November 1, 2287 – After the Minutemen and I had taken a few days to consolidate our space and fortify our little bunker at Sanctuary Hills, I spent some time considering whether or not I should abandon my own post at the Red Rocket station. It seemed a little ridiculous to be splitting up any of our resources, and yet I couldn’t help but think at some point in the future it would be a valuable piece of property to hold. Still, this probably wasn’t going to be something I was going to be able to do on my own, and we just didn’t have enough bodies to hold down Sanctuary Hills right now, let alone another camp. I pondered this as I set about my day.
October 28, 2287 – One of the first things they teach you in the Army is that mistakes can cost lives. Well, Preston and I almost made a tactical error that could have taken out the rest of the Minutemen. I don’t know what we were thinking, setting everyone up in a couple open buildings with nothing more than a few turrets and watch stands between them and the mutated creatures and dregs of humanity out there. I could blame Preston all I wanted if something happened to Jun, Marcy, Sturges and Mama Murphy, but deep down I’d know I’d have been responsible. I’ve done a lot of heavy lifting since I met up with these folks, and Preston seems to be looking to me as his lieutenant or something. It wasn’t my intention to be the Minutemen’s guardian angel, but if I hadn’t gone looking for Mutfruit by the river bank a few days ago, I could have been the cause of their destruction, or at least a party to it. I don’t know how I could have lived with that.
October 25, 2287 – I can’t help but wonder if I’m going to resent helping these people. I mean, the only thing I’m going on here is really that Mama Murphy seems to believe my son’s alive, and I’m taking a big leap of faith in her when she says after she rests (and I after I get her some Jet), she’ll be able to tell me more. Right now, all she can tell me is that I need to go to Diamond City, which is apparently some big trader’s outpost where Fenway Park used to be. I wonder what Fenway looks like now.
The reason I’m inclined to give her the benefit of the doubt at this point is because I forgot that she had also warned me about the Deathclaw, just after I had found the group in the attic of the Museum. At the time, I had dismissed her talk about my impending appointment “with teeth, claws, horns and a devil’s head” as the ramblings of a batty old woman. It was only in the peace and quiet on the way back to Sanctuary that I remembered what she had told me.
October 24, 2287 – The things I’ve seen today.
When I left the Red Rocket, it was late morning. My new pal and I walked down the hill into Concord. It seemed most of the buildings had fared a little better than those in Sanctuary Hills. They don’t make them like they used to, apparently. It was eerie walking through an old outer-space themed playground in the back of a group of 400 year old houses. Metal spaceship clubhouse that was still pretty brightly colored, teeter-totters, one of those little bouncy spaceships on a big spring, just about toddler sized. I’m going to find Shaun and I’m going to take him back here someday.