Fallout 4: AR

44. Wounded

Deacon was waiting for us in the underground entrance to the Railroad headquarters. As soon as we staggered into view, MacCready supporting me while I fought to stay conscious and on my feet despite the blood loss, he leaped into decisive action. Slinging my arm over his neck, he swung me into his arms. "I love to sweep a lady off her feet," he commented lightly, to Mac's immediate irritation.

"Watch it, she's injured!" my partner snarled. Even bandaged, my arm was still seeping, staining everything a sticky red.

"Bloody tie-dye is all the rage these days," was Deacon's only comment about the mess I made of his white T-shirt as he carried me inside the catacombs. "I'll be the envy of HQ!" Moving swiftly, MacCready only a step behind, he made a beeline for the front left corner of the crypt where a couple of stretchers were lined up, setting me down on one. "Carrington, got a couple of patients for you!"

Dr. Carrington looked up from his terminal in annoyance, which faded as soon as he saw the amount of blood on both of us. Rushing over with a handheld diagnostic tool of some sort, hastily donning a pair of gloves, he pushed Deacon out of the way to begin his examination. "Definitely a concussion," he declared firmly. "What have you been up to?" he asked gruffly, "wrestling Deathclaws?" He tutted at the state of my face, which probably looked quite colorful after the number of blows the raider boss landed.

"Raiders." I gasped out, trying not to wince at Carrington's examinations. "Tried to take my Pip-Boy, but it wouldn't come off..." Lying down had restored some of my energy, but I was still drained.

He and Deacon exchanged a look at that. "I'll get Tom," Deacon volunteered, moving quickly out of view.

MacCready had taken up a protective position at the head of the stretcher. "They snuck up on us while we were clearing out the path from here to Bunker Hill. Stunned her and knocked me down long enough to drag her away," he continued, his voice tight and clipped. "By the time I dispatched the rabble and got to her, their leader was trying to cut her arm in half lengthwise with a nasty looking saw of some kind." His bloodied hands gripped the stretcher on either side of my head as he leaned forward slightly. "Damn scum used up all the stimpaks, too. I bandaged what I could, kept it elevated, but it won't stop bleeding."

Carrington looked quite grim when he heard the whole story. "That's... not good at all." He turned to inspect my arm, carefully unwrapping the compression bandage that was completely saturated with crusted blood. "Deacon, get back over here!" As soon as the last layer was free, a rush of warmth flowed down my elbow onto the sheets. Weakness crept in, and I started to feel a chill in the air.

"I'll help," MacCready offered, standing back upright with a slight wince.

"Not like that you won't," the doctor retorted. Pointing to a basin against the near wall, he snapped, "Wash quickly but thoroughly and get back here."

By the time MacCready returned and was instructed to apply direct pressure to the wound to slow the bleeding, Tinker Tom was examining my Pip-Boy while Deacon took his own turn at the sink. Dr. Carrington set up an IV bag to help mitigate blood loss, as well as prepping a general anesthetic to be injected the moment my Pip-Boy came off. Tom was holding the device, ready to bear it off to his own station. Deacon came back over to stand a few steps away, waiting for orders.

"All right, Anne," Dr. Carrington announced. "See if you can remove that thing. If you can, we'll have to move fast. It's providing a certain amount of pressure itself."

Looking up at my partner for courage, I slowly reached over to unlatch the arm band. As soon as I pulled, the Pip-Boy came free with a painful tearing scrape and a spurt of fresh blood. The anesthetic took hold before I could see the full extent of the mutilation, but the men's shocked exclamations followed me down into unconsciousness.