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jedifarmerr · 3 years ago

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Wasteland Series (Fallout AU)

Post-Apocalyptic Frankie x F! Reader

Word Count: 3.4K

Rating: R/E (18+)

Warnings: Language, nightmares, guns, mutant animals & bugs, food/eating, little bit of angst, post-nuclear war.

Series Masterlist

Chapter 4: Creatures Of The Land.

They stopped for the night at the first place they could find with an intact roof and four sturdy walls.

The Red Rocket Truck Stop.

It was around two klicks from where they fought the ghouls, and she didn’t say a word the entire time. But neither did they.

They cleared out a windowless storage closet that smelled like dust and dry rot mops and she didn’t even remark. Instead, she remained silent as the grave. She shut the door without looking at them.

Afterwards, Benny and Santi double-checked every corner of the interior while Frankie and Will silently searched the perimeter. Nothing other than a few rad-ants that met the end of a bullet.

By the time Frankie plopped down on a squeaky, metal chair, the moonlight was spilling through the windows onto the black and white store tile.

There was tension in the air. It was thick and surging up and down the aisles cluttered with molded snack packs, expired chip bags, and souvenir magnets.

They had been caught off-guard. And nobody liked being caught off-guard. Encountering ghouls wasn’t exactly uncommon, but they’d spent the last few days exploring and clearing the area. He thought they could at least go a few miles without being attacked by an angry mob of undead.

Santi was the first to break the silence. He hoisted himself onto the checkout counter and said, “Well that didn’t go well.”

“It could’ve gone worse.” Will slumped down in the rusty diner chair beside Frankie, then unlaced his boots. “She’s alive. Besides, I don’t know what else we could’ve done.”

“Are you serious? We should’ve warned her, man.” Benny stared out at the gas pumps strangled by vines. “I knew we should’ve warned her.”

Frankie immediately heard Will’s jaw click. Uh-oh.

“Yeah? So, why didn’t you?” Will nudged his little brother. Abruptly, Benny turned to him with a spiky jaw.

“What’d you say?”

“Look, in her room, you could’ve told her,” Will said. “But instead, you were in there talking about ice cream and Italy-”

“I was trying to make her feel comfortable.”

“Comfortable? Oh! That’s great.” Will slapped his hands against his thighs. “Let’s make sure the Vault-Tec girl feels right at home.”

“Fuck you, she didn’t ask for this.”

“Yeah, and how do you know that?” Will didn’t give Benny time to answer before saying, “You need to watch yourself with her.”

“All of us do.” Santi stood up. His tone was much softer than Will’s. It appeared he was trying to de-escalate the situation before shit hit the fan. “I feel bad for her too, believe me. But we still gotta be careful with this.”

Benny glanced over at Frankie. He looked almost apologetic. He bowed his head – a subtle nod of agreement.

“We’re taking tomorrow off,” Santi said, and everyone agreed it would be best to give her some time to process. Give them time to clear their heads.

Then, they could get back on the road.

———-

One day had somehow become nine, and counting.

For the first three days, she barely left her room. They only really saw her when she needed to use the bathroom. She’d snatched the food outside her door like a stray cat when no one was looking. For the most part, it went untouched aside from the dried fruit.

Finally, she came out on the fourth day. During a rowdy card game, she’d slowly made her way out of the storage closet and joined them. After that, she’d emerged more and more – bit by bit.

Most of the time, she hung around Benny. Not surprising. In the past, stragglers had always latched onto Benny. Good ole Benjamin with his school boy charm, easy smiles and goofy-ass laugh. He was convinced of her innocence, even without any concrete proof.

I just know. I got a gut feeling about it.

Benny’s intuition appeared to be enough to start swaying Pope. Will still seemed hesitant, though. And of course, Frankie was stationary. He was like a boulder or a bull. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Benny’s judgment, usually he did without question. But he wondered how clear Benny’s head was in this situation.

Unlike other stragglers, she was…attractive. At times, she could be funny. Even so, she still annoyed the piss out of him. She was always picking fights over stupid shit like what beans were better or how to correctly pronounce Bugles – a snack he’d never had and never would. She poked and poked and poked at him until he’d snap, then she’d smile and laugh and flutter her long lashes. All innocent, but unlike Benny, he didn’t buy it.

