Author's Note: Thank you all very much for waiting for Chapter 9. I'm actually rather happy with how this chapter turned out and had a lot of fun writing it. Let me know what you think! Until then, read on and enjoy.

Chapter 9 – Galaxy News Radio

Wednesday. August 18, 2277 - 11:21 p.m. / Day 2

I'm too tired to write, but there is much that I need to get off of my chest. The first two days out here have left a hell of an impression on me, physically, mentally, emotionally…hell, all of the above. I never thought my life would turn out like it is so far. Yes, the vault sucked at times, but at least I didn't have to worry or not if I'd die. I can't keep escaping death by the skin of my teeth each and everyday…like I do out here.

Yesterday I had a crazy try to kill me, and today I had many crazies try to kill me. And for what? A few caps. That Moriarty bastard sent me on a suicide run to Springvale's old elementary school to get a few caps from some runaway druggie for him. All of this just to get him to tell me where Dad went. He had some serious nerve, claiming that he knew me and that I wasn't born in the vault. Does he really expect me to listen to that? He sounded almost as crazy as Burke!

But I needed information. All I could was bite the bullet and look for this girl.

Silver, he called her. She apparently owed him some money and he made me his damn errand boy to go find her. That school was a deathtrap and nothing short of such a title! These people, slapped in leather strips for armor had inhabited it and every one of them wanted a bullet between my eyes. I tried everything I could to slip past these wackos and find Silver. Sadly, by the time I got to her she was dead and her caps gone, taken by some guy who kept calling himself, "The Principal". He was their ringleader, Barnes.

It was a real bitch to get to him but he ambushed me (my head still hurts). We had a fight on top of the school and I have never seen so much blood in my entire life. Not even yesterday rivals it. His ripper scared the living hell out of me as we fought on the third floor. He moved so fast and hit with such force and I thought for sure he'd sooner or later get that lights out blow on me. I was lucky enough to escape with just a large cut on my chest. Yet I have discovered something about me that I'd never guess about myself: I can fight. I can really fight, and my experience with Barnes has taught me this. I'm obviously the one still alive, but that son of a bitch made me work for it. Scared and exhausted, I swear I felt like I was sweating blood.

I lost track of just how long our duel went on, but I just didn't care. I kept beating the living hell out of him with a pipe I equipped myself with. What else could I do? He separated me from all my weapons while I was unconscious. I could never let my guard down against Barnes, but I eventually had that split second chance to look back at one of the room's corners to find my gear thrown into a pile. The opportunity presented itself to create separation between the two of us and run like hell to reclaim what was mine.

There is no doubt that after what happened next I should be dead. My guts should've been splattered all over the floor when my gun had no ammo in it. I don't deserve to be alive because of that, but I am damn grateful to be. I don't who or what but somebody saved me. As Barnes was nearing my defenseless being, a bullet hole sprouted from his chest, a bullet hole that was not commanded by me. And then another emerged. With the blood leaking from the two craters blasted into Barnes' torso he fell over without a word. There was nothing else I could really do but stand there in absolute shock. After several minutes of merely trying to absorb the resulting aftermath, I snatched the caps off of Barnes' lifeless body and quickly descended back down the school's outer walls and high-tailed it back to Megaton.

I don't know who saved me, but I really wish I had the opportunity to thank them

Moriarty had a shitload of explaining to do. After risking my life yet again, I expected to tell me everything I wanted to know. When his precious caps were returned to him he did tell me a story of what exactly happened to Dad. He told me this story of how my dad had gone all the way to a place called Galaxy News Radio. My heart sank when I learned that this GNR is in the heart of downtown D.C. I have no idea why he'd go there and God only knows what horrors I'm going to find when I make the trek! He told me about these monsters called Super Mutants, and I am most definitely not looking forward to my first encounter with these monsters. The worst part of it all is that there is no way to be sure if Moriarty is actually telling me the truth…or just telling me what I want to hear. That is not going to stop me from making the journey. I have no other leads as to where James might be, so I have no choice but to take the gamble that Moriarty is for real on this one. After that I left his saloon and then returned home, greeted by a concerned Wadsworth, and bandaged my sliced chest as quickly as possible. I was relieved to see it stop bleeding, but it stings like holy hell.

