Jace jogged all the way.
Power Armor made a lot of noise when it ran.
Every step landed with a dull thud against the ground, but it was fast.
The hydraulics hissed in time with his stride, like an iron horse that never got tired.
After about twenty minutes, a building appeared by the roadside.
Gray plank walls, a rusted sheet-metal roof, and a crooked sign hanging over the door.
Drumlin Diner
Jace slowed down, planning to go in and ask for directions.
In the open space by the entrance, a dozen or so people were resting.
Some sat against the wall, some squatted on the ground drinking water, and a few were checking their weapons.
In the middle of the group, several two-headed oxen lay on the ground, bulging cargo sacks strapped across their backs.
A gray-haired old woman stood beside the oxen, talking with the caravan guards.
She wore plain old clothes with a faded apron over them, and an old-fashioned revolver hung from her belt.
Trashcan Carla.
A woman in an apron stood at the canteen entrance, haggling with a heavyset man.
“…This shipment’s in rough shape.
I can’t pay the old price for it.”
“Trudy, that mouth of yours is still as sharp as it was twenty years ago.”
“And after twenty years, you’re still just as cheap.”
Jace walked over.
The dozen or so guards all turned at once.
When they saw his Power Armor, their hands went to their weapons almost in unison.
Several of them stood up and moved in front of Carla.
Carla raised a hand, signaling them not to move.
She narrowed her eyes and sized Jace up.
Codsworth floated one step forward, placing itself between Jace and the guards.
“We mean no harm,” it said in an even, unhurried tone.
“We’re just passing through.
We wanted to ask for directions and buy something to drink.”
The guards stared at it, their hands still on their weapons, but no one moved.
Carla looked at Codsworth too.
“A Mr.
Handy robot?
Seen a few of those in Diamond City.”
Codsworth’s optical lens narrowed slightly, its voice carrying a mild self-mockery mellowed by two hundred years.
“Merely a household model.
After two hundred years, I suppose I can still speak clearly enough.”
Carla slowly moved her hand away from the revolver at her waist and eased her guard.
She looked at Codsworth again, then back at Jace.
“You two together?”
Codsworth nodded.
“Friends,” it said.
Carla paused, then smiled.
“Friends,” she repeated.
“All right.
Since you’re friends, lower your guns.”
The guards slowly lowered their hands, though their eyes stayed fixed on Jace.
They still had not fully relaxed.
Codsworth floated to Jace’s side and lowered its voice.
“Ask for directions, then let’s leave.”
Jace said nothing and continued toward the canteen entrance.
He walked up to Trudy and looked down at her.
“Got anything to drink?”
Trudy craned her neck up at him for two seconds, then smiled.
“Yeah,” she said.
“Nuka-Cola, purified water.
Come in and take a look.”
She turned and went inside.
Jace squeezed sideways through the narrow door.
The room was small, with a few battered tables and several bar stools.
Trudy stepped behind the counter, picked up a bottle, wiped it with a rag, and set it down.
“Nuka-Cola.”
Jace picked up the bottle and glanced at it.
Most of the paint had peeled off, but the grinning logo was still there.
He twisted off the cap and took a gulp.
Sweet.
The fizz was long gone, but that familiar saccharin taste was still there.
“How much?”
“Three caps.”
Jace fished three caps from his bag and placed them on the counter.
“How do I get to Lexington?”
Trudy jerked her chin toward the door.
“Follow that road.
At the first fork, head east, then keep going.
When you see a stretch of ruined houses, you’re there.” She paused.
“But it’s not safe over there.
Ghouls and Raiders are always around.”
Jace finished the rest of the Nuka-Cola in one gulp, set the bottle back on the counter, and took the bottle cap with him.
“Thanks.”
He turned and walked out.
Carla was still standing outside.
The guards watched him, their hands no longer on their weapons, but they still were not completely at ease.
Jace passed by Carla and paused.
“Where’s the caravan headed?”
Carla glanced at him.
“South.
Diamond City.”
Jace nodded and kept walking.
Carla’s voice came from behind him.
“Young man.”
Jace stopped without turning around.
“It really isn’t safe that way,” she said.
“Lexington is no joke.
Your iron shell can handle Ghouls, so you don’t need to be afraid of them.
But watch what’s above you.”
“Got it,” Jace replied.
He set off again.
