The cool, crisp night air wrapped around Lucy and Karen as they navigated the damp riverbank, their footsteps nearly silent on the soft, uneven ground. The faint scent of moss mixed with wet stone, blending with the distant sound of water gently lapping at the shore. Above them, the moon hung low, its silvery light casting a shimmering reflection on the river—a fleeting yet delicate beauty against the darkness of the crumbling ruins ahead. Neither said a word for a time, their footsteps the only sound breaking the silence. Karen finally spoke up, her voice soft but warm.

  "Feels like it's been ages since we had a moment to talk," she said, glancing over at Lucy.

  "How are you holding up?"

  Lucy slowed her pace momentarily, glancing at Karen.

  "I guess you overheard me and Evan earlier? The conversation about my parents. About Ian."

  Karen blinked, her smile faltering. She hesitated briefly before shrugging, a sheepish look on her face.

  "Yeah," she confessed. "I caught a few snippets."

  Lucy frowned as she adjusted the rifle strap on her shoulder.

  "He said not to say anything. I wasn't supposed to tell anyone."

  Frustration tinged her voice—was it directed at Karen for eavesdropping or the weight of the secret? It wasn't entirely clear.

  Karen raised her hands in a defensive gesture.

  "Hey, I didn't mean to snoop, but you two weren't exactly quiet about it. Besides," she added, her tone softening.

  "It's not like I don't care. You've been carrying around something heavy, like the weight of the wasteland on your shoulders. I just thought you'd share when you felt ready."

  Lucy let out a slow breath, her gaze dropping to the uneven ground.

  "It's not about being ready. I just didn't want to bring it up. Losing my parents, Ian vanishing... it all feels like it's getting out of control."

  Karen's demeanor shifted to one of empathy as she looked at Lucy, understanding etched on her face.

  "I'm really sorry, Lucy," she said earnestly.

  "I can't imagine how crazy this all must be for you right now. But you're not alone in this, okay? I'm right here. We'll figure this out."

  Lucy glanced over, the tension in her expression easing just a bit.

  "Thanks," she murmured. "That... really does mean a lot."

  Karen flashed a crooked grin and nudged her playfully with her elbow.

  "Of course it does! I'm pretty awesome, remember?"

  Despite herself, Lucy let out a soft laugh that surprised them both in the night's tranquility. It faded quickly, but a warm feeling lingered as they continued toward the looming ruins ahead.

  "I miss so many people who left when everything started going downhill. Luce, remember the Mitchells? They lived just down the road from us. They packed up and took off as soon as things got rough."

  Lucy nodded, a nostalgic smile creeping onto her face.

  "Of course. We were all friends when we were kids, right? It's funny how everything can flip upside down in an instant."

  Karen's eyes wandered to the dark horizon, her thoughts drifting over the grim stretch of the Wasteland.

  The Mitchells... She recalled William, always buzzing with gadgets and tinkering with all sorts of odd gizmos. She'd always admired his creative spirit. And Jenny, his wife, had her kindness, even though Karen hadn't really gotten to know her well. The way she always called William "Billy" felt odd to Karen, like it didn't quite fit him. Then there were Becky and Dylan.

  Karen felt a slight tightening in her throat as memories of them rushed back:

  Her and Lucy's childhood pals. They were much younger, but Arefu didn't exactly have a plethora of potential companions. The overpass had been their favorite spot, a dilapidated structure that offered shade and adventure. She could almost hear their laughter echoing softly in her mind—Becky, Dylan, Lucy, Ian, and her racing each other through the rubble, skipping stones across those irradiated puddles, and trying to see who could make the biggest splash with the heaviest rock. For a brief moment, the memory seemed so alive she felt like she could reach out and touch it.

  Both women walked through their memories as much as each other, and silence returned, not uncomfortable but thoughtful.

  The world around them grew darker and colder, and the bleak, dreary terrain became disturbingly more so. As they pushed northward, the skeletal outlines of a small town came into sight. Shattered windows and collapsing walls loomed ahead, stark against the dim light of the moon. What had once been a vibrant community now lay in ruins—a testament to how far the world had fallen. Lucy's hand brushed her rifle, her grip tightening without her realizing it as her eyes scanned the crumbling buildings in the distance. Karen walked beside her, feeling the weight of the past and the harsh reality of the present pressing down equally hard. Karen broke the silence, her voice carrying a hint of sadness.

  "I really miss the old days, you know? Back when things weren't so chaotic. We've lost so much."

  Lucy nodded, feeling her heart weigh down with shared memories.

  "We really have," she replied softly, her tone tinged with melancholy.

  She paused a moment, her expression softening as a memory came to mind.

  "Remember the time Ian fell into the river by the old bridge? He was flailing wildly, utterly terrified. We had to drag him out."

  Karen laughed at the thought, the lightness cutting through the gloom.

  "Right? And he wouldn't stop crying until your dad wrapped him up in that big red blanket. You'd think he was about to drown, and the water barely even touched his knees."

  Lucy couldn't help but smile quietly.

  "He was always such a drama queen. But I do miss those times—when everything seemed... normal."

  Karen's smile faded slightly, her eyes dropping to the cracked pavement beneath them.

  "Honestly, I'm not so sure if it ever felt normal to me," she said, her tone thoughtful and a bit distant.

