally, “I love you.”
The tape ended and Mary was left staring at it and bling back tears. So much had happened… She had to keep moving. She couldn’t exactly stay in the Vault like Dad wanted— they’d shoot her head off on sight. No. Her only choice was to find Dad.
When she started moving, her Pipboy beeped to inform her that a town called Springvale was nearby. It was closer than Megaton.
She followed the desecrated road, hoping it would lead her in the right direction. Only, with a second glance at the map on her Pipboy, she realized it veered away from Megaton. Mary left the road and hoped she was going the right way.
She stumbled and fell a lot— lots of rocks. Big ones, small ones, loose ones that caused her to lose her balance, and sharp ones. Especially sharp ones. They liked to pit in the heel of her palms. When her Pipboy beeped again, she was panting and sweating. It certainly wasn’t cold out here.
Her map informed her that she had arrived at Springvale Elementary School. Which was the opposite direction of Megaton. Mary released a pent-up sigh and turned around, blinking against the sun which was much different than the Vault’s light fixtures. If Mary wasn’t wrong, she’d say that the sun was sinking to the edges of the sky.
Oh yeah, that’s right. When it was night outside, it became dark. Perhaps Mr. Brotch wasn’t completely off his rocker.
Suddenly, Mary heard shouts from behind her. She turned to see several dirty-looking people emerge from the crumpled side of the school building. Mary tensed, praying that they weren’t dangerous, but knew that was a silly wish, especially when they started shooting their guns.
Mary ran. She could have fired back, but her aim wasn’t the greatest, and she wasn’t sure how many bullets she had left. Plus, she had the impression that running and shooting required a certain amount of coordination. Mary couldn’t say she had that coordination in her panic of this strange, new world. So, she ran as fast and as far as she could, stumbling and tripping.
And then she realized that running was pointless if she didn’t have a destination, but she couldn’t exactly stop. She had to keep going, to find cover at least.
More shots went off as they chased her. Bullets whizzed, sounding dangerously close. She ducked, then tripped, only to trip again when she clumsily picked herself up. She scrambled back on her feet. They were uncomfortable close now.
Desperate, Mary turned and fired the pistol— once, twice. And then it clicked, out of ammunition. Then she took off running once more, attempting to reload with her stiff fingers.
They were shooting again, and Mary felt an instant explosion of heat and pain in her leg. She fell, tumbling over a small overhanging of rock and landed on her stomach, face scraping against dirt and grit.
Mary clenched her jaw against the unbearable searing that spread through her veins. The half-loaded pistol had clattered to the ground a few feet away from her. She turned her head and reached for it.
Only to snap her hand back when the movement caused pain to flash though her entire body. She groaned and gritted her teeth. Sucking in a large breath, she managed to turn herself over on her back to examine her leg.
The movement caused the edges of her vision to shimmer, and a lurching in her stomach coupled with light-headedness made her feel sick. She realized she was rather close to passing out, and she hoped she would before they found her, killed her. What it was they decided to do.
It was dark, and she didn’t have the energy to keep her eyes open, much less sit up to examine herself. She wondered in the back of her mind— after years of training with Dad in medicine— if she would bleed to death. She couldn’t tell how much blood had pooled on the ground beneath her leg.
Dad… Following him had been pointless. Everything had been pointless. She would have died either way— staying in the Vault or leaving it. But, the sickness, the pain, and the exhaustion obliterated the misery. She couldn’t focus.
The rowdy voices of the dirty-people came closer and closer and echoed through her hazy mind that kept spinning and spinning. She kept her eyes closed. It was only a matter of time— death or unconsciousness.
The gun shots followed shortly, but they came from the wrong direction. After what seemed like hours ticking by, everything finally fell silent. She braved a final attempt of opening her eyes to assess her surroundings.
It was still dark, but then an unbelievably bright light completely blinded her.
She yelped a pathetic yelp in surprise and shrank away from it with her useless limbs. Then, as quick as it was there, the light disappeared, leaving white spots in her vision.
She heard a voice— a man’s voice, but was unable to discern his words. Nonetheless, his voice offered comfort, and Mary took relief in the fact that, oddly enough, she might not die.
As if to prove some sort of point, the man shined the light in his own face. The only thing Mary could make out was his dark hair and a prominent nose.
But his face… wasn’t mutated.
Then Mary could no longer keep her eyes open.