He ran for more than another half hour.
Jace slowed down, stopped, and looked ahead.
The road in front of him was finally no longer that endless stretch of broken pavement.
In the distance, a gray mass of buildings came into view.
Half-collapsed structures, crooked streets, and a few chimneys trailing smoke.
Lexington.
He had arrived.
He stood there and caught his breath.
Then he glanced down at his Pip-Boy.
Since leaving Drumlin Diner, he had been running for nearly an hour.
At least ten kilometers.
That far.
“Get ready,” he said.
“Yes, sir.”
Jace stepped forward.
The streets of Lexington were even more ruined than he had expected.
The windows of the houses on both sides were pitch-black holes.
Doors were sealed shut, and the walls were covered in messy marks.
He activated the Pip-Boy’s life-detection function.
The screen flickered, then filled with a dense mass of red dots.
Jace froze.
Those red dots appeared inside the buildings on both sides of the street, one after another, until they almost covered the entire screen.
Some were moving.
Some were still.
But the number…
He counted.
Every building had at least fifty or sixty.
“What is it?” Codsworth floated over and asked.
Jace turned the screen toward it.
Codsworth stared at the mass of red dots and fell silent for two seconds.
“…All Ghouls?”
After the war, most people had hidden in the high-rises downtown, too afraid to leave.
They stayed sealed inside their rooms, without enough radiation protection and without anti-radiation medicine.
He raised his head and looked at the sealed buildings on both sides.
Behind the windows, everything was pitch black.
He could not see a thing.
But he knew that behind those walls, behind those doors, in the corners he could not see…
Everything was moving.
No wonder no one dared live in the city.
“Keep moving,” he said.
“Don’t make a sound.”
He had just taken one step.
Bang.
A bullet struck his chest.
Clang.
The bullet ricocheted off and kicked sparks from the wall.
Jace paused, then looked up.
On the roof of the building across the street stood two people.
One held a pipe rifle, the muzzle still smoking.
The other crouched beside him, clutching a short-barreled shotgun.
When they saw the bullet hit that iron lump, their faces were full of smug satisfaction.
Jace did not take down the minigun.
He reached behind his back and found the long, slender barrel.
Sniper hunting rifle.
He took it down, raised it, aimed, and activated VATS.
The man on the rooftop realized what was happening and turned to run.
Bang.
A burst of blood exploded from the Raider’s back.
His whole body pitched forward, flipped over the edge of the roof, and hit the ground below, where he stopped moving.
The other one, still crouching with the shotgun in hand, froze in place.
He looked down, stared at the still-smoking barrel, then turned and ran.
Jace did not fire a second shot, because behind the sealed doors and windows along the street, a sudden rush of frantic scratching and banging erupted.
Fingernails scraped across wooden boards.
Bones struck sheet metal.
The sound was muffled yet shrill.
Fortunately, the barricades were sturdy enough.
They held for a while before the noise slowly faded and the street sank back into dead silence.
He slung the sniper hunting rifle back over his shoulder and kept walking.
Codsworth floated over and looked back at the mangled corpse.
“You really do have to watch what’s above you.”
Jace continued forward.
The street became more and more broken.
The buildings on both sides looked as if giants had stepped on them.
Some had collapsed halfway, while others were reduced to a single wall.
Behind the sealed doors and windows, the red dots on the life detector were still moving, packed together like a boiling pot.
He said nothing.
He tried to lighten his steps, but even Power Armor at its lightest still made noise.
After about five minutes…
Voom.
A gunshot rang out ahead, the distinctive sound of a Minutemen laser musket.
It was not aimed at him.
It came from farther away, near the end of the street.
Jace stopped and listened.
Two more shots followed.
Voom.
Voom.
He quickened his pace and headed toward the sound.
After crossing two streets, an open lot appeared ahead.
At the far end of the lot stood a gray-white, two-story building.
Faded large letters were painted across the wall.
Super Duper Mart.
Several rusted-out cars sat by the entrance, their windows shattered and their wheels long gone.
The supermarket doors were shut.
The gunshots were coming from inside.
Jace stood at the edge of the open lot and looked at the entrance.
There were signs it had once been nailed shut, then opened again.
It seemed the Minutemen really had been driven into a corner, daring to use a large supermarket that had been deliberately sealed off as a stronghold.
