Novac, Mojave Wasteland
September 15, 2280

The night watch had been quiet with only a few geckos passing by the nest. Boone stretched and stifled a yawn.

It was just after midnight and his stomach was starting to rumble, so he opened up the lunch bag Carla had given him. Pulling out a container of leftover noodles from the previous night, he ate as he continued to scan the darkened desert. The meaty sauce was slightly spicy from the jalapenos, the heat pleasantly building up on his tongue. More than once, he had told her that if he'd known what a great cook she was when they met, he'd have proposed on the spot.

The thought of her made him smile. He didn't care what she said, he was sure they were going to have a girl and she was going to be as beautiful and intelligent as her mother. He could teach her how to use a rifle and how to survive in the desert. With the traits and skills from both of them, little Carla would be able to go anywhere and do anything. She would be the best of them.

He returned the empty container to the bag and let out a heavy sigh as the monotony of his work made his mind wander away from his domestic contentment.

This life was more than he ever could have hoped for and far more than he deserved, he knew. When he was with Carla, he focused on being a normal husband and father-to-be. The things that he had seen in the army and the things he had done could be pushed to the back of his mind. Here alone at night, however, it was hard to keep his thoughts from drifting back to those dark places, places he never talked about with anyone. In the quiet of the cooling night, he could almost hear it all echoing in his ears. In the blackness outside through the teeth of the nest, the faces stared back at him, knowingly.

Blinking them away and instead concentrating on the flat gray road, he tried to remind himself that it was war and orders were orders. Maybe he should have talked to that doctor at Camp Golf like Major Dhatri had so strongly suggested, but he didn't like the idea of trusting a stranger with his inner demons, especially one that could have had him bumped down to desk duty if he said the wrong thing.

Even though they had served in the same unit, it wasn't possible to talk to Manny about it. He hadn't been there for the worst of it, for the truly unforgivable things. He couldn't talk to Carla about it, either. She knew he had nightmares, but didn't know how frequently or what they were about. Part of him wanted to tell her, but he couldn't risk tainting the only part of his life that truly made him feel like living.

No, it was better to focus on life now, to try not to take it all for granted.

Hours went by and he checked his watch. It was time for the shift-change. He exited the nest with his rifle slung over his shoulder.

Outside the dinosaur that served as the town's shop and sniper's nest, he met Manny on the steps.

"Mornin'," the daytime sniper greeted. "Shift go okay?"

"Morning." He wanted to say something to him about the argument with Carla, but Boone stopped himself, since she had specifically asked him not to. They needed to work out things for themselves and he had to give them a chance to. "Things were pretty quiet. Nothing to report."

"We still on to listen to the game on the radio tonight? Starts at 7. I got Andy to cover the last of my shift and the first of yours."

He nodded. "Yeah, lookin' forward to it. You can come over to our place. Carla offered to make snacks."

Manny's eye twitched slightly at the mention of her name. "Sure, man. I'll bring the beer. See you then."

"Have a good shift. See you tonight."

They grasped hands with a shake and parted. As he walked through the dusty gravel courtyard, Boone hoped that his friend and his wife could somehow find a way to at least co-exist. The two most, and really only important people in his life couldn't get along and it tore him apart.

Why couldn't others here see the good in her the way he did?

Boone wasn't blind to his wife's failings. She could be abrasive and abrupt. Tact was not something she was capable of and she didn't care to attempt it. Years of living a protected and privileged life had made her kind of snobbish. But he loved her, deeply. He knew she loved him, too. Why else would she have agreed to marry him and then come here to this dusty Wasteland settlement where she knew no one?

Life in Vegas would have been hard, too. It was an expensive place to live. His savings and modest pension from the NCR army covered their deposit on the house here, but that was about it. His work as the nighttime sniper paid for the rest; he didn't think he was qualified to do much else. They were far from being able to live a decent life in Freeside and especially New Vegas. Few people were.

