The gunfire noise reached the woods I was in, not close enough that I would need to worry, but close enough that every bird within earshot decided to leave. The first crack made me freeze mid-step. I tried my best to figure out where the noise was coming from to try to avoid it. I stood there with one boot half sunk into damp soil, listening. I blinked at the trees as the noise died down.
"…Huh."
I'd been walking for hours, and the Commonwealth had been, how did I even put it, silent, nothing dangerous. No ambush, no ferals bursting out of a ditch. No raider with a pipe gun taking a potshot at me. It had been quiet enough that I'd started to think things like maybe today won't be awful.
My stomach twisted weirdly, for some odd reason. I stopped moving. "Don't," I muttered. "Don't you dare." I started walking again, faster now, because staying still out here felt like inviting trouble. Branches tugged at my sleeves. Leaves brushed my coat. My boots sank and pulled free with soft sucking sounds. Then, under all of it, came voices. Deep, Rough, and not human at all.
I slowed so hard my next step barely happened as I did my best to listen harder. At first, I thought it was just my brain filling in noises. "Stoopid humies… always hidin'…" My blood went cold, fuck, it was Super mutants. My eyes snapped left, then right. The trees weren't thick enough. The underbrush was too low. There wasn't a nice, convenient boulder to tuck behind. No abandoned shack, no caravan, No Rose with her group to help me fight. The voices got louder.
"Boss say we find food. Boss say we smash." Another voice answered, a little higher. "Yeah! Smash! Smash humie!"
I swallowed hard with my hand drifted toward the strap of my laser musket. The motion stopped halfway. I pictured myself raising it, firing once, and then… what? Even if I hit one, the other one would be on me before I could blink. Big green arms, fists like cinder blocks, and then it'd be over. I backed up one step, slow and careful, and my boot clipped a dead branch. The snap sounded so loud to my own ears.
The talking paused. "Wha' was dat?" the deeper voice rumbled. I turned my head, inch by inch, scanning like my eyes could magically find a place I could hide, and then I saw it. A tree with a dark opening at the base, A hollow. I moved before I could even think it through. The voices rose again. "Come out, lil' humie!" a mutant called, laughing like it was funny. I got to the tree and dropped into a crouch. The opening was smaller than it looked from a distance. Of course it was.
I pressed my hand to the bark. It felt damp and cold, moss soft under my palm. The hole exhaled air that smelled of rot and old, wet earth. I gagged but forced the feeling down. I had no choice right now. My backpack was the first problem; it wouldn't fit if I tried to crawl with it. My fingers found the latch on my Pip-Boy. Once again, I was grateful to the goddess who sent me here with this. I yanked the bag strap free, hugged the backpack tight, and shoved it toward the interface. The weight vanished. I got on my hands and knees and aimed myself at the opening. The bark scraped my coat. I turned my shoulders sideways and wriggled forward. The smell hit harder the deeper I went.
Something had died in here, and thankfully it seemed like nothing to over this place. A sour, thick stink sat at the back of my throat as I forced myself in deeper. I slid into the space and ended up wedged in a crouch, knees pulled tight, back pressed against rough wood. It was darker inside. The light from the opening painted a narrow strip across the dirt floor. I could hear them now. Their footsteps were heavy with branches snapping like toothpicks under their feet.
They were closer than I wanted. Close enough, I could hear their voice much clearer now. "I smell somethin'," the deep one said. Another voice, more impatient-sounding. "Maybe it's dead thing."
"Dead thing smell good," the deep one replied, causing my stomach to roll. The hollow pressed in around me as I forced myself even further away from the entrance, as I could. As I moved, my leg brushed against something. I looked down, and my eyes adjusted enough to see it. A corpse, it was small. Maybe a raccoon. Or a possum. Hard to tell with the mutations it had; it had been dead for a while, at least that much I could tell, likely a few days. The smell made sense now, and why it was so strong.
I squeezed my eyes shut for a second, fighting the urge to gag again. My hand stayed clamped over my mouth. Outside, the footsteps stopped, right next to the tree. So close that the whole trunk seemed to vibrate with their weight. A shadow fell over the opening. Then I saw it through that strip of light, their feet. It was bare in places, wrapped in scraps. One of them shifted, and dirt crumbled from the edge of the hollow and fell inside with a soft patter.
A voice, right there. "Where you go, humie?" The other one snorted. "Maybe humie go in hole. Like molerat." A slow, wet chuckle. "Rat humie." My heart hammered so hard it felt like it was going to pop out of my chest. Please don't look. Please don't— A hand reached in. Green skin with thick fingers and nails with dark grime. The hand pushed into the hollow, and for a split second, I thought it was coming straight for me. I pressed myself back harder against the bark, trying to make my body smaller than it was. My muscles shook with the effort. My hand stayed over my mouth so tight my lips hurt.