  "When I was a kid, I'd often find dead animals around our house. Dogs, molerats... sometimes even birds. They always appeared mangled, as if someone or something had taken a bite out of them."

  Lucy blinked, the unsettling image causing her brow to furrow.

  "Eaten? That's... pretty disturbing. I never came across anything like that in our neighborhood."

  Karen shrugged, looking uneasy.

  "Maybe it was just my side of town. It always gave me the creeps, though," she said with a nervous laugh.

  "It was probably that freak, George," but the humor was almost nonexistent.

  "He was always hanging around, wasn't he?"

  Lucy attempted to speak, yet she struggled to find the right words. There's something about Karen's story that unsettled her in a way she couldn't pinpoint. Instead, she accelerated her pace as her thoughts returned to Ian.

  "Yeah, maybe," she finally said, her voice quiet and distant.

  They moved carefully through the ruined town, the broken ground forming a tricky labyrinth. The pathways were tight, flanked by towering piles of rubble that seemed to close in on them, turning their world into jagged walls and shifting shadows. While squeezing through a particularly narrow spot, a low growl echoed from somewhere within the debris, sending chills through the already cold night air. Both women froze mid-stride, their breaths hitching as they glanced around, searching for the source of the sound.

  "Did you hear that?" Karen whispered, her knuckles turning white as she gripped her revolver tightly.

  Before Lucy could respond, a guttural snarl erupted from the darkness, and suddenly a feral ghoul lunged out of the shadows. Its twisted, decaying body moved with horrifying speed, its rotting flesh stretched taut over gnarled bones.

  "Watch out!"

  Lucy shouted, her voice shattering the tense moment as adrenaline surged through her. She swung her baseball bat, the heavy arc cutting through the air, but the ghoul was quicker. Its claws scraped against the rough walls of the narrow path, kicking up dust and debris as it charged. Karen fired her revolver, the shot booming in the tight space. The bullet sparked as it ricocheted off a chunk of concrete, the sound echoing unnaturally. The ghoul's sickly glowing eyes locked onto Lucy, its jaws snapping as it closed the gap. With a swipe of its clawed hand, it ripped at her jacket, grazing her arm. She stumbled back, her bat slipping from her grip as she struggled to keep her balance on the uneven ground.

  "Stay still!" Karen shouted, stepping closer, her revolver shaking slightly as she tried to aim accurately.

  Despite its wounds, the ghoul advanced relentlessly. Its foul breath washed over Lucy, hot and disgusting, as it bore down on her. She instinctively raised her arms, feeling the burn in her forearms as she tried to keep it at bay. It clawed and snarled, its decayed strength forcing her back another step into the rubble-strewn path. Karen fired again, the muzzle flash lighting up the grotesque features of the creature for a brief moment. The shot hit its side with a wet thud, and the ghoul howled in pain, jerking violently as dark blood spattered the ground.

  "Come on!" Karen growled through clenched teeth, pulling the trigger once more.

  With a sickening crunch, the next shot struck the ghoul's head, sending it reeling backward. It collapsed in a twisted heap, its lifeless body blocking their escape.

  For a moment, silence fell heavily around them, only broken by Lucy's labored breaths as she leaned against the rubble, clutching her torn jacket. Her chest heaved while she stared at the ghoul's motionless form, her hands still shaking from the adrenaline rush. As Karen reloaded her handgun, the metallic sounds reverberated through the pathway, her trembling fingers battling with the ammunition. Her voice was tight, a mix of fear and irritation.

  "We need to be more careful. These cramped spaces could get us killed."

  Lucy nodded in agreement, still trying to catch her breath. She bent down to grab her bat, her hands trembling as she glanced nervously at the lifeless ghoul nearby. Its sunken, glowing eyes seemed to stare into nothingness, and Lucy felt a chill run down her spine.

  "Too close," Lucy whispered, almost too quiet to hear over the pounding of her heart.

  "Way too close."

  She gestured toward the body, taking a step closer to Karen. "Let's get moving."

  They worked together, their actions stiff and hurried. The ghoul's mangled corpse felt heavier than it appeared, its twisted limbs getting stuck in the debris as they dragged it. Karen kept throwing nervous glances into the surrounding shadows, her revolver ready even as she pushed the body aside. Once the path was clear, they pressed forward. The cramped, rubble-strewn corridor felt even more stifling, the jagged remains of the collapsed buildings looming like predators waiting to strike. Each step echoed softly, their respiration being the sole sound to break the oppressive stillness. Every corner and shadow seemed to hide hidden dangers; their nerves practically stretched to breaking points. Upon stepping out of the narrow passage, the open space felt like a welcome relief. Lucy let out a short, shaky laugh, relief washing over her. Karen sighed heavily, brushing her sweaty bangs away from her forehead as she scanned the area. Just as they tried to enjoy their brief moment of safety, a figure burst into view— the moonlight dancing across his weathered figure. His wild hair stuck out in all directions, matching the frantic energy in his movements. His uneven stride and erratic gestures made him seem just as dangerous as the creatures they'd just faced.

  "Hey!" the man shouted, his voice cracking.

  He waved his arms as he approached them, his eyes darting between Lucy and Karen.

  "I heard shots! Raiders, right? Or worse, maybe?"

  He skidded to a stop a few yards away, panting heavily as he bent over. His frantic gaze bounced between Karen and Lucy, his face a mix of fear and suspicion.

