Author Note: Here's another reminder to you guys that I don't own Fallout 3 or its characters. I'm just playing with them for our mutual enjoyment. Also, I hope everyone in this chapter is (for the most part) in-character. I'm not going to use a whole lot of verbatim dialogue from the game as I can't remember half of it, but hopefully I get pretty close.
Also, thanks to guest for reviewing the last chapter.
Chapter Seven
Doc Church had kicked him out. There was no other way to describe it. Caleb stood on the little ramp leading away from the clinic and heard the door closed behind him with a definitive click. With his arm still in the sling, still hurting from the minor operation he'd undergone to have to bullet extracted, he looked around with uncertainty.
He took in the disorderly shacks on the south side of Megaton, and then, more slowly, the rest of it. There wasn't much to see. The city seemed a mass of rusted airplane innards, thrown together with some corrugated metal and spare parts, all of it welded together into a maze of shacks and questionable catwalks. Its main street, if one wanted to call it that, lead two ways – up towards the metal gateway that he and Lyra had passed through the day or two before, and down towards what Caleb decided to call a common area.
A long, low sound came from beside him and Caleb's eyes rested on the two-headed cow grazing placidly on some scruffy grass. Daisy, Lyra had called her.
"Good morning, Daisy." Caleb said. "Don't suppose you know where the hell I should be going next?"
One of the animal's two head turned at the speech, while the other tacitly ignored him, finding the grass more interesting than discourse with him. The head that had decided to engage him looked away and down towards the common area, calling out again as if making a reply. Caleb glanced in the proffered direction and saw some people, dressed in loose, dingy clothing, heading towards an atomic bomb in the middle of town. One, taller than the rest and with grey hair hanging limply into his face, went far more forward than the others and, with reverence, placed his forehead to the surface of the bomb.
"What the hell are they doing?" Caleb asked. "Don't they know what the hell that thing is?"
To get a better look, he started gingerly down the ramp until his feet touched solid ground. He started towards the common area and the closer he got, the more he became aware of a smell riding the air. He looked around until his eyes took in the definite, if small, cloud of gray smoke hanging around one of the shacks. His pace quickened as he thought at first that something was on fire, but then he saw the food stand, manned by a thin young woman. She was cooking over a smoking griddle, turning small sticks over and over, all of them filled with globs of grey meat...much like the ones he'd eaten with Lyra just outside the Vault.
His stomach rumbled at the smell, which was far more appetizing than the blobs of grey meat might imply and he slowed, remembering Lyra's words from the day before. About how he needed caps to survive out here and how he had none.
Ask around, she'd said. There were people who needed help in town. They would pay for his help with caps...and with those caps, he could buy food...possibly new clothing.
He stopped walking and thought about the best course of action, looking around at the smattering of shacks and bigger, hopefully more important, buildings. So engrossed in his thoughts, he didn't see the brown-skinned man in the cowboy duster and hat until the man had spoken.
"You gonna stand there all day, stranger?" The man said in a twang that fitting to his unusual appearance. Caleb looked at him stupidly.
"I – I was looking for something."
He looked Caleb over and something seemed to click. "Ah, I see. You'd be the Vault kid Lyra mentioned. I'm Lucas Simms, the town sheriff. I'm the one who keeps this town runnin' smooth, you get me. So, if you're standing here thinkin' about gettin' into mischief, I'm here to change your mind."
His hand touched the strap on his shoulder, bringing Caleb's attention to a rifle, very similar to Lyra's own, crossing his back. Caleb gave the man a weak smile.
"Don't worry, Mr. Simms. I don't plan on causing any mischelf. I just got...uh, discharged by Doc Church and was thinking about where I needed to head next. I don't have the caps for food, so I was looking for a way to, you know, make some...honestly."
The man listened to his words and relaxed his hand on the strap of his rifle.
"I see. Well, in that case, you could always go see Walter up at the water processor. He's always needin' help keepin' this dirty old town runnin' without a hitch. You see that building up there?"
He turned and pointed up to one of the large structures Caleb had been staring at earlier. "You follow the ramps up there and talk to him. He's old, you see, and has trouble gettin' around anymore. Or, if that don't work out, you could try Moira Brown. She's always tinkerin' with something; that woman needs help too – some of it mental, if you ask me. Truth be told, I'm surprised she ain't tried to fiddle with the bomb in the middle of town yet."
"That thing's disarmed, right?" Caleb asked, unable to help himself. Down in the center of the common area, the group around the bomb had grown, the grey-haired man speaking in loud, passionate tones to the crowd. "I mean, those people-"
Lucas Simms followed Caleb's line of sight and laughed.
