20.

Simms was skidding to his knees and checking his son over within seconds. After finding no wounds he took Harden by the shoulders and looked with wide eyes into his son's own, "Harden, are you okay, what happened!"

Harden was struck dumb, his eyes unfocused and puffy from tears. Simms shook him by the shoulders, "What happened?"

Finally one word slipped from Harden's lips, "Mum…"

Simms was on his feet, Harden in his arms, and running up the side of the crater in no time, Tom and others close in tow. Soon they were in the sheriff's home and he had put Harden aside, holding the revolver in both hands and running up the stairs, calling out his wife's name, "Julia? Julia?"

Simms stepped into their bedroom. There was a body leaning against the wall with a large red, wet splat on the wall, flecked with grey matter, bone and small clumps of hair where the head should have been.

On the floor and leaning against the bed was Julia Simms, panting heavily and holding her hand against a wound in her stomach which was bleeding profusely. Her forehead was covered in a sheen of sweat and her eyes seemed to be staring off into the distance.

As Simms dropped his revolver and fell to her side he shouted, "GET THE DOC!"

"Lucas," she murmured. Her voice was weak and far off, "He got in… had to shoot him… wasn't… wasn't quick enough."
Simms shushed her gently, "Shhh, you did great baby."

"Is Harden...?"
"I'm here mummy."

The Simms' looked over Lucas' shoulder as Harden stepped in slowly.

"Come here baby," Julia said, forcing some strength into her voice, "Come here so I can get a look at you."

Harden hesitantly stepped forward and knelt down next to his mother. He forced himself to keep his eyes away from the dark red spot spreading on her shirt.

Julia gripped the hands of her son and her husband as her breathing began to slow, holding them tightly and feeling herself slowly slip away.

Harden lurched forward and embraced her, his head pressed to her chest, his own shirt now wetting with her blood. He sobbed silently and tears trailed down the bridge of his nose before dripping of the tip and onto their intertwined hands.

Lucas Simms held his wife's hand as tight as he could with both of his own. He wanted to shout for the doctor again, scream for somebody just to fucking do something… but he knew that there was no more time for that, and the time that was left shouldn't be filled with shouts…

Julia locked eyes with her husband… and then she slipped away. Lucas watched the light fade away from her eyes and Harden felt her chest fall and heard her last heart beat followed by the longest silence he would ever experience.

It was at that moment that Church ran up the stairs before stopping dead in the doorway. He stared down at the scene before him and his face fell.

"Lucas," he muttered.

Tears spilled from Simms' eyes and fell into his beard as he moaned low in his throat, trying to force back the tidal wave of emotion willing up inside him while his boy lay crying over the body of his wife.

Finally, though, he cried out his wife's name and let the flood rush forth.

Megaton was unable to pause to mourn the loss of the many beloved who fell defending it. By daybreak every surviving resident was helping to search and pile the corpses of the raiders outside the walls. Once every enemy corpse was removed the morbid pile was set alight, polluting the air with a dreadful stench. The cremation of Megaton's fallen residents was held on the other side of the town, outside its walls. The bodies couldn't be buried as they would attract wild life and make things more difficult for the traders that ran their route past the town.

A pyre was built for each person and set alight. Tom stood with Simms and his son while they said goodbye to their wife, their mother. She had been wrapped in cloth before the pyre was set.

By the end of the day the air stunk and the sky above the town was so black and smoky that the birds that usually circled above had vacated.

After the mass funeral a man that Tom recognised as his saviour from the night before approached Simms, "You might want to see this sheriff." He held out a piece of paper, "I found it on Boppo."

Simms reached out and took the paper. After reading it he looked to his son, "Get home, buddy. I'll catch up with you." His voice was low and without much energy.

Harden nodded and continued on wordlessly, his head hung and his shoulders slumped.

"Where did you say you found this, Jericho?" Simms asked, putting a name to the face for Tom.

"It was on Boppo," Jericho answered.

"Does it seem legitimate?"

Jericho nodded, "This is the way assholes like him operate. It was probably sent by mercenaries: Boppo probably never even met the bastard."

