Delilah sat on a stool, legs swinging lazily as she chewed on a slice of candied apple. Altan had left her and Bryan with his rucksack at the diner on the outskirts of Greyditch. After stern instructions not to go wandering, he’d gone off to handle things in town, trusting Delilah to keep watch. Sporadic gunshots echoed through the streets, eventually fading as Altan made his way toward the Metro station. A spread of snacks from Altan’s rucksack lay scattered across the counter, along with the extra Chinese assault rifle he had recovered from Bryan’s home. Delilah had taken it apart, determined to understand the fearsome device.

Bryan, slouched at the counter, absently fiddled with a rusted fork. His eyes kept drifting to the disassembled rifle. “So, you like taking stuff apart?”

Delilah smiled, eyes bright as she explained. “Yeah. Things like this?” She gestured to the rifle parts. “It’s like a story. You can guess where it’s been, who used it, maybe even what happened to them.”

Bryan furrowed his brow, leaning forward. “That’s... kinda weird. Also, that belonged to my pappa. I...” His voice faltered as he gripped the fork tighter. “I already know what happened to him.”

Delilah’s smile faltered, her gaze softening. She leaned closer, resting a hand on Bryan’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. That was... insensitive of me.”

Bryan shook his head, not looking up. “It’s okay. I just... I don’t think I want to talk about it right now.”

Delilah nodded quietly, understanding. “That’s fair. But... for me, figuring stuff out, even the hard parts, helps. Like holotapes—they’re better than stuff like this rifle. You don’t just guess the story; you hear it.”

Bryan’s curiosity peaked despite himself. “Holotapes?”

Delilah’s voice softened as she spoke. “Yeah. I collect them. Some are music, but most? They’re recordings of people talking. I have one where a guy talks about his last day at work before the bombs fell. He talks about his wife and dog and how he’s excited to go home... and then it ends. That’s all you get. It’s sad, but... it’s real.”

Bryan fell silent for a moment, turning the fork over in his hands. “So... you think it helps? Hearing them?”

Delilah shrugged. “Maybe not for everyone. But for me? It’s like carrying them forward. Like saying, ‘I hear you. You mattered.’”

Bryan looked down at the counter, his voice barely a whisper. “I wish I had something like that for my dad.”

Delilah gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Maybe you do. And if you don’t? We’ll make sure people remember him. You’re part of his story now.”

Bryan didn’t respond, but the tight grip on the fork loosened. He nodded slowly, and Delilah gave him a small, reassuring smile before returning to the rifle parts.

Her curiosity about the weapon satisfied, Delilah carefully reassembled it. With a small grin, she slid the completed rifle over to Bryan. The two settled into a quieter routine, passing the time listening to holotapes that Altan had found on his trips—fragments of a lost world: pre-war swing music, somber journals, and disjointed stories from the chaotic days after the bombs fell. Each tape offered a piece of history, a glimpse into the lives that had been lived before the wasteland swallowed it all.

Then, an unexpected change swept over the settlement. A strange sensation, like a sudden shockwave, prickled their skin. Goosebumps rose as an unnatural energy pulsed through the air. The next moment, all hell broke loose. A lone ant in the distance—one Altan had missed in his sweep earlier—went berserk. The little creature began darting around in a wild frenzy, spraying fire in every direction until it collapsed, seemingly spent. The silence that followed was almost too much.

“Woah,” they both said in unison, before bursting into nervous giggles at the odd coincidence. Delilah pulled out her laser pistol, a nervous swallow catching in her throat as she loaded an energy cell.

“That ant went totally crazy,” Bryan remarked, placing a hand on the rifle.

Delilah nodded, eyes narrowed. “Yeah. Do you wanna check it out?”

Bryan frowned. “Didn’t your brother tell us to stay put until he comes back?”

Delilah flashed a mischievous grin. “Yeah, but he also said I was in charge while he’s gone. So, I say we check it out. If we’re quick, we can be back before he gets here.”

"How do you know he's coming back?" Bryan asked.

The question made her heart skip, but Delilah shook her head. "He always comes back. Besides, that had to have been him, the weird-" she wiggled her arms, "-thing that made that ant go psycho."

Bryan thought it over, then shrugged. “I guess that makes sense. But if he gets mad, I’m blaming you.”

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Delilah nodded, and packed up the remaining snacks into Altan’s rucksack, then—with Bryan’s help—shoved it into a corner, covering it with debris to conceal it. She led the way out of the diner, laser pistol in one hand and her other hand resting lightly on her stealth boy. Bryan followed, carrying the Chinese assault rifle, which seemed almost comically large in his arms.

The creature wasn’t quite as dead as they had hoped, but it was clear that whatever had made it go mad had left it in a state of disarray. Delilah finished it off with a well-placed shot from her laser pistol, and for a brief moment, they stood over the still, smoldering body of the insect, both reflecting on the oddness of the situation.

But their attention was soon diverted. Bryan wanted to explore his neighbor’s house, and Delilah, ever adventurous, followed along. “This is where my friend Will lived,” Bryan said quietly as they entered. “He was sorta my friend. His mom was nice, too. Quiet, but always took care of me and my pappa when we came over. His dad was scary, even scarier than your brother.”

