A/N: Sorry, just a quick little note. I haven't written anything in literal years. I got a review a few days ago (thank you Titan Steam) that caught my attention. I hadn't thought about these characters or this story in a long time, and hadn't had any reason to since it had fallen into the black abyss of FFNet. But then out of the blue, someone commented on it and I was like, I really missed that story. It's in dire need of a revamp or a rewrite altogether, but I thought, maybe I'll try just giving it a second shot.

So...this may be an attempt at a sequel? I don't know. It depends on feedback, if it's well received, what everybody thinks (whoever reads it lol).

I guess, without further ado, here's a timid attempt at getting back into the wonderful world of writing.

P.S. - title is taken from Fallout 4's soundtrack! (Awesome game, awesome songs)

Crawl Out Through the Fallout

"As if you were on fire from within." – Pablo Neruda

.III.

They had heard about the group from various courier reports, and even through the comm line kept in the Mayor's house. Exercise extreme caution, they said. Be prepared to use deadly force. Each time it had seemed like a ghost story, something they certainly needed to be aware of but not take too seriously yet.

Promise was – and is – one of the most reinforced territories left behind in the aftermath of the Green Flu. They have a decent sized weapons cache, plenty of food to go around, and enough supplies to keep people going and aid in the production and distribution of more.

The walls surrounding the town proper are made of concrete and chain link fencing, a project that had taken the better part of three and a half years to complete due to the lack of tools and the necessary equipment. It's their crowning achievement and greatest defense, and has managed to prevent a multitude of attacks in order to keep the residents safely inside.

Everyone believed the walls could withstand any form of assault – that is, any form thrown at it by the infected monsters prowling around outside. Despite all of the warnings, they were not prepared for an attack launched by their own kind.

"Look out!" Michael yells, and dives to the left in time to avoid being singed by the Molotov cocktail flung in his general direction. An unfortunate Promise resident, who hadn't moved out of the way fast enough, screams and thrashes in agony as he is engulfed by the flames.

"Michael." Dean is suddenly there, yanking him to his feet and dragging him around a corner. His golden eyes are blazing with fear and adrenaline. "Are you alright? Where's Maggie?"

"I don't know. I lost her coming down the center. What the fuck is going on?" But he doesn't really need an answer, he already knows. They all do. Hadn't they been warned enough? Screams and maniacal laughter screech above the chaotic sounds of destruction.

"We need to keep moving," Dean says, and pushes him toward the backyard of the house they are hiding against. "Buck and the others should be setting up an emergency defense at the Mayor's. Maggie knows to go there."

They called themselves Legion, the ones attacking Promise. A group of men and women who tear through safe zones with gleeful abandon, murdering and destroying and stealing whatever they wish. Some believe they are people driven mad by the infection, who have come out of the sickness but are irrevocably damaged and messed up in the head as a result. Others say they are sick individuals already, and that the flu has simply given them an excuse to raze whole settlements to dust and to rape and kill as they please. Whatever the reason behind their insanity, they were unleashing themselves upon Paradise in an overwhelming, terrifying assault.

Michael flees with Dean down familiar paths, dodging bullets and explosives alike, toward the edge of town where the Mayor's house stands. They had been caught completely unaware. This psychotic cult had come in the night, overtook the guards, and had stormed the town like bloodthirsty monsters. Michael imagines that even the infected outside had fled from the psychos in fear.

They are stopped only once in their mad dash. A naked, filthy man smeared with caked, dried blood hops from the roof of a roadside produce stand right in front of them. His teeth are black and his eyes are too wide as he grins at them, a butcher's blade held ready in his hand.

"Here, chicky-chicky," he croons. "Time to die." The last bit is said on a snarl as the man leaps at them, swinging down the rusted knife as he does.

He moves fast, but Dean is faster. Before Michael can properly react Dean is tackling the man to the ground with his hands around his throat. There's a sound, like thunder rumbling, coming from the man as Dean's hands tighten punishingly on his neck. He kicks, bucks, and scrambles to grab the knife that had been knocked from his grasp, before giving a final spasm and falling still.

Dean doesn't move from the body at first, and Michael realizes suddenly that the rumble of thunder hadn't been coming from the crazy man at all, but from Dean. The sound is low and vicious, almost a growl yet much more feral, and causes the small hairs on the back of Michael's neck and arms to stand on end.

He feels his chest tighten even further with fear. He recalls another time, years ago, when that same sound had come from Dean, only it hadn't been Dean then, it had been a monster named Zero. He edges forward a step and tries not to wince at the scrape of gravel on pavement under his boots.

The guttural sound suddenly cuts off and Dean is looking over his shoulder at Michael, tiger eyes too bright with pinpricked pupils. Not for the first time, in the four years since Dean had woken up, Michael wonders if maybe the animal had truly been totally burned out in the thralls of the fever.

He watches Dean's eyes dim, return to a more human-like nature, and then wordlessly follows him as they start running again. There are barricades already erected at the Mayor's, and Buck is there with an automatic rifle firing down the main thoroughfare. A few people are huddled behind, their own weapons raised and popping shots off as Dean and Michael fall in beside them.