THE CAVE:
Terrifying images passed before her eyes. Guns, lots of guns, pointed at her. The cruel Officer Mack beating Jonas to death. Amata being interrogated— perhaps tortured— by her leering Overseer of a father. Then her, Mary lying on the ground in a pool of her own blood, darkness circling around her. Then, Dad—
Mary stirred, suddenly awake. The flow of nightmares had left her heart pounding in her chest. She kept her eyes closed, too afraid of what she would see.
Where was she? Wasn’t she supposed to be dead? Where was Dad? Dad—
“It’s all right. I won’t hurt you.”
Mary froze at the sound of the voice, a man’s voice. Where was she again? Hadn’t she been shot? Her leg felt fine, though. In fact, she didn’t feel any pain at all. Perhaps she was dead, but her body felt too stiff for that. Where was Dad?
But the voice had told her everything was okay— so she let that calm her panic. Even though she had no possible way of knowing if she could trust this person.
Mary opened her eyes.
It was still dark, but they were in an illuminated cove. Mary sat up slowly, still feeling no pain. She rubbed a hand where she remembered the gunshot wound was and felt no ghost of its former state.
The light was caused by a flashlight pointed at the ceiling of the small cavern. It cast a low beam within its radius, not illuminating the man who sat outside of that radius. Mary squinted, nervous, confused, and curious.
“What—” she stopped, voice hoarse, and cleared her throat to begin again. “What happened?”
For a moment, the man didn’t say anything, and as the seconds ticked by, she bit her lip, just beginning to realize that she could still be in danger. She didn’t know this person. What was stopping him from… taking advantage of her right now? Mary tried to surreptitiously back away from him. A futile attempt, she noticed, when she saw him sitting before the opening of the cavern. She swallowed to help her suddenly dry throat.
But then he moved at last, coming closer to the circle of light.
His face was placid and pale and smudged and framed by dark hair. She remembered his nose, but not his intense green eyes that looked her over and lingered on the dirty Vault 101 jumpsuit. She blushed and wrapped her arms around herself.
Then he answered in a low voice, “You were being chased by some raiders. You got shot, fell, and passed out.”
Yes, she remembered that part, but she didn’t voice her impatience, waiting for him to continue. Again, he took an inexorable amount of time to speak.
“I came along— luckily for you. And, well, I saved you, Little Vault Dweller.” His name for her made her hesitate.
“The raiders?” she asked, ignoring the name.
“Dead.”
“My leg?” The man looked down at his hands.
“Healed.”
“How?”
“Stimpaks. Two of them, since you lost a lot of blood.”
Mary remembered stimpaks— medicinal injections with regenerative stem cells. They used them in the Vault sometimes, but they were scarce.
“Thank you,” she said quietly, looking down at her own hands as well. Perhaps he wasn’t trying to take advantage of her, but she still didn’t understand why he would do this, why he would risk and use two stimpaks on a complete stranger like her. Her gratitude made her feel awkward.
“You’re welcome.” Mary shifted her gaze back up to him— to his pale, smudged face. She started, amazed at the lack of any sort of mutation or other defect. This surprised her. She often had the impression while living in the Vault that the radiation levels would mutate anyone living in the Wastelands. At least, that’s what the Overseer believed. Dad never thought so.
“Who are you?” she asked bewildered, scrutinizing his appearance.
“I should be asking you that question, Little Vault Dweller.” Mary stopped her scrutiny and blushed at the nickname again, just realizing he was as much interested in her as she was in him. Two people that looked completely normal but came from completely different backgrounds.
“I’m Mary,” she said, holding out her hand expectantly. He contemplated her a moment before shaking it.
“Eugene,” he said. “Now Mary, may I ask you what exactly you’re doing here— outside the Vault that is?” Mary became solemn, turning her head away from him to pick at her nails.
“My Dad… He left the Vault,” she managed in a small whisper. She wondered if Eugene had even managed to hear her.
“Why?” he asked, also quiet. She noticed his tone was gentle, not inconsiderate.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. Amata had asked her the same thing, but she didn’t have the answer. And that bothered her. As much as she loved Dad, she couldn’t possibly fathom his secretive nature— he kept secrets from everyone, including her. Especially her, and it hurt. She hugged her knees around her chest, and Eugene seemed to get the message.
“Why did you leave, then? Do you even know where he went?” Mary frowned at his prying questions and wanted to tell this Eugene-stranger to mind his own business. But she realized that would be rude. He did use two precious stimpaks on her after all.
