Unfortunately I haven't been able to update this story lately because of the errors I'm sure you've all experienced at some point in recent time, but it's over so I can finally start updating again =]. Hope nyou enjoy the latest chapter, another should be coming shortly.
The plains of Wyoming stretched out beneath them as Abercrombie looked out of the vertibird cockpit. Behind them the Stand stood resolutely, built into Casper Mountain itself, but it slowly got smaller and smaller as they headed west towards the safe house that Abercrombie had left his men in.
Eagle was also in the cockpit, dark goggles strapped over his eyes, his hands resting lazily on the flight controls, every so often moving to flick a switch here or turn a dial there. He had a headset on as well, same as Abercrombie, with headphones and a microphone snaking around his chin and resting a short distance from his mouth. He wasn't talking though, something that truly surprised Abercrombie. The man seemed to be all business when he was behind the controls. That gained him some respect in Abercrombie's book.
His other passenger was doing his best to lose respect, however. Corporal Hart was sitting in the rear compartment, small bag full of his things lying at his feet. His face had been etched in a permanent scowl ever since Abercrombie had met him and he had been sitting statue still ever since the vertibird took off; arms folded, shoulders up, glaring at the floor like he was trying to melt a hole through it.
Abercrombie had initially thought about offering some sort of apology, anything that could smooth their relationship over, but at this point he was just too annoyed to care. The man was insufferable and despite his incredible talent was likely the most arrogant and self-serving man in the entire Enclave. And Abercrombie had to admit that he wasn't used to that kind of personality from his men. Most would say yes without even hesitating. Of course, there were ones like Hannibal, but they were mostly harmless. Hart? He had the wrong kind of potential. The kind that got other people killed out in the wastes.
"10 minutes sir" said Eagle, his voice coming through Abercrombie's headset. Even with it on it was hard to hear, as the vertibird's engines were roaring, the sound seeming to come from everywhere and echoing into a crescendo in the metallic interior.
"Good. Let me know when we are in visual range" said Abercrombie into his microphone, patting the man on the shoulder.
"Wilco" Eagle replied in the Enclave pilot slang, turning back to focus on the skyline. Abercrombie nodded and stepped out of the cockpit, heading over to check the extra equipment he had brought. He knew it would all still be there, just like when he had checked before they left and after they were airbourne, but he always got like this in vertibirds. He was definitely a man who preferred his feet on the ground.
He checked the straps on Julio's empty tanks, re-opened the boxes of ammunition, still impressed he had managed to fit Grim's 3 compliments of minigun rounds into the vertibird's small cargo hold, then checked the medical supplies and general foodstuffs. It was all there, just like it had been 20 minutes ago.
He sighed loudly, although even he struggled to hear it over the engines. He really did hate to fly.
The last few days had gone by quickly for Sam and the others. The terrain didn't offer much for sights, being mostly mountain ranges and rocky outcrops, and wildlife was scarce in this part of the world, although considering some of the wildlife he knew of in the Mojave Sam thought that might be a good thing.
His new companions provided a little more flavour than Oz had. Mo, when he was in control, was doing his best to keep the group light, although most of his jokes ended with the group laughing at him rather than with him. The rare times that Patrick was in control, or that Sam thought he was in control as, with a helmet on, he had no way of seeing the man's face, he kept mostly to himself, moving ahead of the group. Abby was a talker, although she knew when to listen as well, and seemed, at least to Sam, to be the only other sane person here. He had appreciated that more then he thought he would.
Oz had changed though. He had taken to less talking, although that could have been because Sam had stopped bothering to ask questions, but he would also cast furtive glances at Abby from time to time and did his best to avoid any interaction with her. He had also taken to studying the Vault 16 map, despite most of it being burnt to ash, and he would regularly try to identify local landmarks with those on the map. His frustrated expressions seemed to show his lack of success, although it didn't stop him from trying.
This day had been just like the others; Mo had made jokes, Abby and Sam had discussed anything they could think of, Oz studied his map, the mountains rose around them like bars of a prison and the sun beat down on them mercilessly, trying to fry them like steaks. But it wasn't until they went past another unassuming corner of rock that things got interesting.
Stretched out on a rock, a little less than 20 metres from them, was a tanned man lying with his hands behind his head like he was sleeping, his short dark hair sticking out through the gaps in his fingers. He had long pants and what looked like sturdy shoes but all he had for a shirt was a leather vest, which showed his well toned body, seemingly tanned all over. He also had a pair of dark aviators covering his eyes, every so often reflecting the sun back into the eyes of one of the others.
Sam had held up his hand for the group to stop and, for a few moments, it didn't look like the man had noticed them, then his head craned up and he looked over, a small smile crossing his lips. He leapt to his feet, threw a rifle and a pack of his back, picked up a thick stick that had been lying next to him and started walking towards them.
