Fallout 4: AR

60. Sanctuary Lost

The flight from Sanctuary was draining, both physically and mentally. I knew my partner was young, strong, and energetic, but the sheer reserve of his stamina was a sight to behold as I struggled to keep up with his ground-eating run across the Wasteland forest. He moved almost as if he had eyes in his feet, dodging half-buried tree stumps and shattered rock outcroppings with ease. In contrast, I lumbered along, pushing bodily through debris and tangled brush, making a racket I was sure could be heard as far away as Boston. At least I'm not collapsing in exhaustion after only a mile or two.

"Come on, Boss!" MacCready hissed, returning from scouting the forest ahead to roughly haul me up a small crumbling cliff face. "Can't you at least try to move quietly?"

Landing hard on my palms when my foot slipped, breaking free a scattering of small stones to land noisily in the thick carpet of dead leaves below, I snarled, frustrated by my partner's unreasonable expectations, "Fast or quiet, MacCready. Pick one."

"Right now, you don't have either, Boss." He scanned the surroundings from our elevated vantage point, grudgingly allowing me a moment to catch my breath and dust the gravel from my hands as I stood up.

I growled, digging deep for the strength to try and keep up with his driving flight across the broken terrain. As soon as I had regained my footing, MacCready was off like a shot, leading us along a game trail he had found. After several minutes of a clumping jog, I finally caught sight of my companion ahead. He had slowed to a deliberate walk, still covering ground deceptively fast, but at a pace that allowed me to keep up. His sniper was held at the ready, head moving constantly to survey our line of movement. He barely acknowledged my presence when I fell in behind him, glad for the reprieve. Now that we weren't running hell-bent for leather, I could get some answers.

"All right, we're away," I said, wheezing slightly from the effort of keeping up with my partner. "You gonna tell me why we left so quickly?" I hope he appreciates the trust I still have in him to have packed up and left without so much as a word in disagreement. With the slower pace, I also unslung my rifle, checking to make sure it was loaded and ready to fire at a moment's notice.

"Trashcan Carla," he said, as if that explained everything.

"What?" What does a wandering trader I've never even met have to do with our sudden departure?

"She somehow knew you were here. She was asking all kinds of questions, specifically about a woman named 'Anne' with long brown hair and a fancy Pip-Boy. Sound familiar?" He had stopped at the crest of the trail, using the scope of his sniper rifle to get his bearings. "Guess the Institute is more embedded in the doings of the Commonwealth than we thought."

I let out a groan. "So we can't even trust the traders anymore. That's going to make resupplying almost impossible." Slinging my rifle back over my shoulder, I patted the thigh pocket holding my Pip-Boy. All for a stupid invasive portable computer... and the link to my world.

He nodded, finally turning to look at me. The bandanna around his mouth kept me from seeing his full expression, but his gaze was solemn, and a little withdrawn. The forest around us was preternaturally quiet; no birdsong graced the dead branches, no scuttling of tiny creatures in the undergrowth. Only a light sighing of the breeze playing through the brittle leaves broke the silence.

"How far do you think we've gone?" I asked MacCready, peering upwards at the sun. It feels like we've been running forever, but it's only been a few hours, I'm sure of it.

"By dead reckoning? Maybe four, five miles west of Sanctuary. We twisted a bit, though, doubled back and ran some circles to try and lay false trails."