Fallout 4: AR

46. Song Lyrics

"...Goodneighbor?" MacCready asked.

The word finally made its way into the part of my mind able to process speech. As soon as we had stepped away from the Old North Church towards the street, I froze up in a panic attack, trembling with abject fear. An overwhelming sense of terror gripped my chest, and my eyes locked on to the ruined block where the former raider camp had been. I struggled to breathe, to force my feet to take the next step. They're gone. They're all dead. The street is clear.

"Huh?" I took a shaky step down the stairs, gripping the cracked wooden railing with all my panicked strength.

But what if there are more?

"I said, 'Are we headed to Goodneighbor?'" MacCready repeated, already on the street, sniper rifle at the ready in a comfortably familiar pose.

There are always more.

My foot landed on the next step down, a thousand miles of courage to force my limbs to move even that much. "Yeah."

No! I can't move!

Finally noticing my uncharacteristic one word answers, he peered back at me. "You okay, Boss?"

I'm so scared! "Mmgh," I managed between quick panting breaths.

Another two steps down to the street, and I was almost weeping in fear.

We're going to get shot.

Danger was everywhere. I knew this, knew it from the very first day when I had to run for my life. This world was awash in anarchic shows of strength and violence... and yet I had the pathetically brainless idea to try and help raise their society out of the miasma of blood? The flicker of anger flared long enough for another step, then fled as my panic resurged.

Me? The goddamn musician? My combat shotgun wavered in my grip, visibly trembling. I'm no leader.

All it takes is another group of raiders, a group not totally high on chems, and we're dead.

I froze again. It's too much.

My companion stood there quietly, watching my slow, tortured progress onto the street. "Hey, have you heard this one?" he said casually. "It's about the Super Mutant who wondered why a rock kept getting bigger."

Distracted, I stared at him incredulously. What?

With a grin, he laid out the punchline, "Then it hit him." He smacked his hands together.

For some stupid, inexplicable reason, this childish joke made me feel just a tiny bit better. RJ deals with this, and worse, every day, and he's not frozen in fear. Hell, he still even has a sense of humor.

What happened to mine?

"Oh, come on Boss, that was pretty good." Putting on a feigned frown, he huffed at me. "No?"

"Sorry, MacCready," I choked out around the lump of fear in my throat. "I don't know how you do it."

"Easy, Boss." One hand propelled me forward, firmly but gently encouraging. "Take one step at a time. You can't roll with the punches if you're not moving. It's a lesson I learned when I was a kid, and you're learning it now. I'll help you."

I focused on taking one more step, breathing deeply and evenly. One shaky step turned into five, then twenty. Without looking for trouble, we carefully made our way towards Goodneighbor and the friends we had there. One step at a time. And I have the best companion in the world beside me. As we walked, MacCready continued to tell me stories from his time in Little Lamplight, and the mischief an entire settlement of children could get into. I took heart in his unbreakable spirit, my panic subsiding with every block we passed.