Jace stood by the river, staring at the water shimmering in the morning light.
His mind kept turning.
“How are we supposed to solve the equipment problem?”
“What are those dozen or so people carrying?
Pipe pistols, pipe rifles, a few laser muskets.
Some of those were scavenged off Raider corpses.
And what about ammo and cells?
Search everyone, and we’d be lucky to scrape together a dozen rounds total.”
“With gear like that, forget fighting Ghouls.
One pack of Raiders would be enough to finish us.”
He crouched down, scooped up a handful of river water, and washed his face.
The icy water ran down his cheeks, jolting him awake a little.
Where should he look?
It had to be close enough.
Too far would not work.
There were too many wounded, and they were too short-handed.
He could not be gone for long.
It had to be worth the trip.
If he went, he had to bring something back.
Coming back empty-handed would be worse than not going at all.
And it had to be safe.
Somewhere he could handle alone, or with just a few people.
Places packed with Ghouls, or crawling with Raiders, were out of the question right now.
He went through locations one by one in his head, then ruled them out one by one.
Then he remembered a few places.
Tenpines Bluff.
There was a T-51 there with its own fusion core.
Skylanes Flight 1981.
There were only a few scavengers there, nothing too dangerous.
Inside was a batch of contraband: five fusion cores and a large number of fusion cells.
The place was hidden, and no one knew about it yet.
Rotten Landfill.
There were only a few Mole Rats there.
Raiders had once hidden a huge stash of ammo there: .45, .38, .308, .50, all of it.
Those Raiders had long since left, but the ammo was still there.
Just no guns.
Then there was the lake near Rotten Landfill.
Like the Museum of Freedom, a plane had crashed into the water there.
There was a set of power armor underwater too, though only the frame remained.
The armor pieces were probably all rotted away, but the frame itself should still be useful.
He thought for a moment and remembered another place.
Fiddler’s Green Trailer Estates.
A little farther away, but there was a soldier’s corpse there wearing a T-60, and it had its own fusion core.
There were only a few Ghouls around, so it should not be hard to deal with.
Jace stood by the river and went over those places again in his mind.
Close enough.
Worth the trip.
Safe.
He turned and walked toward Preston.
As he walked, his eyes stayed on the Pip-Boy on his wrist.
The screen was lit, showing that familiar interface: S.P.E.C.I.A.L.
stats, the perk chart, and the number in the lower right corner that made his heart beat faster.
Available Perk Points: 3
How much had he been through since waking up?
Leaving Vault 111, killing Mole Rats, fighting Ghouls, saving Preston, inspecting power armor.
Every event had been converted into experience by the Pip-Boy, and every bit of experience had accumulated somewhere he could not see, until now, it had become three points he could actually use.
Jace stared at those three numbers for a long time.
Science.
He definitely needed that.
Without Science, how was he supposed to activate the equipment in Vault 88?
How was he supposed to repair it?
Use it?
Gun Nut.
He wanted that too.
Ammo was too scarce.
Every shot had to count.
If he could reload his own ammo, if he could modify guns so they fired more accurately and at longer range…
Sneak.
He wanted that too.
That night in Concord, if his Sneak had been higher, would he have needed to wait until dark?
Could he have slipped straight in and taken them out one by one?
Gun Fu.
He wanted that even more.
Increased damage when attacking multiple targets in VATS.
With that, even armored enemies would not be such a problem.
Target three at once, and none of them would get away.
Science, Gun Nut, Sneak, Demolition Expert.
Four perks he wanted.
Three points.
Jace stared at the screen, his finger hovering over the options without moving.
He raised his head and looked at the ruined houses in the distance, at the refugees from Quincy slowly beginning to move around.
Forget it.
He would go see what they were doing first.
Jace turned off the screen and walked toward the broken houses.
The sun had already risen, and gray light covered all of Sanctuary Hills.
The air carried the dampness of the river, mixed with the smell of rotting wood and wild grass.
He stood at the door of the largest house and looked inside.
It was darker than outside.
Several layers of ragged blankets salvaged from other places had been spread across the floor, and a few seriously injured people lay on them.
Sturges crouched beside an old man, bandage in hand, changing the dressing.
