37.
That day was spent in relative silence as they marched across the wasteland. They were able to avoid trouble and by the end of the day they had in fact crossed a third more terrain than Tom had thought they would. They hunkered down in a small cave for the night, making sure it was clear of any other creatures before settling down.
Once the sun was well and truly set they lit a fire, deep into the cave to hide the light.
After heating some freeze dried food over the small flames James finally spoke his mind.
"Tom… not that I'm unhappy with the fact that you've learned to look after yourself out here but… I'm a little concerned with your… lack of hesitation."
Tom looked up at him, "What do you mean 'lack of hesitation'? If I hesitate I die, it's that simple. When I left the vault, I was out ten minutes before nearly being killed."
"I understand that, son," James said, "And I don't blame you for having a less than sympathetic attitude to raiders but… it almost seems like once you decide that something's bad that it must be killed with extreme prejudice. In particular I'm thinking about Tenpenny Tower-"
"You think I shouldn't have taken out Burke and Tenpenny?" Tom asked incredulously.
"No, not at all. They were bad men… but you slaughtered everyone in that hotel. How sure are you that they were all evil, that they all deserved to die?"
"How could they not be," Tom asked, "They were living in luxury while the rest of the world suffered. They cared more about their beds than the starving people who deserved help. And, more than that, they supported a megalomaniac and dared to try and rationalise it."
"That's no reason to die," James muttered, "It's not that black and white out here, Tom. This whole place, the world itself, is a great big shade of grey. Nothing is as cut and dry as good and evil."
"I disagree," Tom said, "There is definitely evil and there is definitely good."
"Maybe so… but you haven't been out in the world long enough to always be able to tell the difference. You've given power to this Roy Phillips fellow, with no idea who he is or what he's done in the past. Who knows if he'll stop at Tenpenny Tower or if he'll try and take more places as his own. How do you know you haven't just traded one evil for another?"
Tom fell silent.
"Tom, there's no arguing that you have done great good out here… I'm just concerned. It's an overwhelming world out here and you've been thrown into it with no warning. I'm just trying to look out for you."
"Yeah well… maybe you should get some rest. I'll take watch tonight."
There was no more discussion after this. James sensed that he wasn't going to get much more out of him. He settled down for sleep and left Tom to sit against the cave wall, gripping his rifle and struggling with himself and the doubts that had now been planted in his heart about his actions. Had he really killed innocent people, fed them to ghouls? Was he out of control, a little too merciless with his enemies?
The night was filled with these thoughts and fears.
The next few days were fairly uneventful and they didn't speak much. They were making a beeline for DC and planned on changing direction after hitting the river.
On the eighth morning out of 112 they finally entered the ruins of DC, a sight that Tom was now all too familiar with. The buildings around them were not the towering ones of the inner city, but the suburban apartments and shops of the outskirts. They were far less menacing than the deep city monuments, but far more sombre.
They made their way down a slope and came across a sign made up of metal sheets bolted together. A poorly scrawled word was painted in white on it: Grayditch.
"We must have found a settlement," James muttered, looking around. They passed the sign and found themselves on a street with a small burned up park on the left. There were no sounds, no signs of life; just ash and smoke.
Suddenly a scream pierced the air and they both turned to the left. Over past the park was a burned out diner and on top of it was a small boy but they couldn't see why he was up there. Tom handed the rifle to his father and pulled the shotgun from his pack.
They jogged over, weapons ready. Soon they were close enough to see what had chased the boy onto the roof of the diner: giant ants, like the one outside Megaton. Tom had never seen a living one but he didn't think they could be that bad.
There were four of them, clicking furiously and snapping at the boy with their mandibles.
Tom and James raised their weapons and fired. The rifle injured one ant, the bullet passing through its side, however the shotgun had completely tattered the abdomen of another. The wounded ant and its two living companions turned, apparently agitated.
"RUN!" the boy screamed.
Tom and James both fired again. Two ants fell and the last looked down at its fallen counterparts.
"Don't worry kid," Tom said, "We've got this handled." He cocked the shotgun.
Just then the remaining ant turned back to him, opened its jaws wide and let out a huge ball of flame.
Tom cried out and fell back as James fired again, hitting the ant in the head. The stream of fire halted for a moment as the creature tried to recover. It turned to James and caught the next bullet right between the eyes. It crumpled to the ground as Tom checked his face and body for any burns. He'd been very lucky.
James was inspecting the ants closely.
The boy slid from the roof of the diner, "Are they dead?"
James looked up and nodded, "They're also very strange."
Tom got to his feet, "So it's not normal for giant ants to breathe fire? I wouldn't know, I haven't been out here long."
"No Tom," James said as he stood up straight, "It's not normal." He looked to the boy, "What's your name?"
"Bryan. Bryan Wilks."
"My name is James and this is my son, Tom. What's happening here Bryan? What are these creatures?"
"I don't know. Dad used to just call them 'fuckin' ants' but I just call them fire ants."
James and Tom exchanged a glance. Another boy looking for his father. "And where is your father now?"
