Aim to Please

6 | Safety Off

Aurora reloaded as she ran to duck behind a rusted car. Some settlers had sent her and MacCready to wipe out a band of Super Mutants that had been bothering them. The vast scrapyard they claimed as theirs made killing them harder than it should've been.

A rapid beeping noise began to sound, joined by another; Aurora frantically searched for the Super Mutant Suiciders—they carried mini-nukes in their hands and blow themselves up when close to their opposition. She finally caught sight of the two hulking figures running toward them—no more than ten yards away.

"They're too close; run!" MacCready yelled.

Aurora lifted her rifle and took off; even with the long sniper rifle in her hands, she could outrun the slow Super Mutant Suiciders.

She got maybe thirty yards away when she heard a gunshot, like one from a high-powered sniper rifle, followed by two consecutive booms and a bright flash behind her. Whipping around, she couldn't immediately locate MacCready. She prayed her thoughts were wrong.

"MacCready!" Aurora sprinted back toward the Super Mutant camp. A big, lumbering form cautiously walked through the smoke; with him so close, she didn't have to aim through the scope. Her .50 caliber blew a hole two heads could fit through.

She started to search around her when she found body pieces and scorch marks of the mini-nukes going off. So far, the limbs and fingers were green. She heard labored breathing and turned to see MacCready yards from her, sitting up but grimacing.

"You fool! Why didn't you run?" she said as she raced over to check on his wounds. He was dirty overall from being thrown to the ground, had some minor scrapes, bruises, and soot on his face, but blood covered his right thigh—she could see a piece of metal lodged into his skin.

"Thought they were... further back," he panted.

Aurora laid her rifle down and rummaged through her pack for aid: stimpaks, bandages, surgical scissors, and small tongs. "Here, take this." She handed him a stimpak—a shot that can prevent infections, lessen pain, and restore lost health.

MacCready took it without question—he injected it into his arm; he hissed at the sting of the needle, but sighed when he felt the medicine working. At least he was a good patient from obeying her order without lip.

Aurora looked closer at his leg wound to see how deep the piece of metal was and if she could retract it here. She decided she could. "I have to get this out." She cut his pants a bit more, grabbed the small tongs and bandages, then looked at him. "Ready?"

"It doesn't matter if I say no, huh?"

"It's pretty much like a rhetorical question," she said before setting the tongs over the metal and moving the bandages closer to quickly staunch the bleeding if excessive. With a countdown from three, Aurora grabbed the metal and pulled it out without MacCready screaming in agony; dark blood didn't come gushing out.

She cleaned the wound the best she could, applied antiseptic, then began binding his leg with the bandages.

"Looks like you know what you're doing," MacCready said—his voice didn't sound so strained from pain.

Aurora finished wrapping the bandages around his leg and tied it off to think of an answer. "I've done this many times." She didn't know why she kept her past a secret—it wasn't something to be embarrassed about. She had just guarded it for so long, she didn't think she could open up; plus, no one had ever asked her about herself before. They had traveled enough now that she felt she could trust him, though.

MacCready seemed to understand her hesitation. She asked to check the rest of him out: his chest, arms, and face. As she added antiseptic to some cuts on his arms, his eyes caught sight of something at her neckline.

"Can I ask about who's in the locket?"

Her running and bending over him must've dislodged the silver locket she wore—she made sure to keep it hidden. If she was ever going to tell him about her past, he just gave her the perfect starting point.

"My son, Joshua."

"You have a kid?" She could hear the surprise in his voice.

"Had," she corrected. "He died."

MacCready didn't say anything; Aurora thought to continue her story to spare him awkwardness. "The reason why I know how to treat injuries is that I used to be a nurse. I had always dreamed of being a doctor, but the hospital I worked at didn't view women as 'capable'—being a doctor was a man's job."

"Why didn't you leave?" he asked.

"I thought about transferring to another hospital, but I would have had to travel fifty-seven miles to the nearest one.

"And so, I was in the local bar one night—drinking away my self-pity—when a man started hitting on me; being drunk, I didn't know better than to go with him to his flat. It was just one of those nights, you know: getting drunk, ending up with a stranger, and not remembering their name the next day."

She could see MacCready nod out of the corner of an eye. "I know those nights too well."

"I think his name started with a G—Gary? Gregg? Anyway, I ended up pregnant with Joshua, but he was the best thing that could've happened to me. He woke me up and showed me I had a purpose as a mother. Before he came along, I had begun to think I wasn't contributing much as a nurse; he" —she laughed— "he would purposely get a scrape on a knee or a hand so I would tend to him."

Her mood dampened as her thoughts turned from his beaming smile to his last days. "He came home from school one day sick; nearly the entire school was infected too—yellow fever. Even with all my medical knowledge and experience, I couldn't save him.

"After he died, I threw myself into work to cope. One night, about thirty people came in with burns, cuts, broken limbs, gunshots, or a combination. A group of Raiders had invaded their settlement, killing those they could or wounding them. Because we were so understaffed and running low on supplies, over twenty died."

She clenched her fists—thinking about it still got her. "I was so angry. I was tired of cleaning up after the Raiders or the Gunners—patching people up only to send them back out to more pain or death. I wanted to stop them before they could harm someone; so I hung up my scrubs, got my dead brother's combat knife, .50 caliber sniper rifle, night-vision scope, and armor, and killed the Raiders."

"You took on a whole group by yourself?" MacCready asked in disbelief. "How many were there?"

"Fourteen. They had been celebrating their raid, so they were either sleeping off their hangover or high on Jet. I slit their throats with the knife."

Aurora hoped she wasn't making the wrong choice confessing to him. "Joshua's dying wish was for me to make the Commonwealth a better place for kids like him. I figured this was the best way to keep that promise so, here I am." She looked at him. "That's why I'm after Clive; I know it doesn't seem like much of a reason, but to me, it's personal."

MacCready shook his head. "No, keeping a promise is the best reason, especially when it's for family." His eyes held hers, conveying that he understood holding a promise, too.

She wished to know his promise and who he had given it to, but that was too personal to just openly ask. Aurora nodded in thanks for his understanding; her reason for being out here was important to her, and if he would've scoffed at it, she would've been extremely hurt and betrayed—she probably would've left him where he sat.

"I'm sorry about your loss," MacCready said; he seemed uncomfortable about saying it.

"I've long accepted it, so it doesn't hurt anymore, but thank you." She eyed his leg. "Think you can walk on that leg?"

He said he was sure he could, but she still helped him up, then slipped under an arm to support him.