The old man’s eyes were closed, and his chest rose and fell slowly, but much more steadily than yesterday.
Sturges heard the footsteps and looked up.
“Morning, Jace.” Then he lowered his head and kept working.
“Morning.
How are their injuries?”
“These ones are doing a lot better.
They had fevers last night, but they broke this morning.”
Jace turned and headed toward the house next door.
This one was being used as living quarters.
The door was open.
Several people sat against the wall inside.
Some were cleaning guns, some were organizing backpacks, and two were asleep on the floor.
Josh sat at the doorway with a gun in his hands.
When he saw Jace coming, he nodded.
“Where’s the other one who came back with you yesterday?” Jace asked.
Josh answered, “Emma’s at the bridge.”
“We’re taking turns standing guard.”
Jace glanced toward the bridge.
A short-haired woman in a tattered militia uniform stood at the bridgehead with her gun ready, watching the road they had come from.
He continued forward.
In front of the most damaged house, several people were working.
A hammer struck sheet metal, and the clangs echoed between the ruined houses.
A tall, thin man stood on a ladder, laying a sheet of metal salvaged from somewhere else across the roof.
Two people below held the ladder steady, while another crouched on the ground, sorting salvaged planks by length.
Jun and Marcy were there too, but they were not rummaging through debris.
Jun held a hammer and nailed planks to the wall, while Marcy stood beside him, handing him nails.
Jace glanced at the house and asked, “Can this place still be repaired?”
The tall, thin man kept his eyes on the metal sheet in his hands and answered without looking back.
“It can.
It’ll just be slow.
We don’t have enough materials, and the tools are awkward to use.”
Jace walked around them and stopped in front of the gray house.
Codsworth’s master’s house.
The house of the game’s protagonist.
The door was closed, just like yesterday.
He turned and headed toward the river.
When he passed the campfire, he stopped and looked.
The ashes were still giving off thin smoke, and a few empty cans and half-eaten ration bags lay nearby.
On the grass by the river, two people were digging.
Jace recognized them.
They were the couple whose names he still had not memorized.
The man held a broken shovel dug out from the ruins, while the woman crouched on the ground and scraped at the soil with her hands.
“What can you grow here?” Jace asked.
The man looked up and wiped sweat from his face.
“No idea.
We’ll turn the soil first and try planting something.”
The woman said nothing and kept digging.
Jace stood there and watched for a while.
The sun rose a little higher.
The river glimmered.
A few people repaired roofs, a few dug in the soil, Sturges changed dressings, and Josh and Emma guarded the bridge.
All of Sanctuary Hills was just a handful of people, a few broken houses, and a pile of materials dragged out of the ruins.
But at least people were moving now.
Jace stood by the river, staring at the water that had flowed for two hundred years.
The sun climbed a little higher, and the river shone with a cold light.
Wind blew across the water, damp and sharp against the face.
Jace did not feel much, but when he saw Emma standing guard and pulling her ragged clothes tighter around herself, his heart sank further.
He glanced at the date on his Pip-Boy.
Late October.
No tools, no farm tools, no materials, no cloth, no beds, no medicine.
And winter is almost here.
What the hell are we supposed to do?
Codsworth drifted silently up behind him.
“Sir.”
Jace jumped and spun around.
“…How do you move without making any sound?”
Codsworth’s “eyes” curved slightly.
“Sir, I am a household robot.
Quietness comes first.
I could hardly buzz about beside my master while he slept, now could I?”
Jace stared at it for two seconds.
A thought suddenly flashed through his mind.
“Codsworth.
That day in Sanctuary Hills, the thing those three Raiders found…
it was you, wasn’t it?”
Codsworth’s “eyes” curved slightly.
“Sir, when they found me, you were still inside Vault 111.”
Jace turned and walked into the house closest to the river.
Preston was inside.
Inside, Preston was doing exactly what he had said yesterday: trying to persuade Mama Murphy to stop using chems.
Preston crouched beside Mama Murphy, keeping his voice very gentle.
“Mama Murphy.”
She did not react.
Her lips were still moving.
“Mama,” he called again.
This time, her eyes opened a crack.
Preston looked at her and fell silent for a second.
