Fallout: The Ghoul: Season 1 Episode 4. S1E4

Read Time:8 Minute, 21 Second

The wasteland stretched out endlessly, a barren expanse of desolation where the sun’s blistering rays scorched the earth and any semblance of life had long since withered away. The air was thick with radiation, the remnants of a world that had once thrived but now lay in ruin, its remnants scavenged by those desperate enough to survive at any cost. The Ghoul, his once-human flesh now a mottled, decayed shell, shuffled through the wasteland with an eerie sense of purpose, dragging a young woman named Lucy in his wake.

Lucy’s mind raced as she struggled to keep pace with the Ghoul, her body aching from the endless march. She had no idea where he was taking her, only that every step away from the relative safety of Vault 33 felt like a march toward her doom. The Ghoul had a reputation, whispered about in the dark corners of the vault, a reputation that Lucy now understood all too well. He was a relic of a bygone era, twisted by time and radiation, driven by motives that no longer resembled anything human.

As they trudged onward, the Ghoul’s destination slowly became clear. A crumbling structure loomed in the distance, its walls blackened and cracked, standing as a grim reminder of the world that once was. The Ghoul’s pace quickened as they approached, and Lucy could see the skeletal remains of what had once been a home. But as they neared the building, she realized it was not abandoned. A figure emerged from the shadows, his movements sluggish and erratic.

“Roger,” the Ghoul rasped, his voice like nails on a chalkboard. “Still holding on, I see.”

Roger, another ghoul, was in worse shape than the one leading Lucy. His eyes were sunken deep into his skull, and his skin hung in loose folds, a sickly greenish hue. He staggered toward them, a faint glimmer of recognition in his eyes, but there was something else there too—something desperate.

“I’m out,” Roger croaked, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Chems… I’m out of chems.”

The Ghoul nodded, a slow, deliberate gesture, as if this was the answer he had expected. He motioned for Lucy to stay back, and despite her overwhelming urge to run, she complied, unable to tear her gaze away from the scene unfolding before her.

The two ghouls sat together in the remnants of what had once been Roger’s home. The Ghoul listened as Roger reminisced, his voice trembling as he spoke of days long gone. He spoke of a family he had once loved, of moments of joy and laughter, memories that had managed to survive the ravages of time even as his body had not. But as the words spilled from Roger’s lips, it became clear that he knew his time was coming to an end.

“Can’t go on like this,” Roger muttered, his voice cracking. “Don’t want to turn… don’t want to become one of them.”

The Ghoul said nothing, but there was a cold resolve in his gaze as he reached into his tattered coat and pulled out a gun. The moment seemed to stretch into eternity as Roger’s eyes widened, understanding dawning on him. There was no fear, only a sad acceptance.

“Thank you,” Roger whispered, a tear rolling down his decayed cheek.

And with that, the Ghoul raised the gun and fired, the sound of the shot echoing across the wasteland. Roger’s body slumped to the ground, the light in his eyes extinguished.

Lucy gasped, her heart pounding in her chest as she watched the Ghoul lower the weapon, his expression unreadable. But what happened next turned her stomach and shattered any remaining hope she had clung to. The Ghoul, without a moment’s hesitation, knelt beside Roger’s corpse and began to tear into it, devouring the flesh with a grotesque hunger.

The sight was too much for Lucy. She turned away, bile rising in her throat as she fought the urge to vomit. She had known the world outside the vault was brutal, but nothing had prepared her for this. She was trapped, a prisoner to a monster, and she knew she had to find a way to survive, no matter the cost.

Later, the Ghoul led Lucy to a cracked, filthy river, its waters dark and reeking of radiation. It was their only source of hydration, and as much as Lucy wanted to refuse, she knew she couldn’t last much longer without water. Trembling, she knelt by the riverbank and cupped the tainted water in her hands, forcing herself to drink.

The taste was vile, the water burning her throat as it went down. Lucy coughed, gagging, but she drank more, desperate to stay alive. As she drank, the Ghoul watched her, a twisted smile playing on his lips. Something inside Lucy snapped.

