Community:Death's Claws

 is a piece of Fan Fiction submitted to the 2023 Fallout Creepypasta Contest.

Description
A lone ghoul has a terrifying encounter in the tunnels.

Story
With everything that I had been through, I thought that I knew fear. Hell, I thought that I knew fear when I saw those bombs fall. The desperate scramble, my trying to find something, anything, behind which to hide. I thought that sensation was fear.

When I emerged, saw the world destroyed, everything that I knew and loved gone, and nothing left but rubble and desperate, starving people, I thought that was fear. When those people tried to eat me, I thought that I felt fear.

I thought that I had felt fear, known it, this desperate sensation, throughout most of my life. When I was shot, when I came across my first Feral, when my skin began to rot, when I was trapped in what was left of an office building, with who knows what lurking in the dark. Every time it happened, I thought that I had felt fear.

But that's the thing about the Wasteland. It wears you down, breaks you... and makes what would otherwise be terrifying incredibly mundane. Not knowing about where your next meal would come from, what to drink, where to sleep, and how to find something, anything safe would all be terrifying to a person just a few years (Decades?? How long has it been?) prior. To most people today, they are ordinary, just a fact of life. So yes, throughout my lifetime, with everything that I had been through, I thought that I knew fear.

I was so hopelessly wrong.

I was walking, scavenging, travelling. Any of these terms could apply to what I was doing in that Metro tunnel. In hindsight, I think that I was trying to get to yet another place that the guy on the radio had said was safe, was (By today's definition), prospering. Every one had come up as shit. Most were abandoned after a few pitiful weeks of effort, and the others were either barely clinging onto life, or didn't cotton to rotters such as myself. Fucking breathers. Why people were still holding onto views that should have had no place a few months after the end was beyond me. It's not like I was a ticking time bomb or something. No, my lucidity was important to me, and I always did something to keep it going. Drink, anti-depressants, or just turning on the radio and listening to the feel-good channel once in a while. Did wonders. No, it's like I was at risk of turning feral. So why couldn't some people just accept tha--

Aargh!!

Pain. Horrific, brutal and instant. Running up my leg, spiking... Ah, shit. Bear trap. Should have kept my eyes on the ground. People littered the train tunnels with them for some reason. Guess they couldn't find mines. Why the train tunnels in particular was beyond me.

What wasn't beyond me was the damage that it had done. Had sliced right through the skin, snapping muscle and tendon, and... Oh. Is that a bone? Huh. Really should have kept my eyes on the ground.

Still, I had something going for me in that situation. For once, being a walking corpse actually came in handy. What made me could heal me. Bitter irony, I thought, isn't it? What ended my life is keeping me alive. I reached for my my pocket, fumbling around for a while. It wasn't like I had any stims on me, but what I had would do the job.

Water. A canteen full of the stuff.

Little more than irradiated sludge. Would have been lethal to anyone not like me. For me, however, it was life-giving. I raised it to my lips, and began to drink. It was vile, and tasted of dirt, blood, and shit. But I could feel what it was doing. The tingling began, and I could see it beginning to work. Now just to get my leg out of this fucki--

Wait.

What was that?

I could have sworn that I heard a footstep. Or at least something loud and heavy landing, creating a sound that somewhat resembled someone setting foot in the crumbling metro network.

"Hello?", I called, my voice echoing off the cylindrical walls. Absolutely nothing. No response, no-one coming out of the darkness to greet or attack me. I disliked this phrase, but it must have been the wind. But still, I could have sworn that I heard something.

I tried to shrug it off. Whatever. No matter what had made the noise, I had to focus on getting myself out of this trap. All that I could see was a bunch of springs, switches, plates, and rusted metal. I traced something. Didn't quite know what it did but... if I could...

Bingo.

The jaws snapped open, the awful pressure, some of the sting, all lifted away. It was a relief. But I wouldn't be going anywhere for a while. Even with the nice, warm radiation pulsing through my body, the sickness that healed, the wound inflicted by some long-dead breather wouldn't just up and go away after about 30 seconds of not being involved in a dangerous situation. No, I had to find a place to rest, to lie down for a while and let my body and the rads do their work.

Only thing in sight was an old metro bench, a rusted hunk of metal. Would be better than sleeping on concrete. And so, gingerly, I moved, dragging my limb behind me. Pain, abominable sensation, lanced through my body. It was a familiar sensation at this point. If I went for a single day without having some random part of my body be aching, then that was what I considered a good outcome. With everything that I had been through, it was easy for me to just settle down, go to sleep.

