Jacob Burns and the Order of the Algorithm #Wattys2017

Chapter 19: The Road to Ruin

The dense city blocks seemed to drag on forever as we moved slowly through the ruins of downtown Boston, but with a veritable army in tow, it was no surprise we were making such poor time. I truly hated this feeling... To be so exposed and out in the open like this, but hey, at least there was strength in numbers, even if those numbers would've taken my head if they could. That was at least one thing Hancock had gotten right, things might have been bad, but they could always get a whole lot worse...

Even as the thought was forming in my mind, a hard shove suddenly hit me from behind, catching me off guard and sending me face-first towards the ground. Before I knew it, I found myself lying in a puddle of thick irradiated sludge, a roar of laughter erupting all around me. As I wiped the grime from my eyes, I glared daggers at the blurry figure already disappearing back into the crowd.

"Smooth move, smooth-skin!" A ghoul's raspy voice called back as I got to my feet and shook my head, popping a rad-away for good measure. As if this whole arrangement wasn't bad enough, the entire mob seemed intent on making me suffer as much as possible. Not only was I under a constant barrage of back-handed attacks and thinly-veiled threats, but every time I turned around I would find a bullseye tacked to my back. Worse yet, I hadn't seen hide nor hair of Ilya since the journey had begun. No doubt she was somewhere up ahead, being charmed by a certain colonial-clad ghoul that was filling her head with more ridiculous nonsense that would only get us killed, but no matter how hard I tried, the men just wouldn't let me through.

So it was an honest relief when we had finally stopped before the gates of Goodneighbor and the mass of men returned home, back to their lives of drug addiction and abject squalor, leaving only Hancock, Fahrenheit, Ilya, the mutant and myself to journey forth. Unfortunately for me, that relief was fast short-lived.

Though we may have been making better time, it was clear by the quickly changing surroundings that we were descending deeper into the dark heart of the Boston wilds, each neighborhood we saw getting uglier and more dangerous with every passing second. Before too long, the metallic song of groaning ruins and echoing winds were replaced by the constant crackle of gunfire and the smell of sulfur and blood. Even Fahrenheit was starting to look a bit nervous as she led the beast through the wreckage, her hawkish eyes on the constant lookout for any sign of danger. Hancock, on the other hand, seemed completely unconcerned. An animal in his own element, he maneuvered deftly through the labyrinthian alleyways without a sound, every passageway memorized from decades of a life on the run.

At last, we found ourselves traversing through the crumbling ruins of the once majestic theatre district, and though the grand gothic statues still glared down at us from atop the towering buildings, it was quickly becoming clear that this was no longer the center of high society it once was. No, the lure of the theatre seemed to attract a different kind of clientele these days... The kind usually reserved for a psych ward or police lock-up, well, back when those were a thing, anyway. Nowadays, they could be more commonly found shooting at you from a blown-out high rise, chem-fried out of their mind and wearing their mother's face as a mask.

Which could only mean one thing... We were in raider country now.

And just like that, bringing along a little extra muscle didn't seem quite so crazy after all. Even as the mutant growled and gnawed at his chains, I'd bet my last bullet he was the only thing standing between us and a slow painful death right now. The raiders around us watched carefully as we walked through their territory, their eyes boring into the back of our heads as they sized us up, no doubt considering which spices would taste better with our roasted flesh.

Every now and again, I could hear the boldest among them hoot and holler in our direction, from colorful catcalls to vicious death threats, the scumbags sure knew how to get under your skin. It wasn't so bad at first, until the details started to get disturbingly graphic. I tried to push it all out of my mind, but thankfully, finally, we turned down one last street and found ourselves staring at the once famous Orpheum Theatre, the architectural dream of a gilded age master, now transformed into a modern day nightmare...