Jacob Burns and the Order of the Algorithm #Wattys2017

Chapter 6: Lost in the Outfield

I was up at first light the next morning, and wasted no time in gathering my things together for the journey ahead. I had already explained to Ilya how there was no better time to travel, the ghouls were just lying down for the day, while the raiders were still drunk from the night before. Of course, that didn't stop her from being as stubborn as a two-headed mule when it came time to get up. You would think that two centuries suspended in cryo-stasis would have been enough sleep to last her a lifetime, but instead all I got was a groan of "five more minutes" as she rolled over and fell right back to sleep. Hate to break it to you sweetheart, but this ain't no concierge service.

I flipped over the sofa and sent the girl crashing to the floor with a yelp of surprise. Ten minutes of screaming later and she spent the rest of the morning sulking over a breakfast of baked beans and warm Nuka-Cola. The silent treatment suited me just fine, in fact, the sooner she was safe behind the Wall, the sooner she was outta my hair and someone else's problem.

Once we'd hit the road however, her indignation was quickly forgotten. Suddenly I was under siege, bombarded with question after question, most of which I couldn't have answered even if I'd wanted to. How do ghouls degenerate without dying? How long did it take for the animals to mutate and evolve? Do you think it was the ionizing or the residual radiation that caused the different mutagenetic permutations?

What should have been a short walk seemed to drag on forever as the girl insisted on stopping at every coffee shop, laundromat, and ice cream parlor on the way, as if the answer to all her questions would be waiting for her on a silver platter. Worse yet, she had a knack for finding trouble where there was none. A minor encounter with a lone radroach escalated quickly when she stumbled over some debris and disturbed the rest of its family. I had everything under control, until one crawled up the side of her leg and she screamed so loud that every super mutant, rabid dog, and raider heard it for miles around. Three unscheduled detours later and we finally crossed the bridge into Boston.

Diamond City sat only a few blocks away, but I led her off the main road and into a nearby office building first. After a few minutes of digging through the piles of old junk, I finally found a suitcase with some Pre-War clothes inside. I tossed the girl a long coat and headscarf and she looked at them with disgust.

"What are these for?" She said with a grimace.

"It'll be a lot easier if no one knows you're a vault dweller, and if you're going to pass for a Wastelander, then you're going to have to look, and... ugh... smell, the part," I added as I pulled out a hideous plaid suit for myself, a vile orange number covered in some suspicious stains that I chose to ignore.

"But I thought you said Diamond City was safe?" She asked.

"It is, it's Outfield I'm worried about..."

"Outfield? What's that?"

What do I look like, the Wasteland's resident tour guide? She looked just like a tourist too as I watched her try on a pair of sunglasses in a cracked mirror, like this was all just one big road trip. Rather than spend the rest of my life answering stupid questions, I dragged the girl up to the rooftop and pointed to the skyline before us. Ilya gasped.

And there she was, the Great Green Jewel of the Commonwealth herself, Diamond City. What had once been an old sports stadium, now stood as the last bastion of civilization against the wilds of downtown Boston. The city's massive steel walls towered over the surrounding ruins, and you could just make out the homes in the high stands with their electricity and clean water, but that's not where I was pointing.