Simms handed the note to Tom, whom began to read it.

"It's a deal to attack Megaton," Simms said, "They were given some guns, some caps and a lot of chems. It's signed by Burke."

Tom looked up, his stomach lurching, "He did this?"

"Of course he did," Jericho snapped, "You pissed him off. You don't let assholes like that get away: you either shoot them, or do what they say."

Tom didn't know how to answer without eliciting another angry response.

Simms turned his head to the South and glared over the ridges and into the distance at some unseen enemy.

"You're not thinking of doing anything reckless, are you sheriff?" Jericho asked in a voice that suggested he almost wanted the sheriff to be considering something reckless.

Simms shook his head and muttered, "Of course not."

After a long tense moment Simms turned back to the path and walked back into Megaton. Jericho hung around, taking a cigar from some pocket that Tom hadn't seen and lighting it up in his mouth, puffing away.

Tom hesitated a moment before saying, "Listen, I wanted to thank you for last night."

"Well don't, cos I didn't do it for you. I did it for fun."

Tom frowned, "Fun?"

Jericho nodded, "Assholes like that got no professionalism, no finesse. They got no long term plans or goals, they just kill and fuck and shoot-up. Back in my day we did things right, fast and clean. Whatever blood we spilt was spilt quick: it was business. If we wanted someone's shit we killed them and took it. But these guys now… they're all a bunch of fucking morons. So yeah, I did it for fun, give them a taste of what it's like to be hit by a professional."

Tom took a small step back, "You're a raider?"

"Retired. Can you fuck off now; I've got a smoke to enjoy here."

Tom blinked and the sheer bluntness of the man who last night had saved him from being murdered and then decided to just get away from him. After stepping past him he headed towards the Megaton's entrance.

"Hey kid?"
Tom turned. Jericho wasn't looking at him but the cigar was in his hand now, "You care about that sheriff?"

Tom nodded, "Well yeah. I would think everyone in this town does."

"Well if you really care," Jericho said, "Don't go to sleep tonight. Stay awake and wait around… cos he's going to go after that Burke guy and if he gets anywhere near that tower, he'll be shot down like a dog. Guys like Simms don't get too close to Tenpenny Tower."

Tom processed what Jericho was saying, but before he could say thank you Jericho spoke again, "Now fuck off."

Tom obliged.

Night fell and Tom stayed awake as best he could after the last exhausting twenty-four hours. He waited up until around midnight when he heard something crash outside. He stood on his bed and looked out the window to see Simms stumbling up hill in his duster. He was clearly trying to move stealthily and he was clearly intoxicated.

Tom grabbed his rifle and pistol and headed out after him. As he walked up the crater he found a shattered bottle on the ground and could smell whiskey wafting up from the glass.

He headed up and out through the front gates of Megaton. He couldn't see Simms and looked up to ask Stockholm, but realised that he'd been ordered by Church to spend one night recuperating from his injuries. Tom swore and opened up his Pip-Boy and used the map to help him head South. After about five minutes of stumbling over rocky terrain in the dark, wondering how Simms had done it, he found him. He was walking through the middle of a shallow rocky gully, humming a tune to himself. He had brought another bottle with him and was taking long swigs from it.

"Simms," Tom said.

The drunken mourning man stopped and turned. He wavered a moment, fingering the butt of his gun, before finally realising who it was, "Oh… it's you. Ain't you supposed to be looking for your daddy." His words slurred lazily as he spoke.

Tom climbed down from the edge of the gully and dropped into it, "I am… but Gob made the good point that there's no point trying to find him if I'm just going to die in the progress. Better to wait and make sure I'm strong enough for the journey… make sure I can do it right."

Simms turned away and started on his path again.

"What do you think you're doing?" Tom said, sprinting after him.

Simms whirled, around, "What do you think I'm doing! I'm going to kill the son-of-a-bitch who got my wife killed!"

"You're talking about Burke?"

"Course I'm talking about Burke! That bastard doesn't like our town so he kills my wife! That's all kinds of fucked up, Williams."
"I know Simms," Tom said, "It's completely fucked up but you're not going to get anywhere near him, Simms. You're in no state to be walking, let alone sneaking into some tower and killing somebody."

