Fallout 4: AR

18. Land Navigation

"Those are the two-headed cow things, right?" At his nod, I quashed the idea flatly. "No, thank you. I'd rather walk. I'll get faster, eventually."

"It's the 'eventually' part that has me worried, Boss." We came to a stop at the edge of a drop-off, a wide river meandering across the landscape, glittering in the late afternoon sun. The track we were following continued across, spanning the water in a straight line towards the bank on the other side. "Tell ya what, Boss," he speculated, "once we get across this bridge, we can start looking for a decent place to take a rest."

"We should keep going, Mac. Time is of the essence." I panted, eyeing the bridge dubiously. Was it intact enough to cross?

"Mac?" he echoed, frowning. "We're not in that much of a hurry, Boss, geez. I don't like traveling at night; can't see targets clearly." He grumbled, almost having to force himself to sound angry. "Besides, what good are you going to do for these people if you pass out from exhaustion the second we roll into Concord?"

"Hm, good point." Stepping gingerly, I started to pick my way across the railroad bridge. "Fine, you win. We'll find somewhere to hole up once we get across."

After reaching the other side, it took another hour to find suitable shelter. I trudged along the railroad tracks while MacCready ranged the area in a large circle. We finally set up a small refuge inside a derailed train car, the tumbled crates inside providing some protection from being detected, and a small amount of defense from the cold wind that had started to pick up. Due to the enclosed nature of the car, a fire was out of the question, so we built a small nest in one corner from spare clothing and anything soft we could scrounge from the crates and surrounding area. It wasn't pretty, but it would probably be okay for one night.

"Did you have to camp out often in the Army?" MacCready asked as we sat on a couple of crates munching our way through some packaged pre-war food for our evening meal.

"Camp out?" I chuckled ruefully, "I wouldn't call it that, but aside from Basic Training and annual field exercises, no, not really. My unit usually had full tents and even propane heaters if we had to go out in winter. Though," I recalled suddenly, "we did have one time, thankfully in early summer, where we had a higher ranking officer who kept taking our equipment from us for some reason- tents, cots, sleeping bags- the works. I wasn't high enough rank to know why." A fond chuckle escaped my lips and I noticed MacCready listening with every appearance of interest. "It got to the point were most of us just curled up on the ground to sleep. I had to use my helmet as a pillow. It was not comfortable. At all. We were all so glad when that exercise was over, I'll tell you."

"Sleeping on the ground, huh? Sounds like torture," he teased.

"Compared to when we went on performance tours and stayed in hotels every night, very much so! But," I changed the subject, "enough about me. Why are you here in Boston if you grew up in D.C.?"

He shrugged, "not much to tell, honestly."

"Try me. I really don't know much about you, and you have quite a bit on me." He may not have brought up my stolen memories, but the reminder was there.

"All right, then." He leaned back, gazing at the ceiling in reminiscence. "Once I left Little Lamplight, I wandered the Capital Wasteland for a while. I took the odd job here and there, but things were pretty hot with the Brotherhood of Steel running the show. So I hitched a ride with a caravan and made my way north until I ended up here. Made a pretty decent name for myself before I heard that the Gunners needed some sharpshooters. You know that last part already, though. Worst mistake of my life."

"You were what, sixteen when you left?" He nodded. I was stunned. Hiring himself out as a sniper at the tender age of sixteen? At sixteen I was flipping burgers, not shooting people. "Guess you grow up fast out here. If you don't mind my asking," I said tentatively, "how old are you now?"

"Almost twenty-three."

I blinked at him. "I left for Basic Training when I was twenty-three. And here you are, having lived an entire life in that time." I reviewed his words in my mind. "Who are the Brotherhood of Steel?"

An irritated grumble came from my companion. "They're a big militaristic group set on hoarding every piece of technology they can get their hands on in the name of preservation, 'keeping it out of dangerous hands'." He snorted derisively. "Oh, and they also have a habit, good or bad, of eliminating 'abominations;' anything not human- Super Mutants, ferals, robots, Synths, you name it. They weren't so bad when I was a kid," he added, "but their new leader is a fanatic. Max-something-or-other." A yawn interrupted his recounting, and he finished with, "It was too hard to get a job as a mercenary competing with those walking tin cans, so I came here."

"Thank you for sharing your story with me. It's nice to learn a little more about the man who's watching my back." I said, sincerely. "It takes a lot of courage to just pick up and move away from everything you've ever known... and lonely, too." Like when I left to join the Army, I thought with a brief touch of sadness. But he's had it worse than I ever did.

He turned to give me a frank look, blue eyes glittering from under the brim of his cap. "Look, I know I tend to be a pain in the ass—ugh, I mean, I know I tend to be arrogant and I come off like I want to be alone. Nothing could be further from the truth. Being alone scares the heck out of me. Now that we've been working together for a bit, I'm beginning to realize how much I missed having someone around."

"He's not looking for a friend, but I think he needs one." Daisy's words came back to me. I think that goes for both of us, I sighed to myself. Loneliness comes in all flavors.

"It is nice, especially when it's good company." He blinked at me in surprise, and a small bit of color touched his cheeks at my words. Oh my god, did that just come out the way I think it did? My own cheeks flaming, I tried to cover my slip, quickly adding, "And I'm happy to watch your back." I said wryly in an effort to keep things light, "...watch it disappear ahead of me as you effortlessly traverse the terrain of the Wasteland, but watching it nonetheless."

A sleepy chuckle answered that volley. "Thanks, Boss. By the way, if I can be completely honest for a second, your jokes are terrible... but you're pretty good company, too."

"Thanks, Mac. I try. Go get some sleep. I'll take first watch. I need to stretch out my poor muscles anyway."