As the ramp slowly opened Adam stuck himself with a Med-X. The damage resistance effect of the Med-X would serve him well if the armor was breached, it might not last too long but anything was better than nothing. As the ramp continued its descent, it did not stop for the number of ferals who were standing right at the door banging on it, it continued on its hydraulically supported descent until it crushed the feral ghouls under its weight. Some might call the fact that the ramp door does not stop even if it was crushing someone a safety hazard. Adam might even be one of those. However, in this case, it was a feature, not a bug.
Adam took one step out onto the ramp, the minigun already spooling up, and let loose a massive hail of lead onto the sea of undead-looking faces carving through bodies left and right as the bullets tore through their radiation flayed skin.
With every second that passed a feral ghoul died, two more took its place however a moment was created allowing Adam to advance, and advance he did, stepping deeper and deeper into the mass of ghouls, unleashing a hailstorm of lead into the crowd with reckless abandon.
Someone watching the scene would probably expect him to be getting a high from the rush of adrenaline at the moment. Knowing himself as he did, the fact his new clone body made him an adrenaline junkie, he should be. But he was not getting drunk on the feeling of power. His mind was strangely clear. The sounds of the bullets ripping through the multibarreled machine of death began to blend with the sounds of the feral ghouls, some of which were close enough to hit his armor, doing, for the moment, no noticeable damage as he continued his heavy-footed march forward. Through all the noises he was calm, his mind felt like a serene lake, untouched by the storm raging around it.
While the bullets tore through the hordes before him all his mind could focus on was an old saying from the war: 'the ones who survive the war are not the bravest, they are not the smartest, they are not the most loved. The ones who survive are simply lucky.' No one other than God himself could say who will be lucky. He was lucky. He had always been lucky. He may be a clone of the man known as Adam Baxter, but he was Adam Baxter, and to survive the bombs and come out unscathed into this wild world… well… if that isn't lucky then what is?
His armor was getting beat up now. The individual attacks on the power armor plates were practically ineffectual, but there were enough hands and attacks that the damage compounded. Worse yet, the ferals would, every once in a while, get lucky and hit an actuating joint, or a servo, or dig out a wire, his armor was starting to show its stress. The integrated pop-boy diagnostic system was showing his entire armor as being yellow, damaged, it was not yet critical but every second that passed he was only absorbing more and more damage. Luckily he had not been physically hurt yet, but that would not continue forever.
The serenity in his mind was continuing unabated as he thought through scenes in his life. His first kiss, the enlistment papers he gleefully signed, the battles he fought on behalf of his country, coming home and finding his country did not understand what he went through as much as he wished they did, and all the killing. So much killing. What was it for? Why did his fellow soldiers die? Why did they kill the Chinese? It all felt so… pointless… For those who survived the bombs, did someone like him, who struggled in the bitter cold of Alaska fighting off the Red invasion really make a difference? The world still ended. Were his actions back then meaningless?
His armor indicator was blinking red now. He had already lost one of the small plates on his left leg, torn off by a feral ghoul hand. His minigun was also low on ammo too, the backpack felt considerably lighter than it had before. He was running out of time, out of steam.
Mira was gone now, he was sure, she was safe. He could not check, she would be in stealth, weaving through the crowds to get to the defensive line. He was alone now. Did he ever think he would survive this?
He had promised Mira that he would make it through, that he would not die. But now, seeing the endless hordes of feral ghouls as far as the eye could see he began to question if he even could. Was this the end? Did his story truly end here?
His mind drifted back to the question before. Were his actions worth it? Was this old soldier really worth anything to the world anymore? He was stuck on this question. But he could not bring himself to say no. He was human, humans have ups and downs, make mistakes, and successes built on those failures. He was not a perfect human, but he did use his knowledge and experience to help save Chicago. He had brought to bear the forces of Chicago to stop what could have been its swan song. Maybe he would die today, but that did not mean his actions were meaningless. Everything he has done up till now, it led to this moment. And that was okay.
His minigun then began to spin dry. It was empty. He was out. With his armor indicator blinking red he was without a way out, it was over.
Adam was about to shut down, let the ferals tear him apart, however before he did he heard a familiar sound, the sound of the Vertibird overhead. A moment later a hail of bullets came from above, the bullets ripped through the crowd of ferals surrounding him, getting him some breathing room. Something inside Adam clicked. The momentary despair and peaceful acceptance he just felt was immediately turned to a sliver shining ray of hope. He intended to seize it.
Adam turned to the wall of the building next to him, now clear of anything but the corpses of the ferals that once surrounded him and charged right in.
Adam's power armor broke through the concrete wall with a heavy thud, even inside the armor Adam could feel the force of the wall, it hurt. Normally this wouldn't be a problem but his suit was so damaged it could not absorb the full shock of the action. However it was enough. Once inside the building Adam could see a window frame on the other side of the building. He had his goal, he just needed to make it.
By now his armor was blinking red, pieces were falling apart unable to sustain the damage of running through the wall, even his power armor frame was damaged, it might not make it back to the line, so Adam made a decision.
Adam hit the eject button and at the same time ejected the fusion core while it was still active, still hot. Anyone who got power armor training knew, explicitly, not to eject a still active core, it was about the most dangerous thing you could do, however the danger is exactly what Adam was counting on right now as he dove forward, rolling on the ground as he got some distance. Once he rose to his feet he moved to a full sprint as he dove again, this time out the window as a massive explosion rocked the building behind him, the fusion core had done just as he had hoped, exploded violently. Hopefully that would kill any Feral ghouls that were trailing him and buy him more time.
Adam began to run again, the defensive line was in sight. The parking lot was filled with feral ghouls, bullets, lasers, fire, and explosions that lit the scene up. Worse than the danger of being shot, atomized, or exploded, he had rolled out of the window into a part of the Parking lot that the group had filled with explosives. It was not part of the clear path that they had set for the APC, but he did not have time to worry about that, if he stayed still he would be torn apart. So, braving the bullets, the minefield, and the ferals that were scattered throughout the field he ran, ran as fast as his genetically enhanced legs could carry him. More than once Adam could hear the sound of a bullet whizzing past his head, see a laser get uncomfortably close to his position. It was truly hell, it was terrifying, but he did not break his stride for a moment, he couldn't.
Then Adam dove once more, right past a feral ghoul who was in the middle of getting his head blown off and over the last trench, over the sandbag wall, and into safe territory.
Adam had made it, he was safe.
As Adam sat on the ground, out of immediate danger, and in friendly territory his mind could only think back to one thing: 'As they say, the lucky are the ones who survive.'