Amata hadn’t been ready for the world that awaited her. None of them had been properly equipped to deal with their exile from their life-long home. Being the braver of the bunch, however, she had decided to make her way into the world, regardless.
That hadn’t ended well, in any respect. Between being emotionally distraught and physically incapable of some necessary wasteland feats, she had found herself in the middle of a pack of raiders. Her softness easily identified her as a vaultie. Shiny, smooth hair – semi-clean clothing; she was clearly not wasteland born and bred.
They knocked her clean out within a matter of seconds. A group of waste-hardened bandits were hardly any sort of adversary for a young woman from a vault. Something heavy hit the back of Amata’s head, her legs crumpled beneath her, and she was sent crashing into the ground, a plume of dust rising around her body.
The first shot went unnoticed, as the raiders were too focussed on their prey to see their comrade fall to the ground. The silenced gun was certainly a lucky find. The second got their attention, which caused the boy to retreat behind some cover.
Michael couldn’t place exactly why he had chosen to fight these degenerates. Possibly it was to fill his time, get his mind off of things. Maybe because he thought they couldn’t finish him off. A chance to say goodbye to this world. There were five left and hey weren’t sure exactly where he was.
Dogmeat rushed toward them, causing a perfect distraction as he knocked one of them to the ground. Before the girl closest to him turned to shoot the dog, he put a bullet in her head. Blood spilled as the dog bit through the moron’s carotid artery. Three left. The dog quickly moved on, grabbed one of their arms in his teeth, and Michael shot the bastard through the chest. He’d bleed out soon. Two now. One was armed only with a metal pipe, the other a shotgun. Michael elected to take on the one with the gun before it could shoot his dog. Two shots, one in the leg brought him down and one in the head. Dogmeat ripped the last one’s leg open and a scream tore through the air. Michael approached, using his pistol to finish that one.
That’s when he saw her. Like a ghost before his eyes, he dropped the gun and hurried to her side. Almost as if he forgot all the guilt that clouded his mind at the thought of his old friend.
“Amata! Jesus... Talk to me...”
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