"Who? The Children of Atom? Oh, don't mind them. They ain't gonna do anything – they worship the damn thing. But no, it ain't disarmed. It's one of the duds leftover from the Great War. It fell from the sky and the Children, or people kin to 'em anyway, started worshiping the thing and built this town up around it. It's been here longer than I have."
"Okay, thanks." Caleb said, not understanding. Then a thought occurred to him. "Hey, Sheriff? You wouldn't have seen another, uh, newcomer like myself around town lately, have you? He's a middle-aged man, with greying hair, blonde like mine. Um, his name's James Marx?"
"Oh, you mean that other Vault fella?" Sheriff Simms said, brow furrowing. "I think I saw someone like that, but it's hard to tell. I don't get to patrol as often as I care to, you know. You should head up to Moriarty's Saloon...he knows a great deal more about newcomers coming through than I do sometimes, but you'll pay a hefty price for the information. I was you, I'd find me some work before talkin' to him."
At that, he tipped his hat to Caleb. "Well, I'll be goin'. Still, got a few rounds to make before headin' down to Jenny's for some breakfast myself. You take care now...uh, what was it you said your name was?"
"Caleb. Caleb Marx."
"Oh then, the man you're lookin' for...he's some sort of kin, I imagine."
The teenager nodded, clenching one of his hands. "Yeah, my father actually. That's why I'm looking for him."
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Moira Brown was sitting at her work table, eyes focused on her mole rat repellent stick when the door to her store opened and a young man with a shock of dirty blonde hair, an arm sling, and glasses came through the door. She looked up long enough to see the tattered, blood-stained jumpsuit he wore and her eyes widened in excitement. Leaving her repellent stick on the work table, she got up and hurried over to the counter.
"Hey there! Welcome to my shop," Moira greeted.
"Um, hello. I was, uh, asking around to see if you needed any help around here? I'm looking to make a few caps and Lucas Simms told me to check here."
Moira put her elbows on the counter and leaned forward. "Well, that's just great because I could use someone's help...oh, with a lot of things really."
She went over to her work table and picked up some of the notes she'd been taking, all the while speaking to the young man behind her. "You see, I'm writing a book about how to survive the Wasteland and I just need someone to go out there and get the information I need to put into it."
"A book?"
Moira turned to face him. "Oh yes. I think it'll help so many people and even if it doesn't, I least we tried, right? I mean, I see so many people come and go around here and they just never seem to stick around longer than a couple of weeks or so. Isn't that sad?"
"Um, sure-"
"And anyway, I was just thinking...if I could make life a little easier on everyone out there, maybe they wouldn't disappear so often. Why, it's so funny that you came in here in that Vault suit. I remember this other newcomer, not much different than you actually, who came through here and decided to sell his suit to me." She stopped in front of the blonde and pushed the papers in his hand. "Here, why don't you look through these? See if you'd be interested in helping. Anyway, he sold his suit to me and I've been in the process of adding some plating to it and some reinforced seams..."
"Wait, wait, wait." He interrupted, waving the papers at her. "You mean you saw someone else like me come through here? In a Vault 101 suit?"
He stepped forward and his eyes bored into Moira with a sort of earnestness that Moira couldn't help but find cute. She nodded and crossed her arms.
"Of course, silly. I wouldn't just make something like that up!" Moira told him with a laugh. "It's not everyday that a Vault-dweller comes through here. In fact, that's one reason I could really use your help with my book. You see, I wanted to make one of the chapters about life in a Vault and I can't just ask anyone about that, now can I?"
She sighed. "The other one wouldn't help though, said he was just in town for a day or so. Pity too. But hey, if you agree to help me, I'll give his spiffy, modified jumpsuit to you. Looks like you could use something new to wear. So what do you say?"
"When did he come through, was it a day or two ago? What did he look like? Did he say what his name was?"
Moira held up her arms, overwhelmed by the questions fired at her in rapid succession. Unable to contain herself, she started laughing. "Whoa, easy there! Wow, you're just the kind if helper I could use, asking all those questions like that. I'll bet with your help, we'd leave no stone unturned in our quest for knowledge."
"Was his name James?" The young man persisted, clenching his hand and crumpling up her notes. Seeing it, Moira's mouth opened in shock.
"Hey, easy there! Those are very important notes, you know!" She reached and out took the crumpled pages from him again and tried to smooth them out on her countertop. She stuck out her tongue in concentration. When she was satisfied that they weren't damaged, she looked over at him and sighed.
"It was a day or two ago, yes." She told him, not understanding what could be more important that her book which could save hundreds of lives. "I don't remember what he said his name was, because it was really late when he came through. I was still asleep when I heard someone banging on my door. It was all I could do to keep Sammy here from shooting whoever it was!"
