Fallout 4: AR

62. "He Ain't Heavy"

He said he took stimpaks after the scorpion attack, I thought, squeezing his hand. They close wounds, but do they work on illness? How did he get so sick so fast? With my other hand, I supported his head against my shoulder, feeling the scorching heat of his skin.

"Duncan!" he cried suddenly. "...Duncan?" Mumbling incoherently, he pressed closer, turning into my embrace. "...he okay?" he pleaded in a heartbreaking moan.

"Duncan's safe," I assured him, stroking back his damp, sweat-soaked hair. He's delirious and hallucinating. I have to get him to a doctor, fast! But where can we go?

Juggling a restlessly twitching sniper and a Pip-Boy I didn't dare attach to my arm proved to be a real challenge. Finally, I hauled MacCready around to curl gracelessly across my lap and braced my arms against his side to flick the selector switch to the MAP screen. The glowing icons lit up all around our current location, showing a variety of different sites nearby. I felt a rush of hope when I realized how close we were to Diamond City. I know they have a doctor in town, I thought as I pictured the center market. He has a stall near the noodle place. We just have to get there.

My mind made up, I gently shook my partner, hoping to bring him around to some form of coherence. "Mac?" I said quietly, "can you hear me?"

"Mmrghh..." came the reply, his eyelids fluttering. His face was flushed and swollen, hot to the touch. MacCready moaned, his teeth audibly grinding as he clenched his jaw around the sound. He's in a lot of pain. Stimpaks might not help, but maybe a Med-X? One-handed, I groped through his pack until I found the small syringe applicator. Here goes nothing. Ignoring his pained gasp, I administered the painkilling drug, willing it to work on systemic agony.

A few moments passed and MacCready groggily raised his head. "What did you do?" His voice was still slurred and filled with pain, but he was speaking coherently. His hands still clutched at my jacket, pulling us into an awkward embrace on the uneven ground. "Med-X? Ah." Using me as a brace, head pressed into my shoulder, he feebly attempted to get his feet under him. After a few unsuccessful tries, he slumped heavily against me, panting with effort. "Sorry, angel," he murmured, the brief moment of clarity slipping away into weak, delirious mumbling. "Can't..."

"Angel?" That's an improvement, even if it's fevered. "All right, RJ," I said in what I hoped was a bracing tone. "We need to get you to a doctor. Do you think you can hold on if I carry you?"

No response. I could feel the tremendous heat radiating from him despite the painkilling properties of the Med-X, and my worry intensified. "I'm going to stand up now. You need to let go for just a moment."

"No!" he pleaded, twitching weakly. "Don't... Please don't leave me." His eyes were closed, tears of pain glinting at the corners.

"I'm not going anywhere without you," I tried to reassure him, but he refused to let go. I had to pry his fingers from the leather of my jacket. "Angel..." he begged with a weak cry. The moment I pulled free, he whimpered in pained fear, curling into a pitiable fetal position on the ground, moaning unintelligibly. "Don't... leave..." were the only words I could make out. The heartbroken tone brought tears to my eyes.

"I'll be right back. I promise!" Moving swiftly, I retrieved the abandoned sniper rifle, struggling to sling it on MacCready's back along with my own weapon. Even weak with fever, he was stronger than I was, and only his delirious confusion allowed me to wriggle the weapon straps into place. I swung my own pack around to hang across my front and crouched down to grab MacCready's arm. "Come on, love."

As lean as the young sniper was, he was still quite a challenge to try and pick up from an unresponsive slump on the ground. I struggled to haul him up into enough of a sitting position so I could brace him against my back and try to stand up. The light faded into evening before he came around just long enough to groggily lean into my pull and I was able to arrange him piggy-back style across my shoulders. Standing up, I had to lean forward in order to keep his unbalanced dead weight from slipping. I grabbed under his bony knees with my forearms, one arm draped over my shoulder to tuck in between my pack and my jacket, his head lolling warmly against the side of my neck. It was uncomfortable, but I thought I could probably walk.