  "You two okay?" He blurted out, straightening up while scanning their weapons.

  He took half a step back, his voice dropping but still edged with paranoia.

  "You're not weirdos, are you?"

  The man had barely finished speaking when a deep, guttural snarl echoed from the rubble behind them. Lucy spun around, her heart racing as she saw the debris shift with sudden movement.

  Out of the wreckage, feral ghouls appeared, their decaying bodies twisting and clawing at each other like a grotesque wave. Their vacant eyes flickered with an unsettling light, reminiscent of embers struggling to stay alive. The air filled with a heavy, rancid stench, mixed with their collective growls that rose into a deafening roar. Karen gripped Lucy's arm tightly, nearly causing pain, her voice trembling with panic.

  "Lucy, we need to get out of here. Now!"

  The man's face drained of color as he spotted the swarm, his frantic eyes darting to a nearby side street.

  "This way!" He yelled, waving his arms wildly before taking off in a full sprint.

  "Go!" Karen shouted, grabbing Lucy by the wrist and pulling her along as her legs sprang into action.

  The ghouls flooded onto the cracked asphalt, a monstrous tide of twisted limbs and snapping jaws. Their claws scraped and tore at the ground, pushing them forward with unnatural speed, their screams cutting through the night with a horrifying screech. Lucy felt her chest burning intensely as she struggled to breathe. She took a glance over her shoulder—and immediately regretted it. The pack was gaining on them fast, their hideous forms scrambling over each other in a frenzied rush for fresh prey.

  "Keep running!" Lucy cried, her voice raw with fear as she stumbled, struggling to keep up with Karen.

  The ground shook beneath the weight of the horde, debris flying into the air as clawed feet skidded over shattered glass and jagged road. The man ahead suddenly turned sharply into a narrow alley, his arm waving like a frantic signal.

  "Through here! C'mon!"

  Lucy rushed towards the alley, her boots slipping slightly on the pavement, nearly tripping over a chunk of loose concrete but catching her balance just in time. The snarling behind them grew deafening, the sickening sound of wet flesh and scraping claws filling the air. She could almost sense the ghouls' foul breath at her back, a chilling reminder of how close they were.

  "Karen!" She yelled, reaching out to steady her as they rounded the corner into the alley.

  The cramped alleyway forced them into a single-file sprint, with the crumbling walls on either side feeling more oppressive with every step. Trash and rubble cluttered the path, making each footfall a nerve-wracking gamble against slipping or tripping. Karen stole a glance behind her and gasped.

  "They're not letting up!"

  Lucy didn't dare to look back. She concentrated on the man's voice ahead—her lifeline amidst the chaos.

  "Seneca Station is just ahead!" he shouted, his words barely cutting through the noise of snarls, screeches, and pounding footsteps behind them. "We can lose them there!"

  Her legs ached, her chest burned, and every breath felt like fire. But the hope of safety pushed her on—her mind fixed on Karen and the man's retreating figure. Shadows twisted and contorted along the jagged walls; their fluttering shapes serve as a terrifying reminder of the atrocities that follow. The guttural cries of the ghouls swelled, their unyielding chase a sonic wave that scraped at Lucy's nerves. Unable to resist, she glanced over her shoulder—and felt her blood run cold. The horde of feral ghouls, their gaunt bodies twisted and grotesque, scampered over debris with terrifying swiftness. Their glowing eyes flickered like sinister embers, fixated hungrily on their prey.

  "Keep running!" The man yelled, his voice cracking with panic.

  He veered sharply into a partially collapsed alley, forcing Lucy and Karen to skid after him. The uneven ground was perilous, littered with bricks and shards of glass. Every step risked a fall that could spell disaster for them. Lucy jumped over a jagged piece of rebar sticking out of the ground, and Karen stumbled behind her, her foot catching on a chunk of broken concrete, sending her crying out as her momentum faltered. Without a second thought, Lucy grabbed Karen's arm and pulled her back to her feet.

  "Come on." She panted, her voice strained and sharp.

  Ahead of them, the man stole a quick look back. Sweat glistened on his pale face, fear carved into every feature, but determination burned in his eyes.

  "This way! We're almost there!" He shouted, his pace unwavering.

  He ducked smoothly under a fallen beam, his exhaustion only apparent in the tremor of his limbs. Karen followed closely, dropping low at the last moment to clear the obstacle. Lucy hurriedly copied her movements, her urgency clumsy. The sound of claws scraping against stone grew deafening, the ghouls closing in with every heartbeat. A cold dread clutched at Lucy's chest, her pulse roaring in her ears. Time was running out. Then she spotted it—a crooked, weathered sign barely hanging on a rusted post:

  Seneca Station.

  Relief washed over her, but it was only a momentary comfort. The snarls behind them were getting louder, the ghouls showing no signs of letting up. The entrance to the station loomed ahead, a dark void framed by crumbling concrete and shattered tiles. The man had already crossed the threshold, standing at the entrance and urgently waving them forward.

  "Hurry up!" He shouted, his voice rough and strained.

  Lucy pushed herself to run faster, each step sending sharp jolts of pain through her exhausted muscles as her feet pounded the uneven pavement. Karen stumbled ahead, her breath coming in quick, ragged gasps. Just as they reached the entrance, a ghoul lunged from the shadows, its bony hand sweeping just inches from Karen's back.

