I’m not one to believe in spirits, gods, or karma, but sometimes I have to give thanks for when the universe works out just right in my favor. This morning was the first time I’d come across a deathclaw since the events of the Museum of Witchcraft – I still don’t like thinking about that – and I thought for sure I wouldn’t have survived to record this journal.
While scavenging an old train crash, finding a lucky ammo cache and various sundries I could trade for caps, I heard something large and hungry outside, its breath steaming in the dewy air. I knew its breath steamed because I caught sight of the hulking monstrosity from between rusted window slats. I am not too reserved to admit my heart shook with fear at the sight of the thing, not five feet distant.
It sniffed at the railcar, its long dagger-like talons flexing with the thought of an easy, boxed-in meal. It would have, should have, had me dead to rights if it hadn’t been interrupted by an event which would normally be even more disastrous than an encounter with a deathclaw. A piercing beeping split the morning air, growing louder and louder accompanied by thundering footfalls.
A suicidal Super Mutant.
The deathclaw heard the approaching danger as well, spinning away from the railcar and charging the green-skinned brute storming towards it through the fens. Apparently it hadn’t encountered such a foe before, much to my fortune, because it didn’t seem to realize that the mutant carried an armed nuclear bomb and had the express will to use it.
I admit I have no idea where these nuclear devices keep coming from, or how there continue to be super mutants, what with the frequency with which they seem to use them. Maybe it’s some callback to the Norse berserkers or some mental deficiency that they storm into combat such, or that they use their great destructive devices so readily.
Luckily I was protected by the same railcar that was nearly my doom, rocked and jostled but unharmed. At least, nothing a healthy dose of RadAway and a pair of Stimpaks weren’t able to fix. I collected my wits, what additional spoils I could find, and again lamented my lack of a traveling companion – my dog would have alerted me to the Deathclaw long before I would have drawn near.
I continued to send caps to the doctor in Goodneighbor, hoping for a full and complete recovery for my friend.