This entire thing felt like a ticking time bomb. He was just waiting for it to blow up in his face. He didn’t know when or how or why.

He just knew it was inevitable.

—-

It’d been eleven days since they found her. Eleven days at the damn Red Rocket Truck Stop.

With every day that passed, Frankie felt more and more like a sitting duck. He was just waiting for something or someone to attack. He was on edge and bored out of his mind. In fact, he’d taken to memorizing the prices of snacks and soda and even gas pump dials – twelve bucks for premium unleaded and fifteen for diesel. At least, it gave his mind something to do.

Currently, Santi and him were lounging outside in a set of gingham lawn chairs they’d stumbled upon while searching a nearby shed for supplies. The sun was warm against his skin, his face. It was peaceful. Until she came barreling out of the storefront like a bat out of hell.

“I need to use the bathroom.”

“Not it,” Santi said before he could – asshole.

“Where’s Benny? Or Will?” Frankie didn’t open his eyes, his face still tipped towards the sun.

“Napping. Now come on.”

When he didn’t immediately jump up, she started to throw a tantrum, “Frankie,” she whined, fussing and stomping her foot on the asphalt. She was giving him a headache.

Frankie snatched his gun from the makeshift side table – an empty barrel – and shoved another gun into the back of his waistband before escorting her bratty ass to the bathroom. It was a quarter mile south, a pit latrine because she couldn’t just be easy and find a spot behind a tree. He supposed a hole in the ground beat cleaning out a bucket.

“Don’t take long,” he grunted before she slammed the door.

Like always, Frankie remained on-watch. Directly behind the single-stall bathroom was the mouth of what used to be a hiking trail. There were too many trees for his liking. Too many hiding spots. When his eyes flickered to the overgrown brush, there was a flash of something dark in the weeds. It was gone in a blink.

With his safety off, he cautiously inched across the cracked sidewalk. He didn’t hear anything, so he hoped it was just a floater from staring into the sun too long.

Boom.

Startled, Frankie spun around as she burst through the door. The metal slammed against the shabby brick wall and it was just fucking her.

She must’ve realized she scared him because she smirked. “Everything alright, Frankie?”

He grunted in response. He was about to lecture her on making too much noise until a faint buzz came from behind him. He knew it wasn’t just his tinnitus flaring up when her brows furrowed.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a black mass. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. He rushed towards her as the noise grew louder. “Stay behind me,” he ordered before lightly shoving her into the metal door. She didn’t yell or curse or complain. She actually listened. It seemed like the only time she listened was when they were in danger.

A pack of angry bloatflies surfaced from the field.

“Holy shit - are those flies?” she asked as the bugs flew towards them. The fuckers were fast and never traveled in group of less than five or six. Bloatflies weren’t his least favorite creature, but they were definitely a bigger nuisance than their microscopic counterparts.

He took out the leader – the one in front. A single bullet through its netted-eyes and the horse fly broke apart like a popped bubble. Five left.

He went to aim at the next largest one when it fired its own projectile from its stinger. The translucent glob throttled through the air.

“Duck!” he commanded and luckily, she obeyed. The toxin hit the metal door with a steaming hiss.

After that, she seemed completely content in his shadow as he whittled down the pack until there was only one left. He pulled the trigger, but it clicked – empty.

Before he could wrestle out the gun in his waistband, two bullets whizzed past his ear. One right after the other. The first one missed, but the second one nailed the bug right in its lumpy neck with a splat.

Frankie cupped his ringing ear and abruptly turned around.

She waved the gun in his face with a self-satisfied grin. “You’re welcome,” she said as if she’d beat him.

“You could’ve killed me.” He snatched the gun from her hands and shoved it back into his waistband.

She rolled her eyes, then shouldered past him. “I know what I’m doing.”

Clearly. She wasn’t too bad, either, but he was not about to admit that. Instead he said, “That’s why it took two shots.”

“That was my first time shooting a living thing, so I’d call that a success.”