  "Karen, move!" Lucy yelled, reaching out to shove her friend forward with all her strength.

  The man caught hold of Karen's arm, yanking her through the doorway as Lucy rushed toward the entrance. The first ghoul barreled toward her, its glowing eyes locked on her as its prey. Lucy dove inside, her momentum carrying her just past the threshold. The man moved quickly. Leaning his weight against the heavy metal door with a deep grunt, he slammed it shut with a narrow margin. The impact from the ghoul crashing into the barrier was thunderous, sending tremors through the frame. Outside, the snarls turned into a frenzied uproar, a chaotic mix of claws and fists pounding against the metal. The cry of despair resounded as each strike shook the door.

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Lucy leaned against the wall, gasping for breath. Her body shook as adrenaline surged through her veins, her chest heaving as she tried to wrap her head around what just happened. Beside her, Karen slid down the wall until her knees reached her chest.

  "That... was way too close," she managed to stammer between breaths, her face pale and glistening with sweat.

  The man leaned heavily against the door, his face slick with sweat, gasping for air, but his voice remained firm and raspy.

  "They can't get in," he said, more to himself than anyone else. "Not through this door."

  The ghouls outside didn't seem convinced. Their wails escalated into an awful crescendo, claws scraping and fists pounding against the metal in a relentless uproar. The sound echoed through the ruined station, filling the air with a primal rage that sent shivers down Lucy's spine. She clenched her fists, her knuckles turning white as her eyes fixed on the door. Her thoughts raced, a jumble of fear and panic, the terror of the chase still gripping her tightly. For now, they were safe. But the relentless pounding on the door reminded her that safety in the Wasteland was always fleeting. Her gaze darted to Karen, who was visibly shaking but alive, and then to the man whose sturdy frame pressed firmly against the door. They had made it—just barely. But she sensed this wasn't the end. The ghouls were still out there, and the nightmare wasn't over. It had only just begun.

  "Thank you," she said quietly, her voice steady despite its slight shake.

  "You saved us."

  He nodded with a rapid, nearly nervous motion.

  "We're not out of danger yet," he said, his voice low but filled with urgency.

  "The ghouls can't break in here, but The Family..." He paused, his expression shifting to something more serious. "That's a different problem. We need to move. Quickly."

  At the mention of The Family, Lucy instinctively looked at Karen. Their eyes locked, a wave of tension flowing between them. Karen's brow knitted together, her lips forming a tight, determined line. Lucy could sense her friend's unease mirroring her own rising anxiety.

  "What do you mean by that?"

  Lucy finally asked, her voice tight as her fingers gripped her 10mm pistol. She glanced between the man and Karen, searching for reassurance but found none. The man motioned for them to follow and started down a dim corridor that led deeper into the station.

  "We can yap as we go," he said over his shoulder, his tone brisk and urgent.

  Lucy hesitated momentarily before falling in line behind him, with Karen beside her. The air felt heavier as they moved deeper into the station, thick with the scent of damp concrete and rust. The echoes of their footsteps bounced off the walls, amplifying the desolation around them. Unable to hold back her growing curiosity—and her anxiety—Lucy broke the silence.

  "So, who's The Family?" She asked, her voice steady but laced with skepticism. "Are they down here? Are you one of them?"

  "I'm not one of them," he replied firmly, his tone leaving no room for debate.

  "I'm just a traveling trader. Name's Wolfgang," he added after a pause.

  "Crazy Wolfgang, if you ask ol' Agatha."

  Karen snickered, clearly unimpressed. Her arms crossed tightly over her chest as if to shield her thoughts.

  "A trader out here all alone? That's either very brave or very stupid."

  A faint smirk tugged at Wolfgang's lips, though it lacked any real humor—it was heavy, marked by years of struggle.

  "Let's just say I don't have many options these days," he said, a hint of resignation in his voice.

  As they walked, Lucy studied him. The light lit up his face enough to show the lines that accentuated his features. His tired eyes and weathered look told stories of countless miles traveled and dangers faced. He appeared to be a man who'd witnessed a great deal, bearing the burden of his experiences with each stride.

  "Why did you mention The Family?" Lucy asked, her voice softening slightly but still tinged with concern. "What do you know about them?"

  "Not a whole lot. Just what I've heard in passing. Everyone who comes through this way knows about 'em. They're... different. Not exactly raiders or settlers. Something else entirely."

  Karen let out a snort, though it carried no hint of amusement.

  "Sounds comforting," she said, mostly to herself, but the flicker in her eyes revealed the anxiety creeping in. Lucy noticed it right away.

  Wolfgang suddenly halted, his gaze shifting to the shadows ahead. The pale, flickering light from the crumbling station illuminated his grim, unreadable expression.

  "Listen," he said, his voice steady but laced with unspoken concern.

  "I'm not trying to scare you more than you already are. But if you're here for what I think you are, you'd better hope The Family isn't looking for you too."

  Lucy and Karen shared a long, intense glance. Karen's eyes searched Lucy's, trying to figure out how much she knew—or what she was holding back. Lucy swallowed hard and forced herself to look away.

  "We'll handle them if it comes to that," she said, her voice strong even though her stomach twisted with unease.

  Wolfgang gave her a slight nod, a signal of approval, before turning to lead the way.