He wondered if they should have more strongly considered going back to New California, back to his home town. There were a lot of things he didn't want to deal with there, but maybe it would have been a better place to raise a family, one where Carla could have been happier.

Passing the motel lobby, he made his way around the old building, up the dusty, broken road to their little house. As he approached the gate, he saw the mailbox had fallen over—no, it had been kicked over. With a frown of confusion, he picked it up and leaned it against the fence. Pulling out his keys, he put one into the front door lock with a turn, but it didn't click. It was already unlocked. Pushing the door open, he called out, "Carla?"

Inside was ransacked. The coffee table was overturned, books and magazines strewn over the threadbare carpet. In the bedroom, the blankets were pulled off the bed and half onto the floor with a broken pieces of pink fingernails buried in them. The cup she kept on the nightstand had been knocked over and shattered, water darkly soaking the carpet. Their small wedding picture looked like it had been thrown against the wall with its glass in pieces on the floor.

His heart pounded in his ears and his breathing was quick and shallow. "Carla!" he cried out through his tightening throat.

Boone frantically searched the small bungalow, looking for any clue, any trace to tell him who had taken her and where they had gone. Then there, under some strewn papers on the living room floor was a small gold coin with a bull on one side. His stomach wrenched. "The Legion." It must have fallen out of one of their pockets in the struggle.

Clutching it in his hand he ran out of the door and at a full sprint toward the motel, up to the nest, shouting, "Manny!" He had to get Manny. They needed to find her. His rifle beat against his back as he blew by Cliff in the gift shop, nearly knocking him over. He bounded up the steps to the nest and threw open the door, causing his friend to whirl around with wide eyes.

"Hey man, what's up?" he asked, startled.

Doubled over and gasping, Boone managed to get out, "Carla...Carla's gone." Before he could say more, he saw the look on his friend's face: his eyes brightened and his mouth twisted, like he was trying not to smile. "You son of a bitch!" he spat out, his face contorting in anguish and disgust. Without another word, he charged back down the steps.

"Hey, man! Wait!" Manny called after him, but it was too late.

Back at the house, Boone grabbed his pack out of the closet. "Think, think, think, think, think!" he said to himself. From the top dresser drawer, he pulled out his NCR Army survival kit with his compass and utility knife and threw those into the bag. The kitchen yielded a couple of water bottles, some preserved food, and the small medical kit they kept on-hand. He whirled around, thinking what else he needed, his mind and heart racing. The side pocket of his canvas pants held his spare ammunition and he wished he had more, but he wasn't going to go back to the nest to get it from Manny. He picked up his aviators from the living room floor and put them on. Slinging his pack over his shoulder next to his rifle, he hurried out of the house.

There was no way of knowing how much of a head start they had or where exactly they had taken her. Heading east was all he could think to do. As he passed by the dinosaur, he faintly heard Manny yelling his name, but he ignored it and charged down the road towards Nelson. They wouldn't have passed directly through there, since they would have been too easily noticed in a town full of NCR, but if he could travel along the river, he might see where they were crossing into Legion territory.

The road was quiet in the warm morning sun. The increasingly sickening feeling in his stomach was hard to ignore, but he pushed himself to focus on getting to the river. All his previous experiences with the Legion filled his head. He'd seen plenty and read reports that were even worse. "Don't think about it. Don't think about it," he whispered to himself, but there was nothing else to think about. There was nothing else in the world except Carla and getting to her.

"She knows I'm coming. She knows I'll find her," he thought. It was a small comfort to know she would have some hope.

Reaching the river, he surveyed the area through his scope, but he couldn't see any sign of them. He was at a disadvantage, being only half of a team. "I need Manny," he thought with despair, then corrected himself, "No. You can do this. You don't need him. You can do this."

Zion Valley, Utah
September 15, 2280

After they finished retrieving the items Joshua and Daniel needed that morning, as well as returning a bighorner calf to his mother, Beth sat with Follows-Chalk by the stream eating a piece of banana yucca as she took in the sites of the valley. It was like nothing she had ever seen before in all her travels; she could see why it was named after the most holy place on Earth. The air was crisp and clean, fresh from the morning rain. Beautiful and unique trees and flowers grew here. The water was so clean and pure that it glistened, which made her heart ache.