“I know you rely on those chems to see things.
To warn us away from danger.”
Mama Murphy said nothing.
“Back in Quincy, the people who made it out survived because you helped us,” Preston said.
“I’ll remember that for the rest of my life.”
He paused, glanced at Jace, then looked back at her.
“But Jace is right.
You can’t keep taking chems.
Those things are clouding your Sight.”
Mama Murphy’s eyes slowly opened a little wider.
“Your Sight isn’t broken,” Preston said.
“It’s tired.
It’s been hurt.”
“If you keep taking those things, your body will collapse, and the light inside you will go out.”
He reached out and gently placed his hand over the old woman’s.
“We don’t need you to see the future every moment.”
Mama Murphy stared at him, something stirring in her cloudy eyes.
“Stop taking chems,” Preston said.
“Let us handle the rest of the road ourselves.”
“Rest for a while.”
The room went quiet.
Mama Murphy looked into Preston’s eyes, and they seemed a little clearer than before.
She slowly closed her eyes, a faint, dazed smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
“…Too much chem-smell.
It covered the road.”
She gently pulled her hand back, her voice light as wind.
“…I’ll listen to you.
From now on, I won’t touch them.”
“My eyes…
should open on their own, little by little.”
Jace reached the doorway and glanced inside.
Preston was still crouched beside Mama Murphy and had not stood up.
“Preston,” Jace called.
Preston turned his head.
“Come out for a second.”
Preston nodded, stood, and walked out quietly.
The two stood outside.
Morning light fell over the broken houses, gray and dim, but much brighter than inside.
“What is it?”
Jace did not answer directly.
He walked a few steps toward the river, and Preston followed.
“I just thought of a few places where we can get equipment.”
Preston looked at him.
“Where?”
“There’s a T-51 Power Armor set on the railway below Tenpines Bluff to the east.
It has its own fusion core.
No one’s touched it, but it’s locked by a terminal.”
Preston’s eyes lit up, and his body unconsciously leaned forward half a step.
“T-51?” he repeated.
“That’s good stuff.
Can the terminal be unlocked?”
Jace did not stop and continued speaking.
“There’s also a crashed airliner nearby.
Skylanes Flight 1981.
There’s a batch of Pre-war contraband in its cargo hold.
Fusion cores, fusion cells, maybe even a few laser rifles.”
Preston froze.
“Fusion cores?
Laser rifles?” His eyes sharpened as he looked at Jace.
“Are you sure those things are still there?”
Jace did not answer and kept going.
“The nearest landfill to the northeast.
Raiders once hid a big stash of ammo there: .45, .38, .308, .50.
All of it.”
Preston’s mouth opened slightly, and his throat moved.
“Those Raiders are gone, but the ammo is still there.
Right now, there are only a few Mole Rats around.”
“…Ammo?” His voice tightened slightly.
“A big stash?”
Jace nodded and continued.
“There’s a lake beside it.
There’s also a set of power armor in the lake.
It’s been soaking there for two hundred years, so the armor is probably ruined, but the frame should still be useful.”
When Preston heard “frame,” the excitement on his face dimmed a little, then returned.
“One more place.
Fiddler’s Green Trailer Estates.
It’s a bit farther, but there’s a T-60 there, with its own fusion core.”
Warmth rose in Preston’s chest.
“But there are Ghouls around,” Jace added.
More Ghouls.
Half the light in Preston’s face faded.
“There are Ghouls?”
“Like Lexington?”
Jace shook his head.
“Not the same.
Lexington is a full Ghoul nest.
This is an abandoned trailer park.
Just a few wandering Ghouls.”
Preston said nothing.
He stood there, running through the places in his head.
power armor.
Cores.
Laser rifles.
Ammo.
Frames.
Jace looked at him.
“Scared?”
Preston shook his head.
“Not scared,” he said.
“It’s just…
hearing about Ghouls makes my skin crawl.”
“Those days in the supermarket were enough.
Are we going today?”
Jace was about to answer when a gunshot suddenly rang out in the distance, far to the south.
Both of them turned toward the sound at the same time, then confirmed it was very far away.
Jace looked away and hitched his backpack higher.
“We go now.”