"That's far enough" called Sam when the man was within about 10 metres. The man stopped and leant forward, using the stick as support. It was well worn and made of dark wood, standing almost at the man's shoulder. He was big too, roughly the same size as both Sam and Mo, although his clearly defined muscles made him look stronger.
"You're late" he shouted, looking directly at Oz.
"You're in the wrong spot" Oz snapped, taking a step forward and pointing a finger at the man, "I said 2 days north of Ely...it's been almost 5"
The man shrugged. "I had other business" he said absently.
"So you agreed?"
"I came, didn't I" the man countered, looking across at each of the others individually, "You going to introduce me?"
Oz introduced all of them, starting with Mo and ending with Sam. The man paid particular attention to him.
"This is the guy you mentioned in the letter?" he asked, nodding at Sam, "the Courier" he finished with a small smile, like it was a joke of a name. Sam felt a twang of irritation but buried it quickly.
"Yeah" Oz answered, "your employer"
"Well, you know us" called Sam, interrupting their little back and forth, "but who exactly are you?"
The man looked at Oz. "This, everyone, is Isaac de Wolfe," Oz said, looking broadly at all of them, "but known locally as..."
"The Wolf" growled Patrick, removing his helmet to reveal his face, once again scrunched up in to a scowl. He looked over at Oz. "I'm not working with this man" he said coldly, then strode back down the path they had come.
"I know you, you know me" said Isaac, forcing their attention back to him, moving the stick back and forth to indicate the two groups as he did, "so can I come closer now?"
Sam was still wary, but he nodded and Isaac strode over. "I've heard about you" he said to Sam as he got closer. He looked him up and down and then seemed to shrug. "I thought you'd be taller"
Sam ignored the slight and turned to Oz. "What do we need this one for?"
"I'm a scout" said Isaac brightly, either not realising or not caring that Sam had tried to ignore him, "and the only chance any of you have of getting past the Serans"
Sam again looked at Oz. "Serans?"
Isaac laughed then. "Oh, Oz" he said, clapping the man on the shoulder, "you've been holding back again, haven't you?"
Oz shrugged his arm off angrily, then looked away from the both of them. "Maybe a little..." he said softly, trailing off. Sam didn't bother asking, he just glared at the man until he noticed. Oz sighed. "You remember the raiders that attacked my original group? Yeah, well they're more than that. They're a group of tribals; vicious, savage and territorial. They worship some god named Sera..."
"Hence, Serans" added Isaac with a knowing nod.
"...yeah. Everything in south Idaho is their territory," Oz continued, "so once we get out of these mountains we need help to get past them. Isaac is one of the best and he knows the area...we need him, Sam" he finished, looking away again.
Sam nodded. "Is he, at least, the last one?"
Oz shook his head. "There's one more I wanted" he said, "Isaac is good but nobody has gone as deep into Seran territory as we're planning to and returned. We need something special. We need someone who can sense..." he was cut off as Isaac groaned loudly.
"You're talking about Original, aren't you?" he asked, rolling his eyes as Oz nodded, "You know the man's a coward...and a nut. What possible use is he going to be?"
"He can sense people coming. You don't think that's useful?" Oz countered, obviously getting a little annoyed at being second guessed.
"Would someone like to fill me in?" Sam asked. Oz turned to look at him, throwing a filthy look at Isaac as he did.
"Original Jones is...unusual, but he can sense when people are near. It's an advantage and I planned on having as many of those as I could find"
"You forgot to mention he's a gibbering idiot on a good day" injected Isaac.
"He is what he is" snapped Oz. Sam raised his hands for silence.
"We need this man to get to the Vault?" he asked Oz. Oz nodded. "And I take it you know where he is?" he asked Isaac.
The man cocked his head to the side a little. "I might..."
Sam reached around to his lower back. Isaac took a half step back, his own hand cautiously moving towards some hidden weapon he had stashed on his person. Even Oz moved backwards a little, unsure of what was going to happen after the INN incident. Sam glanced at the both of them curiously, then pulled out a small pouch. He tossed it to Isaac who caught it deftly, the pouch jingling as it landed in his hand.
"I take it you don't work for free," he said as Isaac opened the pouch. Even with the aviators on Sam could see his eyebrows raise in shock. "You'll get the other half when we're done" he added and, if they could have, Isaac's eyebrows would have gone higher. He looked at Sam to see if he was serious, then at the pouch filled with at least a few hundred caps, then back at Sam whose expression remained unchanged.
Stoic, stone-like and infinitely serious.
Isaac smiled. "I'm your man" he said, offering Sam his hand. Sam shook it, but kept hold of it after they were done.
"Now, please, take us to this Original" he said softly, but with a quiet authority. Isaac looked at Oz like he had won some kind of contest, then shrugged.
"You're the boss" Isaac said absently, opening up his vest and putting the pouch in an inside pocket, "We going now?"