Who knew how many people had hidden inside before the war, or how many Ghouls were in there now?
“Someone’s inside,” Codsworth whispered as it floated over.
Jace nodded.
He raised his left hand and glanced at the life detector.
Inside the supermarket, red dots were packed densely together.
But there were also a few scattered through the building.
Some were still, some moving.
Living people, most likely Minutemen.
Jace took the minigun from his back and held it in both hands.
“Stay close.”
He walked toward the supermarket.
Inside, it was much darker than outside.
Jace stood in the doorway and let his eyes adjust for a few seconds.
It was far bigger than it had been in the game.
Those massive urban supermarkets were common in America.
A section of the floor above had collapsed, exposing the ceiling of the second level.
Shelves lay toppled in every direction.
Some still stood, but they were empty.
Everything had been cleared out.
The gunfire had stopped.
He listened.
Silence.
Only his own breathing and the occasional hiss of the hydraulics.
Then…
Voom.
Another shot.
It came from deeper inside, from the rear half of the supermarket.
Jace kept moving in.
He passed the first row of shelves and rounded a corner.
A wider aisle appeared ahead.
Faded signs were nailed to the walls on both sides.
Fresh Produce, Deli, Household Goods.
The words were already blurred.
Suddenly, a figure appeared in front of Jace.
Gray-white hands.
A rotten face.
Hollow eye sockets.
It looked at Jace and roared.
More feral Ghouls poured out of the aisle like water bursting through a floodgate, one after another, lunging at him and Codsworth.
Jace pulled the trigger.
Whirr.
The minigun began to spin, and bullets swept forward like a downpour.
The first Ghoul’s chest exploded.
Its entire upper body was torn apart before it collapsed to the floor.
The second had its leg blown off, but it kept crawling forward.
The third lost its head, yet its body rushed two more steps before falling.
The fourth was halfway through a leap when bullets cut it in half at the waist.
Its upper and lower halves flew two meters apart.
The fifth fell.
The sixth fell.
The seventh…
Bang.
A shelf beside them suddenly toppled.
It had not fallen on its own.
Something had knocked it over.
Behind the shelf, another five or six Ghouls surged out.
Jace had just swung the muzzle over.
Crash.
A section of the ceiling overhead broke apart, and a pile of Ghouls dropped from the second floor.
Some hit the ground with broken bones, but they were still moving, still crawling, still throwing themselves this way.
“Sir!
Behind you!” Codsworth shouted.
Jace turned his head.
Behind the row of shelves, more Ghouls were rushing out.
They were surrounded.
A Ghoul lunged from the side and slammed into Codsworth.
Codsworth was knocked flying and crashed into a pile of crates.
Its three mechanical arms were still flailing, but it could not get up right away.
Another Ghoul lunged straight at Jace.
Jace had no time to dodge.
The Ghoul pounced onto him, its rotten claws scraping across his Power Armor with an ear-piercing shriek.
Its face came right up to his, hollow eye sockets staring into him, and its mouth reeked of rot.
Jace grabbed it by the neck and tried to fling it away.
But more were coming.
He glanced down at his hands.
The minigun was still there, but it was too heavy.
In close quarters, he could not bring it around properly.
He threw the minigun aside.
With his hands free, he reached into the pouch at his waist and pulled out the two unlit Molotov cocktails.
“Codsworth!” he roared.
“Light them!
Block the front!”
He threw both Molotov cocktails toward the passage.
The bottles hit the floor and shattered, splashing several Ghouls.
Codsworth climbed out of the pile of crates and aimed its flamer at the Ghouls soaked in fuel.
Boom.
Flames burst outward, raising a wall of fire in front of the opening.
The screams of Ghouls came from behind the fire.
Jace looked away.
With one hand, he clamped onto the head of the Ghoul clinging to him.
His fingers tensed inside the Power Armor glove.
Then he squeezed hard.
A sharp crack burst out.
The withered skull was crushed like a rotten wooden shell.
Dark brown putrid fluid and shattered bone squeezed through his fingers.
With all his strength, he hurled the headless corpse into the other Ghouls.
It sent them flying with it and knocked over even more shelves.
The wall of fire held back the Ghouls in the opening for the moment.
But from the sides, from behind, and from above, dozens more were still rushing toward him.
Jace took a deep breath.
“You sure know how to pick a place, Preston.”