Darkness, surrounding me. Suppose it was lucky that I had made it this far without the backup generator deciding to say "Fuck it all", and die. Still, didn't mean that this situation wasn't a bad one. I didn't need to check my pockets. I knew that I didn't have a flashlight, lantern, or any other source of illumination. So, what the hell was I supposed to do? Just lie here for the next few centuries until some shmuck walked through the tunnels and managed to get the generator on?

That sounded boring as hell. I tried something to keep myself entertained.

"I spy with my bloodshot eye, something beginning with D". "Oh, I don't know, John... Maybe the fucking darkness that's perpetually surrounding us?!".

Yeah, that got old quickly. But still, there weren't any other ways that I could help my mind stay active. Not like I was lugging around a chessboard complete with pieces. And so, I was lying there, pondering the "What if I lie here for a couple of centuries" plan. Yeah, maybe I should...

Wait, what the fuck?!

That mystery footstep again. I tried to ignore it. Not like it was anything other than old pipes and my wandering mind. But this time, I couldn't. Maybe it was because of my idiot brain trying to keep me entertained, maybe it was because of the blackness that enveloped me, and maybe it was because less than a minute afterwards, I heard it again.

"Hello?", I called yet again. "If there's someone there, could you please do me the service of finding the generator?". I hoped that maybe, this time, if I actually said something that couldn't be mistaken as an echo, whoever it was that was there would here and help me out. I sat for a while, expecting a response, waiting. After what seemed like an eternity, another voice responded.

"Hello? Wow, it's really dark, isn't it?". The voice called, echoing from the tunnel that my back was turned to. It sounded... Weird. And coming from me, when I sounded like gravel in a blender, actually meant something. But at the moment, I didn't care. All that I wanted was to be relieved of the darkness. The footsteps continued, and I could swear that they were coming in my direction.

"Yeah, it is! Hey, buddy, if you have a flashlight, can you go and flip the generator back on? I'm getting kind of sick of this darkness.". Another call, and silence for a while. But the footsteps continued. And continued. Again, they sounded like they were getting closer. But why? As far as I was aware, the generator wasn't in my direction. This person perplexed me. Could they be another scavenger, like I was? A raider, looking for an easy victim? Or someone else? My interest piqued, I called out again.

"Hey man, listen! If you can get the lights back on, this old fellow would be very pleased! I've got caps! If you help, you could be benefited, if you catch my meaning.". There. A sure-fire way to see whether they were a raider was to announce that you had caps on your person. But no response. No affirmation, no rejection of the offer, and no "I'm going to wear your bodily parts as a necklace!". But the footsteps continued. I turned around, looking towards the other tunnel. Nothing but blackness. But then, just as I thought that I may be hallucinating, that the voice may just be in my head, another response came.

"Okay! It's been a while since I fired up the old light, but let's take a look! Who knows what treasures you hide!". An... unusual response, to say the least. But still, a response. I yelled out, trying to offer something. "Uh...Okay!!! Just find the generator, and everything's yours! Alright?". Still, the footsteps grew louder. Sounded like the guy was right on top of me... But that couldn't be the case. Even in the blackness, I could still make out shapes. And there was nothing. Nothing nearby. Not like it was a fucking ghost or anything. I was the closest thing to the undead here, after all.

Just as I thought that the mystery voice had gone silent for the last time, I heard it again. "Alright! Some wonderglue, a few aluminium cans, and a gun! Should be enough to get me by for a while. Wait, what is that?". The voice sounded like it was right next to me. What the hell was this shithead doing? And saying... It barely sounded like it was in response to me. Maybe they..

What the fuck?

Movement, in the shadows. The footsteps were loud now, practically deafening. And the voice... It spoke again.

"Hello? Wait, is that...Aaaargaggaahgahhahgahghahghgah!". Infernal screaming, coming from the shadows. Echoing from the walls, grating on the ears. And for the first time, I made out... something. A hulking silhouette, so similar, yet different to a person. It looked... Hunched, crippled almost. But those hands...

No. There was nothing human about those hands. As far as I could tell, they were long, thin, and... Wait.. I saw flexing. A single, long finger was brought to where the mouth of the figure would be. And... they stepped forward. Were those things.. horns?

The screaming... It continued. And the person, the thing making it, stepped onto the platform.

I had to move. To run. To hide. This thing, this monster... It was right beside the bench. It could mimic voices, it could kill... And I hadn't lived this long just to end up a meal for some freak of nature. I tried to move, get off the bench. Easy does it. Step by step. Slowly, carefully, I removed myself from my resting place. The concrete grated against my skin, tearing at it. But still. It was better than dying. And so, I began to move. Began to drag myself over the floor, looking for a way to get out, escape. It took an agonising amount of time, time that I hoped would be well spent.

