Donovan O'Niel's Arc

Chapter 5 of 5

By morning the back barrier stood shoulder-high, but the gaps still bothered Donovan. He walked the line with his map case open and counted three blind angles between the new posts. The clinic tent sat quiet behind the equipment shop. The hatch pillar waited under its slab. Two doors, one clock, and not enough eyes on either. He found Marcus at the coffee hut, rifle propped, ledger open. "We need more guards," Donovan said. "Four, if we can get them. Before I go down the hatch." Marcus closed the ledger. "Andy already pushed the same number. Raider band, twenty guns, two days out." He set the book aside. "I'll run the hire. You run the interviews. My yard, your call on who carries a rifle inside the wire." He stood. "Use the watch shack at the back gate. Keeps them off the main lot until we clear them." Donovan set up inside the shack an hour later. The salvaged car door hung crooked on its hinges. Sandbags lined the roof and dulled the wind. He propped his red file organizer on the plank table and laid out contract sheets, a pen, and the worn G.E.C.K. manual he kept for reference — its blue and yellow cover fanning open to the pharmaceutical index Zelda had annotated in the margins. He wanted the manual visible. Anyone who flinched at the Vault-Tec stamp was not walking his perimeter. Achilles brought them in one at a time. Two local riflemen came first. Donovan checked their rifles, their reload times, and the names they gave. Both cleared. He signed them on and slid the contracts into the organizer. The third recruit was a lean tabby in a blue mechanic's jacket, tool pouch heavy on his belt. "Robert Breem," he said. "Wrench work mostly. Shoot straight when I have to." Donovan asked where he'd worked. Breem named two salvage crews Donovan could verify through Kevin's network. His hands were steady on the rifle. Donovan signed him. The fourth walked in and Donovan's chest tightened before the man spoke. Donald Draper. Same crooked grin. Same shooter's stance Donovan had trained beside in his old unit. "Heard you needed guns," Draper said. "Andy pulled my name." Donovan studied him for a long beat. He knew Draper's shooting. He did not know what Draper had done in the years between. He signed him anyway. Four guards. Coverage before the raiders arrived. By dusk Achilles had the rotation posted on the shop wall and the new hires drawing from the armory locker. Donovan stood at the shack door and watched Draper load a magazine with the same rhythm he remembered. The perimeter was covered. The hatch descent could go on schedule. He had bought the guns he needed and let one through the wire whose loyalty he could not yet price.