Chapter 9
The Bloodied Trail
"Ellie? Are you here?"
"Nick?" A woman's voice called from inside the office. She emerged from behind a pile of boxed papers. "Nick, is that really you?"
"Yeah, hard to mistake me for anybody else."
"Hmph. You keep laughing at death, someday, death is gonna laugh back."
"Not as long as I got a few friends to back me up." Nick smiled at me.
Ellie turned to me with an even bigger smile than Nick's. "You saved Nick, this agency, and my job. Thank you."
"Happy to do it."
"Yeah? Go diving into scary prewar ruins all the time, do ya?"
"You could say that . . ."
"Here. I know an amount wasn't on the table when you went out to find him, but you deserve a reward. Plus a little something extra." From her desk drawer, Ellie took a sack of caps and my very own detective outfit and gave them to me.
I just grinned. It wasn't like I planned on wearing the cheesy outfit, but it was a nice gesture.
"You know, if you're looking for work and you don't mind putting on the detective hat, Nick sure could use a new partner."
"Whoa," said Nick from his desk. "One case at a time, Ellie. Our new friend needs our help first."
"Alright, let's get down to business." He moved to Ellie's desk, and she stood to take notes. There was an upholstered chair in front of Ellie's desk. "Take a seat. Make yourself comfortable."
I sat down in the worn out chair in front of him and tried to get as comfortable as I could. I had a feeling I was going to be there a while.
"I want to know everything you know about the kidnapping. Don't leave out any details, no matter how excruciating it may be . . ."
I started with the kidnappers. "There was a man and a woman. They didn't say much, but I remember they called me the 'back-up.'"
"So we're talking a small team. Professionals. The kind that know to keep their lips tight when they're on the job. Not sure what 'the back-up' means though . . . What else can you tell me?"
"We were in a vault when it happened. Vault 111. It was some kind of cryo facility."
"You were on ice, huh?"
Ellie was furiously taking notes, her pen moving so fast, I couldn't understand how she could read her own writing.
"More importantly, you were underground," he continued. "Sealed up. That's a lot of obstacles to get through just to take one person. What else do you remember?"
The worst was yet to come. "My husband was . . . murdered. He was just trying to keep them from taking Shaun . . . and they . . . they just . . ." A lump jumped into my throat and my voice cracked. I didn't think I could go on.
"It's okay," said Ellie. "You don't need to say anything more."
I tried to hold my tears in front of the professional detective.
"So," he said, "we're talking about a group of cold-hearted killers, but they waited until something went wrong to resort to violence. Anything else?"
"We're looking for my baby, Shaun. He's less than a year old. Why would anyone take him?"
"Good question." He held his chin. "Why your family in particular, and why an infant? Someone would be taking on all of his care, and a baby needs a lot of it."
My heart filled with outrage at the thought of someone else raising my child. I was his mother. He needed me. Me. Not some murderer.
"That confirms it. This is not a random kidnapping. Whoever took your kid had an agenda. Hmm . . . There's a lot of groups in the Commonwealth that take people. Raiders, Super Mutants, the Gunners, and, of course, there's the Institute."
"Super Mutants? But they're . . ."
"Big, green, muscles on muscles. In other words, hard to miss. I think we can safely rule them out."
"Yeah. Who are the Gunners?"
"High-end mercenaries. No job too brutal. They're in the running as likely suspects, but they wouldn't be the ones pulling the strings."
"You think raiders might have done this?"
He chuckled. "I honestly doubt it. They can barely organize themselves, let alone pull off something this complicated."
"So that leaves the Institute. You think they're responsible?"
"Well, they are the boogeyman of the Commonwealth. Something goes wrong, everyone blames them. Easy to see why. Those early model synths of theirs strip whole towns for parts, killing everything in their way. Then you got the newer models, good as human, that infiltrate cities and pull strings from the shadows."
"But why?"
"No one knows. That's the worst of it. No one knows why they do it, what their plan is, or who they are. Not even me, and I'm a synth myself. A discarded prototype, anyway."
"Either way, I need to find Shaun." We were just wasting time now, and I was getting restless.
"You're right. This speculation is getting us off track. Let's focus on what you saw. What did these kidnappers look like?"
"The woman was dressed in a . . . I think it was kind of a hazard suit. The man had . . . some sort of metal brace on his arm."
"Like some kind of improvised armor? Lots of hired guns do that to look tough. The hazard suit is interesting." Nick leaned back in his chair. "Not many mercs can afford something that fancy."
"The man who . . . that killed my husband. He had a handgun. I didn't get a clear look at it, but that sound."
