Fallout - Chapter 123: Nuka Wasteland (Patreon)

Northwest of Nuka-World, half a meter beneath the wasteland, a bloodworm lay dormant in the cool, hard soil.

It was terrifyingly sensitive to vibrations. Any creature weighing more than ten kilograms that came within five meters would trigger it to burst from the ground in less than half a second, bite through its prey's abdomen, and drain every last drop of fluid from its body.

Before long, a continuous high-frequency vibration traveled through the ground.

It had no idea what was causing it, but its primal instincts told it one thing.

Prey was coming.

The bloodworm tensed beneath the soil. The instant the source of the vibrations entered its ideal attack range, every muscle in its body exploded into motion, blasting dirt into the air.

A reddish-brown shape shot from the ground. Its streamlined body stretched to its full length, its enormous mouth opened as wide as it could, and rings of backward-curving teeth gleamed coldly in the dim light as it lunged straight toward the source of the vibrations.

A second later, it slammed headfirst into a hoverbike traveling at eighty kilometers per hour.

Flesh burst apart.

The instant it hit the front shield, the bloodworm was reduced to an unrecognizable mass of shredded meat that sprayed in every direction.

The hoverbike didn't even wobble. It continued for another fifty meters before gradually slowing to a stop beside the road.

Josie didn't bother wiping the filth off her helmet. Her first concern was the bike.

"Oh, baby, are you okay?"

Only after confirming that her beloved bike's armor hadn't suffered so much as a scratch did she breathe a sigh of relief.

She glanced back at the still-twitching remains of the bloodworm and frowned.

"Just my luck."

Red and green bodily fluids had splattered all over her light-blue Type 92 Powered Suit, but fortunately, the armor shell was tough enough that it hadn't even been scratched.

She swung off the bike, grabbed a handful of dry dirt, and scrubbed it hard against her chest plate and helmet. The dirt soaked up the slime, and after a few firm pats, most of the grime flaked away, leaving behind only a strong, fishy stench.

"I'm starting to miss the Commonwealth's mole rats. At least they aren't this disgusting."

After dusting the dirt from her hands, Josie put her helmet back on and stared at the blood smeared across the hoverbike.

"Whatever. I'll clean it properly with water when I get back."

She spread the map across the bike's body and slowly traced a finger over the entire northwestern wasteland surrounding Nuka-World.

Her conclusion after a full day of reconnaissance was simple.

This place was worse than expected.

She had seen at least twenty adult deathclaws along the way.

They were rarely alone. Most wandered the wasteland in groups of three to five. Beneath the collapsed supports of an old highway bridge, three deathclaws had been huddled together as if a family taking an afternoon nap. Beside an abandoned gas station, another pair had been tearing apart a gazelle with savage enthusiasm.

The deathclaws had made their ownership of this land very clear.

Whenever Josie encountered something like that, she quietly made a wide detour from at least two hundred meters away.

Charging straight through would probably leave both her and the bike as a pile of scrap.

And places without deathclaws were no safer.

She had encountered cave crickets.

The mutated insects were as large as medium-sized dogs, with dark brown shells as hard as cast iron and incredibly powerful hind legs. A single leap could carry one five or six meters.

They specialized in attacking from blind spots. Solitary, patient, and exceptionally good at hiding, they were extremely troublesome predators.

While searching through some ruins, Josie had barely rounded a corner when a cave cricket lunged at her.

It moved too fast for her to dodge.

She could only raise her left arm and take the impact head-on.

The blow nearly knocked her off balance and sent her stumbling. If the Type 92's internal frame hadn't been sturdy enough, her shoulder would have been dislocated on the spot.

Even thinking about it now made her uneasy.

More troublesome than the cave crickets were the giant mutated ants native to Nuka-World.

She had discovered an ant nest at an abandoned campsite.

The moment she approached the entrance, a brown tide of ants began pouring endlessly from the hole.

Josie didn't hesitate.

She pulled out two frag grenades, threw them into the nest, then turned and ran.

Two muffled explosions sounded behind her, mixed with the shrill screeches of insects.

She didn't even dare look back.

She jumped onto the hoverbike, twisted the throttle all the way open, and left the area as fast as possible.

By now, Josie had a pretty good understanding of what this wasteland was really like.