  "My friends are further in," he said, his tone brisk but with a hint of reassurance.

  "They might have more details."

  As they pushed deeper into the station, the air grew heavy with the scent of deterioration and corrosion. Soon, they arrived at a thick iron gate, battered and rusted over the years. Wolfgang stopped abruptly, turning to face them with a serious expression.

  "Alright, listen up," Wolfgang said, his voice leaving no room for disagreement.

  "What happened outside was terrifying, but we need to stay focused. My friends behind this door—they're ghouls. Not ferals, just ghouls. So keep your cool, or you'll end up like him."

  He nodded toward a slumped figure lurking in the shadows.

  At first, it was just a dark form blending into the dim light. But as Lucy's eyes adjusted, the details came into focus, and a wave of nausea washed over her. The figure was a man, his body twisted in disturbing ways, his lifeless eyes staring into nothingness. A dark pool of blood spread out beneath him, the crimson color striking even in the low light. A chill ran down Lucy's spine. Her grip on her weapon tightened, her hands shaking slightly.

  "Who... who was he?" She whispered, her voice barely audible.

  Karen stepped back, her face pale and tense. Her hand hovered near her revolver, a clear sign of her unease.

  "A feral didn't do that," she murmured to herself, as if trying to make sense of the horrific scene.

  Wolfgang shrugged, the move almost unsettling in its casualness.

  "You could just say he was an unsatisfied customer."

  The nonchalance with which he delivered such grim news made Lucy's stomach churn. She glanced at Karen, whose wide eyes remained glued to the body.

  "Ghouls?"

  Karen asked, her voice tinged with disbelief. She looked at Wolfgang as though he had just said something unbelievable.

  "But not... like those things outside?"

  "No," Wolfgang shot back, his eyes narrowing as he looked at her.

  "Not like them. These guys are like us—just unlucky enough to look like them."

  Lucy's thoughts whirled, bringing back memories of Gob, the ghoul who lived in Megaton. At first, his rough skin and raspy voice had unnerved her, but he had always treated her with kindness and patience. He was nothing like the snarling monsters they had just escaped. Yet, the vision of those ghouls from the alley still haunted her, their inhuman screams and clawing hands etched in her mind.

  "How do we know they're not dangerous?" Lucy asked cautiously, as a hint of doubt crept in.

  Wolfgang let out a dry, humorless chuckle.

  "You don't need to worry about them harming you," he stated matter-of-factly.

  "But if you act like you're above 'em or say the wrong thing, you won't like what happens next. Murphy can be... unpredictable, and Barrett—well, he's a bit of an asshole. For everyone's benefit, I'd advise steering clear of both. Just... be prepared. Like I said, Murph's got a few screws loose".

  Karen shot a quick, uncertain glance at Lucy. Her clenched jaw and wrinkled forehead clearly displayed her doubt. Her knuckles whitened as she tightened her grasp on her revolver.

  "Alright," Lucy replied, trying to sound more confident than she felt.

  "We'll stay calm. Let's just get this over with."

  Karen hesitated, glancing at Wolfgang and then back to Lucy. Finally, she nodded, albeit reluctantly.

  "Fine," she muttered, but the uncertainty in her voice showed her apprehension.

  Wolfgang eyed them both, his sharp gaze lingering on their weapons as if assessing whether they were truly ready for what was ahead. After a moment, he nodded to himself, either satisfied or resigned.

  "Good," he said simply.

  Then he turned and shoved open the heavy door. The hinges groaned in protest as it swung open, revealing a dimly lit space beyond. Faint voices filtered through the stale air, occasionally interrupted by a metallic clang. A musty smell of mildew mixed with something sharper—chemical and acrid, like heated metal—set Lucy on edge. Her stomach tightened as her gaze flicked to Karen, whose eyes reflected her unease. Whatever awaited them on the other side of this door, Lucy could only hope it wouldn't be worse than what they had just escaped.

  As soon as they entered the room, a ghoul shot up from his chair. His eyes were wide open, unblinking, and his bony face was twisted in fear. He pointed a trembling finger at Lucy and Karen.

  "WHO THE FUCK ARE THEY?" He screamed, his voice high-pitched and shaky.

  His hands darted to his waistband, yanking out an old, worn pistol. In an instant, Murphy stood before the women, the gun flitting between them as he nervously shifted his gaze back and forth.

  "I know why they're here! They want my secrets—they're after my formula! I KNOW IT!"

  Lucy froze, her heart pounding in her ears as her hands hovered close to her weapon. Karen stiffened beside her, her fingers inching toward her sidearm, even though doubt flashed across her face.

  "Murphy, man, just chill," said Wolfgang, stepping in with his hands raised as a sign of peace.

  His tone was firm and calm, as if he had dealt with this situation a hundred times.

  "They're not after your stash. They just got caught up in a mess outside."

  Murphy's bloodshot eyes darted between Wolfgang and the two women, his grip on the pistol tightening. The barrel shook as it swung erratically between Lucy and Karen, his paranoia evident in every frantic motion.

  "You think I'm an idiot?" He spat back, his voice dripping with anger.

  "You really think I don't know what's happening? You're all in on it! Everyone wants my formula!" His words spilled out in a frenzied mix of rage and dread.

  Wolfgang took another careful step forward, his voice still steady.

