Chapter Text
APRIL 12, 2103
Sorry I’m late.
I had to deal with another Local Hero.
He came bouncing into the compound with a load of donations.
Of course he wouldn’t hand them over until he regaled as many of us as possible with tales of his daring exploits.
Yep. Steel, cloth and wood. Not a spring, screw or gear in the lot.
I told him to stack it on the piles, but he had “urgent business” at Watoga and went hopping back off, leaving us to move the stuff with our regular human strength.
Schmuck.
I think it was Wallace’s oldest kid. He never took his helmet off, so I can’t be sure, but he had “KillR69” painted on his armor, so probably. He was that stupid even before he started taking the serums.
He did drop off a crate of Rad-Away. One upside of the mutations fad is they don’t use very much of it any more.
Oh. Little Bella called Greta “mama” today. Not sure she’ll ever understand that her actual mother had to bound off three days after she was born. Didn’t want to miss the “fun” in the Cranberry Bog.
She’ll probably be the last of that lot to have a kid, though. As full of serums as they all are, there’s no way they’ll be carrying any more babies to term.
KillR said there were more of the new folks up at Spruce Knob. Seems they’re planning on staying. Putting up log palisades and bedding down in the monorail cars. More than those degenerates up at the space station are doing.
Maybe we’ll end up with some neighbors who can carry on a conversation, anyway.
Sooooooo… you ready to try walking again, Doc? We’ve got to get you up and moving on your own before the muscles atrophy. There’s no way you can fix anybody’s teeth sitting down.
No. Last time I saw your apprentice, he was leaping down the road on his way to clear out a mirelurk nest. What good is all that meat gonna do us if none of us can chew?