Fueled by a surge of adrenaline, Lucy lunged at the Ghoul, her teeth sinking into his hand with all the strength she could muster. The Ghoul howled in pain, jerking his hand back, but Lucy didn’t stop. She bit down harder, feeling his flesh tear under her teeth. The Ghoul’s free hand found his knife, and before Lucy could react, he slashed at her, the blade slicing through her finger. The pain was blinding, a white-hot agony that shot through her entire body.

Lucy stumbled back, clutching her hand, blood dripping from the severed finger. The Ghoul looked down at the finger he had lost, then at the one he had taken from Lucy, his expression twisted into a grotesque grin. He was amused, as if this violence was nothing more than a game.

They continued their journey, Lucy now missing a finger, each step a reminder of the cruel world she had been thrust into. She knew she couldn’t trust the Ghoul, but she had no choice but to follow him, hoping for a chance to escape, to find some semblance of safety in a world where such a concept seemed impossible.

As they approached the outskirts of Los Angeles, the Ghoul’s steps slowed. The city was a ruin, its skyscrapers toppled, its streets littered with debris. But there was something here that drew the Ghoul’s attention, something that made him quicken his pace once more.

They arrived at an old supermarket, its sign faded and barely legible. The doors were broken, hanging from their hinges, and the interior was a maze of overturned shelves and decaying goods. But it was not the store’s contents that interested the Ghoul.

“Snip Snip,” the Ghoul called out, his voice echoing through the empty aisles.

A figure floated out from the shadows, a Mister Handy robot, its metal arms tipped with rusted, serrated blades. The robot whirred, its voice a distorted, mechanical rasp.

“Ah, the Ghoul,” Snip Snip greeted, its tone dripping with malice. “What brings you to my domain?”

The Ghoul and Snip Snip exchanged words, but Lucy’s mind was too clouded with pain and fear to comprehend their conversation. She only realized what was happening when the Ghoul shoved her toward the robot, a twisted grin on his face.

“A trade,” the Ghoul hissed. “For chems.”

Before Lucy could protest, she was in Snip Snip’s grasp, the robot’s cold metal claws holding her tight. The Ghoul pocketed the chems handed to him by the robot and walked away without a second glance. But as he left the supermarket, he stumbled, the effects of withdrawal overtaking him, and he collapsed to the ground.

Snip Snip turned his attention to Lucy, its voice dripping with sadistic glee. “Let’s see what we can do about that finger of yours, shall we?”

Lucy screamed as the robot worked, replacing her severed finger with a cold, metallic one. But Snip Snip’s plans didn’t end there. The robot revealed its true intentions, speaking of harvesting her organs, of turning her into one of its twisted creations. But Lucy was not about to let that happen.

Summoning every ounce of strength, Lucy fought back. She twisted in Snip Snip’s grip, kicking and thrashing until she managed to disable the robot’s power source. The robot sputtered and sparked, its blades falling limp as it shut down, defeated.

Lucy wasted no time. She scoured the supermarket, finding a room filled with captured ghouls, their bodies emaciated and barely alive. With trembling hands, she released them, their gaunt faces lighting up with hope as they fled the supermarket, seeking freedom in a world that offered little else.

But the ordeal was not over. As Lucy made her way out, she was attacked by one of the ghouls she had freed. Martha, a ghoul on the verge of turning feral, lunged at Lucy with a primal fury. Lucy had never killed before, but in that moment, survival instincts took over. She fought back with everything she had, and in the end, Martha lay dead at her feet.

The weight of what she had done settled over Lucy like a shroud. She had killed to survive, and the realization was almost too much to bear. But there was no time for regret. The Ghoul was still out there, and despite everything, he was her only hope of making it through the wasteland alive.

Lucy found the Ghoul where he had fallen, his body trembling from the effects of withdrawal. She hesitated, the chems clutched in her hand. After everything he had done, he deserved to suffer. But something in her couldn’t leave him like that, not when she knew the pain he was in. She gave him the chems, her hand shaking as she did. The Ghoul composes himself and raids Snip Snip’s hideout for more chems and weapons. He then puts on a tape of one of his old movies and while reminiscing, attempts to copy his finger-gun motion, only to remember he is missing his finger.