"Could have been a large caliber revolver. Hmm . . . I'm starting to get a clearer picture of the kind of man our perp is . . ."
"I'll never forget that voice. Low and rough. Like sandpaper across your face."
"Huh. Not much to go on, but a tough and commanding voice can get someone pretty far in the violence business."
"The man came right up to me. Bald head, scar across his left eye."
"Wait." He sat straight up in his chair. "It couldn't be. You didn't hear the name 'Kellogg' at all, did you?"
"No. They never said their names."
"Hmm. Way too big of a coincidence. Ellie, what notes do we have about the Kellogg case?"
"The description matches! Bald head. Scar. Reputation for dangerous mercenary work. But no one knows who his employer is."
"And he bought a house here in town, right? And he had a kid with him, didn't he?"
"Yeah, that's right. The house in the abandoned West Stands. The boy with him was around ten years old."
"It's Shaun! It has to be! . . . Somehow . . ." I didn't know what I was babbling about, but somehow I knew that that child was Shawn. I was out for two-hundred years; nothing else would surprise me.
"Don't jump the gun on me. You said you were looking for an infant, remember?" Valentine lit another cigarette and pursed it between his lips. "That's over nine years difference by my count. Look, maybe he has a son of his own. Maybe it's someone else's kid. Either way, they both vanished a while back." He stood up from his chair. "Let's you and I take a walk over to Kellogg's last known address. See if we can snoop out where he went."
"Security doesn't really go to that part of town," Ellie mentioned. "But you two should still be careful."
"I always am," he said with a tip of his hat as he made for the door, his coat flapping a little as he walked. I followed him out the door.
As we walked through the alley, Nick whispered to me. "I didn't want Ellie to hear this, but I think you should know. Everything I dug out about Kellogg before his disappearance was bad news. He's more than just a mercenary. He's a professional. Quick, clean, thorough. Has no enemies, because they're all dead . . . except you."
We took a right by the ally and met a staircase leading up toward the west stands. Nick puffed at his cigarette with me in tow behind him, making me cough as the smoke passed my nostrils.
"But nine to ten odds say that he's our man. It's more than just you identifying his distinguishing features. The MO is all him as well. Leading a small team to kidnap a baby, and leaving one of the parents alive for later? Not many mercs in the Commonwealth can pull that off."
We walked over the rafter to a lonely little house sitting inside the side of the stands. It was plain and much like the other huts I had seen around the city. Nick walked up to it and jiggled the knob. When it didn't open, he started to pick it himself.
"That's one heck of a lock. Got something to hide, Kellogg?" He had no luck. "Why don't you give it a try?"
"There's no way I can pick that."
"Guess we'll need the key."
Nick pointed me in the direction of the mayor's office and told me to get the key from his secretary. I didn't feel comfortable going to see the mayor again, or his secretary, to ask for a stranger's house key. Considering he didn't seem too friendly when I first met him upon my arrival to the city, I wanted to steer clear of the mayor.
Nick sighed and told me to keep watch at the door while he went to get it himself. I waited for about fifteen minutes before he came back with the key. He said he had to talk her into handing it over with a few caps, but he got it nonetheless.
"You do the honors," he said, handing me the house key.
I put the key in the door, and slowly turned it. I was almost afraid of what I was going to find. It smelled musty inside. You could tell that no one had lived there in a long time. It looked like he had left in a hurry – many of his belongings were still laying around throughout the house.
"This house seem small to you? Figured a guy like Kellogg would think big. Looks like there's nothing here. Check through his desk. I'm tellin' ya, something's not right. Look for anything out of sorts."
I looked through his desk, but it was filled with papers that I couldn't be bothered to read. Most of it was stuff I didn't understand anyway. There was a toolbox on the desk. Nothing interesting inside. Not even a hint of drug paraphernalia or beer bottles, though he seemed like the type.
Then I saw it. A button underneath the desk. It was attached to a cord leading to the right wall. I pressed it. To my surprise, a piece of the wall to the left opened up in front of Nick, who took a step back.
"Well, that's one way to hide a room." He walked inside. "Look at this. All of a merc's favorite things."
I walked inside after him. And there were the things that were missing from the scenario in the first room. Beer, cigars, packs of cigarettes, stimpaks, and lots of ammo. In the center of the room was a red chair with tools on a table. It looked like . . . some kind of torture chair. On the far left wall, he had stashed food, ammo, water, and Nuka-Cola. I looked at the beer bottle on the table beside the red chair.