Sam nodded. "After we get Patrick we'll go." He turned to head after the man but saw Abby had her hand up.
"I've got it" she said brightly, then she leaned in to whisper, "This needs a woman's touch" She winked and headed back down the path.
"Hell of a woman" commented Isaac.
"Hell of an enigma" muttered Oz.
Sam didn't know which one of them was more right.
Abby strode back down the path, finding obvious signs that Patrick had gone this way. His helmet looked like it had been thrown off to the right and his rifle and pack were simply dumped in the middle of the small road. She continued walking and eventually found him.
He was on his knees, his arms resting lazily at either side, his head down like he was asleep. She didn't know which one was in control, having been explained his unique situation several times already, so she went with who she hoped was in control.
"Mo?"
His head turned, slowly, and for a moment she thought Patrick might rear up and tear her head off. But as he turned further she saw, to her great relief, that it was Mo. His hair was wet and stuck to his forehead, likely sweating in that suit of armour, but his eyes were red and raw. She realised suddenly that he had probably been crying. He didn't say anything, just continued to stare at her, and after a moment of awkward silence she spoke.
"Are you ok?" she asked hesitantly. He turned away and she heard him suck in a big breath, then release it with a long sigh.
"Yeah," he whispered, so softly she almost missed it, "it's just hard sometimes, you know? For the both of us..."
"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked, kneeling down next to him and putting her hand on his shoulder.
"Patrick would rather kill you" he said suddenly. Her fears rekindled and she made to move away, until she saw him looking at her, a slight smile on his face. "Don't worry. He's easier to lock up when he's pissed"
"Are you sure?" she asked, unable to mask her concern. He nodded.
"You know what's funny? He was the one that used to be control," he said absently, "I only came out to get drunk and work on computers." He looked away. "I think I preferred that..."
"You liked it?"
He sighed. "In there," he said, tapping his head, "it's like a dream. You can do whatever you want, you're basically a god...and the best part is...you don't have to deal with reality, with issues from the past..." He laughed solemnly. "Patrick hates it. He refuses to stop feeling, to give up what he calls 'humanity'. I don't know why. All I've felt out here is misery..."
"There's some good out here" she offered, although she had to admit she wasn't very convincing, even to herself.
"Yeah, but it's not enough. And...every so often the past comes back and slaps you in the face, right when you think you're finally through it all. I hate it..." he sighed again, "why him?" he suddenly screamed, his voice cracking as he dipped his head again.
Her face showed her confusion. "Who? Isaac?"
He nodded. "He was at Tonopah" he said softly. She didn't know the full back-story about that, but knew from Sam that something bad had gone down there.
"What happened?" she asked, putting her hand back on his shoulder. She didn't know if he meant to or not, but he slightly leaned in to it.
"We did all the wrong things for all the right reasons..." he whispered. He sniffled, then rubbed a gauntleted hand across his nose. "I'd rather just forget it" he finally finished.
"You know, Oz mentioned you weren't always like this" she said, partly trying to change the subject, "if you don't mind me asking...is Tonopah what caused it"
He laughed. "No, but I've always wondered how we didn't pick up a new person after that..." he sighed, "I was taken by glorified slavers, my enemy, and tortured for secrets..." he said, then more softly, "...then for fun."
"I'm...sorry" she managed to say, rather lamely. He looked up at the setting sun, the bottom just starting to reach the tip of the mountains.
"You know what's strange?" he asked, but he didn't wait for her answer, "I don't remember them. The slavers, I mean. All I remember of it is flashes of black and white, over and over, glints of silver and blue and green...I remember the green, they looked like eyes, like something from a horror story...but I don't remember any of the slavers..." he sniffled again, then smiled. "I've never told anyone about that. It feels...good. Thank you" he hugged her, then stood up and headed up the trail to the others. "You coming?" he called back after he had reclaimed his scattered equipment.
She nodded dumbly, still lost in thought. So he's the one, she thought. This just got a whole lot more interesting...
Sam knew it would be bad when he saw the smoke on the horizon but now, as he and Isaac lay flat on the top of a ridge overlooking the small village, he saw it was worse than he could have imagined.
The village didn't look very big, consisting of 6-7 buildings spread out in a rough circle, all the doors facing inwards. There was a watchtower in the middle, likely built to warn against danger, although it hadn't seem to have done much good for these people. Strangely, there was also what looked like firewood heaped together in two large piles on opposite sides of the tower.
Everywhere he looked he could see bodies. People gunned down in the doors of their homes, women lying in pools of blood, he even saw the body of a child here and there. It almost made him sick.
"Great" muttered Isaac, the pair both looking at the village through binoculars. Sam tried to follow what he was looking at and saw it; a group of 4 armed men, all in long black coats with a peculiar white 'I' painted on the back, were herding a few still living people in to the largest of the buildings, a hall or a barn, towards the back of the village. There was another small group, although this time there was a man with a jagged scar running down his forehead and ending just above his chin. The way he was shouting and the way others were moving around him clearly made him the leader.