The mutant's fingers swept the dirt, searching. They brushed the edge of the nest, then closed around the corpse. The mutant yanked it out with such force. Outside, the mutant made a noise of pleased disgust. "Ahh! Dead thing!" The other one laughed. "You eat that? That's gross. Humie taste better."
"Food is food!" the first snapped, then chuckled again like it didn't care what anyone thought. "Boss not here. I eat." I heard wet tearing, which made me want to vomit. My stomach wanted to rebel. My body wanted to twitch and bolt and do anything but sit in a tree hollow while something eight feet tall ate a rotting animal. I stared at the strip of light and the dirt floor and forced my mind to calm down, and focus on other things like the tiny roots in the soil, the way the bark inside the hollow had claw marks.
Their voices drifted, muffled by chewing. "After we eat, we go back. Boss gonna be mad if we bring nothin'."
"Boss always mad." The deep one grunted. "Boss mad 'cause boss stupid." A pause, then both of them laughed. One of them stepped closer again. The shadow shifted over the opening. I saw the toes again. A little pebble rolled inside. It clicked against the hollow's floor. And then the mutant's voice came right above the hole. "Smell's here." My heart wanted to stop. Another step, then the other mutant spoke, distracted, chewing. "It's dead thing smell. Me holding it." The deep one paused. I could almost hear it thinking. Then it snorted. "Yeah. Dead thing smell. Stoopid." It stepped back, and my whole body sagged inside the hollow, but I didn't let myself relax. Not yet. Not until the footsteps moved away.
I stayed in that tree for a long while, and at some point, the light at the mouth shifted. The thin stripe on the dirt floor crawled a few inches, then another. Dust kept floating. My legs went numb in that half-crouch. My coat stuck to my back where sweat had cooled. I didn't move, not when the woods was so quiet again. I kept hearing them, even when they were gone, the wet tearing, the stupid laughing, that voice right over the hole. Every time a branch creaked outside, my heart tried to leave my chest. When I finally decided it had been long enough, my thighs were shaking so hard I was scared they'd start knocking my boots against the inside bark. I slid my hand down from my mouth and flexed my fingers. They ached from how tight I'd been holding myself. My knees complained when I tried to unfold them. Pain shot up the side of my leg. I leaned forward, inch by inch, and pressed my ear toward the opening.
Nothing, just wind and the distant sound of leaves. Somewhere far off, a faint metallic clink, maybe a loose sign moving, maybe nothing, but no voices. I crawled. The bark scraped my coat, snagging at the fabric. My shoulder caught on the lip of the hole, and for a second I panicked, but I forced myself to breathe through my nose. I twisted and shoved, and the edge released me with a rough tear of cloth. As my face was hit with sunlight, I was out. My stomach lurched, and I turned my head and dry heaved hard, spit and bile that burned the back of my throat ended coming out. Once, twice, and a third time that made my eyes water.
"Ugh… fuck." I wiped my mouth with the back of my sleeve. I'd need to wash this when I get home. My hands were trembling so badly. I stared at the tree hollow. Maybe leaving Claptrap was a bad idea. If he'd been here, they would've heard him from a mile away. He was loud. He was obvious. He was a walking announcement. And if those mutants had turned toward that sound… I wouldn't have been able to hide. I would've been forced to fight. I swallowed again. My throat hurt. "No," I whispered, mostly to myself. "I'd be dead."
My wrist felt heavy. My Pip-Boy screen was dark, I guess I'd still feel the weight somehow, huh. The backpack appeared with that same soft click, and I almost laughed. I hugged it close and put it on, then pulled out my laser musket. My hands shook as I dug into the side pocket. Plastic crinkled. I twisted the cap, but my fingers slipped. I tried again, jaw clenched. The cap finally gave. I took a sip. It hit my tongue, and for a second, the taste grounded me so hard my vision cleared. I swallowed slowly, forcing myself not to gulp it all down. I wiped my mouth again and took another small sip, then capped the bottle tightly. My eyes flicked around the woods.
I stood up carefully, legs stiff, and adjusted the backpack strap onto my shoulder. I looked back toward the direction the mutants had gone, then toward the direction I needed to go. I breathed out through my nose, slowly. "Alright," I murmured. "Keep moving." The trees started thinning a little after a while. The woods finally opened into a stretch of uneven ground, half swallowed by weeds. A long, cracked service road cut through it, leading toward a rise. I walked onto it and kept moving. The wind blew onto me there, clean well as clean as it could be in this world. At the edge of the rise, past the scraggly line of brush, a building.
ArcJet. It sat in the distance, my steps slowed without me meaning to. For a second, I just stared. I swallowed and tightened my grip on the musket. "…Alright," my voice sounded small then what I expected. Then I took another step toward ArcJet.