"Gwinnett Stout beer? .44 caliber bullets. San Francisco Sunlight cigars."
"Interesting brand. Won't lead us anywhere on its own, though." He pocketed the cigar and the beer bottle.
"Suggestions?"
"What about Dogmeat?"
"You know Dogmeat?"
"Who doesn't? A Commonwealth mutt like him could track a man's scent for miles. Why don't we go fetch him and let him have a whiff? See if he picks up the trail? Oh, and before we head out . . . I know that this is personal business. If you have to face Kellogg on your own, just say so."
I took a deep breath. I never thought about what would happen when, or if, I ever met my son's kidnapper and my husband's killer face-to-face. "Any advice or words of wisdom?"
"If Kellogg really is the one that kidnapped your son, then he's dangerous, but so are you. You don't need to be afraid of him, or anything else that the Commonwealth throws at you."
His words brought little comfort. I didn't have confidence in myself. I was a lawyer, not a gunslinger. A mother, not a murderer. I believed in peace, not revenge. Confidence or no confidence, I didn't want to go alone.
"I want you with me on this, Nick."
"All right. Let's get that bastard. This is your show from here on out, okay? You say 'jump,' I'll say 'how high.'"
"Dogmeat is in Sanctuary Hills, where my old home used to be. At least, that's where I told him to stay. You wouldn't mind traveling there with me?"
"Whatever we gotta do. Lead the way."
We made our way back to Sanctuary Hills shortly after. It was the middle of the night, which was extremely dangerous, but we weren't willing to wait around.
We got there at roughly three in the morning, so we rested. I didn't want him to give people a start, so he had to stay at my house instead of with the other settlers. He claimed he didn't need to sleep as an older model synth, so he sat up in the chair while I rested on my couch. Codsworth was happy to see that I had come home so soon, but I had to explain to him that I wasn't staying long.
The next morning, I gathered a few more supplies, like bottled water and radstag steaks – radstag meaning a two-headed elk – and ate a hearty breakfast of melon slices. I talked to Mama Murphy before heading out. She was sitting in the chair Sturges and I made for her.
"You need the Sight? It's telling me mentats will give us the right high for another insight into your destiny."
I searched through my bag eagerly and found a tin of mentats that I salvaged and gave her some.
"Ah, that's it. I can feel the Sight opening up. I can only see that you are on the right path. If you had any doubts in your mind, you shouldn't. The man you're after. He's the one. He wears all the pain he's caused like a shield. Be strong, kid . . . The sight's getting . . . foggy . . . but your energy is glowing brighter than you know. You can win this. He can't hurt you anymore."
I took in all that she said. I pondered her words, but her coughs brought me out of my reverie.
"Don't mind me kid." She coughed again. "The chems are just . . . acting up a bit . . . I'll be fine, eventually."
"Are you alright?"
"Just tired. The Sight takes a toll on ya."
I told her to take care. I tried to sneak back out before Preston knew I was there. I didn't know where he was, so we found Dogmeat quickly and made for the bridge again. I knew he was going to ask me if I did that Minutemen thing, which I had been ignoring. I have my own problems to deal with. I'm one step closer to finding my son . . .
After we got halfway to Diamond City, we showed Dogmeat the cigar.
"Get the scent, boy," I told him, scratching his ears.
He panted happily, then smelled the cigar. He turned very serious as he followed the trail. I jogged to keep up with the dog in front of me, Nick in tow quite a few steps behind me. Dogmeat led us to an area past an old store called Hardware Town and barked excitedly.
"Hmm. Kellogg must have stopped here," Nick said when he caught up to me. "Search around. See if we can pick up the trail."
By the broken road, there was an old, rusted car. Beside it, a small pond that had been caused by a dip in the earth and rainwater. Someone set up a chair and a makeshift table on a large piece of wood next to the pond. I searched the table by the chair, and sure enough, there was an ashtray with a half-smoked cigar.
"Did Dogmeat pick up the scent again?"
"San Francisco Sunlights. Kellogg's preferred brand alright." I showed it to Dogmeat. "What do you think, boy? Enough to go on?"
He barked and took off past the pond. He started following the railroad tracks up the hill. It felt like the tracks were going to go on forever. We were ambushed by some tunneling molerats, but we took them out easily. We only followed the tracks for about five minutes after we disposed of the molerats until Dogmeat suddenly veered off to the right.
He headed for a stairway built into the concrete bridge. At the end of the stairs was a sidewalk and the main road that went underneath said bridge. It was littered with old cars and motorcycles that had been abandoned for the last two centuries. Dogmeat barked when he came to the wall under the other side of the bridge.
