“There’s a hole out back.
According to the terminal records, before the war, the employees here stashed a batch of unauthorized weapons inside.”
Codsworth’s “eyes” lit up.
“But they also dumped a batch of nuclear waste in there to save on disposal fees,” Jace added.
Codsworth’s gaze fell on the hole, and it went silent for a second.
“Nuclear waste,” it repeated.
“Right.”
Codsworth floated over and stared into the pitch-black opening for a few seconds.
“Do you have a Geiger counter?”
“No, but I have a basic radiation detection module.”
It moved closer to the hole, and a small probe extended from the end of one mechanical arm.
A faint beam swept into the darkness for several seconds.
Then Codsworth retracted the probe and analyzed the data.
“What is it?”
“Moderate radiation levels.
Fairly dangerous for an ordinary person.
Staying in there too long would cause problems.”
Jace paused.
An ordinary person.
He was not an ordinary person.
He brought up the Pip-Boy and activated the advanced bio-scan function.
“Is there anything alive inside?” Codsworth asked.
“Yes.
Small mammals.
Probably Mole Rats.
About five of them.”
Jace stared at the hole.
He did not care about this level of radiation.
This half-Ghoul body could handle it.
But the Mole Rats were another matter.
He still remembered how fast those three had charged earlier.
The burrow would be much narrower than the open ground outside.
If he got surrounded in there, he would not even have room to run.
“I’m not going in yet.”
Jace stood up and went back to the rear workshop.
He stopped and looked around.
Several metal drums sat piled in the corner, covered in dust.
He walked over and kicked one.
Empty.
The next one was empty too.
The third had some weight to it.
Jace twisted off the lid and looked inside.
Half a drum of dark liquid, with a layer of oily film floating on the surface.
Gasoline.
Two-hundred-year-old gasoline.
He had no idea whether it would still burn, but it was better than nothing.
“What are you doing?” Codsworth asked, floating over.
Jace rummaged around the workbench and found a few empty bottles.
Glass, not too large, just the right size to hold.
Then he dug a roll of duct tape out of the toolbox on the wall.
He dragged the gasoline drum over, opened the lid, and poured a small amount into each bottle.
The smell of gasoline rushed out.
It was not the sharp smell of fresh fuel, but something stale and sour.
Still, it was liquid, at least.
It had not completely evaporated.
Then he tore several strips of cloth, stuffed them into the bottle mouths, and wrapped them tight with duct tape.
“Molotov cocktails.
Before the war, there was a place called the Soviet Union.
They used these things against tanks.”
Jace did not respond.
He made three of them, set them by his feet, and tested the lighter.
A flame sprang up.
It worked.
“Mole Rats are afraid of fire and light.
Most animals are.
Throw one of these in, and the smoke alone should choke them out.”
Codsworth stared at the three bottles and went silent for a second.
“Be careful not to burn yourself.
Throwing one in is easy.
Making sure it does not burn you is the hard part.”
Jace nodded.
He picked up a Molotov cocktail and crouched by the hole.
Something moved deep inside the burrow, and a faint rustling sound came from within.
Jace crouched at the edge of the hole and took a deep breath.
The faint rustling came again from deeper inside.
He lit the Molotov cocktail.
Flames leapt from the strip of cloth, casting an orange glow across his face.
He swung his arm.
The Molotov cocktail arced through the air and landed in the middle of the burrow.
Bang!
Glass shattered, and gasoline burst outward.
Fire instantly filled the entire burrow, throwing jumping shadows across the walls.
Shrieks erupted.
Sharp, piercing screams poured out of the hole, mixed with the stench of burning fur.
A gray blur shot out of the flames.
The first Mole Rat, its body on fire, scrambled madly toward the exit.
Codsworth’s circular saw was already spinning with a harsh whir.
The moment the Mole Rat showed its head, the saw cut into it from the side.
Blood splashed across the burrow wall, and the corpse rolled aside.
The second one rushed out.
Codsworth cut it down with another sweep of the saw.
The third, the fourth.
No, Codsworth only had time to kill two.
Jace dropped the lighter and reached for the pistol at his waist.
But the remaining Mole Rats did not give him time to draw.
Two Mole Rats, both burning from head to tail, burst out of the hole.
Fire clung to their bodies, and there was nothing in their eyes but frenzy.
They ignored Codsworth and charged straight at Jace.
The fire had stripped away their reason, leaving only the instinct to attack.
Jace stepped back, and the pistol finally came free.
Then.
The Pip-Boy on his wrist let out a short beep.
His vision changed.
The movements of the two Mole Rats slowed.
Not truly slowed, but made clear in his mind.
Their paths, their openings, the places they would land in the next second, all of it turned into numbers in his thoughts.