It was certainly fertile.

After all, it supported an absurd number of predators.

But there was no such thing as a truly safe area. Everywhere she went, something wanted to eat her.

Anyone without the skills to defend themselves wouldn't last long out here.

"Compared to this place, even the edge of the Glowing Sea looks inviting."

Josie folded the map away and turned her attention southwest.

A broad stretch of marshland lay in that direction. The ground was low, water vapor hung in the air, and the terrain was completely different from the dry wasteland.

Richer.

And probably more dangerous.

"Captain Nate would definitely like this place, though."

Josie twisted the throttle, turned the bike around, and raced toward the glistening lowlands.

The air in the marsh was completely different from the northwest.

A damp wind carrying the smell of rotting vegetation blew against her.

The ground softened while the vegetation grew denser. The colors were still the gray-green and dark brown typical of the wasteland, but at least there was actual greenery here instead of endless barren earth.

The hoverbike automatically lowered itself to twenty centimeters above the ground and glided silently through the marsh.

The surrounding area was filled with scattered sounds.

Water droplets plinked into pools. Small creatures rustled through the bushes. Every now and then, a deep croak resembling an enormously amplified bullfrog echoed from somewhere in the distance.

Ahead, seven or eight raised earthen mounds appeared around a cluster of crooked, dead trees.

Each mound stood roughly two meters tall, with a hole in the center. A thick, amber-colored liquid resembling honey slowly oozed from the openings.

Yellow.

Clear.

The liquid glowed with a warm sheen beneath the sunlight.

If not for the scattered fragments of animal bones and shattered carapaces surrounding the nests, it would have looked rather tempting.

Josie stopped the hoverbike but left the engine running at idle, ready to escape at any moment.

She pulled a compact pair of binoculars from her waist and studied the mounds carefully.

Through the lenses, the owner of one burrow appeared.

A giant flying insect crawled from the opening.

It was roughly the size of one of the Commonwealth's giant mosquitoes. Brownish-yellow armor covered its back and head, while two pairs of thin, translucent wings rested folded against its shell.

A short, thick mouthpart protruded from its head.

It wasn't the long, piercing proboscis of a mosquito. It looked more like something designed for chewing.

But the most striking feature was its tail.

A scorpion-like appendage extended from the end of its abdomen. Near the tip bulged a venom sac about the size of a walnut, ending in a glossy black stinger.

The tail swayed gently through the air as though constantly searching for a target.

Then a second insect appeared.

Then a third.

They crawled from different burrows. Some spread their wings, took off, circled twice, then returned to the nest entrances. Others crawled around the openings as though searching for something.

Stingwings.

Josie had encountered a few of them among the ruins before.

They sometimes mixed among bloatflies and bloodbugs, feeding on carrion and animal fluids, though they were also perfectly willing to attack living prey.

But she'd only ever seen isolated individuals.

Never an entire colony.

Her fingers tightened slightly around the throttle.

She weighed her options.

Some instinct buried in the genes of Homo sapiens after hundreds of thousands of years spent searching for honey was telling her that the yellow, honey-like substance was probably worth something.

Should she risk getting closer and collect a sample?

Just as she prepared to activate the cloaking device, a sudden chill shot up her spine.

Her body reacted before her mind did.

Josie threw herself to the left.

She hit the ground hard, rolled twice, and finally stopped when she slammed into an exposed tree root.

Two yao guai landed where she had been moments earlier.

They were slightly smaller than their counterparts in the Commonwealth.

But only slightly.

Competition here was so intense that even powerful yao guai had to hunt cooperatively if they wanted to survive.

Josie's heart slammed against her ribs.

They were too close.

There was no way a single shot could kill both.

Josie raised her weapon.

She didn't shoot the yao guai.

Instead, the bullet struck the top of the nearest mound with perfect accuracy.

The mound burst apart.

The shot didn't destroy the entire nest, but it certainly enraged its inhabitants.

Stingwings poured from the damaged mound and several surrounding burrows in a dense swarm.

Their brownish-yellow shells gleamed dully in the light as hundreds of translucent wings opened at once, filling the air with a buzzing sound that made Josie's skin crawl.

At that exact moment, Josie activated the Type 92's cloaking device.

Her figure vanished into the air.

