Jace led the dozen or so people north at a run.
No one spoke.
There were only footsteps, heavy breathing, and the occasional muffled groan.
Codsworth floated at the front, its three “eyes” glowing the whole time, lighting the road ahead.
After about twenty minutes, Jace stopped and looked back.
They followed behind him one by one.
Some were supporting each other, some were being carried on others’ backs, and some were gritting their teeth and walking on their own.
Preston was at the front, helping the wounded man along.
When he saw Jace stop, he stopped too.
“Can you keep walking?” Jace asked.
Preston glanced back at the others.
Several people had already sat down on the ground and could not get up.
“…We can’t go any farther,” he said.
Jace looked up and glanced ahead.
The gray, shabby building stood in front of them, with its crooked sign.
Drumlin Diner.
They had made it.
“Inside first.”
When the diner door was pushed open, Trudy was wiping a glass.
She saw the dozen or so people surge in, covered in blood, supporting one another, with a few collapsing straight onto the floor as soon as they entered.
The glass in her hand nearly slipped.
“What happened?!”
Jace walked up to the counter.
“I need to trade for some supplies.”
He took the 10mm pistol from the pouch at his waist, along with a few unused frag grenades, and placed them on the counter.
Trudy stared at the pile, then looked at the people behind him.
“What did you run into?”
“Ghouls.
In Lexington.”
Trudy was silent for a second.
Then she set the glass down, turned, and walked into the back kitchen.
When she came out, she was carrying a pile of supplies.
Several rolls of bandages, a few bottles of painkillers, several boxes of compressed rations, and a few bottles of water.
“Is this enough?”
Jace glanced at it.
“It’s enough.”
He took the supplies and turned to hand them out.
Sturges took the bandages and started dressing the wounds of the seriously injured.
Preston passed out the water and rations, giving each person a small share.
Jace stood by the door and watched them.
Codsworth floated over and settled beside him.
“Sir, should we go back and retrieve some supplies?”
Jace glanced outside.
It was almost dark.
Then he looked back at the others.
Several were already lying on the ground with their eyes closed, their chests rising and falling very slowly.
“We’re not leaving.
We’ll hold here for the night.”
Jace walked over to Preston.
Preston was crouched beside a wounded man, handing him a canteen.
The man took it and drank in large gulps.
Jace waited until he finished giving him water before speaking.
“Did you leave a message?”
Preston looked up at him.
“I did.
At the main entrance.
I weighed it down with a broken laser musket.
Those two will see it if they come back.”
Jace nodded.
“What did it say?”
“Head north.”
Jace said nothing else.
He turned and looked at the rag-covered window beside the door.
Outside, the sky was almost dark.
Those two, who knew when they would come back?
Or whether they would come back at all.
Jace turned the release wheel on his power armor.
Click.
Click.
Click.
The armor plates opened backward, and he stepped out onto the diner’s concrete floor.
He was drenched in sweat.
The shirt on his back was soaked through and clinging to him.
He stood there and rolled his shoulders.
Too light.
He felt that way every time he got out of the armor.
Then he turned and walked toward Preston.
Preston had just set the canteen down and had not had time to stand.
Jace walked up to him.
Then he punched him in the face.
Bang.
Preston’s whole body snapped backward, hit the wall, then slid down and landed on the floor.
Everyone in the diner froze.
The bandage in Sturges’s hand fell to the ground.
The few who could still move all stood up, hands going to their weapons.
Codsworth hovered in midair, its three “eyes” turning back and forth, unsure what to do.
Preston covered his face, raised his head, and looked at him.
Jace stood in front of him, breathing hard.
“Are you stupid?”
Preston said nothing.
“How did you dare open a sealed building in the city?” Jace’s voice was low, but every word landed like a hammer blow.
“How did you dare bring people inside and set up camp there?”
Preston still said nothing.
“Even the Raiders only dared stay on the rooftops!” Jace roared.
“You dragged more than twenty people inside.
Who the hell did you think sealed those doors in the first place?!”
Preston lowered his head.
A few seconds of silence passed.
“…We were the ones who didn’t want to leave,” Sturges said, his voice hoarse.
“We’d been running all the way from Quincy.
We were exhausted.
Scared out of our minds.
When we saw that supermarket, the doors were closed and the windows were sealed.
We thought it was safe.”
“He said we should keep moving.
They refused.
Minority follows the majority.”
Jace said nothing.
Preston looked up at Jace.
“I knew it was dangerous too,” Preston said.
“But I…
I got lucky-minded.”
He lowered his head and looked at his hands.
“I thought we could hold out until everyone had rested.”
The diner went quiet.
Only the occasional groans of the seriously wounded could be heard.
Jace stood there, looking down at him.
“If everything is decided by majority vote, what’s the point of having a leader?”
Preston froze.
He covered his face and leaned against the wall without speaking.
The diner stayed silent for a few seconds.
Jace took a deep breath and helped him up.
Personal business was done.
Now it was time for official business.
“Sir.”
Preston looked up.
“Minutemen recruit, Jace Tan, reporting for duty.”
Preston stared at him, his expression shifting several times.
From blank shock, to confusion, and finally to a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth.
It was not a smile.
It was the kind of expression that appeared when a person had no idea what to say.
“Recruit?” he asked.
Jace nodded.
“Recruit.”
Preston slowly stood, lowering the hand covering his face.
One side of his face was red, but the skin had not split.
He glanced at Jace.
“I’ll pay you back for that punch once I’ve healed.”
Jace said nothing.
Preston held out his hand.
Jace took it.
The two hands clasped together and shook.
Late into the night.
A bonfire had been lit in the open space outside Drumlin Diner.
Trudy had contributed half a bucket of oil that had probably been sitting around for who knew how long.