I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end. I will give unto him that is athirst of the fountain of the water of life, freely.

How easy and clear that all sounded.

She still wasn't sure she needed Daniel's map to get her back to the Mojave, but there was a chance Joshua was right about that. With no desire to get lost out by herself with a tribe of murderous wannabe legionaries roaming around, she had reluctantly decided to help. Besides, it gave her an excuse to stay a little longer in this beautiful place.

"Elizabeth?" Follows-Chalk spoke up, still struggling a bit with the sound of her name.

Rising the remains of the sticky fruit off her fingers, she let them trail a bit in the water and replied, "You can just call me Beth, if you want."

"Ah, Beth, dank ni," he replied in thanks. "In the civilized lands outside Zion, is there really a giant thunder-lizard people live inside?"

She shook the water off her hands. "Thunder lizard? You mean like a dinosaur? Sort of. I know of one, but it's just a shop."

"You've seen it?" he asked in awe.

"Passed by a few times. The motel charges too much."

His eyes were wide with a curious fascination. "What is a 'motel'?"

As he leaned in closer, she pulled back to maintain the space between them. "Uh, it's a place where you pay for a room to sleep when you travel." She was growing tired of his questions. It seemed like every few minutes he had another. "What's with this obsession you seem to have with 'civilization?'"

With a broad smile, he replied, "When I was a boy, a man came through the valley with one of the caravans. Tall man, big mustache, carried a guitar. I asked what he did for his living, and the interpreter told me he was a singer. 'What is that?' I asked. The man explained that he went from place to place and sang for people, who gave him food and shelter and care in return. I couldn't believe that there was a place in this world where a man could do that. I promised myself then that one day I'd explore that world myself."

"There's a lot more to 'civilization' than that. Most people don't live that kind of life."

"Joshua keeps saying it isn't paradise out there, but how can it not be, compared to this?" He shrugged and gestured around.

She looked at him incredulously and gave a small laugh, "You must have a very different idea of 'paradise' than I do."

"Now you sound like Joshua. He always tells me the tribal life is better, that I should stay here and forget the outside world." He frowned.

Earnestly, she stared him in the eyes. "He's right. Trust me, Follows, I've seen more of the so-called 'civilized world' than most people and I can tell you that there's no future out there for you. Those of us from 'civilization' don't call it that. We call it 'The Wasteland' because that's what it is. Waste. There's little more than decay and death out there. You should stay here with your people. You're better off and you have a duty to them."

His head drooped and his shoulders sagged. "I see. Well, thanks for your telling. I'd like time alone to think about this. Dank ni." With sadness in his eyes, he stood and looked around the camp before walking away.

Beth felt a little bad for crushing his dreams so harshly, but it had to be done. Snippets and stories filtered through his own experience gave him a strange perspective, unique and oddly charming, but one that wouldn't serve him long in the Wasteland. He had no real concept of what the outside world was actually like. If he thought it was difficult to survive here with his people, he had no idea what "difficult" really was. She envied him his ignorance and innocence, yet didn't, at the same time. He longed for a life he could never have-a life that didn't exist.

A little while later, she heard a low voice behind her. "Follows-Chalk told me you spoke with him about staying." She turned and looked up to see Joshua standing there. "Thank you, Elizabeth. I would have, but I'd rather not influence him more than I already do."

With a frown, she shook her head. "The Wasteland would chew him up and spit him out. If he did manage to survive, it would change him, and not for the better." Pausing, she stared at his bandages and wondered how badly he was burned underneath them. "Look what it did to you."

"Indeed." He sat down next to her. "I wanted to ask you to speak to Daniel for me about the situation with the White-Legs."

"Why me?" Her arms crossed over her chest.