The stingwing swarm lost its target.

For a fraction of a second, the insects hovered in confusion, hundreds of pairs of compound eyes scanning wildly.

Then they found new prey.

The yao guai were enormous, gave off obvious heat signatures, and had just finished lunging directly toward the nest.

As far as the stingwings could tell, they were the attackers.

The brownish-yellow cloud descended on them immediately.

Stingers plunged one after another into the yao guai's thick hides.

The moment venom entered their bodies, both bears howled in pain.

The lead yao guai swatted several stingwings from the air with one paw, then turned and fled.

The second followed close behind.

Still cloaked, Josie crouched behind a dead tree and watched the whole thing unfold, palms sweating and heart pounding.

Only after the swarm had pursued the yao guai into the distance did she stand.

Moving as quietly as possible, she approached the shattered mound, collected some of the amber-colored honey-like liquid, and sealed it inside a sample tube.

Then she silently returned to the hoverbike, deactivated the cloak, climbed aboard, twisted the throttle, and left the marsh behind.

She continued south.

After roughly forty minutes of riding, she reached a river more than ten meters wide, winding from north to south.

The water wasn't particularly clear, but at least it wasn't so contaminated that it glowed.

Josie slowed down.

Then she saw the farm.

To the west lay a broad stretch of flat ground.

A chest-high wooden fence enclosed two fields. Beside it stood an old concrete barn, with farming tools piled near the entrance and a modified water purifier nearby.

Between the fields and the barn, three people were harvesting tatos.

Josie didn't approach them directly.

She shut down the hoverbike and dismounted.

As the engine fell silent, the stillness of the wasteland returned, broken only by the occasional distant chirp of insects.

She watched them quietly for a while.

The three moved naturally.

There was none of the stiffness or tension she'd expect from people being forced to work.

They probably weren't slaves.

The fact that this settlement was farming at all suggested that, at least on the surface, its inhabitants were friendly.

Still, spending the night in a place like this would be a bad idea.

Josie climbed back onto the hoverbike and started the engine.

This time, she made no attempt to conceal her approach.

The hum of the hoverbike carried clearly across the open ground.

All three people at the farm looked up almost simultaneously.

The man shifted his body sideways and reached toward his waist.

A heavily worn but carefully maintained pistol hung there.

The woman straightened and instinctively moved her left arm in front of the girl behind her.

There was a slight bulge beneath her sleeve.

She was armed too.

But neither of them immediately drew their weapons.

They had noticed the white Minutemen emblem on Josie's shoulder plate.

They recognized it.

Josie stopped ten meters from the fence and shut off the engine.

She didn't climb over.

Instead, she remained where she was and deliberately removed her helmet, exposing her face to the sunlight.

"Good afternoon."

The man and woman exchanged a glance.

"You're with the Minutemen?"

"The real deal."

Neither of them relaxed.

Josie understood their suspicion.

She raised her right hand and knocked firmly against her chest plate.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

"Relax. I'm not here to cause trouble. And I didn't strip this armor off some poor bastard."

The man's gaze lingered on her armor for several seconds before he reached a conclusion.

If this young woman really meant them harm, she wouldn't even need the pistol.

Charging straight at them in that armor would probably be enough to tear their entire family apart.

"...Come in."

He opened the wooden gate and stepped aside.

Josie nodded, parked the bike outside the fence, and entered with only the pistol at her waist.

She sat down on a bench made from nailed-together planks.

The girl remained behind her mother, staring openly at Josie with undisguised curiosity.

There were still stains on Josie's armor that she hadn't managed to clean off.

The dried bodily fluids of the bloodworm had left reddish-brown marks across the light-blue suit. Combined with her young face and sharp-looking armor, the effect made the girl's eyes light up.

"What are the Minutemen doing all the way out here?"

The man, Brett Dunmore, crouched on the wooden steps of the porch, shaving a stick with a small knife while casually studying Josie.

"The raiders around here use radio broadcasts to lure people out from the Commonwealth and turn them into slaves. We're here to settle the score."

Brett's hand stopped.

He looked up at Josie as though taking a moment to process what she'd said.

After a few seconds, he slowly nodded.

"...So you're here to clean them out."

There wasn't much emotion in his voice, but the slight relaxation at the corners of his mouth revealed how he really felt about it.