There sat an oil lamp, still lit. On the rail by the wall was a bloodied rag, as if left to dry. Dogmeat whimpered.
"Bloodied bandages?"
"I'm tellin' ya, that nose is second to none." Nick lit a cigarette.
I showed the bandage to Dogmeat. He was off in a flash this time. Kellogg's blood was obviously a stronger scent than cigars or beer. We had to step over the body of a raider as we entered the staircase; it was no doubt the reason we found the bloodied bandage.
We were back to following the tracks, picking up where we left off. We ran into three wild mongrels who were attacking both us and Dogmeat, viciously biting and clawing at our legs. One jumped on my back as I was defending Dogmeat and bit me on the shoulder. Nick shot the mongrel off of me and put a bullet in his eye.
I panted and held onto my bloodied shoulder. Nick applied a stimpak to me from his coat pocket. I was instantly starting to feel better. My wounds were healing within seconds. Stimpaks were incredible, and a necessity when traveling the wastes, I had learned.
We came across a small warehouse. It was small enough to fit a bedroom or two inside. When we entered, Dogmeat had already disappeared down a stairway. It spiraled down, down, down, until it led out to a tunnel of sorts. The tunnel led onto a road, and the road went on outside. Dogmeat barked as we emerged. He was standing next to yet another chair.
"Gwinnett Stout," I showed Nick. "One of his creature comforts."
Again, I showed the evidence to Dogmeat and he picked up the trail again. We made our way down the road. We were completely out in the open now – no trees or wooded areas to hide behind. No tall buildings, either. Just us, the open road, and a few cars and downed trees. It was still pitch black outside, too. I didn't even feel tired. I was fully aware and alert to my surroundings. The only thing on my mind was to find Kellogg and get answers, and, hopefully, find Shaun.
We walked across a bridge that ran over the river. On the other side, eighteen-wheelers and other trucks were turned over as if a wreck had happened. Then, Dogmeat stopped dead in his tracks and growled.
I held my gun at the ready, knowing to trust Dogmeat's instincts. Then, there were familiar growls and moans coming from underneath the trucks. We found ourselves surrounded by ghouls. Nick and I started popping off rounds as quick as we could.
"Go for the legs!" he yelled to me.
It wasn't a bad idea. These ghouls were incredibly fast on their feet. Just a few shots to the legs, and their rotting appendages would just fall right off. They weren't so scary when they couldn't run at you.
When we disposed of the ghouls, Dogmeat led on.
We passed a nice little town – or what used to be a nice little town before the war – and heard some robotic voice calling out about "critical signs." Fortunately, Dogmeat led us right up to the noise.
A robot was lying on the ground; one I had only seen a few times on television when they talked about the war.
"Damn," Nick muttered, "hell of a party happened here . . ."
"What is that?"
"An assaultron. A dangerous robot to be sure."
It didn't look so dangerous up close. Dogmeat was practically sitting next to it, panting happily. Upon inspection, I noticed that the assaultron's head, torso, and arms were dismembered completely. Sparks flew from its body.
"Attention assailant," it commanded. "Lower your weapons immediately. Tracking known adversary. Exercise extreme caution.
I examined its head. "What have we here?"
"Error. System corrupt. . . . I can't feel my legs."
"What happened here?" I asked it.
"Error. Operator deceased. Threat level Omega. He . . . killed . . . us."
"We're still on track," Nick noted. "Hopefully he's not much further."
Dogmeat took off again, leading us further into the wasteland than I had ever been before. We went straight down the road, then took a right. We went down that road for a short time until Dogmeat veered off to the left and sent us walking up a dirt hill. We stopped at a rusty old chain link fence. Another bloody rag hung from the broken end.
Dogmeat barely gave me enough time to show him the bloodied rag. He took off in an instant. We walked past the Greater Mass Blood Clinic and Fort Hagen. To my surprise, Fort Hagan's doorstep is where he stopped.
"Is this the place?" I asked the barking canine. "Is he in here, boy?"
"I knew Dogmeat would sniff our man out. Let's you and I take it from here. Give our four-legged friend a break."
"Go back to Sanctuary, Dogmeat. I'll see you later."
He barked happily and took off in the direction of Sanctuary.
Nick approached me. "Dogmeat did a heck of a job. This is the place. Kellogg's somewhere inside. Front entrance is boarded up, though. Maybe there's another way in?"
Just then, super mutants attacked from across the street. They were holed up in the old bar there. We didn't even see them in the dark.