So far out here, I have already killed a lot of people: that Mr. Burke creep, quite a few raiders, and now Barnes. The idea that I'm actually thinking of all the people I have killed leaves me in disgust. How could I be saying this? I never imagined doing what I have done. I know it has to be done, but I never want to become a beast that kills without thinking. Several days out here have shaken my belief that I can save myself from becoming just that. All I can really do is pray that my humanity stays intact.

But seriously, is everyone outside of Megaton insane like this?

I am getting more exhausted by the second and really need some sleep now, but there's too much on my mind still.

Now I go from a one on one gunfight to a butcher-infested elementary school to a gladiatorial fight to the death and very soon, to the bloodbath that will be downtown D.C. If everyday out here is gonna be like this, a new kill-or-be-killed scenario, I don't know how long I can last.

"Threeee daaaawg!" barked the Pip Boy's radio, waking Thomas. "Hello, hello, to all of you faithful listeners of this fin Galaxy News Radio. Tell me, how are you kids handling post-apocalyptia these days? Well if you're still alive and listening to this, I'd say pretty damn good."

The teenager kept listening but refused to depart from his dirt-stained pillow. Be it the vault or out in the Wastes, his mornings never ceased to be as sluggish as ever. While most young adults his age may have not done what he had, Thomas always had his traditional morning groan to start his day. Complaining about something so small made him feel like an immature child once again.

"Another day, another steaming pile of news... You kids ready? Well you all know those big vaults, right? As you all know, I said those things were where people locked themselves away from the outside world, leaving the rest of us out here to fend for ourselves…ultimately dying in the end… Yeah, one could sure as hell say that I have a bit of a bitter taste for those people. Well it looks like I'm going to have to take it all back.

"It just so happens that someone has emerged from the suffocation of their steel walls. That's right. One of those vault-dwellers is now out and about amongst us. His name is James Allen."

The mere mentioning of his dad's name completely shifted Thomas' focus from, "don't listen to the radio; just sleep," to, "holy shit, Moriarty was actually yelling me the truth! Turn it up!" His eyes widened at the confirmation of Moriarty's story and he immediately sat up in his bed, starring at his wrist.

"He's a real nice guy and we get along just fine. I'd tell him to say hello to you kiddies but I'm afraid he's downstairs in our illustrious lobby. So what exactly is he doing out here with us in the Wastes? The bigger question is why he left his cozy vault. I have yet to get an answer, but I'd like to have a little talk with James in the future. Perhaps he's more than just some scientist? I guess only time will tell. Well, here's some music!" A very catchy jazz tune stepped in to replace of Three Dog's voice.

Sweet relief washed all across Thomas' mentality. He now had a very good idea of where to pinpoint the location of his father. The best part was that Moriarty didn't lie to him after all. Ignoring the music, the awestruck teenager starred at the wall, thinking deeply about the situation.

Why was James at a radio station? More importantly, why did he leave the Vault and Thomas behind in the first place? A lot of questions had to be answered and a lot of things had to be done in preparation for Thomas' trek into DC's ruins.

But one major curiosity still nudged at Thomas: how the hell did James, a fifty-two year old doctor from a vault, manage to fight his elderly way through the deadly ruins that were downtown DC? Thomas had yet to set foot in such a danger zone and he knew that not even Megaton's would last long in there. Dealing with raiders was challenging enough, but to deal with Super Mutants? No, James had to have had help fighting through the nation's fallen capital. Maybe he had an escort of some sort?

Thomas sat up and rose from his bed, pacing around with his thoughts. How the hell am I gonna get to GNR? He began to urge himself to immediately start looking for that support. The fear that James could decide to leave Three Dog's company and depart off to God-only-knows-where at any time was another real issue. Time and manpower. What about Lucas? The thought of "recruiting" the sheriff was pondered for a few minutes. As enticing as it was, the idea of getting Lucas involved was ultimately rejected. Megaton would be screwed without him, and it'd be pretty selfish of me to ask him to risk his life, the cornerstone of Megaton's law, for my gain. Names began to line up as Thomas ran through his mental checklist. The major problem, though, was that there weren't very many names on that list; he only know oh so many people in his oh so short time in his new life.

He then thought about Collin, though he was shot down even faster. Hell no! Moriarty is an asshole and there's no way he'd step away from his business for something that barely has anything to do with him like this.

A robotic hum could be heard from downstairs. Still throwing ideas around, Thomas leaned over the railing to look down at Wadsworth roaming about on the bottom floor. There was nothing that needed cleaning at the time so he just hovered around the house. "Hey Wadsworth," Thomas called out.