Monique, the woman, came out of the house carrying a bowl of water and handed it to Josie.

She sat across from her, folded her hands over her knees, and asked,

"Did you bring many people?"

"Enough."

Monique gave her a look but didn't ask for details.

The Dunmore family briefly introduced themselves.

The father was Brett, the mother Monique, and their daughter Kali.

Their real identities were former members of the Gunners.

What they told Josie, however, was that they were simply ordinary wasteland farmers.

According to their story, the couple had wandered from place to place in their younger years. After saving some money, they found this plot of land, settled down, and made a living through farming and small-scale trading.

They didn't provide many details, but they didn't reveal any obvious flaws in the story either.

After all, the Gunners didn't exactly have the best reputation in the Commonwealth.

Josie didn't ask how they had managed to survive in such a dangerous place.

She wasn't the kind of person who insisted on digging into everyone else's business.

Looking at the family of three in front of her, she thought that perhaps they had some unusual history.

But none of that mattered anymore.

They had chosen to farm.

They had chosen to live quietly here.

That was enough.

After all, her idols, the Vault Dweller, the Chosen One, and the Lone Wanderer, had all chosen to disappear from public view after accomplishing deeds that shook the wasteland.

Josie remained seated on the bench and accepted the bottle of Nuka-Cola Kali handed her.

There were still flecks of frost clinging to the glass.

Holding the bottle, Josie continued chatting with Monique.

She was confident the family couldn't do anything to her.

That didn't mean she was willing to drink something given to her by complete strangers.

"How much do you know about what's happening over at Nuka-World?"

Monique fell silent for a moment, as though organizing the information in her head.

"That place... about a year ago, the raiders took it over. The Disciples, the Operators, and the Pack. All three gangs attacked at the same time."

There was a trace of confusion in her voice.

"What's stranger is that after they took Nuka-World, they didn't start fighting each other. They divided up the territory between themselves and then... just carried on separately."

Josie's brow shifted slightly.

It seemed Overboss Colter really did have some ability after all.

He had somehow managed to keep three gangs with completely different styles under control without letting them tear each other apart.

"What happened to the people who originally lived in those areas?"

Monique's expression darkened.

"Most of them were captured and turned into slaves. A small number escaped toward Dry Rock Gulch. There are some mines and other facilities over there."

"But after they went inside, nobody ever heard from them again."

Her tone remained flat.

"They're probably all dead. If that place were actually safe enough to live in, someone would've claimed it long ago. It wouldn't have been sitting empty waiting for them."

Josie lowered her gaze to the bottle of Nuka-Cola in her hands.

Refreshing. Exhilarating. Bottled for the world.

"Anyone living anywhere else around here?"

Kali, who had been hiding nearby and listening in, suddenly blurted out,

"Yes!"

Monique immediately shot her a warning look.

But Kali had already started talking.

"There's a camp nearby. Lots of people live there."

Monique sighed and took over, unable to hide the contempt in her voice.

"It's a cult camp. Bunch of lunatics who worship aliens."

Josie's expression became complicated.

She remembered a file stored within the Minutemen archives.

Zetans.

It contained information about an extraterrestrial civilization the pre-War United States government had secretly made contact with, along with records of the Lone Wanderer's genuine encounter with them in the wasteland after the War.

"Anything else?"

Monique's expression grew heavier, as though she was about to bring up something unpleasant.

"The houses are still there. The fields are still there too. But there aren't any people left."

Josie was silent for a moment.

"I'm sorry."

She stood, took a small pouch from her pocket, and placed it on the table.

Inside were some caps and a box of Stimpaks.

She brushed the dust from her hands.

"Thanks. You've helped me a lot. Consider this a little something in return."

She turned to leave.

Kali hurried out from behind the porch and stopped in front of her, clutching the hem of her clothes with both hands.

"W-What's your name?"

Josie only smiled.

"I think I'll keep that to myself. Your parents are still waiting for you to eat."

She climbed onto the hoverbike and twisted the throttle.

The bike gave off a low hum as it smoothly lifted from the ground, carrying her north.

Kali stood by the gate, watching the light-blue figure grow smaller and smaller across the wasteland until it finally disappeared into the dim light along the horizon.