“I left to look for him,” she said. She scoffed deliriously, but then snapped her mouth shut when she realized that it didn’t make any sense. “I was heading for a place called Megaton and was going to try looking there first. Have you heard of it?” It was Eugene’s turn to scoff.
“Everyone’s heard of Megaton,” he answered with a small smile. “But you should have gone through Springvale. It’s at least patrolled by an Eyebot and has signs pointing to Megaton, so you wouldn’t have run into any raiders.” Mary frowned at this piece of information. If she had followed the road like she originally planned, she would have been fine.
“Well, now I know, I guess,” she mumbled. “What’s an Eyebot?”
“It’s an Enclave surveillance robot, but never mind that. I’ll take you to Megaton, if you like.” Mary’s mood shifted from confused at the mention of “Enclave” to elated at his willingness to help her.
“You will?” she asked, trying not sound too excited. “But why?”
Eugene stared at his flashlight a good while before answering.
“The Wastelands are a dangerous place for a Vault Dweller like you,” he explained slowly. “You have a strong possibility of getting yourself killed, especially after what I saw of you. I don’t have the conscience of letting you loose into this world.”
Mary sighed, rather defeated. It seemed as if she couldn’t escape her inadequacy no matter where she went.
WASTELANDS, i
But it was decided, then. He’d promised to help find Dad. However, he stipulated that it would be best to keep the fact that she was from a Vault a secret. When she asked him about it, he didn’t elaborate much.
“People wouldn’t exactly respond well if they found out,” he explained unhelpfully.
So the Vault jumpsuit had to go. Luckily, Eugene had an extra set of clothes that relatively fit her. Though changing into them was more uncomfortable than Mary would have liked. She undressed in complete darkness, frequently looking over her shoulder where Eugene promised he’d stand guard outside the cave. She wasn’t sure if she could trust him in that moment, but she had no choice. She was still paranoid, knowing Dad wouldn’t have been too pleased about her changing clothes in a dark cave near a complete stranger.
“You’ve got to know these things.”
She could have sworn that Eugene looked— turned once, but she was probably paranoid. Even if he did, it would have been too dark for him to see anything.
They were to leave for Megaton in the morning after Mary slept uneasily for a few hours. She wasn’t used to darkness, she wasn’t used to a scratchy blanket or a dusty ground, and she wasn’t used to the sweat that cooled and dried on her skin. By morning, her hair was loose, sticking up in erratic directions, and she had oppressive bags beneath her eyes. She combed a hand through her hair— surprised how long it was— and rubbed her eyes.
“Sleep well?” Eugene asked. Mary didn’t answer, only stared dolefully as she looked at his smooth face and remembered he hadn’t slept in the cave.
“Did you?” Eugene’s mouth twitched weakly.
“I don’t sleep in the Wastelands.” Something squirmed uncomfortably in Mary’s stomach.
“Why not?” she asked. Eugene took a while to answer.
“I’ve seen enough of the Wastelands to not trust it.”
Mary felt very silly and naïve for sleeping then and blushed, not pressing the subject any more.
They walked to Megaton, and on the way, Eugene explained how the hostile and unforgiving Wastelands worked. The form of currency was Nuka-Cola bottle caps. Purified water was coveted and invaluable— people killed for it— and second only to stimpaks or RadAway. The Enclave was the broken-down remnants of the pre-war American government. Dangers such as raiders, mercenaries, feral ghouls, super mutants, fire ants, mirelurks, and mole rants viciously prowled the Capitol Wasteland.
“And deathclaws,” Eugene added.
“Deathclaws?” Mary repeated breathlessly, nearly stumbling. She steadied herself, took another step, and successfully stumbled. Eugene helped her up and lightly reprimanded her for not tightening her boots. He helped her with that too.
“You never want to run into a deathclaw,” he explained when they started moving again.
“What do they look like?” Eugene thought for a moment.
“Big— huge. Scary as hell. You’d know one if you saw it.” Mary only nodded, hoping she would never come across one of these deathclaws.
She wiped her forehead, and Eugene’s eyes followed the Pipboy on her arm.
“You know you can use that for a radio.”
“What?” she said, looking at it. She thought it was just in tune with Vault 101’s intercom system, but Eugene showed her how to flip between radio stations— the Enclave stations and Galaxy News Radio.
