Never have I claimed to be perfect; usually quite the opposite. More than I’d like to admit my old ways, my helpful and generous nature, shine through and gets me into trouble in this new world. Sometimes, I read people wrong and really scuff the floor.
Apparently, and this isn’t the kind of thing they just tell doe-eyed vault survivors, but there’s a big difference between ghouls and feral ghouls. The latter charge and want to claw your face off. The former just look like they want to. Big difference, in some circles.
Walked into a new town, “Goodneighbor” they called it, and apparently they let anyone inside. The law is handled in a very “eye for an eye” kind of way, and I got to witness it first hand. Some tough thought he’d try to intimidate my gear off of me, when this ghoul in an honest-to-Pete pirate outfit saunters up and sticks a knife between his ribs. I was about to draw my shiny new lazpistol and blow the creature away, when he spat on the corpse, wiped off his blade, and announced that the man had stiffed him at cards the night before.
Everyone just turned back to their business, leaving me in the utmost confusion. He introduced himself, made a few crude remarks, and went about his way. Poking around, it turned out that he wasn’t the only ghoul living in Goodnighbor – as long as they kept their wits about them, they were as welcome as anyone else in the anarchist commune.
If I had seen the pirate out in the wastes, headed my way, my rifle would have been up without a second thought. One thing I’ve learned is that ghouls are ghouls, and are just as vicious as anything else that roams out there.
Only perhaps I was wrong.
Maybe there are some ghouls out there who don’t go insane. Maybe the radiation just twists their bodies (and senses of humor) and leaves their minds relatively untouched. Maybe that whole “hunger for the living” thing is what happens when they’re too far gone.
I don’t know – I’m no physician, or psychologist either. I just want to make it from day to day, finding safe places to sleep, moving on from where I’ve been to where I’m going.
I’ve never considered myself a prejudiced person, but I was real glad I had an excuse for why he couldn’t come traveling with me. “My dog doesn’t like company,” luckily accompanied by a protective bark.
Good boy.