  "Murph, listen, man. These aren't the ones you need to worry about. Just take a breath, alright? No one's after your Jet formula. They don't even know what you're talking about."

  Murphy's wild gaze shifted back to Lucy and Karen, narrowing as suspicion settled in. Finally, he let out a low growl and lowered the gun.

  "Fine," he grumbled, his tone heavy with distrust.

  "But they better keep their hands off my stash, or I swear they'll regret it."

  Wolfgang exhaled slowly, the tension visibly leaving his shoulders. He turned back to Lucy and Karen with a slight, apologetic smile.

  "That's Murphy for ya. Crazy as a radroach and twice as paranoid. Jet's his only love, and he thinks everyone's trying to steal her away."

  Murphy scowled, muttering under his breath as he shoved the gun back into his waistband and slumped back into his chair, casting suspicious looks their way.

  Wolfgang pointed toward another ghoul in the corner, his arms tightly crossed over his chest. The dim light barely illuminated his face, but the permanent scowl was difficult to miss.

  "And that's Barrett. Don't even bother trying to talk to him. He's an asshole even on a good day, and trust me, this isn't one of 'em."

  Barrett didn't even look up from the cracked floor, his lips curled in a permanent sneer.

  Wolfgang led Lucy and Karen into another room; the faint light illuminated towering heaps of junk and discarded items, a chaotic assortment of forgotten relics from a long-lost world. The two women settled in, their breathing still uneven as they tried to shake off the tension from their earlier encounter with Murphy. Lucy shot a wary glance at Wolfgang, her brow knitted in suspicion.

  "What do you know about The Family?" she repeated, her voice firm yet laced with unease.

  Wolfgang smirked as he stretched back in a creaky chair, keeping his demeanor easygoing and evasive. He waved her question off with a careless flick of his hand.

  "Relax," he said lazily.

  "We'll get to that soon enough. Just kick back—it'll do you good, I promise."

  He cracked open a can of Cram with a metallic pop and bit into it, chewing as if they weren't perched in the middle of what felt like a potential war zone.

  His casual demeanor irritated her, yet she managed to restrain herself for the time being. The way he sidestepped her questions and his slippery demeanor instilled a sense of distrust in her. She craved answers, yet she knew better than to push too hard with someone like Wolfgang. Instead, she leaned back against the wall, attempting to steady her racing thoughts. But her mind betrayed her, drifting back to Ian. His face lingered in her memory, an ever-present worry since they'd left Arefu. The nagging question returned with renewed urgency:

  Was he even still alive?

  Her chest tightened as she envisioned all the terrible things that could have befallen him. Clenching her fists, she forced herself to refocus.

  Sensing the escalating tension, Karen broke the silence with a nervous attempt at lightheartedness.

  "So," she said, glancing at Wolfgang. "You've got a caravan, huh? What do you sell?"

  Wolfgang's face lit up at the question, as if he'd been waiting for this very moment.

  "Oh, you're gonna love this. I scour the Wasteland for the very best pieces of trash, the height of detritus, and the veritable pick of the litter. It's all valuable to someone."

  Lucy blinked at him, trying to gauge whether he was serious or just messing with her. The way he said it, though, there was no mistaking the pride in his voice. He truly believed in the value of his junk. Karen glanced around the room, eyeing the piles of discarded items strewn about.

  "So all this 'stuff' is yours?"

  Wolfgang puffed out his chest like a proud peacock.

  "Damn right, princess! I'm a junk dealer. This is Crazy Wolfgang's Traveling Junk Store! The Depot of Detritus, The Shop of Slop, and The Caravan of Crap! I'm overjoyed to assist those who have a deep need for my... junk."

  Lucy and Karen gazed at him, their expressions blank momentarily before they exchanged knowing looks and suddenly erupted in laughter. It was spontaneous, genuine, and completely unexpected. For the briefest moment, the heavy burden of their worries felt lighter, and Lucy realized how badly she needed that burst of joy. Life in the Wasteland rarely provided opportunities for such moments, but Wolfgang's over-the-top enthusiasm for his "Caravan of Crap" offered the perfect release from the tension that had been weighing her down.

  Murphy's hurried, uneven footsteps abruptly interrupted the lingering sound of their laughter in the cluttered room. He stormed in, his wide, bloodshot eyes flitting nervously around the piles of junk. His unkempt appearance and the frantic look on his face immediately put the women on alert.

  "Do you have any Sugar Bombs?" Murphy exclaimed, urgency flooding his voice.

  Wolfgang let out a long-winded sigh, rolling his eyes with exasperation.

  "Here we go again," he muttered, clearly annoyed.

  Startled by Murphy's sudden entrance, Lucy and Karen instinctively placed their hands near their weapons. Lucy frowned and asked cautiously,

  "No, we don't. What do you need them for?"

  Murphy's eyes darted anxiously around the room, his paranoia palpable. Every stack of discarded junk appeared to him as a potential hiding spot for someone out to get him. His murmurs grew louder and more frantic.

  "They want it. They all want it," he hissed, nearly incoherent.

  "Can't let them take it. Ultrajet's mine. All mine."

  Realizing he had let slip too much information, Murphy abruptly froze, panic gripping his features. His fingers twitched nervously near his holster as his shallow breaths became increasingly audible in the tense mood. He glanced back at Lucy and Karen, desperation creeping into his voice.