“Whatever you wanna tell yourself.” He wouldn’t feed her ego, no matter how impressed he was.

“Well, now that you know I can shoot, can I get my gun back?”

Over his dead body. “What do you think?”

Just then, Santi showed up at the top of the hill. “What’s going on? Are you two alright?”

“Yep! Thanks to me. I just saved Frankie’s life.” She tauntingly nudged Frankie in the shoulder before running ahead to tell Santi the story.

Frankie felt his temples starting to throb. He already knew she would never let him forget the time she rescued him.

—

After two weeks at the Red Rocket, they were finally back on the road.

She had claimed his spot, next to Benny. And the two of them hadn’t shut up since reaching Concord. Benny had practically forced into a tour of the town with his insistent, “What was that? What used to be there?”

A bank. A museum about the Revolutionary War. Pinelli’s Bakery – best chocolate croissant you’ll ever taste.

Despite himself, Frankie caught his gaze following along with her finger, flipping between buildings deteriorated with weather and war and neglect. It’d taken them nearly a week to clear this place of ghouls. He wondered how many of them attended the Fourth of July parade that she was talking about.

On the way up a hill, Frankie found himself perfectly eye-level with her ass. For a second, he watched her hips sway with every step before looking away. He cursed the heat and this hill and her stupidly, sinfully tight vault suit.

They stopped for a late lunch on the outskirts of Concord, near a mossy brook with two toppled over oak trees acting as benches. Will tossed everyone a can of beans from his pack. Frankie could tell by her grimace that she was tired of eating the same meal.

“Something wrong?” Frankie challenged her and she squinted at him. She sternly shook her head before guzzling down a large helping.

“Delicious.” She licked the brown juice from her lips. His eyes tracked the movement – his jaw clenched.

“Oh shit, look.” Benny pointed downstream at where a two-headed deer was lapping up a drink. Its four antlers were submerged in green algae as fine as hair.

“Pope, is that a radstag?” Yeah – she’d started calling him Pope.

“Sure is.” Santi grinned. Once the radstag spotted the group, it immediately fled into the trees. It was a gentle, skittish giant. 250 pounds of harmless, patchy fur.

“How about you tell me more about that family farm of yours?” She nudged Santi.

Frankie tensed, the bark under his ass felt like spikes. He didn’t like talking about home with her. He didn’t like them talking about Sanctuary with her.

Luckily, Santi didn’t offer too many details, mostly focusing on the two-headed cows and wingless, naked chickens. She was enjoying it so much that Benny decided to give her a biology lesson.

“Will, tell her the cave story.” All it took was a little begging and three sets of puppy-dog eyes before Will folded and rolled up his sleeve to show her the jagged scar that ran from his forearm up to his bicep. A cricket bite. Frankie swallowed a laugh when he noticed the horror and disgust on her face after she learned crickets could grow to the same size as a small dog.

It didn’t take long before Benny was eyeing Frankie. Tell her about the bear. The slow chant of his name quickly caught on and God – he hated this stupid story.

Just like Will, he gave in. But he didn’t lift up his shirt to show her the gnarly scar on his back from the 800-pound black bear attack.

It was from years ago – they’d found a bottle of three-century old apple whiskey and got wasted. He’d been an idiot. He hadn’t been thinking when he wandered off from base camp to take a piss. Late at night, he couldn’t see what was lurking in the bushes until it was almost too late.

He would’ve been eaten alive, clean picked to the bone – if not for Tom, who showed up just in time to save him.

—

Right after lunch, the group stumbled upon two separate packs of bloatflies. You watched the guys dispose of them easily. The bugs didn’t even get a shot off.

You overheard Santi and Will worrying about ammo. Even though they had enough 10 MM and 7.62’s, they were down to a box of .45’s and a handful of shotgun shells. You decided to be nice and point them in the direction of a nearby gun shop. The building was slightly crooked, but the roof was intact. Hopefully some of the bullets could be salvaged despite being two centuries old. In an emergency, you supposed, a hang fire was better than nothing.