"I don't know. They attacked our house and he told me to run but I got caught out here. Please can you see if he's okay?"
"Where's your house?" Tom asked.
The boy pointed. Just down the street from the diner was an apartment building with smoke coming out of the windows: not a promising sign.
"We'll check it out. Is there anywhere you can hide?"
"Yeah, there's a person shelter just over here." Bryan walked around the corner and Tom and James followed. Around the corner, next to the diner, was a tall, cylindrical booth. A sliding door was set into it, and above were the words 'Pulowski Preservation Shelter'.
Bryan pressed a button on the outside and the door slid aside. He turned to Tom and James, "I'll wait here for you guys. It'll be safe." He stepped in and the door slid closed.
Tom and James made their way down the street, weapons ready and ears pricked for any sound of scurrying. They passed a small shack, obviously built after the way with wooden boards and sheets of metal before finding themselves standing before the front door of Bryan's home.
After a moment they kicked the door in, weapons up and they quickly cleared the hallway that they stepped into.
Dead ants lay all over the place and an awful acrid stink choked the air, along with the smoke. They soon found the source of it in the next room over. A huge pile of rubble sat in the middle of the living room and was wreathed in flame. Lying face down by the bonfire was the body of a man.
Tom's heart sank as James leaned down and rolled the body over. His front was grotesque and burnt. If the skin wasn't black then it was a raw red. Whatever face he had once had was now gone. Tom had to look away as James peeled the remaining shirt away from the body and search the pockets. He found only a single key. "Too big to be for a safe… might be for that shack next door."
"Right," Tom muttered, still having trouble looking at the seared body, "I'm going to check out the rest of the place."
They cleared the house and found nothing else of use. They took a blanket from a bed and used it to smother the flames in the living room and then covered up Bryan's father with a sheet.
Once they were standing back on the street Tom turned to his father, "How are we going to tell that kid what's happened?"
"I don't know… but we may have more pressing matters at hand. I have never heard of fire-breathing ants and the only conclusion that I can draw is that they are not a natural mutation per se. I want to have a look at this shack." He drew the key and it fit the lock perfectly. They stepped in and found themselves in a dingy room with a some tables up against the left wall, a computer and a desk in the corner with a generator sitting next to it, some kind of station for something in the right corner, a shelf on the right wall and a mattress on the floor.
"That's for a protectron," James said, pointing at the station in the right corner, "I wonder where it is."
Tom looked to his father, "Protectron?"
"Do you remember the robot outside of Megaton? Deputy Weld?"
Tom nodded.
"He's a Protectron."
"Right. What is this place?"
James glanced at the beakers and experimental equipment on the tables, "I'd say it was a laboratory… abandoned now, but only in the last few weeks." He stepped over to the tables and picked up a holodisk and slipped it into his own Pip-Boy. After a moment it began playing over the small speakers on the wrist-bound computer.
It was a male voice, somewhat nasally and annoying and certainly old, "This could be the fifth time I've forgotten the code to my desktop terminal. I really must learn to be more organized. The password for my terminal is 'formicidae.' How hard could that be for me to remember? Note to self: destroy this holotape as soon as move to new lab is complete."
"Evidently he forgot," James said as the holodisk clicked to end. He ejected it and dropped it back on the desk. He sat at the computer terminal and used the password to access the files.
"Anything useful on there?"
"Yes," James muttered, "Apparently this particular terminal belonged to a Doctor Lesko and he was experimenting with some kind of formula. It seems he's moved his experiments down into the Marigold Station. Apparently he was trying to restore some creature back to its normal size through genetic recoding."
"The ants?"
"Perhaps. There's only one way to be sure though."
Tom groaned, "We're going underground aren't we?"
James nodded, "Not a fan of the train tunnels?"
"Are you?"
James smiled, "I suppose not. But I want to meet this Doctor Lesko and find out just what's going on… and if he knows just what effect it has had on the surface."
"Well before we do anything like that we need to figure out what to do with Bryan."
They returned to Bryan and told him what they had found in his home.
The boy just looked down at his feet, "I'm too tired to cry."
"We'll stop whatever started this, Bryan," James said.
"Good. You have to. This can't happen to anyone else's family."
"Is there somewhere you can go? Do you have any other family?"
"Papa used to talk about a cousin Vera. Apparently she lives in Rivet City."
James put his hand on Bryan's shoulder, "When we've fixed things here we'll take you to her. Until then you need to find somewhere safe to be. Thomas and I need to go into the train tunnels. Will you be okay?"
The boy nodded, "Be careful. These ones," he nodded his head at the dead ants, "They're only the little ones. There're bigger ones that I've seen. And the station is over there," he pointed at the street that Tom and James had arrived on, "Just down that road on the right."
James thanked him and they left the boy buy the Preservation Shelter.
Soon they were standing in front of the chain link gate that led down into the depths of the station. They'd encountered a few more ants but now they knew to keep a distance and take their shots quickly.
Tom and James exchanged a look and then they stepped into the darkness.