“◀️◀️”
If she had fallen in any other position things would be fine, but of course, she wouldn’t have fallen in any other position. Not today, not with a deathclaw stalking just outside the gutted frame of the house.
She’d broken her ankle on the takedown, no questions asked–and were they asked, they would be swiftly answered by the shooting wrongness that revs in her right leg. Not to mention, her bag of caps is digging into her ass.
Elizabeth had been lucky, in some small ways. Cloth armor meant the sound of her fall was blunt and silent enough, and she is close enough to the last standing wall of the house that she can take cover–but any real chance at survival hinge on extensive and vigorous usage of her two legs, and only one of them is in commission.
Prospects are limited; time is short. Her innocent scavenging expedition had quickly gone to hell, then to shit, then to ‘oh fuck, fuckin’ Christ, don’t look over here.’ The only out that didn’t involve the eventual maws of a giant mutant reptile is a refrigerator; riding on a prayer and gripping her tongue between her teeth she limps over slowly, taking the handle between two fingers as though it was a dead bird.
She lets, then closes herself in; sinking to her ass and waiting, unsure of how long the house will entertain the prowler outside, and realizing how much heat had been trapped in the device makes her even more anxious again to see the sunlight–perhaps she’ll be cooked and then eaten. Fitting.
There was no handle on the inside of the refrigerator; she supposes the people of the Prewar didn’t worry much about the possibility of being trapped inside one–too full of food for that. But she has a shotgun and the wasteland teaches quickly that if you can’t blast through a piece of the Prewar you’re just not blasting hard enough.
For now she would wait. The heat and the strange ambience of the box make sleep not attractive, but unavoidable, and despite throbs of adrenaline she feels herself drifting. Leaning her head against the side of the icebox she closes her eyes and folds her hands over her shotgun, waiting for a sign.