“Galaxy News Radio is run by a guy named Three Dog.”
“Three Dog?” Mary repeated, following him to the crest of a hill. That was an unusual name.
“The only real free station out here. The Enclave radio is just a bunch of pre-recorded patriotic bullshit by our benevolent, self-appointed president— John Henry Eden.” Mary easily detected his sarcasm.
“President? But I thought—” Mary stopped herself, not knowing exactly what she did think. Weren’t presidents elected? But, did the United States even exist? Eugene waved her confusion away.
“It’s just a load of garbage. The American government hasn’t done anything since the end of the war. In my opinion, they’re all tucked away in their own fancy Vault somewhere.” Judging from the venom in his voice, Mary thought she could understand why Vaults were a sensitive subject. Vault Dwellers were lucky survivors living in relative comfort while those left outside fought to live… against things like deathclaws.
“I’m sorry,” Mary said quietly, though she didn’t quite know what she was apologizing for.
“But what’s there to be president of? It’s just an illusion of authority and control. They don’t care about Wastelanders.”
“But Three Dog?” Mary prompted. Eugene smiled wryly.
“He’s stationed within D.C., protected by the Brotherhood of Steel. He tells his listeners what’s actually happening in the Wasteland.” Mary raised her eyebrows, thinking the Wasteland was a rather complex place.
“The Brotherhood of Steel?” she asked. But Eugene didn’t hear her; he had stopped walking. Mary peered around him to see a massive metal wall.
“This is Megaton,” Eugene announced. A robot— a Protectron, Eugene specified— greeted them and assured that the bomb was still stable. Mary caught sight of a diligent sniper that was tucked away at the top of the enormous fortress. Eugene told her not to stare, but she did anyway.
Megaton’s gate slowly creaked open to allow them admittance, and it dawned on Mary that the defensive structure of the town would only be necessary if there was something dangerous to defend against. Mary swallowed, immediately thinking of the deathclaws Eugene mentioned.
MEGATON
The doors closed behind them, and Mary noticed the tall, grisly man that approached them. Mary’s eyes locked on the huge gun he kept on his back. It didn’t match well with the warm smile he had on his face. Instinctively, Mary cowered behind Eugene who was annoyingly determined to show her to this man.
“Well I’ll be,” he said, drawing closer. “You must be from that Vault— Vault 101.” Mary’s eyes widened and she looked to Eugene for help, fear constricting her throat.
“H-h-how did you know?” The man chuckled.
“There’s been some talk, and your face says it all. Relax. The name’s Lucas Simms, town sheriff and mayor too— if the occasion calls for it.” Inexplicably, his introduction soothed her nerves. A sheriff wouldn’t hurt her.
“I’m Mary. How do you do?” His smile broadened.
“Friendly and well-mannered. I think we’re going to get along just fine.” She mustered a small smiled. “What can I do for you, Miss Mary?”
“I’m looking for my father— he’s middle-aged. Goes by James. Have you seen him?” Lucas stroked his beard thoughtfully.
“No, I’m afraid I haven’t seen any visitors here lately. Sorry, kid.”
Mary became visibly discouraged, shoulders falling and head bowing in dismay. She swallowed past a dry prick in her throat, fighting back tears— if Dad wasn’t here, where could he be? She didn’t know the Wasteland, or where he could be going. She felt defeated. Then, Eugene spoke.
“How’s the bomb?” he asked Lucas, who appeared uncomfortable with the subject.
“Hasn’t been touched. But,” he said when he saw the panic flash through Mary’s face. “It hasn’t hurt anything in over two hundred years. I’m sure it’s dead. Completely harmless.” Mary wasn’t an expert on explosives, but she knew a few things from diffusing several of Butch’s creations. She knew, though, an inactive bomb didn’t mean a harmless one.
“I could take a look at it for you, if you like,” she offered. Lucas studied her through narrowed eyes.
“I don’t normally let anyone around that thing, but I think I could trust you. If you’re sure about it, I suppose I could make an exception. There’s a reward in it— one hundred caps.”
“I couldn’t—” She had been about to protest accepting the reward when Eugene silenced her with a nudge to the ribs.
“And come to think of it, I do remember a stranger passing through here the other day. He stopped by the saloon for a while, so Colin would know more. But be careful, the man only cares about himself. Good luck to you.” Lucas left them to return to his patrol, whistling a tune Mary didn’t recognize.