Delilah nodded as they wandered through the dusty, abandoned house. Her Pip-Boy’s light flickered on, illuminating the darkened interior as they gathered foodstuffs and other essentials. Eventually, they stumbled upon something curious—a long, matte black case made of metal and hard plastic. It had several locked latches, and when Delilah attempted to open it, frustration set in. She groaned, giving the case a sharp kick.

“I can’t get these stupid locks open,” she muttered, stowing her lockpick kit.

Bryan shrugged, grunting as he lifted one corner of the case. He dropped it with a dull thud. “We could get your brother to smash it open, right?”

Delilah’s face lit up. “Oh, yeah! Let’s bring it back to the diner. He’ll get it open for us.”

Bryan nodded, a smug grin spreading across his face. “We can say we found it in my dad’s secret stash.”

Delilah’s eyes widened. “Your dad had a secret stash? That’s so cool!”

They struggled to haul the heavy case back to the diner, but they finally managed to drag it across the threshold and manhandle it onto the counter. After catching their breath and enjoying a bottle of water, they heard the zap of a laser pistol in the distance, followed by the tell-tale bark of Altan's rifle.

“He’s back!” Delilah cheered, the weight of the day finally lifting.

A few minutes later, Altan rounded the street corner and jogged toward the diner, looking a little singed in a few spots. "Hey, you two. That was a lot of fucking ants. You guys okay?"

Delilah and Bryan, eager to explain, flooded him with questions. After a befuddled moment, Altan clapped his hands twice, silencing them. "Alright, alright, that's enough. Let me sit down." He let out a relieved groan as he hopped up on the counter and off his feet, his elbow knocking into the case as he sat. His eyes flicked to the case, then over to Delilah and Bryan. "What's with this box?"

Delilah blanched, realizing she hadn’t planned for this particular flaw in her plan to open the box. It required *Altan*, who had given them clear instructions to stay put. Fortunately, Bryan interjected before she could give herself away.

“Oh, we, uh... we found it in my pappa’s stash. It’s just behind the diner. I’ll show you.” Bryan presented a key with a sheepish grin.

Altan rolled his eyes. “Right. What’s in the box?”

Delilah and Bryan exchanged a shrug. “I dunno.”

Altan tried opening the case, but the locks held firm. “Prybar,” he said, glancing toward where he had left his rucksack, the space now conspicuously empty. Delilah’s eyes shifted nervously.

“We, uh, hid it. Just in case.”

Altan raised an eyebrow but said nothing as Delilah quickly uncovered the rucksack. With two quick grunts, he smashed the locks and pried open the case, revealing a break-action grenade launcher and a dozen identical grenades tucked into a sturdy canvas bandolier.

He took a moment to study the weapon, running his fingers over its smooth, worn surface. The launcher had clearly seen its share of action, but it was still in good working order. “M79, serial 171134,” he muttered to himself, reading the numbers etched on the barrel. Altan worked the action a few times, the satisfying ‘clack’ echoing in the otherwise quiet room. He paused to inspect the grenades, counting them one by one as he slid them from the bandolier. Altan whistled as he read the white stenciling on one of the grenades: M433, HEDP.

Satisfied, he nodded to himself and turned his attention back to Delilah, who was watching him carefully. "Good find."

After some time spent in silence, decompressing from the day’s events, they decided to settle for the night in the house across from Bryan's. It was the Brandice household the kids had raided earlier. The building was half-collapsed and scorched by the ant attack, but it still offered shelter—and it was away from the grim scene next door. That, for now, was enough. As they cleared out the bedroom and set up their sleeping rolls, Altan didn’t acknowledge the faint impression in the carpet where the case had been earlier, and Delilah didn’t bring it up. Neither of them felt the need to, and it was easier that way.

As Bryan eventually fell asleep, his steady breathing filling the room, Delilah shifted uneasily beside Altan. After a long pause, she spoke up. “I’m sorry, Altan. I... I lied earlier.”

Altan rolled his eyes, a small, wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Lied about what? That case? You didn’t have to keep it a secret. I get it. You found it in the secret stash, right?” His tone was light, teasing even, as he glanced over at her.

Delilah gave him a sheepish smile, nodding. “Yeah. I... I thought you’d be mad.”

Altan shook his head slowly. “Delilah, we don’t have time for that kind of thing out here. I trust your judgment the way you trust mine. We're going to make mistakes out here, probably a lot of them. So be brave, be bold, be who you want to be. Just don’t keep stuff from me, okay?” He nudged her with his elbow, the warmth of his words easing some of the weight off her shoulders.

She nodded, feeling a little lighter, and shifted closer to him. The quiet stretched on for a while, the only sound in the room being Bryan’s breathing and the occasional creak of the house settling.

As she started to drift off, Delilah remembered something. "Hey, bro? Did you find that—" she let out a squeaky yawn, "—that stupid scientist? I wanted to give him a piece of my mind."

Altan went still for a moment, his gaze drifting to the barricaded door. For a moment, he was lost in thought, then he turned to her, his expression unreadable. “The ants got him.”

Delilah blinked, the words sinking in slowly. She nodded, her eyes already half-closed, her exhaustion catching up with her. The quiet of the room seemed to pull at her, and before she could say anything more, she let out a soft sigh and turned onto her side, the weight of the day pulling her into sleep.