The soft light of dawn bloomed over the wasteland, creeping over the hills and into the ruins, filtering in through the cracks of a Red Rocket’s boarded up window and falling in crooked stripes across the dusty floor. As the light finally stretched the length of the room to touch the opposite wall, it roused the truck stop’s singular occupant from his brittle state of repose.
Slowly cracking one eye open, Stanley groaned as he lifted a hand to rub his face. Typically he wouldn’t find a dusty tile floor suitable for sleeping on- but neither was the bare ground, and the comfort of walls and a ceiling was always preferable to the vulnerability of the open air.
With a bit of effort, he pushed himself up from his sad little approximation of a bed-- that is to say, the damaged leather school bag he’d substituted for a pillow and the tattered remains of a blanket that.. Could have actually been a tablecloth, for all he could tell. After fussing his hair into some semblance of presentable and brushing himself clean of dust, he gathered his meager possessions and cautiously left the shelter of the truck stop.
The morning was cool and quiet. The only nearby sound that gave any indication of life was that of his own footsteps as he walked down the fractured tarmac- but not for long. Stanley slowed, looking up from his Pip-Boy as a familiar--but entirely unexpected--noise filled the sky. It couldn’t be..
Faint at first, the gradually approaching hum of a vertibird grew louder until the form of the huge machine appeared over the skeletal treetops. He could scarcely believe what he was seeing- for several days, he’d struggled with the sinking feeling that no semblance of a functioning civilization had managed to survive the war.. He hadn’t come upon any evidence to prove otherwise, beyond the loosely organized gangs of brutish people he’d had the misfortune of running into so far.
But, there it was- a functional vertibird being piloted directly overhead. He didn’t even think to hide. Instead he stood directly in the center of the road, as it flew past him and into the distance, kicking up a brief wind in its wake. Walking to the edge of the road and bracing his hands against the guard rail, he watched as the vertibird came to a stop over an open square surrounded by the broken shells of hollowed out buildings- as it descended, Stanley took in a deep breath and immediately set off toward the landing site.
As he neared the area, the sound of voices rose from the morning quiet, but he didn’t venture into the open yet, choosing instead to remain out of sight and listen. In any other situation, he would have been ashamed of himself for eavesdropping, but in the wake of his harrowing experience thus far, precaution seemed well advised.