The one on the left, head 87%.
The one on the right, torso 93%.
Jace pulled the trigger.
Bang!
The left one’s head burst open.
Its body twisted in midair, crashed to the ground, and kept burning.
Bang!
The right one took a bullet through the chest, but it did not die immediately.
It pushed one more step forward before collapsing.
Two shots.
Less than a second.
Jace gasped for breath, his heart pounding like a drum.
He glanced down at the pistol, then at the two corpses still burning on the ground.
Then he heard something.
Not from ahead, but from the side.
From a hidden side tunnel beside the entrance.
A larger Mole Rat burst out.
It was not on fire.
Its eyes were bloodred, and drool ran from its mouth.
It was a full size larger than the others, and it charged even faster.
Too fast for him to react.
Jace had only just turned when that mouth clamped down on his right forearm.
Pain.
Jace had never felt pain like this in his life.
Teeth pierced flesh and sank in between bone.
His entire right arm lost strength in an instant.
The pistol slipped from his hand and hit the ground with a clatter.
The Mole Rat bit down and refused to let go, whipping its head from side to side as it tried to tear off a chunk of flesh.
Jace’s eyes went red.
Not figuratively.
They really turned red.
A flash passed across the Pip-Boy’s screen, and the crosshair in his vision became glaringly bright, but he had no time to care.
He reached out with his left hand and grabbed the Mole Rat’s head.
His fingers dug into its fur, pinning that frantically thrashing head in place.
He used every bit of strength he had.
This modified body had never failed him before, and it would not fail him now.
The Mole Rat’s jaws were still locked on his forearm, but its head was fixed in place.
It could no longer shake.
Jace gripped that bare skull with both hands.
His right hand hurt too much to use properly, but his left was enough.
He twisted hard.
Crack.
Its neck snapped.
The Mole Rat’s body went limp at once.
Its mouth was still clamped around his forearm, but there was no strength left in it.
Jace tore it off and threw it to the ground.
The corpse twitched twice, then stopped moving.
Jace stood there, breathing hard.
His right forearm was bleeding.
Blood ran down his elbow, dripping onto the ground, then onto the dead Mole Rat.
Codsworth floated over and stopped beside him without saying a word.
Jace looked down at his right arm.
Two bloody holes, torn flesh, and something white visible inside.
Bone?
Tendon?
Something else?
He tried moving his fingers.
They moved.
It hurt like hell, but they moved.
It looked terrible, but he could still move them.
The bone and tendons had not been damaged.
“…Jace,” Codsworth said, its voice full of concern.
Jace bent down and picked up the fallen pistol with his left hand.
Then he glanced at the hole.
No sound came from inside anymore.
The fire was still burning, but it would not last long.
Jace looked down at his right arm.
Blood was still flowing, running down his elbow, dripping onto the ground and splashing across the dead Mole Rat.
“Codsworth.”
“Yes.”
“I left my backpack in the workshop.
There’s duct tape inside.
Bring it over, and find me a clean piece of cloth.”
Codsworth floated off at once and returned within seconds, one mechanical arm holding his backpack steady.
Jace opened the backpack with his left hand and pulled out the roll of duct tape.
He pressed the cloth hard against the wound and clumsily wrapped it with one hand.
One loop, two loops, three loops.
It was crooked, but at least it was tight.
The pain drilled deep, and he could not stop himself from sucking in a cold breath.
“You are not going to use a Stimpak?” Codsworth asked.
Jace shook his head.
“No bones or tendons hit.
Just flesh torn open.” His voice was a little hoarse.
“I’m saving the Stimpak for when I’m actually about to die.”
Codsworth was silent for a moment.
“Your life matters most,” it reminded him.
“What if it gets infected?”
Jace did not turn around.
His gaze stayed fixed on the depths of the hole.
The firelight inside had already dimmed, leaving only scattered crackles that were fading bit by bit.
He waited quietly.
One minute.
Two minutes.
The fire went out completely.
He waited another five minutes.
“That should be enough.”
He raised his left hand, and a small light on the Pip-Boy came on.
Lighting mode.
The beam was not very strong, but it was enough for a pitch-black burrow where he could not see his hand in front of his face.
Jace walked to the entrance and raised his hand, shining the beam into the depths.
The light cut through the darkness.
Several charred Mole Rat corpses lay across the ground, and the air was thick with the sharp stink of burned fur and flesh.
The burrow walls were blackened by smoke, and some spots still held lingering heat.
He carefully stepped over the first corpse and moved inside.
The burrow was not deep, only seven or eight meters.
Several metal canisters lay scattered along both sides.
Nuclear waste.
The yellow containers still bore the three-bladed radiation symbol.
Jace glanced at them, did not touch them, and kept walking.