She motioned to the threshold between her shop and her living area. Her guest followed her gesture and looked surprised to see the bodyguard standing there. Sammy, being his usual unfriendly self, just looked back silently.
"Anyway, when I opened the door, he came in here and said he needed a change of clothes...quickly. I tried to tell him about my book and how I could really use his help, but he just paid for what he needed and changed in there." She placed her notes back on her work table and sighed. "I didn't have time to show him my notes…I thought maybe if I showed them to you then you would help me."
"If I help you, can I have the suit now?" He asked quietly. "I...don't have any caps right now and this jumpsuit's pretty much ruined. I need another set of clothes and I don't know when I'll eat next, let alone when I can get enough bottle caps for anything else."
Moira's heart felt like it was going to explode. Squealing, she crossed the room and gave the young man a hug. "Oh, that's the best news I've heard in forever! Thank you so much for deciding to help me. Trust me, you won't regret being a part of posterity...and I'll give you full credit for your work, I promise. I'll even repair any items you need at a discount!"
Moira took a satisfied breath and withdrew herself from the young man's personal space. He looked a bit stunned and she could only think how excited he must be to get started too. She took a moment to really look at him and saw he'd dropped a leather bag near the door. Or, at least, she assumed it was his...she couldn't remember leaving anything there before.
"Did you bring something in to trade by any chance?" She asked, pointed to the bag. "I mean, that is your bag right?"
The young man nodded. "Yeah, it's my bag, but I don't there's anything in there that you'd be interested in."
"Oh, I don't know! Let's take a look and see."
Moira grabbed the bag eagerly. If there was anything she enjoyed as much as researching and tinkering, it was bartering and selling. Opening the bag's drawstring top, she dumped the contents onto the counter without hesitation. A variety of things clattered onto the scratched surface and almost immediately, something caught her eye.
"Oh my goodness!" She cried, snatching something from the pile. "I can't believe you have a copy of Grognak the Barbarian...I don't think I've even seen this issue. This is pre-war, right? These are so hard to find now! I'll give you ten caps for it."
She glanced over at him and he nodded, looking disinterested. She rummaged through the pile again and something else caught her eye. "And what is this? Pre-war money? There's not a lot of that hanging round anymore either. How many bills do you have in here? Oh, five...that is just awesome. Can I buy them from you too?"
"Um, yeah. I won't be needing it so...sure."
"Great." Moira said, feeling very pleased with herself. "I'll give you twenty caps for the lot. And I'll grab that jumpsuit for you too. You're a little slimmer than the man who came through here the other day, but it should fit pretty well. If you need help changing, I can get Sammy to help you."
She glanced over at Sammy and smiled. "Is that okay with you, Sammy? Mind helping this nice man right here get changed? He's injured, you know. Isn't that sad?"
#####
Caleb sat outside of Moira's shop, Craterside Supplies, unable to believe it. His dad had been in Megaton two nights ago and he'd been in a huge hurry to get out of here. He had found Megaton with little trouble by the sound of it, he'd come, got supplies, and left...all in a really big hurry. He'd traded his jumpsuit for other clothing, which meant he'd either had enough stuff to trade, or already had enough caps to buy them.
Which just didn't add up. He couldn't have known about how things were outside unless he had access to information that Caleb and the other residents of Vault 101 didn't.
Unless he wasn't from the Vault to begin with. Caleb thought. An empty feeling that had nothing to do with hunger gnawed at him.
He glanced down at the little pile of bottle caps in his hand, the muted sunlight overhead catching the edges of the least rusted of them. There were twenty in all – twenty bottle caps he'd gotten from Moira for a comic book and some pre-war money. The comic book was a gift he'd received long ago at a birthday party. The pre-war bills just something he'd stuffed in his bag the night he'd fled from his home.
His arm hurt. His stomach was empty. He had no idea where he was supposed to sleep tonight and he'd blindly agreed to help Moira with her survival book. After giving him the caps, she'd asked him to come back when his arm was healed so that they could begin the book. In the meantime, she'd be organizing her thoughts and what the Guide should cover.
In all honesty, Caleb thought the idea was a joke. Who was going to read the book anyway? But he'd needed a change of clothing and the only way he could be sure whether or not the Vault suit she'd mentioned had belonged to his father was to see it for himself.
When he'd agree and they had finished 'trading', she'd brought out the jumpsuit, modified of course, but once he had it in his hands, he'd checked the inside collar and saw his father's initials on the cleaning tag – looking as unsteady as his father's letters always looked.
"Dad, you sure got a shit load of explaining to do," Caleb sighed, gripping the caps tightly. "If I ever find you...that is."