 | The following is based on Creations and/or Creation Club content. |
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June's journal pages are a series of five paper notes in the Fallout 4 Creations content "Bunker Home Pack."
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Journal page 1[]
I'm all alone.
Trudy took the kids out to D.C. to spend time with her parents. We had a fight about it. I told her it wasn't safe, that the world could go at any minute. I never wanted to be more wrong about anything in all of my life.
My only hope is that I'm wrong one more time - that they're still out there, alive and surviving. After all, it was Trudy's idea to begin with. It's because of her that we have this shelter.
I have to have faith and believe they'll find their way here, so I'll wait.
Maybe once things clear out on the outside, I'll go look for them out in D.C. If it even still exists
Journal page 2[]
The area is irradiated to hell. I found some spare fusion cores in the crashed vertibird on the roof of the museum, the soldiers from the ship were long gone.
Scavenged in the ruins of the town a bit, but it's dangerous to roam outside for very long.
I haven't seen any soldiers despite catching some transmissions on the radio, I wonder if there's anyone out there trying to bring order to this chaos.
Not a day goes by that I don't think about my family. Once I'm prepared enough and the worst of the fallout is gone, I'll try to make my way to D.C. and see if there's anything left of the city, and maybe find out what happened to Trudy and the kids.
Journal page 3[]
The food stores are starting to run low, and it's still quite dangerous to venture outside (although the hazmat suit has been handy) to find supplies. By now I'd rather starve than go on with a pork and beans diet.
I was thinking of setting up a hydroponics area in the children's room, not like they're here to use the space anyway.
But that would be admitting what I don't want to admit. That they're actually gone.
Journal page 4[]
What a New Year's. Not the most miserable I've experienced since the bombs fell. That was the day my skin fell off.
It started with a hangnail of all things. I yanked that small little strip, and nearly tore the skin off my hand. It wasn't until later that I realized the really scary part. Half my hand was exposed, and there wasn't any pain.
It seems I'm not the only one of my kind either. I met a traveling merchant who had news from the area, and knowledge about the other cities. As I feared, bombs also hit D.C.
So much time has passed, I'd pretty much given up all hope. But if I'm still alive, maybe they are too.
Journal page 5[]
Happy 240th birthday to me.
At least I didn't have to spend it alone. I met a couple of survivors, Javier and Lucia, who found their way into Concord. A classic couple on the run. They seem a little road-weary, but in the Wasteland, it'd be more worrying if they weren't. The last thing you want to be, or meet, is someone who's a little too comfortable.
That's not to say Javier isn't a strange one. Despite obviously being hungry, he wouldn't eat a bite of my cooking, although I guess I can't blame him. Overall, I can't complain about the company, no matter what form it takes. More importantly, it turns out he's from D.C., which means home is still out there, somewhere.
Maybe it's nothing. But maybe it's the universe giving me a swift kick in the pants. Either way, I'm ready. It's time to go back to D.C. To home.
I've arranged to hitch a ride with a small caravan heading south. I have to find out what happened to my family.
We're heading out in a week, and I'm leaving the bunker to Javier and Lucia. I know it's stupid to leave this place to strangers, but I can't just sit here and wait to die. I have to know what happened.
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