November 3, 2287 – I had the strangest dream last night. There has to be some message in it, but I’ll be damned if I can figure out what it is. I was in my own house at Sanctuary Hills. It was before the war, but Nora and Shaun were missing. I was in the kitchen, cleaning up some dishes after my morning coffee and I happened to look out the back window, and the entire backyard had been torn up. There were muddy tracks in the grass, like some monster truck had done donuts in it after a hard rain, utterly destroying the lawn and scattering lawn furniture all over. I stood there in stunned silence, surveying the scene, when I heard a voice behind me say, “Hey.” I jumped, and standing there was a young woman, maybe mid-20’s, brunette, tough-looking, in military garb. She walked up to the window, put her hands on the sill, leaned in and said quietly, “the devil did this.”
“You’re going to have to go talk to him. I think he needs something from you,” she continued. Continue Reading
November 2, 2287 (Entry #2) – Codsworth and I abandoned the railroad tracks just past Bedford Station. We arrived at an orange low-profile train trestle that somehow looked like it could have been built yesterday, and between it and the houses on the outskirts of Lexington was a large open field sparsely littered with debris. I couldn’t remember what had been there. Maybe nothing. The wind whipped through some high-tension power lines above us, and smaller utility poles dotted the landscape, a few of them still connected to each other via frayed wires. Below us, perpendicular to the trestle, was a disappearing local road that would be pretty tough to follow anywhere at this point. Possibly, this land was owned by the railroad as a right-of-way. Continue Reading
November 2, 2287 – The morning of November 2nd in Sanctuary Hills was cold and foggy, and we were all up at the crack of dawn. It was going to be a long day, and I wasn’t even sure I could make it to downtown and back by nightfall. I had never actually walked all the way from home to the Back Bay before.
One of the new settlers showed me the ransom note. The bastards that took their friend had drawn a cute little map where the caps were to be dropped – Back Street Apparel, just across the Mass Avenue bridge. They wanted 400 of em, and the most we were able to scrounge up was about 260. Either my negotiating skills or my newly modified pipe pistol were going to get a workout. Continue Reading