"Daniel and I don't agree on everything, but in our hearts, we both want what's best for the Sorrows and Dead Horses. Daniel believes that if we leave, if the Sorrows leave, the White Legs will stop. He doesn't understand what this kind of tribe is like. You've seen what they do, and I think you know what has to be done."

"I think the Sorrows and Dead Horses should stay and fight. If they leave, what's to stop the White Legs, or the Legion, or someone else from chasing them from their next home, or the one after that. Eventually, they'll all be slaughtered or enslaved. No, they should make their stand here where they know the land. It's their best chance."

"Yes. Daniel and I both desire a non-violent solution to this problem. Where we differ is that only one of us believes it is possible. He does not yet see things the way we do."

"He is the John to our Matthew and Mark?" she commented with an edge to her tone.

His brow flicked in slight surprise. "You know your scripture. Based on your earlier sentiments, I would not have expected that." Looking into her eyes, he asked, "What caused you to lose your faith?"

"I could ask you the same thing," she retorted. "After all, the Malpais Legate certainly didn't sound like a man of God. More like a man possessed." She took a moment to remember something. "'For he said unto him, Come out of the man, thou unclean spirit. And he asked him, What is thy name? And he answered, saying, My name is Legion: for we are many.'" The words came out smoothly from her memory, as though she were reading them.

"Gospel of Mark. I know that passage well." He sighed. "This way lies the path to hell. Edw-Caesar needed me to translate. Translation became giving orders. Giving orders became leading in battle. Leading in battle became training, punishing, terrorizing. A series of small mistakes before a great fall."

To her ear, his voice was more resigned than remorseful. It all sounded so easy, like it was almost inevitable, something that happened to him rather than something he chose. "Did you ever question what you were doing? What you had become?"

"Clearly, not as much as I should have." Beth restrained herself from scoffing at the answer. "I stayed in that darkness until after Hoover Dam. After I failed Caesar and he had me burned alive, thrown into the Grand Canyon."

"How did you survive?"

"I survived because the fire inside burned brighter than the fire around me. I fell down into that dark chasm, but the flame burned on and on. The next morning, I woke up and crawled out of the northern edge of the canyon, that cursed place. It took me three months to reach New Canaan."

"They took you back? After everything?"

He nodded. "It was as though the prodigal son had returned. They welcomed me like I had never left, never done anything to shame them. The fire that had kept me alive was love. Their love. God's love. I will never be able to repay the debt I owe to them, but I must try." Taking a moment to study her, he asked, "And what about you?"

Letting out a thoughtful hum, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "My father was quite religious. Both my parents were, although my mother died when I was too young to know her. I had a pretty sheltered childhood." She laughed slightly at the understatement. "Read the Bible quite a bit and thought I had things figured out, thought I knew what my life was going to be. I didn't know what the Great War had done to the world, didn't see it with my own eyes, anyway, until I was older. Then I saw how godless it was, saw true monsters, saw what people were capable of doing to other people."

"The Legion?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No, not them. I hadn't even heard of the Legion until a few years ago. Fortunately, I've largely been able to avoid them."

"That is fortunate."

Staring out into the distance, she continued, "For a while, I thought I could make things better. That I could make a difference, but the monsters kept coming. Different ones. More and more. I lost everyone and everything that was important to me. Why would God let that happen? Unless there was no God?" She shrugged. "Or maybe He's just given up on us because we've disappointed Him so many times." He started to reply, but she interrupted him. "And before you bring up the 'prodigal son' again, I doubt his father would have been as forgiving had the son come back and burned the house the way the Great War did the world. Like you said, man must take some responsibility."

Joshua's eyes narrowed at her words. "Whether there is a God or not, His existence doesn't depend on what you believe or what I say. You may not be concerned over matters of faith, but this is a case where faith and practicality coincide. No one wants the White Legs here. We just need to convince Daniel destroying them is the only way to ensure the Sorrows can remain in Zion. When you have a moment, please speak with him."

"Alright. I will, but I don't think he's going to like it any better coming from me."

"God be with you."

At that, she did scoff.