Wednesday, 18 November 2015

Layla's Wasteland Journal #3

I guess when you're stuck in a situation you have no control over, it can sometimes be therapeutic to busy yourself with other peoples problems. And maybe when you've been suffering so long, you are willing to put all you've got in the hands of an absolute stranger who can promise you nothing but hope. That seems to be the relationship between me and the Minutemen at the moment: I need a distraction, and they need a reason to carry on.

Sensing I may need a break from concentrating on my own woes, Preston sent me to help some people at Tenpines Bluff, a small settlement not too far from Sanctuary that were contemplating joining the Minutemen, but are being terrorised by raiders. Along with the Dogmeat, I made my way down to the Corvega Assembly Plant in Lexington, where these raiders are reinforcing the building with turrets and human sacrifices. I feel scared to death, and with only a shotgun at hand, I'm forced to confront each of these raging menaces at virtually point blank. The last time my body went into automatic like this was when I gave birth. Luckily these raiders may not of been the most sophisticated, as their yelling at each other gave most of them away.

My job was to kill them all and I did. Why were they targeting the Minutemen? Because the head raider, if you could call him that, wanted Mama Murphy's powers of precognition for himself, as she had correctly predicted that he would grow up to be a monster when he was a child. And they wanted Preston's cowboy hat. It really is the little things that make you happy. I do not understand this world.

The people at Tenpines Bluff agreed to join the Minutemen, and Preston was as bold as to promote me to their General. If only Nate could see me now. He always used to say I was wasted as a housewife, but even he couldn't of guessed that I would outrank him someday. It's surreal, and I can't quite take it seriously. What even does it mean in this decimated day and age. Do we even still have an army? Is there still an America? I can see how much this means to Preston though, and I accept his offer graciously, hoping that I can live up to what he wants from me.

After the hectic struggle at Corvega, I decide to spend a few days in reconnaissance, utilising the carpentry skills that the other housewives scorned me for. I guess I've always been a tactile person. Noticing the slow trickle of settlers searching for rest bite, I start work on a building that would certainly of been torn down if we where back, well, in my own era, 200 years ago. Its the best I can do with the materials I've got. I hope to install more beds and maybe a watch post on the roof, as I fear for Sanctuary the same that has befallen all the other communities I've heard of.

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