Inside, you debated snatching a gun from the wall, just a small, lilac pocket pistol for protection, but Frankie never let you out of his sight. Sometimes, it seemed like he could read your mind. It was infuriating.

You wondered if them viewing you as a threat was what kept them from giving you a gun. If so, that was kinda funny. No one in your entire life had ever viewed you as anything remotely close to a threat. The only other possible reason was you being their prisoner, though not even Frankie treated you as such.

If you really were their captive, you doubted Frankie would allow you to poke and jab at him as much as you did. He probably would’ve put you in your place with a threat or his fist. You were still trying to figure out exactly what these guys thought of you. Perhaps, they were telling the truth. Perhaps, they were just trying to protect you.

Rad-infected bugs had popped out from houses and shops you passed by; you didn’t have the right equipment to check the water for chemicals, let alone the one to cleanse it. At this point, making a run for it was out of the question. While you would never say it, Frankie had been right. You wouldn’t have survived out here on your own.

Before the sky went periwinkle, you set up camp in a seafoam green cabin secreted between windy, lopsided trees. You imagined it would’ve been cute before the war, before the porch was weather-worn and sunken-in; when the pond was blue instead of bone-dry. You had no idea this place even existed back here. According to Benny, they’d found it on their journey towards Concord, and marked it on their map for their way back. The windows were still boarded up from a few weeks ago, the inside was clear of any ghouls or other wasteland creatures.

The house was quaint and noisy, the wooden floorboards whined and complained even with soft steps. The raggedy furniture was covered with ancient dust, and the air stank of must and dry rot. A soft fiery glow from the wick-lanterns lit up the living room where three sleeping bags laid on the floor – the fourth, for you, was in the single bedroom.

Benny had loaned you his for the time being, but he swore it was no big deal. One of them was always on watch, anyway. They slept in shifts, so they could share until you reached Diamond City.

“They have showers there?” You asked, pleasantly surprised.

Benny chuckled. “Out of everything in Diamond City, that’s what you’re most excited about?”

“Easily.” Two weeks of filth clung to your skin. Maybe they were used to going this long without bathing, but not you. “If you haven’t noticed, this jumpsuit traps everything.”

“Trust me, we’ve noticed.” Frankie teased with a smirk. You playfully swatted at the bill of his ball cap.

“Not like we smell much better.” Will tossed you a deodorizer spray from his bag. It wouldn’t make you feel any cleaner, but at least, it helped mask the stench. Now, you smelled overwhelmingly of pine instead of BO and stale sweat.

“We’ll get you some new clothes while we’re there.” Santi patted your shoulder, then slowly pulled back. He dramatically grimaced at his hand before wiping it on his pants.

Asshole. You tossed a dried cranberry at Santi’s head, which somehow he caught in his mouth. Benny cheered and you rolled your eyes before saying, “You guys are the worst.”

“Nah, you don’t mean that.” Benny bumped into your arm, and you didn’t deny it.

—

Usually, Frankie hated his dreams. The memories. Or the ones where he was running through trees, a forest, from something or someone he couldn’t see. Sometimes, he was the one doing the chasing but he didn’t exactly know what he was running after.

However tonight, he was laying down in morning-warm grass near a dock by a pond stocked with fish. He realized it was this cabin – fixed up with fresh paint and polished windows and new shingles on the roof. He could hear a dog barking in the distance. Beside him, there was something soft and warm and he could smell lavender soap. It was a woman. He grabbed her shoulder to turn her and reveal her face –

But it all disappeared as Will shook him awake for his shift. Third shift – the worst shift in his opinion. He’d pulled the short end of the stick for this leg of the trip.

Frankie rubbed at the knot in his shoulder. His back was sore and achy. He was getting too old to be sleeping on the hard ground. The soft wick of the lantern guided him outside her door. He slumped down onto the cold floor, shivering and missing the warmth of his sleeping bag that Will was definitely enjoying.

He remembered his dream. As he looked around at the rickety house, the rotted out cabinets and moth-eaten curtains that reminded him of reality. Sometimes, he wondered if he made a mistake, if he would’ve been happier with a quiet existence in Sanctuary. A white picket fence – a warm bed – a family.