"Why don't you mind your own damn business, huh?" he tried to push Tom away, misjudged and pushed the air and turned and started off again.

Tom followed after and grabbed Simms' shoulder, "Think about that town, Simms, they need you. You're their only protection."

Simms pushed Tom away and this time he fell backwards and rolled down the slope, cutting himself on the rocks. He stumbled to his feet and cried out, "Think about your son!" His cry echoed out into the wasteland and Simms stopped.

"Think about your son before you go running off into this god forsaken place, leaving him behind with no explanation and no warning; leaving him to wonder if you're alive or dead. You think about that and if you still want to leave… well then fine. Fuck you."

Tom turned and started to walk away.

"Tom?"

He stopped and turned, waiting for Simms to keep speaking.

"You say you're out here looking for your father… what about your mother?"

Tom shrugged, "Never knew her. She died giving birth to me… but I think she has something to do with why my father left."

"You angry at him… you know, for leaving?"

Tom thought about this for a moment, "I don't know… no, not really. Just confused. Sometimes, when I'm in a lot of pain, or I'm hungry or thirsty or tired I get a little mad that he'd leave, that he'd throw everything up in the air like that, our safe little life, and not even tell me why. But I figure he's got a good reason. But just because I'm not mad at him, doesn't mean what he did was right."

"Was it?"

Tom sighed, "I don't know… but I'm nineteen years old. I can take care of myself in this big bad world… how old is your boy?"

"Ten."

Tom stepped forward until he was right in front of Simms. He put a hand on his shoulder, "Then this isn't right. He needs his dad, Simms."

Simms bowed his head, putting an appreciative hand on Tom's wrist.

"Well that's real sweet," a voice drawled from out of the darkness.

Tom and Simms spun around as five men stepped out of the darkness with three at the edges of the gully above them and two at either end. They were all armed and heavily armoured and Tom and Simms were trapped.

"State your business," Simms muttered, most of the slur in his speech gone.

"We got word that some raiders had brought the hammer down on a little settlement called Megaton and our client told us to take a look at the progress… but we've also got a couple of individual contracts for people who look remarkably like you two men. This just isn't your lucky night guys." The man lifted his gun and pointed it down between Simms' eyes.

Suddenly a shot rang out and the man with the gun jerked back, dropping his rifle and stumbling backwards.

Simms and Tom wasted no time in lifting their own weapons and firing. The other two on the edge of the gully fell quickly. They turned in time to gun down one of the other remaining attackers and witness the gunning down of the other. They watched as a tall figure in a long coat, not unlike Lucas' own duster, and a wide brimmed hat twist the man's arm and plunge a knife into his throat. After a moment of shuddering and choking the mysterious stranger ripped the knife from the man's throat and let him drop. Without acknowledging Tom or Simms he climbed up onto the gully edge and walked out of sight for a moment. When he returned he had the leader of their would-be killers over his shoulder. He dropped him over the edge and he landed on his back heavily and let out a groan. His face was covered in blood, made black by the night and one eye was puffy.

Tom and Simms gazed up at the man on the edge. After a moment the man tipped his hat and started off.

Tom cried out, "Wait," and started after him, climbing up to the edge, but when he got to the top the man was gone.

He climbed back down and turned to Simms, remembering the story Willis had told him, the story about a wasteland legend, "Was that-"

Simms nodded, "I think it was."

After a moment they bent over the beaten up man left alive, "Talon Company Mercenary, judging from the armour and the mark on the shoulder," he pointed and Tom leaned in, noticing for the first time the white eagle's talon painted on the shoulder pad.

"Tenpenny's been known to use them," Simms muttered, "Contract killers, mercenaries… they'll do any job if you can pay."

The man moved his head, stirring and moaned.

Simms immediately drew his revolver and fired the bullet into his head, where it pounded straight through and into the ground.

"Nothing like a life or death situation to sober you up," he muttered, "C'mon, let's get back to town before all that ruckus brings someone or something over."

Tom nodded and the two set off back to town.