But she wasn’t too concerned with his whistling. Dad had quite possibly come through here, which meant she was closer to finding him. The excitement left her giddy and slightly breathless.
“I don’t understand,” Mary said, turning back to Eugene. “If he already knew about the stranger, why didn’t he just tell me?” Eugene’s eyes darted around, and he steered her toward the outer wall.
“Sometimes, Mary,” he said in a low voice. “Information and services are far more valuable than caps. Understand?”
Mary nodded slowly, though she wasn’t entirely sure if she understood or not. “Do know the Colin he was talking about?”
“Unfortunately. Simms may think he’s the sheriff, but it’s actually Moriarty that controls everything. He always has a hand in everything around here. Just be careful with what you say around him.” Mary nodded again. “But first, we’re going to stop by Moira’s.”
“Who’s Moira?”
Moira turned out to be the slightly air-headed, slightly eccentric owned of Craterside Supply, her store where she bought, traded, sold, and repaired just about everything imaginable. It was there that Mary sold some of the things she took with her from the Vault— jumpsuits (because Moira had a penchant for Vault Tech items), pre-war money, and various scrap metals in exchange for some caps, ammo, and stimpaks— because apparently, it was rather fashionable to get shot in the Capitol Wasteland. Eugene helped her with the transactions.
When she was putting away her spoils, something on one of the back shelves caught Mary’s eye.
“How much for that?” she asked, pointing. Moira and Eugene followed her gaze and turned to look at a teddy bear Moira had. Eugene was dubious.
“You can’t really carry that much extra weight into the Wastelands—”
“I know,” Mary said shortly, cutting him off. The bear was almost exactly identical to the one she had as a child. But then the Overseer decided that eight year olds were too old for childish toys.
Moira smiled kindly and gave it to Mary for free, who placed it carefully into her bag. She wasn’t sure why she wanted it, even if for sentimental reasons— she never had any particular attachment to her previous teddy bear.
If she was being honest with herself, thought, it reminded her of Dad.
Then, she was waiting— waiting to go speak to Colin Moriarty. However, Eugene and Moira spoke to each other for a very long time. Mary tried waiting patiently against the opposite wall, next to an intimidating mercenary Moira hired to protect her merchandise. Mary briefly looked up at him, deliberating whether or not to likewise initiate conversation, but instantly decided against it. He didn’t look the type to be very interested in conversation, so Mary settled on listening to Moira’s and Eugene’s.
They were friends— that much was obvious. Moira asked about Eugene’s travels and how long he’d planned to stay in Megaton. Mary didn’t recognize the names he rattled off, but he confirmed to Moira that he wasn’t staying long.
“I’m going to be her guide,” Eugene said, vaguely gesturing to where Mary was standing, his back to her. Moira craned over Eugene’s shoulder to look— as if she hadn’t seen Mary in the first place and only just realized she was there.
But then, Moira did something strange. She smiled at Mary, a strange smile that was sad and sympathetic. Her gaze was penetrating— as if she knew about Mary’s plight and the emotional pain she’d been trying to keep in check. Mary pressed her lips together and turned away.
She preoccupied herself by feigning interest in the various odds and ends Moira had on her shelves for display. Mary didn’t recognize most of it but wondered at the usefulness of turpentine.
Moira started talking about some sort of book she was writing— a survival guide for the Wasteland. Apparently, Mary reminded her of it, because the book was designated for those inexperienced and needing to survive. Mary wasn’t sure how she felt about that insinuation, so she tried distracting herself by examining a rusted toy car and a broken wonderglobe. She wondered why Moira had so much junk.
“The first chapter’s on finding food and medical supplies, but I need someone to test my theories. The idea is to forage for from in old stores and markets. I think Super-Duper Mart would be an ideal place to look,” Moira explained. Mary didn’t know Eugene’s reaction, but he didn’t sound as excited about the project as Moira.
The place is crawling with raiders.” Mary carefully turned to see Moira’s response.
“Oh, well, I mean— I wouldn’t want you to scout out the place for me, then. I’d hate if it you risked your life and got yourself killed on my account.”
Mary couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. The way Moira talked about Eugene’s life was too casual, almost careless. She’d heard the same sort of tone from Amata, when she was trying to get what she wanted. And, Mary was a girl, so she usually knew when other girls were flirting. Perhaps they were more than friends, then. Or maybe Moira just over-romanticized the idea of Eugene risking his life to make her happy.