  "Wait—no. You didn't hear anything, right? NOTHING about Ultrajet!"

  A thick silence fell over the room, tension crackling in the air. However, the damage was already done. Murphy's fear spiraled, and he lunged at the piles of junk, tearing into them with manic energy. Things clattered to the ground as he ripped through stacks, kicking over crates and flinging debris around in a frenzy. Dust filled the room, wrapping everything in a hazy fog as his muttering escalated into a full-on rant.

  "Where the hell is it? Where the hell are my Sugar Bombs?" He yelled, desperation fueling his voice.

  He turned to Lucy and Karen, suspicion etched on his face.

  "You think I don't know what you're up to? I won't let you take it all from me!"

  Karen tightened her grip on her revolver, eyes locked onto Murphy, poised for any wrong move. Lucy mirrored her stance, resting her hand on her weapon but not drawing. The chaos felt like it was compressing the space around them, the air thick with tension and the acrid scent of dust mingling with fear. Wolfgang stepped in front of Murphy, hands raised in a placating gesture.

  "Murph, man, chill out," he said, his voice steady but tinged with patience.

  "It's alright. You're just worked up. Take a deep breath, okay? Nobody's here to take anything from you."

  For a heartbeat, Murphy hesitated, chest heaving as his bloodshot eyes shot between Wolfgang, Lucy, and Karen. The women stood firm, their weapons still holstered but not far from action, the air thick with the electric possibility of conflict.

  Murphy completely overlooked Wolfgang, his frantic energy spilling out as his eyes darted around the room. He spun in a near-hysterical circle, shouting,

  "They're after my formula! They want it! They'll never get it!"

  His voice got louder with every second as he rummaged through piles of junk, flipping over cans, scattering bits of broken machinery, and kicking up dust clouds.

  "You don't understand—this is my life! This is everything! They'll pay for what they've done!"

  Wolfgang's irritation turned to concern. His brows furrowed, but he kept his voice calm.

  "Murph, nobody's after your formula. Just stop. Breathe. Think."

  But Murphy wasn't listening. His shouts became sharper, his tone shifting into something almost primal.

  "You think you can take it from me? Huh? I'll show you! I'll show everyone!"

  His breathing grew ragged, each exhale nearly a growl. He stumbled back from the chaos he'd caused, his wide, bloodshot eyes locking onto Lucy and Karen. For a heart-stopping moment, he stood there, glaring at them with a crazed intensity that made Lucy's fingers twitch closer to her weapon. Karen stiffened beside her, her hand hovering near her revolver, yet neither woman moved.

  And then Barrett stepped in.

  From the corner of the room, where he'd been silently observing the chaos, Barrett approached with calm efficiency. He raised his rifle, and in one smooth motion, the butt of it connected hard with Murphy's temple. The sharp impact broke the silence, followed by a dull thud as Murphy collapsed to the floor.

  The room fell silent, the air thick with dust. Murphy's unconscious body sprawled across the debris-strewn ground, his frantic mutterings now hushed. Barrett slung his rifle over his shoulder with ease, turning to face Lucy and Karen with a bored, almost dismissive look.

  "That should keep him quiet for a bit," he said casually, giving Lucy the willies.

  Wolfgang sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he shook his head.

  "Subtle as always, Barrett," he muttered, glancing at Murphy's crumpled figure.

  "Not that he didn't have it comin'."

  Barrett shrugged, leaning back against the wall with a sense of indifference.

  "It worked, didn't it?"

  Lucy exchanged a wary glance with Karen, the tense atmosphere in the room still lingering even with Murphy out of the picture. If this was what they considered normal, Lucy thought grimly, she really didn't want to witness what they deemed chaos.

  "I was sick of his fucking voice," Barrett muttered, giving the unconscious Murphy a kick with his boot. He appeared indifferent, leaning back with his head tilted and glaring halfheartedly at Lucy and Karen.

  "So, what brings you two here?"

  Lucy paused, feeling the weight of the ghoul's gaze and choosing her words carefully. After a moment, she decided to just be straightforward.

  "We're looking for The Family," she replied calmly. "Heard they might be nearby."

  Barrett's face twisted up into a mix of a sneer and a smirk, rolling his eyes like Lucy had just said the most foolish thing.

  "The Family, huh?" He let out a mock laugh.

  "Fantastic. Just what this shithole needs—more fucking idiots poking around."

  Without flinching, she squared her shoulders and met Barrett's contemptuous look. She spoke steadily, with a faint hint of irritation.

  "Do you know where they are or not?"

  Barrett arched an eyebrow, his lips slightly curled into a sardonic smile. As if assessing her nerve, he crossed his arms and leaned back a little. At last, he let out a loud groan and gestured to the hall.

  "Fine, whatever. If you really wanna die that bad, go down the hall, take a right, and keep going until you see a door with a grate on it. That'll lead you to them."

  Lucy nodded, about to thank him, but Barrett cut her off sharply.

  "Yeah, yeah; don't bother. Just get the fuck outta here and let me have some peace." His voice dropped into a threatening growl.

  "And if I catch either of you here again without a damn good reason, you're fucking dead."

  He turned away, shuffling to the corner as if he'd already forgotten them. Wolfgang shook his head, a dry chuckle escaping him as he gestured for Lucy and Karen to follow him down the corridor.