But, just as I thought there was safety, that there could be a chance... The fucking footsteps!!! Were they heading towards me? Were they just going to the other tunnel? Were they going to pass me by? Aarrgghh, the waiting! They seemed slow, deliberate, and...

Wait.

Did.... No.

I felt something brush up against my arm. Something scaly, something rough, something extremely inhuman. And it was right next to me. This... thing, this monster in the darkness, it was close to me... and it wasn't going away. A trilling echoed through the tunnels, undoubtably from this creature. It was unsettling, it felt completely unnatural, and it was coming from right next to me. I tried to slow my breathing, refrain from making too much noise. This... creature, this abominable thing was so close that I could punch it, though it would undoubtably be the last thing that I did. Keep fucking calm, pal. No sudden movements. Just keep breathing.

After lying there for what felt like an eternity, something shifted. The monster, the thing with claws of death, moved on. I could hear its footsteps, fading into the distance, parroting the screams of a long-dead man all the while. I could move, I could walk...well, as well as I could with my injury. Irradiated water can't heal everything. I was probably going to need a doctor. But I was alive.

Tentatively, I stood up. Tested putting weight on my injured foot. The pain that shot through my leg like a rocket made it very clear that I wouldn't be using this limb for a while. Regardless of my crippled limb, however,I needed a light source. And I needed one quickly if I was to avoid wandering these tunnels forever. Cursing my luck, and my shit leg, I walked, or hobbled, towards where I remembered the door to a maintenance closet was at.

For once, things appeared to be going my way. I found a flashlight, and from what I could make out in the light that it provided, it was intended for repairs in near complete blackness. A mechanic's best friend, and given the lack of any mechanics, I supposed that it would be mine. Aside from the flashlight, I found a few other things. A couple of bottles of Nuka-Cola, a bag, a few chems, a couple of old magazines that I could peruse later... oh, and a revolver. .38 Special, from what I could make out. Not going to be the most powerful weapon, but it would do for now (Why the fuck wasn't I carrying a weapon?! I had been walking these wastes for decades, and still I hadn't even considered carrying a gun? It was a wonder that I had survived this long.).

It was difficult, under the light of the flashlight, to tape the flashlight itself to the revolver's barrel. I knew that it would screw up my aim at a distance, but I didn't want to have to carry two items at once. Following this, I grabbed the bag that I had found tucked into a corner, and shoved as many things as I possibly could into it. As much ammo for the revolver, junk and miscellaneous food and drink items as possible. As for the chems, I took a shot of Med-X for the leg, and swallowed a few of the Mentats. They tasted like chalk, dissolving into a vile paste in my throat before finally going down, but I didn't care. Needed to keep my mind sharp. I kept the Psycho and Jet for later. I had a feeling that I would need them. Then, with a salute to the mechanic, who's boredom and illegal stash had probably saved my life, I proceeded on.

I don't think that I can convey the exact feeling that I had when I was walking through those tunnels, though I'll try my damned hardest. For hours, I had my gun to both the ground and the walls, this miniscule ray of light cutting through the darkness. Every sound had me on edge, every drop of water falling from the slate gray bricks had me turning, thinking that this beast, this monster, would appear out of the darkness. Pair this with a leg that I feared could give out at any second, and additionally having to watch for the exact traps that had caused this injury, and you can see where I am going with this.

Somehow, I made it through the tunnels, always turning, watching. The flashlight was flickering by the end, my hands sweaty on the revolver as I slowly stepped up off the platform. The stairs by my feet presented a way out... For a second, I thought that it was all over, that this nightmare was at an end.

And then, I heard the footsteps. Loud, menacing, and heading directly towards me. I didn't need to be told twice. I bolted.

I ran as fast as my bear-trap addled leg would allow, practically sprinting up the stairs. I heard the footsteps, closing in, quickly. With as much energy as I could push into it, I dashed for the gates, keeping my eyes ahead.

With a roar, I slammed the doors behind me and set foot on the surface. Despite it perpetually being under cloud cover, nothing had ever seemed more beautiful to me. The monster was gone, banished to the tunnels. And I... I was alive.

You probably don't believe me. Probably think that I'm an old, drug-addled ghoul. But I'm telling you, this is all fucking real. And that monster, with claws of death... It's out there. And I have a feeling that there's more than one. So, next time that you're walking in the tunnels, keep a light on, and mind the sounds. Because there are things down there that are terrifying beyond imagination, and the only reason why I'm speaking to you now is pure, stupid luck. And if you don't heed this warning... then you might not be as lucky as I was.

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