“I’m sure it wouldn’t be that big of a deal,” Eugene answered.
Mary turned her back to them, shoulders stiff. It was that moment that she had grown impatient. Maybe she had expected too much of Eugene to be her guide, but Mary didn’t like standing around to wait while they blushed and made each other laugh. Dad could still be in Megaton or at least close by. They were wasting time.
She braved another glance up at the mercenary, wondering if the other two acted this all the time or if they were being particularly rude when she was in a hurry. However, the mercenary’s stony expression divulged no sort of answer, so Mary quickly looked back at the ground before he could catch her staring.
At last, Eugene announced they had to leave. Mary was already at the door before Moira could express her disappointment. When they were outside, Mary felt the instant drain of the sun’s heat beating down on her skin. She didn’t like it, and as they were circling around the length of Megaton to head for the saloon, she found herself longing for the chilled atmosphere of the Vault.
“Is she your girlfriend?” Mary asked suddenly. Eugene seemed surprised— and confused, she noticed— by the question.
“No, why?”
“Oh. Do you want her to be?” she pressed.
“Not particularly.” Mary was somewhat surprised and wondered if the romance was simply just one-sided.
As they approached the large building marked “saloon,” Mary noticed a tall man sporting hoary locks standing at the railing and looking upon Megaton with a condescending smirk, as if it belonged to him. This must have been Colin Moriarty. He turned, and Mary saw that the intelligent shine to his eyes indicated that he was a man to be easily fooled.
“Ah, a new face,” he said, staring straight at Mary. “Welcome to Megaton, lass. The name’s Colin Moriarty, and I own the saloon— Moriarty’s— in this God-forsaken place. What can I do for you?” His strange accent and smooth words instilled a sense of confidence in her, despite the previous warnings about him. She drew closer to him, away from the protective shadow of Eugene.
“I’m looking for my father. I was told he stopped by your saloon. His name is James…”
Instant recognition passed through Moriarty’s face as well as a bewildered gape. A glimmer of hope twitched her stomach with anticipation.
“My God, it’s you. It’s been years. Your daddy passed through here all right, just like last time. Just came and went. I suspect you’ll do the same, yes?” But there was something about what he said that rocked something deep within Mary.
“Last time?” Perhaps he had confused Dad with another person. Dad never had to time to be in Megaton before.
“Yeah, about twenty years ago. You were but a suckling babe with nary a tit to suckle. Sorry about your mum. Truly.” Mary’s knees were weak and a sickening dizziness coated her tongue.
“No, that’s not right. We were born in the Vault. We’ve been there our entire lives.” Moriarty broke into an immense roar of laughter.
“Is that what your father told you? That you were born in that damned hole? That he was born there as well? Oh, the lies we tell the ones we love.” Mary’s hands were shaking with what she could only name as rage. Lies?
“But I thought…”
“You know, I’ve heard about the brainwashing that goes down in 101. All hail the Overseer.” He cackled in his amusement.
“Lay off Moriarty,” Eugene said in a low voice. “She’s just trying to find her father.” Moriarty composed himself.
“Well, he passed through here, all right. Told us where he was going too. I’ll tell it to you, for a hundred caps.” The steep price nearly made Mary stagger as she thought of the measly fifty-two caps she managed to acquire at Moira’s.
“You can’t just tell me?” she asked.
“Sorry, kid. Everything comes at a price out here.” She was starting to learn that.
“I don’t have that many caps,” she admitted quietly. Moriarty stroked his beard thoughtfully.
“Then you can do me a favor. There’s this jet-addict— Silver. She lives in Springvale, or at least she’s hiding out there, because she owes me a lot of caps. Find her, tell her I sent you, and bring me back the money. Then, I’ll tell you where your dad went.” Mary sighed, feeling a crushing defeat and further away from Dad. She was so discouraged that she didn’t notice when Eugene led her inside the saloon.
MORIARTY'S
Mary blinked. It was a dark, smoky place that filled her nostrils with the odor of liquor, sex, and something rancid. She wrinkled her nose as her eyes adjusted to the dim light.
“I think it’ll be faster if I go and see this Silver,” Eugene offered.
“What about me?” Mary asked, focused on breathing through her mouth. The thick, stagnant air clung to the inside of her mouth.
“You can wait here. Nova will watch over you.”
