Davis disappeared into the back shaking his head, off to get something. Jack sighed. "I'm tracking the BoS, I did manage to contact their D.C. headquarters and they said that they would organize an expedition down when they could. I'm sure there are some around hiding from the Enclave however." He told him then looked down. "I can take you to my vault but it's... It's empty." He turned back looking at the doorway.

Davis returned with a large crate setting it down on the table he pulled out five books. "These are books, on everything from math to how build and repair mark seven turrets. I've payed scavengers to look for years and never found this many. The vault dweller here gave half his vaults books to help us start a school, we might not be self sufficient now but once we get things going were going to be able to repair and build what we need ourselves." He smiled opening a copy of Hamlet.

Jack nodded. "My vault was built on science, we had a thousand of the leading minds at the time of the war and we made incredible progress. Our vault was also stocked with a abundance of reading materiel and old world music. Music went to Three Dog upstairs and Davis got the books in exchange I never pay for a room and board." He said nodding to Achilles. "Alright lets go back to the vault, we can-" 

Jack heard a sound that haunted his dreams, the sound of verti-birds. "Oh god damn them! Davis lock up the bar tell the sheriff to get everyone inside. Shit! Okay we need to lead them away from town if not then the people here are dead." Jack thought a moment.

"Okay here's the plan we slip out the back gate and I'll rig a plasma grenade into the verti-bird send it sky high then we open fire and lure them away from town. By the time they get back the sheriff can have the turrets up and arm his deputies. Enclave will turn back if there to heavily armed will buy them about a week or two." He said walking back towards the door. "If your coming with me now's the time other wise stay here and prepare to greet your new overlords." He spat Davis hiding the crate of books and clutching his .45 with a white knuckle grip.