He chalked up the doubts to his age. He’d never had these thoughts when he was younger: life on the road wasn’t as easy as it used to be in his 20’s.

Frankie brought the lantern closer before carefully undressing the wound on his arm. The ghoul had gotten him good. Over the last two weeks, the angry red had faded into pale pink. Still, it would scar. Just another in the collection.

He was unraveling some fresh gauze when he heard the crinkling of shell fabric. Small murmuring coming from the other side of the door. Another nightmare. She had one almost every night.

Certain nights were worse than others, and tonight was brutal. Quickly, he wrapped his wound in gauze while she thrashed around. He hummed, just to drown out her voice. When it grew louder, he covered his ears.

He knew about nightmares. He knew the terror of reliving your trauma. The fear that came with being back there, only to wake up completely alone.

“Please - please.” The sound of her whimpering clawed at his chest. It made his hands itch. “Please,” she called out again and he felt something inside him snap.

He jumped to his feet and reached for the knob –

“Nora!”

His hand stilled and he pressed his ear against the door. She was awake – she was crying. The soft sob echoed in his ears and made his chest ache. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t rub out the knot. He listened until her breathing evened out. The sun was starting to rise when he finally relaxed.

And then, he realized – he’d never woken up Benny for his shift.

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jedifarmerr · 3 years ago

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Wasteland (Fallout AU)

Frankie x F!Reader (Post-Apocalyptic AU)

Rating: E (18+)

Word Count: Little over 2k

Warnings: Tiny amounts of angst, guns, violence, ghouls/description of the ghouls, death, panic attacks, blood, & post-nuclear discussions. (Let me know if I missed anything)

Series Masterlist

Chapter 3: I’m in Ruins

It didn’t even take a day for your plan to unravel. Not even a couple hours, which had to be some kind of record. World’s fastest fuck up.

Frankie had given you exactly ten minutes to pack, so of course - you took twenty.

The backpack from under your bed was dusty and smelled senile, but it worked. You packed it with pictures, a few sets of satin pajamas, a ragged plush pig along with Nora’s well-loved lamb.

Benny had been assigned to babysit you. At least, it wasn’t Frankie. Benny was actually good company, even if he spent most of the time snooping. It didn’t feel intrusive, though. He eyed the pictures on your walls, thumbed over travel souvenirs and notes on your desk with genuine curiosity instead of any suspicion.

Unlike Will, who periodically peeked his head in without saying a word.

“Brothers,” Benny had explained, and you can definitely see the resemblance. Those striking blue eyes, straight teeth, the classic jock phenotype. Good genes.

Honestly, all these men were insanely good-looking. Well, minus the kidnapper part. Oh God. Is this how Stockholm Syndrome starts?

—-

It definitely felt like August, even if it didn’t look like it. Your suit was already drenched in sweat, and you hadn’t even gotten out of the neighborhood yet. For some odd reason, they had insisted on taking this cluttered back road that used to be considered a more scenic route.

You squeezed through another pile up of cars.

“You do realize the other way is faster, right?” you reminded them, again - a little louder this time.

“We know,” Frankie droned from behind you, right on your heels.

You looked over your shoulder and flashed him a smile, “Just checking.”

His perpetual scowl somehow deepened. He didn’t say anything else, just grunted.

The asphalt was cracked like dry clay. You jumped over another pothole, coming out onto the open main road. You scanned the landscape but without any color, it was borderline unrecognizable.

There was no life. The park was overrun by monster weeds that were the color of wheat. You didn’t hear any birds, just a rusty whine from the swings that swayed in a poltergeist breeze.

It was so strange. You could vividly recall driving on this road with Nora what seemed like mere days ago.

It was gone. She was gone. She’d been gone a long time.

Quickly, you swallowed down the salty taste in the back of your throat. You wouldn’t cry in front of them. Even if it sucked being the only one in this warped timeline.

In the front, Will and Santi led the way, staying a few steps ahead. They whispered to one another while pointing to bare clusters in the treeline.

Benny walked alongside you. He hummed a tune you didn’t recognize, the tin canteen at his side swishing to the beat. This was usually Frankie’s spot, but he’d taken up the rear.