The flames leapt up, crackling.
The group gathered around the fire.
Some lay down, some sat, and some had fallen asleep leaning against the wall.
Sturges was changing the dressings for the last few wounded.
Mama Murphy leaned off to one side with her eyes closed, muttering under her breath.
Jace sat beside the fire, holding a bottle of Nuka-Cola.
Trudy had given it to him for free.
Preston walked over and sat beside him.
Neither of them spoke.
Firelight flickered across their faces.
After a long while, Preston spoke first.
“What now?”
Jace did not answer.
He looked into the fire and took a sip of Nuka-Cola.
“Did you ask Trudy?” Preston asked again.
“Where does this road lead if we keep heading north?”
“Concord,” Jace said.
Preston paused.
“Concord?”
“The Museum of Freedom is there.”
“Is it safe?”
“There used to be power armor on the roof of the Museum of Freedom.
Raiders were guarding the building.
Deathclaws and Mirelurks show up in the underground tunnels.”
“How do you know that?”
Jace did not answer.
Preston waited a few seconds.
When Jace did not speak, he stopped asking.
“Then where are we going?” he asked instead.
Jace finished the last sip of Nuka-Cola and set the empty bottle by his foot.
He said to Preston, “Wait here.”
Jace stood and walked over to Codsworth.
Codsworth was floating near the edge of the bonfire, watching the sleeping people.
“Codsworth,” Jace said quietly.
Codsworth turned its head.
“I’m thinking of settling them in Sanctuary Hills.
What do you think?”
Codsworth was silent for a second.
Then it floated a little closer and lowered its voice as well.
“Sir, I guarded that place for two hundred years.
The houses are rundown, but people can live in them.
There’s a river by the entrance and land behind the houses.
With a little cleaning up, crops could be planted.”
It paused, then glanced at Preston.
“Sir, these people…
can they work?”
Jace thought for a moment.
“The badly injured will need time to recover.
The rest are tough.
They can handle hard work.”
“Very well.
I have been keeping watch there alone for so long.
Perhaps it’s time the place became a little livelier.”
Jace froze for a moment.
He looked at the rust-streaked robot, at the firelight reflecting off its body and the two hundred years of rust marks.
“…You don’t mind?”
Codsworth looked at him.
“Sir, why would I mind?
People living there is better than no one living there at all.”
Jace walked back to Preston.
“Sanctuary Hills.”
“What kind of place is that?”
“Outside Vault 111.
A wealthy pre-War neighborhood.
It’s been abandoned for two hundred years, but the houses are still livable.
There’s a very clear river at the entrance, and there’s almost no silt in it, so there shouldn’t be Mirelurks.”
Preston was silent for a few seconds.
“Is it far?”
“Not far.
If we leave tomorrow, we can get there within a day.”
Preston nodded.
He lowered his head and looked at his hands.
After a long while, he spoke.
“Three died at Jamaica Plain.
Then a few more just now…”
Preston raised his head and looked into the fire.
“We had more than twenty people.
Now this is all that’s left.”
Jace looked at him.
The firelight fell across his face, making the lines there seem even deeper.
“Do you blame them?” Jace asked.
Preston paused.
“The ones who didn’t want to leave.
Minority follows the majority.
Do you blame them?”
Preston was silent for a long time.
Then he shook his head.
“No.
They were just scared.”
Jace said nothing else.
The two of them sat there, watching the fire burn until midnight.
Dawn had just begun to break.
Jace leaned against the wall by the diner entrance, half asleep.
The bonfire had long since gone out, leaving only a pile of ash still trailing thin smoke.
Footsteps came from the distance.
He opened his eyes.
Two figures emerged from the fog, a man and a woman in tattered militia uniforms, rifles slung on their backs.
The man was tall.
The woman had short hair, and her face was covered in ash.
They saw the dozen or so people outside the diner and froze.
Then they saw Jace.
The tall man put his hand on his rifle.
“Who are you?”
Jace did not move.
Preston’s voice came from behind him.
“Josh.
Emma.”
The two turned their heads at the same time.
Preston walked out of the diner.
One side of his face was still swollen, but it looked much better than the night before.
“You’re back?”
The tall man, Josh, stared at the red swelling on Preston’s face and froze.
“Sir, what happened to your face?”
Preston did not answer.
The short-haired woman, Emma, glanced past him.
She saw the people lying on the ground and counted them.
“…This is all that’s left?”
Preston nodded.
Josh and Emma looked at each other.
Emma lowered her head and said nothing.
Josh was silent for a few seconds, then walked up to Preston.
“We searched all night.
We didn’t find anywhere safe.”
He paused.
“There are Ghouls everywhere.”
Jace stood and brushed the dust from his clothes.
“Go to Sanctuary Hills.”
Both of them looked at him.
“Head north.
We can get there by noon.”
Josh froze.
“Noon?” he repeated.
“It’s that close?”
Jace nodded.
Emma looked at him, suspicion in her eyes.
“What makes you think it’s safe?”
Jace did not answer.
He turned and took a step toward the inside of the diner, then stopped.
“I stored food there.
Enough for everyone to eat for three months.”
Emma froze.
Josh froze too.
Preston raised his head and looked at him.
“…How much?”
Jace thought for a moment.
“Twelve crates of razorgrain.
Nine crates of mutfruit.
Fifteen crates of tato.
Enough to last until spring.”
The entrance of the diner suddenly went quiet.
Everyone stared at him.
The bandage in Sturges’s hand fell to the ground.
Mama Murphy opened her eyes.
Even the wounded lying on the ground propped themselves up and looked over.
Preston stared at him, his expression shifting several times.
“…Where did you get all that?”
“I cleared out a Raider camp with more than twenty people and emptied the place.”