Wasteland Ferns

Into the Capital

**Fern's POV**

The world was a mess. Dead trees, dry and descicated landscapes as far as the eye can see. Where there were once peaceful neighborhoods, with quaint little houses and buildings, there were only charred pieces of wood, once resembling structures. I could smell fire and blood, even though I saw no smoke, or bodies.

Even then, I knew there was no going back. The vault was no longer my home. I was still processing what the hell just happened. My dad left without warning, Jonas was murdered, I took the blame, and I might never see my friends again.

I told myself, this isn't the time to mourn. I need to survive if I want to find Dad. My leg still hurt from where one of those guards shot me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a branch. It looked sturdy enough, and the Y-shape proved it to make a good makeshift crutch. I picked the branch up, and settled my arm onto it.

It fit like a glove.

As I hopped on my good leg, I made the climb down the rocky hill that led to the vault. Every step hurt like hell, but I got more and more used to the pain.

It wasn't long before I reached a dillapidated barn. The array of wooden boards that was the wall was flaking wood and century old paint.

That's when I heard a dog.

Growling, the noise coming from near the barn. I turned to face the sound, and saw a scrawny mongrel. It looked like it's been skinned alive. Nothing like the happy, bouncing, furry creatures, like in the books in the vault.

Following the dog was a man. He had a tan skin tone, and All he wore was a pair of boots, and some overalls. He had a look about him, and it just didn't sit right.

"Hey there, sweetheart. Whatcha doin' out here by yourself?"

His tone sounded fake.

I stuttered back," I...I'm just trying to survive."

My innocent, stupid, vault dweller brain somehow thought he would understand and leave.

He smirked, gesturing toward my still bleeding leg as he warned, "Ya sure about that? You won't get far with that game leg ya got."

Shit. He has a point.

I looked down at my leg, still feeling the searing pain. I wanted to say something, but I never found the words.

"Now, enough chitchat. You're on my turf, and I can't have that."

I backed away, shooting the stranger a glare that could melt steel.

"Don't fucking touch me!"

He backhanded me, so hard I fell to the ground, and I could feel the blood spilling from my nose. The next second, he was on me, holding a knife to my throat. I felt even sicker to my stomach. I screamed, "Get off me!"

He had no intention of letting me go. "Ain't personal. Just you or me."

I fought to get him off me, and I could feel the tears welling in my eyes. With the little strength I had, I freed one hand, reaching for anything I could use as a weapon, and felt a rock with a sharp edge in my hand. I swung my free arm, the rock tightly in my grip, and it connected with the man's head with a sick crunch. I could feel the warm, sticky blood on my hands as his eyes turned dull, and he collapsed to the ground.

Holy shit. I just killed someone.

The dog was furious. Its ears folded backwards as it bared its teeth at me. Before I could muster the strength to run, it jumped on me, sinking its teeth into my shoulder. A searing pain flared in my shoulder, worse than when I was shot. I screamed in pain, trying to pry the animal off me, but my eyes caugh something on the man's body. A 10mm pistol. It was close enough to me that I could reach it

I barely reached the gun, but pulled it towards me and pressed it to the dog's chest. With a glare, I hissed,"Fuck you, dog!" I pulled the trigger.

Bang!

The dog let go of my shoulder with a yelp and a whine before falling to the ground. It moved around on the dirt, weakly trying to crawl away before it stopped breathing.

I crawled backwards, my shoulder in searing pain as I looked at the massive gash the dog had left behind. I took at least a whole minute to process what just happened, what I just did. The stranger and his dog, both dead on the ground. With a shaky breath, I pushed myself up, grabbing my makeshift crutch and pressed forward.

Something told me I would have to kill way more people just to survive.