You dug out a ration bar from the side pocket of your bag. You peeled open the wrapper and examined the tan patty. Was this even edible?

You figure you’d eaten ten of these already, so what was one more? You chomped down on the bar, and nearly broke a tooth. These things were hard as a rock.

“So, where are you taking me?” You ripped off another bite and looked expectantly at Benny with full cheeks.

“Back to our home,” he beamed, clearly fond of the place.

“And that’s… where exactly?”

He took a drink of water before answering. “Close to Lynn - Salem.”

You slightly choked.

“And we’re walking there? Like the whole way?”

Benny nodded, and there was an annoyed scoff from the grump behind you. You ignored it.

“How long’s that gonna take?”

“Two weeks, or so.”

You took a distressed bite out of the bar, and slowly chewed. There was no way you could keep up with these guys. They were in peak shape, while your legs were already starting to cramp. Shockingly, two centuries on ice wasn’t ideal for muscle retention.

Benny must’ve noticed your concern because he lightly chuckled. “You’ll be fine. We’ll stop at night to sleep and then for meals and stuff.”

“Oh, so for like the basic shit?”

Benny smiled at that, appearing to enjoy your sarcasm. He playfully nudged your shoulder. “Once we get to Dia - Boston, you’ll get a few days to rest up there.”

Boston seemed like forever away. You stuffed the empty wrapper in your bag and groaned.

“Complaining won’t make it go any faster,” Frankie suggested.

God - he was annoying. You whirled around and walked backwards. “True, but then again, what kind of kidnappee would I be if I didn’t complain?”

“I didn’t know there was a how-to on that.”

“More like guidelines on how to make their life a living hell.”

Frankie’s jaw ticked. He rubbed at his temple as if fending off a migraine. “I’m not doing this with you. We’re doing you a favor-”

You barked out a laugh. This guy had a real God complex.

“A favor? Is that what you call this?” You stormed over to him, nearly nose to nose. His nostrils flared and you could feel his furious breath on your skin. You poked at his chest. “This isn’t a fucking favor-”

Will shushed you before you could lay into Frankie any further. You were about to rage on Will, but then he said, “Do you hear that?” His voice was a bare whisper. He didn’t move an inch.

When you carefully listened, you could hear it - moan? A groan? Coming from the brush or perhaps the thorny bushes, somewhere along the roadside.

It didn’t sound like an animal, and the hair on your neck tightened.

Santi whipped out his gun. “Ghouls.”

Ghouls? Like Night of the Living Dead? Haunted Mansion? Those kinds of ghouls?

“We gotta get her outta here,” Santi whispered - hissed.

“And take her where?” Frankie loaded his gun.

He was right, there was nowhere to run. The noise just grew louder. Louder with every passing second. It sounded like you were completely surrounded.

Frankie called out a mix of words, some type of code that made everyone scurry into position.

Except you.

You didn’t move an inch. You couldn’t look away from the spidery shadows that crept up from the dead foliage.

A hand wrapped around your arm and you almost screamed when your back collided into a firm chest. You peered up and Frankie’s eyes seared into you. He cradled your waist with one hand, tugging you flush against him.

His fingers dug into the nylon and he gave a single command - stay.

For once, you didn’t argue. You obeyed him without question as the ghouls began to rise up like an army of undead. Gangly bodies - skin gray as ash. There were so many. Too many.

“Steady!”

Your heart rammed against your ribs. Your skin buzzed.

The creatures threw their heads back with a shriek that could shake even the deepest, darkest depths of hell.

“Hold onto me,” Frankie murmured against your hair before letting go of your waist. He pulled out a second gun from his waistband.

Just as he commanded, you held onto him. As you tightly clutched his shirt for safety, you turned to see the ghouls darting forward.

Fire!

In your ears, a volley of shots rang like a pocketful of firecrackers.

Frankie didn’t even flinch. He was like a machine. Every shot was deadly - precise. Every bullet hit a weak spot - the chest or throat, but mainly right between the eyes. Bullseye. The ghouls flopped to the ground, convulsing like fish out of water.

