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There was something tranquil about lying with Lucy in the guts and flesh of the people they had killed. He had taken no joy in the act nor had he disliked it. The wasteland was the wasteland, Cooper had learnt that to survive sometimes horrendous things needed to be done. A lesson he was slowly teaching Lucy.
He wished Hank MacLean could see them here and now with the sun beating down, the blood that covers her like paint on a work of art. It had taken Cooper a while to tear away those vaultie values, but he had done it.