The buzzing butler whirled around and looked up at his master. "Ah, good morning, young sir. I see that you're looking much better from yesterday."

"I feel much better as well, thanks."

"Of course, of course! Now is there anything I can help you with?"

Thomas looked him over one last time before opening his mouth again. Recruiting Wadsworth already sounded like a terrible idea, but Thomas still needed that first person (or robot). Not even Wadsworth's saw arm looked like it would get far, despite Thomas' past attempts to keep his distance from the wheel of teeth. "Have you ever had to fight anything before?"

There was a surprised tone in his computerized voice. "A fighter? Me?" Wadsworth chuckled, "Oh heavens no, sir. I'm not one of those Mister Gutsy models. Too much blood for my programing. I have a few things to defend myself with, but I've never even come close to having to use them. Why do you ask, sir?"

"Oh no worries. I'm just… thinking out loud. Thank you, Wadsworth." Thomas guided himself to a chair near the railing and sat down, letting out a small sigh. Well I saw that coming… As disappointing as Wadsworth's answer was, it was exactly what Thomas expected. He couldn't be mad at the butler for the obvious. Besides, bad news is rarely ever as bad whenever one can see it coming a mile away. He wouldn't last long at all out there anyways. I can't blame him.

And so the hunt continued. Thomas refused to let the doubt of ever finding that first person nourish his dismay. There had to be somebody, whether he already knew them or not. A new idea was that Rachael girl he met the other day when he offed the bomb. She doesn't seem like a fighter at all…but I've been surprised before. He began to think back to his Vault days with his dear friend Amata, the overseer's daughter. It was a real shame that she couldn't help him now. After all, Thomas knew that he wouldn't be there without her assistance back in the walls of 101. She was able to nab that 9mm for him from her father and did everything in her power to distract him while Thomas made his escape. That relieved a lot of pressure during Thomas' push through Vault security. He smiled to himself, knowing that since he was now living in his new home, Megaton, and being able to search for his father in this Capital Wasteland, her actions were not in vain.

Thomas still had faith that maybe there was something he didn't know about this Rachael girl. It was certainly worth the try to ask the next time he would see her. He hoped for the best, but prepared for the expected.

Staying optimistic was always important to Thomas, but even that had holes in its armor. The idea that he did not have at least one solid answer was still pretty deflating. Collin, Lucas, Rachael, and even Wadsworth had all been considered, but at this rate, it seemed pretty fruitless for the time. Those were all the friendly faces he could think of, and "friendly" was used very loosely for Collin.

Thomas sat in silence, crossed arms and unable to come up with an answer. Surely there was someone else? There had to be.

He got up and trotted down the metal chunks that mimicked a staircase. When he greeted Wadsworth again with a nod, his eyes turned to his 9mm he left on a desk. Everything else he found on his hunt, the shotgun, ripper, and Clean Eats, was stored in a beat up locker backed against the wall, but Thomas found it necessary to give the gun Amata gifted to him "special treatment". After all, he'd be dead without it.

But while the 9mm bailed him out of his duel with Mr. Burke, it let him down against Barnes. There could have never be a worse time for his pistol to run dry on ammo than a bloodied up, enraged Barnes charging full force at Thomas. The mysterious shot that saved Thomas was just another blessing for Thomas to count for himself. It was almost unrealistic how many times Thomas could sigh in relief in the back of his head, "I'm lucky to be alive," in the course of just a few days.

That's when it hit him. Of course! The person who saved me! Maybe he or she could help me out with this. It was something to think about and more promising than any of the other names Thomas could think of. To hit Barnes right in the chest from the ground with us three stories higher and still remain unseen took extraordinary accuracy. Whoever shot that gun sure as hell knows what they're doing.

Thomas then considered the idea that there was a reason or reasons for his rescue that flew right over his head. There's no telling where that person came from, where they went, or why exactly they saved the teen. Perhaps there was more to it than just a rare act of human kindness? What if he or she needs me for something? What if there's an entire group of people looking for me? Thomas had no answers for any of his questions. It was now anticipated that wherever his savior came from, Springvale Elementary would not be the last time Thomas would hear from them.

I think they are going to come for me. I don't know what they will want but I'll help them if they will help me.

Be it friend or foe, the thought that Thomas would see his rescuer again grew and grew. He didn't know what he or she wanted from him. No matter what happens, though, Thomas was sure of one thing: he'd be ready for them.