Their shots appeared to awaken more ghouls. It was a never-ending cycle. One down - another rising to take its place.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted one lugging towards Frankie. You warned him, but too late. Its claws slashed his forearm. You could hear the skin slice. Frankie shuddered in pain, arm giving way. The gun dropped out of his hand, just out of reach.

Blood spewed from his arm like a geyser, but it didn’t slow him down. He didn’t stop, not even for a second. He jabbed his elbow into the ghoul’s sternum instead, causing it to stumble back. It snarled, sniffed, and you swore it could smell fear when its soulless gaze locked on you.

It pounced.

You cowered into Frankie and he blocked the attack with his bloody arm. He gritted his teeth, holding the ghoul back as it gnashed its teeth at you. You could see Frankie’s arm shaking, threatening to fold, and you acted on instinct. You kicked the ghoul in the leg, the toe of your boot causing something to crack.

It buckled over, squealing, and Frankie got off a concussive shot. The mahogany blood spewed across your boots as it collapsed. Frankie grasped the lone gun in both hands, enveloping you like a shield. Safe.

The wound on his arm continued to ooze, but it didn’t seem to faze him. He flaked off the rest of the pack with the equal veracity. He didn’t stop fighting until the final one hit the ground.

All clear.

He hissed, quickly drawing away from you. He pressed his palm into the gash and Benny pulled out a first-aid kit from his pack.

In front of you, the battlefield was overwhelmed with withered bodies. Curious, cautious, you went over to the one that injured Frankie and tried to kill you.

You gagged at the smell - a human cadaver left out in the sun too long. You thought it kinda looked like one too as you examined its face. A wide-open mouth, lips stained by what appeared to be old, dry blood. It didn’t have a nose, but a cavern where one used to be - or should’ve been. Instead, the hole festered like an infected blister.

The ghoul was thin, practically bones with shreds of flesh. It couldn’t have weighed anything more than 100 pounds. Your stomach twisted into a knot when scanning its body. It was wearing clothes.

“Are these - are they people?”

The rip of gauze scratched like a record. For a long moment, they let the question mold in the rancid air.

“They were,” Santi responded, his voice barely audible over the hissing wind.

You stepped back, then felt something snap under your shoe. Another ghoul - in a collared shirt with a halfway legible name on the breast pocket. It was the uniform from Walden Drugstore, just down the street.

You backed away, but the smell just grew stronger. More sour. You felt a harsh ripple of nausea, and it made you dizzy. Your feet skidded on loose rocks- your ass hit the pavement. Next to your hand was a decapitated ghoul. It was startling. It disturbed you. Squealing, you crawled backwards to the rusted guardrails to get as far away from the unsettling bodies.

You could hear yourself hyperventilating when Santi crouched beside you.

They aren’t human anymore. They aren’t human.

He repeated it over and over again, as if that would help.

“What happened?” Your voice was as shaky as your legs. “Why are they?”

Santi went silent for a moment. He thoughtfully scratched at his overgrown stubble, then sighed.

“People that were within a certain radius of the blast that didn’t make it to shelter, well - they didn’t die on impact and instead-” He gestured to the ghouls. “The radiation deteriorated their brains, making them lose their cognitive functioning. They’re not - they’re not the same anymore.”

“Did you find any by-” You pointed down the street and Santi solemnly nodded.

“That’s why we went this way,” Santi explained, “We thought we had them all, but sometimes they just come out-”

You shook your head, and he stopped. His jaw clamped shut, and he appeared to know that you didn’t want to hear anymore. Not right now. This was too much.

“Can I just have a minute? Alone?”

“Of course.” Santi reassuringly squeezed your shoulder, then walked away.

You curled yourself into a tight ball and wished away the memories. It didn’t work. Just like the last few nights, they flooded your mind in horrendous detail. Those people - their faces - you could still hear their screams.

Please, don’t let me die. Save me. Save me. Save me.

They didn’t even know. They didn’t even know they would meet a fate worse than death.

You bit down on your quivering bottom lip until the taste of iron spilled into your gums and mouth. It tasted like guilt.

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