Fallout » Muke

7. Invincible

M

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I had dreams of who I used to be. I can't remember what my views on killing were then. I can't remember if I shied away from the sight of blood. Now, I expect the dead and the blood and a dull future. I expect every single thing to go wrong. And eight times out of ten it does.

Settling in proved itself to be harder than I thought. Every person's eyes were on Maya and I, drinking in the sight of the newcomers. They were deciding whether to trust us. A few loathed the idea of letting more people in, so they cursed and laughed and pointed wherever we went. Most were nice, though, offering some toiletries and occasional tours of the haven.

It was already a million times better than the last place. It was clean and well organized. People talked very highly of Luke and how the world he created for them would never be replaceable. It gave them something to fight for. Kill or be killed. They understood.

Maya was adjusting surprisingly well. She was already loved by half the camp with her brilliant smiles and innocent words. She memorized names and faces, what their job was and their personalities. She already created a mental list of who to trust. Because of this, I was alone most of the time.

My days were filled with being pressed into "training" sessions and trying out different jobs. I rarely saw Luke, but those few moments were enough to push me through the day. You haven't lived until you've seen blondie in tight tanks or t shirts, sweat glinting off of his arms. Or when his sun bleached hair was plastered to his forehead. He was always busying himself with some sort of plans for the haven. It was rare his features would ever change from his usually concentrated scowl, but it made me savor it all the more. Luke gave off this vibe of safety and security. Everyone in Revival was drawn to him, always smiling when he looked their way.

Today, though, I hadn't seen him at all. There were meetings being held in the main hall, so he stayed hidden away inside, away from the gray sky. The clouds were threatening to spill it's floods onto our backs. It made the haven be in more anxious mood; people rushed from task to task while throwing glances at the sky. I was planted with the wonderful job of moving bags of dried corn and other various items to the warehouse.

I didn't mind helping, but it became increasingly frustrating for something so simple. Since the bags were home made, some of them broke and we had to spend time cleaning the tiny pieces up. It also took forever to balance and stack everything properly on the wagon that hauled it across the haven. It was around the time after five bags had broken, all of which were the ones I happened to be carrying, that my day got worse.

Some delinquent decided to plow through the middle of our work space, knocking the stacks I had slung over my shoulder and raising five to seven broken bags. "Watch where your going, dipshit!" I snapped, maybe a little too harshly. But frustration had taken its hold. I was sweaty and gross and just wanted to get these stupid bags loaded before everyone lost their minds.

"What did you call me?" The man spun around. He was slightly taller than me, and definitely broader. But I, for one, was not someone who backed down from a fight...unfortunately.

"Dipshit, idiot, dick. Take your pick." I rolled my eyes, bending down to start cleaning up the spilled food. A fist suddenly grabbed the front of my shirt, yanking me back to my feet. The guy pulled his face closer to me, his eyes blacker than sin. Don't even get me started on his rancid breath. "The apocalypse didn't wipe out our supply of toothpaste ya know."

With a grunt, I was thrown backwards, slamming into the ground. Gravel dug into the palm of my hands as the wind was knocked out of me. At this point, the people around us had stopped hustling. Every set of eyes eagerly drank in the sight before them. Basically high school all over again.