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Day 14:

We've decided to hike over to Junktown. Ian seemed quite keen to kill everyone, but I managed to convince him that I'm allergic to blood loss.

We had quite an eventful traveling day. First, we ran out of water. Our largest canteen broke, and we could not find anything else to drink.

Then, we met a traveling musician/electrician/mechanic who's name has escaped me. He knows the area quite well, and warned us to stay away from a place called 'Necropolis'. Who names these places, anyway? He said the place is full of mutant ghost things, who were once Vault dwellers. Death by dehydration sounds like a minor inconvenience in comparison.

Day 15:

Ian showed me how to milk a cactus today. We then had a very long discussion about microeconomics.

Day 16:

I'm not very fond of this desert.

Day 17:

Not fond of it at all.

Day 18:

Tripped over a rock that looked like John. Ian and I blew it up. I'm becoming more and more fond of the unsafe handling and mis-use of explosives.

Day 19:

Finally! We're here at Junktown...

And it's closed for the night. Not what I wanted to hear. Not even my winning personality couldn't convince the guard (named Derrik) otherwise. He was really nice about it, though. Even scrounged up some doughnuts and coffee for us after his shift was over. After eating cactus and dried lizard-on-a-stick for five days, it was nice to have something sweet and pastry-like for a change. The coffee hardly helped me to sleep, though, which is why I'm writing. Sorry the entries have been sparse lately, I've been exhausted.

Asked Derrik about the water chip, he has no clue. He did advise us to meet with his boss, though. He's the mayor, sheriff, and general store owner, Killian Darkwaters. Now there's a heck of a name. And by all accounts, a pretty nice guy. I guess I'm lucky, to have run into so many helpful and pleasant people in my travels. Granted, these travels are a bit longer and bloodier then I expected, but I believe I am all the better for it. I cant wait to show everyone at the Vault this account of my travels. Dad is going to be so proud.

Day 20:

Diary. I am quite shaken at this moment, mostly because I've had the worst day ever. Worse then when Fido died. Worse then when Mom died. Those days didn't have cannibals and assassins. Or murder.

Today, I killed a man.

When we were finally allowed into Junktown, Ian and I headed to the local hospital. It's run by Doctor Morbid, the man who trained Razlo in Shady Sands. We were hoping to pick up some medical supplies. When we got there, the doctor seemed to be out. But there was a mysterious hole in the office, with a ladder leading down.

I knew my nosy nature would get me in trouble one day. Ian and I decided to go down, and see if the Doctor was down there. Well, he wasn't. Instead, there was a short retarded man working over some fresh corpses. Working on cutting them up, that is.

I vomited then and there, but the short man hardly noticed. He only looked up after I asked him what he was doing. Apparently, he was chopping up the bodies for meat. Meat. it took every ounce of self restraint I had to get back upstairs and out the door without screaming.

Ian had not followed me down, but overhead the events. He took me to the side, and we had a chat. He told me that, while barbaric and highly illegal, this sort of thing is more common then it should be in the wastelands. He told me to make no mention of it, at least not until we found out more about it. He told me about how nosy travelers often end up on the wrong side of the knife in these situations, and it was advice well taken. Still, it took me a good hour to get over the whole thing. Ian was understanding, and we sat down for awhile, along the walls of Junktown. After awhile, I was stable enough to get up, and move without feeling I was going to vomit.

It is horrible. But for the moment, there is nothing we can do. At least I have a friend in all this. I don't know what I would do without Ian's help. He's earned his hundred caps over and over by this point.

We made out way over to the General Store, owned by Killian Darkwaters. He certainly looked the part of a sheriff/mayor/shopkeeper. Quite personable as well, but I could not help thinking that he might have something to do with the cannibalism.

Ian and I took the moment to offload some extra items, to sell for some extra caps. Yes, I'm selling the shotgun. Neither Ian or I are very good with it. It turned out, though, that I had more then enough for a .44 Desert Eagle. The 10mm had grown on me, but it was time to move on to bigger and louder things.

Just as Killian was demonstrating to me how to re-load, a man in a red shirt walked in, holding an old rifle. He screamed something about a man named Gizmo, lifted the rifle to his shoulder, and fired.

The bullet hit Killian in the leg, knocking him down in the same moment. Even as he fell, he drew his own gun, and in the next instant, fired back. In a display of marksmanship I will never forget in my life, he hit the man in the belly.

Even as he fired, I too, shot at the man. I don't know why. Wait. That's stupid. I know exactly why. The man was a threat, and needed to be stopped. He could have shot at me next. I could have run, or ducked behind the table. It was not my fight. But it became my fight in that second it took me to turn, click off the safety, and raise the Deagle level at the man's chest.

It was a lucky shot. I accidentally aimed high, and his head happened to be right in the way of the shot. Movies do not do much justice to the sight of a man's head exploding. I will save myself the agony of trying to explain it.

I guess I was on auto-pilot or something. The guards and Ian came in a moment after I blew the assassin's head off. I felt very numb, and things were moving so quickly. Not that the action was fast-paced, it just seemed like I was floating, and everything was just happening. I felt detached from even my own body as I bandaged up Killian's leg.

Killian explained that the man was sent by Gizmo, the crooked owner of the town Casino. Somewhere along the line, I agreed to plant a radio or something in Gizmo's office, to help uncover his plot or something.

I'm sorry, Diary. I'm going to have to stop here. Killian was kind enough to let me rest in the back of the storeroom for a moment. Ian's here, and I have never been more glad to have a friend with me. He's a good friend. He doesn't care that I'm crying.

God, i'm such a pussy.


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