Mary was about to persist that she didn’t need a babysitter when Nova greeted them. Nova, a woman with short, bright red hair and an alluring voice like smoke that matched the saloon’s haze— Mary found quickly with a fierce blush— was a prostitute. She was friendly, though, but perhaps that was part of her job description.
Nova winked as Eugene left. Mary turned in time to see the door close behind him. When he was gone, Nova was noticeably relaxed, as if she had lowered a protective barrier of herself.
“It’s not easy being a hooker,” she confided glumly. “It’s not exactly what I planned to be, but once you owe Moriarty, it’s nearly impossible to get out. Half of all my earnings go to him. Still, I can say I’ve got it better than Gob.” Nova’s eyes wandered and focused on something behind Mary. “Hey Gob, stop beating that thing. It’s not the radio. It’s Galaxy News; their signal’s been shit lately. Come see Eugene’s new friend— Mary.”
Mary turned to this Gob, the bartender, and couldn’t help but stare.
Gob was what Mary originally imagined inhabitants of the Wasteland to look like. His face was the ghost of an animate skull, muscles and tendons visible through the thin, greenish layer of rotten skin.
“Hey, smooth-skin,” he greeted rather despondently. His rough voice matched his appearance.
“Hello,” Mary responded shyly.
“Ever met a ghoul before?” Nova asked. Mary shook her head.
“No.” Then to Gob, “It’s nice to meet you.” The flesh on Gob’s brow shifted, as if he were raising his eyebrows.
“You mean you’re not going to hit or call me names?”
“I hadn’t planned on it…” she said uncertainly.
“Well that’s a relief. It’s nice to see some kindness around her for once.”
“I don’t understand…” Mary said, looking to Nova for an explanation.
“People aren’t usually nice to Gob. In fact they’re usually downright mean— especially Moriarty— because he looks different.” Mary nodded sympathetically.
“Can I get you a drink? Mr. Moriarty would get mad at this, but I’ll give you a discount.”
“No, thank you.”
“Mary here is looking for her father. Remember James who stopped in the other day?” Gob picked up a cloth and began cleaning a dusty drinking glass.
“Yeah, I remember.” He shook his head. “Sorry, I can’t tell you where he went. Moriarty would beat me.” Mary was horrified.
“If Moriarty is so cruel to you, why don’t you just leave?” Gob didn’t meet her gaze.
“I’m in debt to him so I would for him, and he uses my wages to pay what I owe. It doesn’t exactly help that he charges me for room and boarding.”
“I’m sorry.”
Soon, Mary found herself waiting once more. Gob went back to serving other customers, and a man approached Nova to rent a room. So, she disappeared with him. Another woman that stayed and conversed with Mary for a while was Lucy West. Mary noticed the creases in her forehead and her usually knitted eyebrows. Eventually, she shared that she was worried about her family in Arefu. Despite several messages she tried sending, she never heard back from them.
Mary could slightly empathize. She told Lucy how she was looking for Dad. Lucy apologized and offered her best wishes, but she had to go soon to meet someone. Mary didn’t catch the name.
Then she was by herself again, waiting. She wondered how long Eugene had been gone. Minutes passed. An insect buzzed. The door opened and closed a few times, giving way to people entering and leaving. After Lucy had gone, no one else approached her. Nova was still gone, and Gob was always needed elsewhere. At some point, Moriarty came in and disappeared in a back room. Mary noticed at how Gob tensed in his presence, then relaxed.
Mary sighed and toggled with the settings on her Pip-boy. She wondered if Eugene had come across any trouble, like more raiders, and that was why he was taking so long. She considered deactivating the bomb while she waited but then realized that she didn’t know where the bomb was. It’d be silly to get lost in a town looking for a bomb. It’d be best if she just stayed put.
The door opened again, but Mary didn’t turn this time, positive it wouldn’t be Eugene. She sighed again, trying not to fall asleep at the bar and resenting the idea that she was just wasting time by sitting there.
Suddenly, there was a hand on her shoulder, and she whirled around in surprise to find herself face to face with a man wearing sunglasses, a hat, and a suit.
“Now who do we have here? Someone new? Could you be possibly the talk of the town?” His voice was gravelly, and his breath smelled worse.
“I’m Mary,” she said, nearly choking. He smiled— no, smirked.