Near the back of the burrow, there was a duffle bag.
Green canvas, covered in dust, but still mostly intact.
Jace crouched down and pulled open the zipper.
Inside was a wad of oiled paper.
He pushed the paper aside, revealing what lay underneath.
Two guns.
One was a double-barrel shotgun, with short, thick barrels.
The wooden stock was scratched, but the metal parts had been wrapped tightly in oiled paper and were not rusted.
Beside it lay a hunting rifle, single-barreled, slimmer and longer than the shotgun, and just as well maintained.
Several boxes of ammunition were also wrapped in oiled paper.
The shotgun shells had bright brass casings.
The hunting rifle rounds were a size smaller, but also in good condition.
Jace picked up both guns and weighed them in his hands.
They were heavier than he had expected, but they felt solid.
Good stuff.
He set the guns and ammunition aside, then kept looking.
From the deepest part of the burrow came the sound of water.
Very faint.
Drip, drip.
Jace shone the light over.
There was a small pool, depth unknown, probably groundwater seeping in.
Beside the pool leaned a safe.
A rusted safe.
Reddish-brown rust crawled up from its base to the door.
Some spots were so badly corroded that the layers of metal underneath were visible.
American-made or not, after two hundred years in a damp cave like this, even the best steel could not hold up.
There was something else beside the safe.
A ruined fusion generator, its outer casing rusted through and its insides a tangled mess.
But in front of it, there was a slot.
In the slot, a long, narrow cylinder reflected the light.
A fusion core.
Jace stared at it, and his heart skipped a beat.
He walked over, gripped the core, and gently pulled.
Click.
It came free.
It was heavier than he had expected, cold to the touch, with an intact casing.
No rust.
No leaks.
Jace held it up and examined it under the Pip-Boy’s light for several seconds.
Usable.
He stuffed the fusion core into his backpack, turned back to the workshop, and picked up a crowbar.
Then he returned to the burrow and walked up to the safe.
He wedged the crowbar into the gap between the door and the frame, then pressed down hard.
Rust flakes clattered to the ground.
He added more force.
Clang!
The safe door sprang open.
Not because it had unlocked, but because it was so badly rusted that the hinges snapped, sending the entire door sagging to one side.
Jace tossed the crowbar onto the ground.
Then he froze.
Not because of what was inside.
Because of himself.
He looked down at his right arm.
The wound wrapped in cloth and duct tape had stopped bleeding.
No, not just stopped.
He peeled back a corner of the tape and looked inside.
The flesh was healing.
It was not simply “no longer bleeding.” It was healing in the true sense.
The puncture wounds from the bite were shrinking, and pink new flesh was growing along the edges at an unnaturally fast rate.
Jace stared at his arm, his mind struggling to process it.
When he had been prying open the safe just now, he had not felt tired.
It was not that he “wasn’t tired.” He had not felt any exertion at all.
That crowbar had to weigh at least a dozen pounds, and he had pressed down on it several times with one hand.
Only now did he realize it.
He was not panting, his heart was not racing, and his muscles did not feel sore or swollen.
This was wrong.
He moved his right arm.
His fingers were flexible.
It no longer hurt.
He glanced at the wound again.
It had shrunk even more.
“…Fuck,” he muttered.
Then he wrapped the duct tape back in place and stopped thinking about it.
Now was not the time.
He turned back and shone the light into the safe.
Four round frag mines were stacked together.
Three frag grenades, the American pineapple-shaped kind, had some rust spots on the surface but were otherwise intact.
At the very bottom was something different.
It was larger, with a yellow-and-black radiation symbol printed on the casing.
A nuke mine.
Jace stared at it for a moment.
In the game, stepping on this thing would make it explode and leave a small irradiated area behind.
But here…
He reached in and carefully took out the frag mines first, setting them aside.
Then the grenades.
Finally, he stared at the nuke mine and hesitated for one second.
Forget it.
Get it out first.
He loaded everything into the duffle bag, stood up, and walked out of the burrow.
Back in the workshop, he gently set the items down on the floor.
Codsworth floated over, looked at the pile, and all three of its “eyes” lit up at once.
“We’ve struck it rich!” Its voice carried an excitement Jace had never heard before.
“Two guns, mines, grenades, and.
Good heavens, is that a nuke mine?”
Jace said nothing.
He pulled over his backpack, took out the fusion core, and set it on the workbench.
The core gleamed coldly under the light.
Codsworth stared at it for several seconds, its voice growing even brighter.
“A fusion core, and an intact one at that.
Jace, do you know how many caps this is worth in the Wasteland?”
Jace shook his head.
“Enough to buy you a room in Diamond City.
Enough to make anyone with Power Armor willing to be your friend.”