"I've got 12" said Sam.
"13" corrected Isaac.
"Where?"
"There's two in that watchtower" Isaac said.
Sam turned his binoculars towards the tower and, sure enough, saw two outlines of men, the sun setting behind them. Even worse, he could now see the large mounted machine gun they had in front of them. That would have been a fearsome weapon at ground level but elevated, and with a clear line of sight stretching well outside the village ring, it could dish out a hell of a lot of damage and gave whoever these men were a clear advantage; a fact that Sam was loath to admit. He hated these kinds of fights.
"Alright, let's get back to the others" he said, slowly crawling back.
"Wait" hissed Isaac. He pointed at the far building, the one where the men were keeping everyone. "You might as well see who we're trying to save" he explained.
Sam looked through his binoculars. A scrawny man was being dragged from the building and was thrown roughly in front of Scarface. Scarface said something that made everyone around him laugh and the scrawny man, if this was Original, tried to crawl in to a ball. A man to Scarface's right came in with a left hook, sending Original sprawling to the ground. Everyone laughed at that as well. Scarface waved his hand and two of his men picked up Original by his arms, dragging the man kicking and screaming back into the hall.
"I've seen enough" said Sam coldly and both men crawled down from the ridge, careful not to be noticed, then hurried back to the others.
"How does it look?" asked Patrick, his helmet off, a glare directed at Isaac.
"Not good" said Sam solemnly. "We counted 13"
"And that's a rough estimate, really" added Isaac, "there could have been more in the buildings"
"That's not the problem" said Sam, looking them all over, "in the centre of the town is a tower that has a heavy machine gun on it. It could tear us all to pieces in a matter of seconds if we can't take it down."
Abby's mouth was open, seemingly in shock. She clearly wasn't used to this kind of fighting, although he wasn't surprised. Being a caravan guard usually wasn't all that tough. Patrick was stoic, although he seemed to be thinking something through. Oz looked down, disheartened, like they had already lost. That was a bad sign.
"They've rounded the survivors up" continued Sam, "And if we hurry we might be able to get to them before they do any more harm"
"Well, there's no rush" said Isaac suddenly. Everyone turned to look at him, Sam's eyes narrowing.
"What?" he asked coldly. Isaac's head tilted a little, as if it was a stupid question.
"We've got until midday tomorrow, at least"
"And how," growled Patrick, "do you figure that?"
"The symbol on their backs," Isaac said, as if it was obvious, "the I symbol"
"Inquisitors" muttered Oz.
Sam rounded on him. "You knew about this?"
"No," he snapped, "I didn't know anything about this...but I know about them"
"And?"
"Isaac's right. They won't kill anyone until midday tomorrow at least" he said.
"I'm going to need more than that" sighed Sam.
"They're a religious cult," Oz explained, "Their headquarters is somewhere deep in the NCR. They believe in the one true god, so they say, and they hunt down 'abominations'. I've never heard of them this far east though..."
"Probably heard about Original" interrupted Isaac, "They offer good rewards for that kind of thing and he's just the kind of fish they would sail out to catch, if you know what I mean" he added with a grin that was totally inappropriate.
"So what does this have to do with midday?" Sam asked, still a little confused.
"Well," started Oz, "they only kill people when the sun is highest in the sky. 'Sinners' have to pass through the fires to reach heaven that way" he said sarcastically.
Isaac snorted. "Is that before or after they burn them at the stake?"
"Wait...they're going to burn them?" Sam asked.
"Didn't you see the stakes they were building? Next to the tower?"
Sam stopped and thought back, remembering the large piles of wood. "Those piles of wood?"
Isaac tapped his nose. "They're not finished yet, but they will be. And when they are they'll toss everyone on, sit back and just watch..."
Sam nodded and went quiet, thinking it over. It was a hell of a risk leaving people with anyone that would burn others alive, but it would be a bigger risk to assault that group and particularly that tower without a proper plan. Not to mention the sun had almost set, so they would have to go in the dark and he doubted anyone but himself and maybe Patrick had night vision.
He looked around, everyone seemingly lost in their own thoughts. Patrick was nodding, then frowned, as if he didn't like what he had figured out. Isaac was playing with a small rock with his feet, totally unconcerned. Abby looked worried but somewhat determined. Oz was still looking down, that defeatist look on his face again.
"All right" Sam finally said and everyone looked up at him, "We'll stay here for the night. I'll give you the plan at dawn and then we'll head out. Isaac, you've got first watch"
Isaac didn't look impressed but nodded regardless.
"Can't you just give us the plan now?" Abby asked.
"No," said Sam, a wry smile curling around his lips, "because I haven't thought of it yet"