“So you are new, then? Good, good. You could be just the person I need, but allow me to introduce myself. I am Mr. Burke.” His presumptuous manner led Mary to believe that she shouldn’t trust this man, and the fact that he still hadn’t removed his hand from her shoulder didn’t redeem him at all in her eyes.
“The person you need?” she asked.
“You can help me with a situation. No doubt you’ve heard of the bomb residing in this hellhole.”
Mary only nodded, her eyes watering.
“I need it to be detonated.”
Mary’s eyes few wide and she gaped at him.
“I’ll give you a remote pulse-charge detonator. You have no connections here— no loyalties. You’d be perfect for me. In exchange, you’ll have a master suite in Tenpenny Tower with your name on it, as well as an innumerable amount of caps.” He squeezed her shoulder harder.
“You mean… kill everyone here?” she hissed.
“These people mean nothing. They only stand in the way of greatness.”
“I… I,” Mary choked. “I was going to deactivate the bomb.” Mr. Burke leaned closer, squeezing harder.
“I would ask that you please reconsider—”
Then, another hand on Mr. Burke’s shoulder that turned him around and away from Mary. Mr. Burke turned to the intruder, and Mary caught sight of Eugene’s angry face.
Eugene. She sighed in relief.
“She’s with me, Burke,” he said coolly. Mr. Burke scoffed and jerked his shoulder away from Eugene’s grip before throwing a last inspecting look Mary’s way.
“Pity,” he sneered. “She’s too pretty for you.” Then he disappeared within the hazy shadows of Moriarty’s saloon. Eugene turned back to Mary.
“You all right?”
“He wanted to blow up Megaton,” she said, the color draining from her face.
Eugene looked troubled and mentioned something about telling Lucas Simms about it, but now they had something else to do. He held up a small pouch full of bottle caps.
“I could have gone with you,” she said.
“It was faster this way.” But Mary wasn’t sure about that. “Where’s Nova?”
“Uhh…” Mary couldn’t give the straightforward answer, and her eyes travelled toward upstairs of their own accord.
Thankfully, Eugene understood and didn’t press the subject.
They both went to Moriarty’s back room and showed him the three hundred caps Eugene collected from Silver. To Mary’s surprised, Moriarty didn’t accept the money.
“I just wanted to get the message across. Maybe the dumb broad will learn her lesson.”
“My father?” Mary asked.
“Yes, well, a deal is a deal. Your father stopped by the other day. He as in a real hurry, didn’t even stay for the night. Don’t worry though, he told me where he was going. Said he was headed to D.C.— Galaxy News Radio to see Three Dog.”
Mary nodded at this information but sensed something was wrong with Eugene.
“D.C., huh?” he asked. Mary looked at him.
“What’s wrong?” Eugene smiled grimly.
“Nothing except that it’s practically a war zone full of super mutants.” But Mary didn’t let that discourage her.
“Do you know where the GNR building is?” Eugene nodded.
“Well, if you’re going to see Three Dog,” said Moriarty. “Ask him what’s wrong with his radio signal.” He laughed, and Mary smiled weakly.
Eugene and she headed for the door, after waiting a while for Nova, who never showed up, and Mary resented over the wasted time again.
“What now?” she asked, trying to contain her excitement. “Are we going to D.C.?”
“First, you’re going to take a look at the bomb and try to diffuse it. If what you said is true about Burke, then that thing needs to be taken care of as soon as possible.” Mary was only half-listening.
“And then we go to D.C.?”
She didn’t heard Eugene’s response, but turned to wave goodbye to Gob. But Gob wasn’t looking at her. Moriarty was yelling at him.
She froze, watching the scene unfold. Moriarty barked a question that Gob answered quietly— under his breath, wiping down the counter. Gob didn’t look at him but kept his head bowed into submission.
“Hey, you piece of shit zombie. I asked you question,” Moriarty thundered. Mary flinched when Moriarty hit him.
“Mary…” came Eugene’s low warning. Mary didn’t acknowledge it.
Gob groaned a response that was followed by a whimper of pain. Moriarty’s hand reached back in preparation for another strike.
Mary moved.
“Mary!” Eugene issued a sharp hiss this time. Mary still didn’t register as she vaulted over the counter to place herself protectively in front of the cowering Gob.
Everything in the saloon seemed to freeze, and Mary tried not contemplating on how defending Gob might have been a very poor decision.
“Leave him alone,” she told Moriarty slowly, vaguely aware of every eye trained on her.
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