  "Told you he's a real asshole," he said, a grin on his face that barely masked his amusement.

  Lucy's thoughts drifted as they walked, the weight of Barrett's words worsening the gnawing doubt in her stomach. She thought of Ian, his face sticking in her mind. That last talk just kept looping. She didn't completely understand the significance of each word at the moment. The way he'd looked at her—his expression clouded, his voice faltering—when he begged her not to go to Megaton. Something about that moment had felt wrong, like he knew something she didn't. That unease lingered, twisting into a quiet suspicion that Wolfgang wasn't telling them everything. But she forced herself to set it aside for now.

  She caught bits of Karen and Wolfgang chatting ahead and focused on their conversation to ground herself. Karen's tone shifted toward a lighter topic.

  "So," Karen started, her voice casual yet pointed as she glanced at Wolfgang.

  "You mentioned someone named Agatha before. Who's that?"

  Wolfgang turned slightly, a warm smile lighting up his face as he enjoyed the memory.

  "Agatha? Oh, she's this old radio host I know. Been around forever. She calls me 'Crazy Wolfgang' because of my, well, eccentric ways."

  As he talked about her, his tone softened noticeably.

  "She plays the violin like no one else. You wouldn't believe an instrument could bring out such deep emotions, but when she draws that bow across the strings... it's like music from a long-lost world, something you never knew you missed. It's pure magic."

  He lost his attention briefly in thought. Karen raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

  "I've never really heard of a violin before. What does it sound like?"

  Wolfgang paused, running his hand over a pile of junk as he thought about her question.

  "Y'know, it's tough to put into words. It's... mournful, yet beautiful. It's like it carries the ghosts of the Old World in every note. It calls to you, like a whisper from a time before everything fell apart." His voice took on a nostalgic tone, reverence slipping into his words.

  Lucy glanced at the mess Wolfgang was combing through, skepticism written all over her face.

  "What are you doing with all that junk?" She asked, watching him sift through the rusted metal and broken bits with surprising care.

  Wolfgang beamed, his hands busy as he sorted through the clutter.

  "This? Oh, this is gold, girl. Well, for the right folks, at least. I'm a junk dealer, remember? Every piece of this stuff has potential. You just have to know how to see it. To one person, it's just a rusted cog. To another, it's the missing piece of something they've been trying to fix for years."

  He picked up a bent spring like it was a prized possession, then casually tossed it back into the pile. Karen crossed her arms, still skeptical.

  "You honestly think anyone would pay for this? It's all garbage."

  Wolfgang chuckled, shaking his head.

  "And that's the trick—what's trash for one person can be someone's treasure. You'd be shocked at what people will spend their caps on if they think it'll improve their lives. Sometimes it's not even about the object itself—it's the hope it represents."

  Lucy watched them, caught between amusement and unease. The casual conversation felt strange against the backdrop of their crumbling surroundings, with danger lurking just outside. She glanced at Karen, who looked at Wolfgang with a mix of surprise and curiosity, confusion evident but softened by intrigue. As they continued down the dim corridor, Karen suddenly broke the silence, her tone lightening, almost teasing.

  "So, this Agatha... you two are pretty close, huh?"

  Wolfgang's expression softened once more, and his voice took on a more thoughtful tone.

  "Yeah, she's quite something. She doesn't go out much anymore because of her show and all, but when she does, she lights up the entire place. You wouldn't think a radio host could have such an impact, but she does. She even calls over the radio every now and then to check in. We have our own secret signal. She always manages to get a laugh out of my 'crazy' stuff."

  Lucy managed a weak smile, her mind wandering for a moment. She pictured Agatha with her violin, its hauntingly beautiful melodies weaving through the air. Although she'd never actually heard one, she could easily imagine it fitting seamlessly into this strange, harsh world—a rare note of kindness and hope amid the wasteland's cruel design. However, a loud, booming shout abruptly interrupted her daydream.

  "YOU FORGOT YOUR FUCKING CRAM!" Barrett's voice echoed down the hallway.

  The crash of a can hitting the floor startled both girls, their heads snapping toward the sound. The can of Cram rattled loudly as it rolled down the corridor, its contents spilling everywhere in a chaotic mess. Lucy blinked rapidly, raising a hand to her face as if to shield herself from the absurdity of it all.

  "What the hell?"

  She muttered quietly, her voice a mix of confusion and disbelief. Karen and Wolfgang erupted in laughter, the tension breaking like a wave. Wolfgang wiped a tear from his eye as he struggled to regain his composure.

  "That's Barrett for ya," he said with a smirk, his grin infectious.

  "He really knows how to work a crowd, eh?"

  Karen chuckled, shaking her head as she nudged the can with her foot.

  "I'm pretty sure that's a first—someone using a can of food like a hand grenade."

  Wolfgang let out a snort, his laughter bursting forth in loud, unrestrained fits.

  "Ah, just ignore him. That's Barrett being himself. Let him enjoy it."

  As the laughter gradually subsided, the ridiculousness of the moment hung in the air, a bizarre but welcome distraction from the day's grimness. Lucy exchanged a glance with Karen, catching the faintest glimmer of humor still dancing in her friend's eyes. For now, this odd little detour felt like a rare, fleeting breath of fresh air—one they both knew wouldn't last forever.