Thanks for tuning in To this installment! Check out the previous entries in the series!

• Leaving the Vault
• Billings Farmstead

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Week Three since leaving the vault. AND. I. CAN. NOT. GET. THIS. DAMNED. C.A.M.P. TO. WORK. PROPERLY!

I've read the manual. I've run the diagnostics. I've done all the necessary surveying and land data analysis. I've performed each step in the God Forsaken training We received in the VAULT, and for the LIFE of me I can not transfer my camp from one place to another....

Technology is the worst...

Let me rewind. I've Built up my C.A.M.P on a bluff overlooking Morgantown. I put numerous hours and resources into the construction, planning, and actual building of the structure. I Took tips and advice from the Survival Guide on how to make the structure safe and secure. I took care to make it feel as much like a Home as possible...and I CAN'T GET THE STUPID THING TO MOVE FROM HERE TO THERE JUST LIKE IT'S SUPPOSED TO!!! GAH!

After fighting for what feels like hours I flip closed the display on the C.A.M.P module, pull out my sleeping bag, and call it for the night. I find a nice dry spot under a bridge nearby to tuck in. The babbling creek at my feet sends a rush of childhood memories my way and in that moment I forget all about the current reality. It was nice to ponder on that a while but eventually, exhaustion always wins. As I start to close my eyes I hear the haunting, yet familiar, howl of the Scorched. Normally I'd like to ignore it but this time it's too close to let go. With a shot of adrenaline, I grab Babe, and begin to head in the direction of the howl. After walking for a bit the howls and shrieks get louder and more numerous.

I count maybe 5 scorched....

Eventually they lead me to a church, tucked into a hillside. Before the Bombs we were regular Church goers. One thing Mom always said was "Tug. You need to Believe in something in this Life." For the longest time It didn't make much sense... Hell, up until right now it still didn't... but somehow.. in this very moment, it does.

Kanawha Missionary Baptist reads the sign out front. A few dead Mole rats litter the steps leading up to the open doors of the church. They've been ripped to shreds...Obviously the source of the Scorched's cries. From my vantage point I can see 4 scorched roaming the sanctuary of the church. I sneak my way up to the front steps and can now hear the awful sounds of their raspy breathing and guttural sounds. No matter how many times I see them, or hear their sounds, I'm still disgusted by them. I recently found a new toy I've been itching to try out...someone rigged a baseball into a grenade. I took one apart to figure out the mechanics and in conjunction with my explosives training... managed to make a few of my own. I pull the pin on one and with a hearty click I lob the ball in the open doors. Between all the Scorched's sounds I don't thing they heard it roll to their feet. 1...2...BOOOOOMMM. The sound deafening, as shrapnel and body parts fly out the front doors. Clutching Babe tight I run in to find one last scorched stumbling to it's feet. I swing with all my might and with a Squishy, hollow thud I paint the Pulpit with it's brains.

One thing I'll never tire of...is how satisfying that feels.

The adrenaline begins to run its course and I look around the Church. Skeletons line the pews people of all types. Men, women, old, young...and the worst. Kids. I don't care how jaded you get, A child should never have to suffer that fate. Not ever. I notice glasses all around them as well...Odd. I go through my routine, checking every nook and cranny for loot. Typical stuff for a church...stale bread a few bottles of wine. I go up to the pulpit and find the Preacher...er whats left of the preacher. I say A quick and sloppy prayer before going through his pockets. Some cash, a pocket knife, and a journal.

I take a seat pop open the wine and flip through the journal. Page after page melts by as the days lead up to the bombs. One by one each skeleton had a name and every day problems.

• Mrs Allen, Always sat in the front pew. She suspected her husband was messing around behind her back.
• The Toberly's, Middle pew left side, Had just had a miscarriage.

The pages go on and on. Individual prayers for all. If anything this pastor seemed like one of the good ones. Before I know it the wine is gone, daylight begins to peek in the windows and the last few pages of the journal begin to tell a different story.

"The sirens are going off now. Reports are saying the Chinese Launched more nukes than can be counted and some are coming this way. The news advises shelter but what life is there to live in a wasteland? All of these people are scared, and most don't want to face the aftermath of a nuclear winter...lord, no one even knows what to really expect. I can't let these people suffer, nor can I be there for them after. I'm a strong man...but not that strong."

"Lord Help me."

"I've called a special service for those that want to come. One Final service. One where we choose to meet Jesus...not one where someone chooses for us."

"Forgive me Father for I KNOW what I do."

I look through the pulpit and find more rat poison than should be in a church...let alone the pulpit.

Lord Have Mercy.

In that moment there is a bit of a Spiritual awaking inside me and I hear my Mothers words again "Believe in something". I Apologize to the pastor as I take his garments and slip them over my armor. A cool, calming feeling begins to rush over me as I grip each side of the pulpit, look out, and address the congregation.

"I know this is new to me...but today I pledge my life to one of service and generosity to the survivors of Appalachia. If you ever run into Reverend Tug, he will part with any and all ammo you need. If it is healing, a gun, a bat...anything. If I have it to spare...it is yours. I will spare anyone who asks the same fate that met you fine people of Kanawha Baptist. That is my promise today. So Help me God..."

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And now...I no longer travel alone.

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