Promise was home to only around thirty residents, give or take. People traveled in and out depending on the seasons. Winters proved to be the most crowded due to Promise having the largest store of food and battery-powered heaters. Currently, on the tail end of summer and edging into fall, they were at their lowest numbers and, admittedly, at their most vulnerable.

Legion appeared to have twice that number. Or maybe it only seemed that way because it was happening so fast and so violently that the people of Promise simply couldn't react fast enough. Whatever their numbers, they seemed to be coming from everywhere at once. Bodies were littering the street, Promise and Legion alike.

Michael feels sick to his stomach as he watches a screaming woman being dragged by her hair and her throat slit with a knife. He curses and turns away, digging with Dean in the trunks stacked behind the barricades for weapons.

"I've counted fifteen," Buck shouts back at them, eyes trained forward. They can hear screams and explosions, but no one steps into his line of sight. The street before them is suspiciously empty. "We've taken out at least half. They move so damn fast."

"Where's Maggie?" Michael asks, glancing around the eight or so faces around him. Maggie isn't there. "We were split up when they first came through, we were headed this way."

Buck gives him a grim look and slight shake of his head. "I haven't seen her yet. Nearly everybody is scrambling around trying to get somewhere safe. She's probably with another group."

Michael tries to stamp down the panic and finds it nearly impossible to do. "We have to find her!" His voice cracks but he doesn't care. "What if something's happened? I can't just sit – what if they have her?" His eyes lock on the body of the woman's whose throat had just been cut, her attacker nowhere in sight. Her hair is yellow like Maggie's, but it isn't her. But what if it was? What if Maggie is lying out there somewhere just like that?

Buck grimaces in pain, and Michael has a budding suspicion that maybe he never really got over her. "We have to stay here. Everybody knows this is the rally point, if she's…if she's able, she'll come here first."

"What if she isn't?" he demands.

"Then we will form a search party once we have neutralized this threat, and seek out any survivors." The woman who had spoken commands Michael's attention. It's the mayor, her salt-and-paper hair tied back in a fierce knot, face sharp and resolute. Her pale eyes are piercing and hard as stone. "I understand you love your sister. The citizens of Promise are intelligent and know the procedures for attacks such as this. Your sister, and all the others missing, will do what is necessary to survive."

He wants to yell at her that it isn't good enough, that she doesn't understand. He feels Dean's warm fingers wrap around his wrist and he looks up angrily. "We'll find her," he says. "I promise."

"Here they come," the mayor snaps. She takes her place on Buck's left and levels a pistol down the center of town. At the end, lining the road, stands what seems to be more than twenty men and women all in various states of filth and undress.

"Michael, I swear, we're going to find her," Dean says again, placing a gun in Michael's hand. "But for the love of God, please, I need you to stay safe first."

Michael swallows thickly through the panic and cold fear he knows each and every one of them is feeling. "Fuck," he grunts, taking aim as well. "What are they doing? Why are they standing there?"

"They're going to charge," Buck answers, rifle jumping from one target to the next as he tries to decide which one poses the biggest threat. "Which is stupid, they'll run right into our line of fire."

The mayor makes a noise of agreement. "They are ruthless and blood-thirsty, we were never cautioned about their intelligence."

He skims the maniacal faces with a passing glance, and then looks again more carefully. Something had caught his eye. He isn't sure what, but as he frowns and looks harder, it suddenly hits him.

"They're moving," the mayor snaps. "Fire! Now!"

"No, stop!" Michael shouts, and throws himself into their backs, causing them to stumble and fire into the ground or the sky. The others around him continue to shoot into the crowd and bodies drop like flies. "Stop, stop! They have hostages!"

"What."

Immediately, all firing ceases as Michael points at the group. Scattered among the filthy Legion are citizens of Promise, dirty and frightened to death, screaming and struggling as best they can. And there, right in front, is Maggie. Another woman is holding her from behind, using her as a human shield.

Maggie bucks and tears at the hold, but it's useless. Michael feels the bottom fall out as she locks gazes with him and screams his name.

It's a brief, confusing moment as the citizens behind the barricade recognize the ones being used as a form of defense right in front of them. Brief, but long enough for the real attack to commence. From behind they come with knives and small pistols, shooting and stabbing whatever body is nearest. Michael sees the mayor take a bullet to the belly and fall. Dean grabs him by the shirt and tries to haul him away, but there is nowhere to run.

They fight helplessly under the onslaught. Michael fires until his pistol clicks empty, and Dean is trying to keep them backed into a corner for better leverage. It ends with a bright explosion, another Molotov thrown in their midst. The bright flash blinds Michael as he and Dean scurry to quickly back away from the spreading flames.

"Michael, no!"

Too late he realizes his mistake. Rather than going to the right, he should have followed Dean and gone straight through the flames to the other side. The barricade had fallen apart and created a safe getaway through the fire. He hears Dean yell his name again, frantic and desperate, as he faces two men with black smiles before him. He has no weapon, no way of protecting himself, and they grin wider as they realize he's defenseless.

On the other side of the fire, Dean's face contorts with rage as he is overcome and taken down. Michael roars an inhuman snarl of his own and throws himself forward, a last ditch effort at survival. He barely makes it one step before a blow from behind knocks him out cold. He crumples immediately in a heap on the ground.

A/N (2): Well? What do you think, worth it or not? Thanks for reading!