9
With Vincent leading the way, they left Megaton early in the morning. Patience spent a fitful night, tossing and turning on the makeshift bed laid out in Moira's store. Waking up several times during the night, caked with sweat, to see Valrie's face next to her, her eyes wide open, staring at her in concern.
The dreams were vivid. The same premise every time. She'd be fighting against Super Mutants, running and firing, only to reach a certain point in the ruins, and her dream, where the Pip-Boy would illicit a loud beeping sound, letters crawling across the screen. 'Correct location - Initiating infusion'. In the dream, she felt pain. In the dream she watched her fingers swell, followed by her hands and arms, turning a sickly green. She felt her bones crack and stretch, her skin harden, her voice growing thick, deep and guttural. She would turn towards Valrie, several feet taller than the older woman now, and tear her apart with her bare hands.
She would wake up then, with a start, throwing off her covers, reaching for her sidearm. Then she would lay back down, return to sleep and the process would begin again.
"Hey! Vacant!" Valrie picked up a stone and threw it at Vincent's back, causing him to stiffen and snap around.
"Are you talking to me?" Valrie nodded, a wicked grin on her face. "The name's Vincent!"
"That's what I said. Vacant." Valrie knew what she was doing this time. The 'mis-spoken' word quite deliberate. "How does it feel to know this woman could kick your ass seven ways to Sunday and not break a fucking sweat? What do you think about that?"
"I don't feel and I don't think." He turned away, twisting his grip on the assault rifle in his hands.
"Ha! Never a truer word spoken." Valrie picked up another stone, throwing it at his head this time. "So, when are you going to turn on us? As soon as you get the rat bastard's information, or are you going to wait until we're back in the ruins before you shoot us in the back?"
Vincent spun around again, drawing the assault rifle up, pointing it at Valrie's face. Valrie remained calm, staring into Vincent's fierce eyes and then slid those eyes over to the muzzle of Patience's pistol, pointing at Vincent's right hand.
"One more move and I send you back to your boss minus a hand." Patience didn't care that Valrie had baited him. It was a test of his character, and he'd failed. "Or, maybe, I blow off your fucking nose. Least then you won't be able to smell the bullshit coming out of Moriarty's mouth."
The assault rifle remained pointing at Valrie's face for a few seconds, Vincent adjusting his grip several times. He soon, began to drop the rifle, pointing it at the ground before looking at Patience's stone cold features. He grunted once, then pointed at Valrie.
"Keep that loud mouthed bitch off my back!" He blinked and turned his face away under Patience's withering gaze.
"I will not." Almost without passing through the intervening space, Patience's sidearm moved from pointing at Vincent to nestling in its holster at her hip. "How you've survived this long with such a thin skin, I don't understand. Keep your temper in check. You touch her, you're dead. She gets hurt when you could have helped, your dead. Basically, you even piss in a way I don't like, I'll fucking kill you. Understand?"
Vincent didn't answer, resorting to a sullen nod instead, before turning away once more and continuing to walk towards the D.C. ruins. Patience caught Valrie's eye and wagged an admonishing finger at the older woman. Valrie shrugged and pretended to bend down to pick up another stone, but stopped and grinned at Patience.
"I still don't understand." It was only a few minutes since the altercation, but it was far too much silence for Valrie. "I mean, why not just stay at Megaton. You know that place is safe. Plenty of people around, plenty to do. They need a new sheriff, you know?"
"I can't. I won't." Patience kept an eye on Vincent, about twenty feet in front. "I'd be a prisoner to something that might never happen. Who's to say this trigger location is anywhere near here? Or, maybe, it's just ten feet away from somewhere I've already been? I can't live like that."
"You seemed to be plenty worried about it last night." She wasn't saying it to be hurtful, Patience knew that. The tone of Valrie's voice, the way she had watched Patience the night before. She said it because she cared. "What I'm trying to say is, I don't want to see you turn into a Super Mutant just because you want your memories back. Memories, I might fucking add, that might not even come back if you do get to Vault-Tec HQ, or might come back all on their own anyways."
"It's not just the memories now." Her voice lowered, became wistful. She glanced at the Pip-Boy on her arm. "I need to know what the hell is going on. If I find out where I come from, maybe I found out why those sick bastards have put this thing on me."
She looked towards the ruins of Washington D.C.. The buildings bent, broken and misshapen like rows of brittle, fractured teeth. A dull haze hung in the air over the city. Not a cloud, but an insubstantial gauze, filtering the worst of the sun's rays, causing fingers of light to reach out to the ruins. As if to hold out a helping hand to pull the city back to its feet. But the city remained forlorn and flailed of any hope.
Vincent stopped, taking his bearings, using the sight on his rifle to mark out the landmarks. Satisfied, he began to step down a mound of rubble, heading south-east. Patience didn't trust him. Couldn't trust him. Valrie was correct, if far too direct. The man had orders to take them down as soon as they completed his part of the mission. She was certain of that.
It remained for her to decide if she killed him first, or not, as soon as the Vault-Tec HQ was in sight. And the worst part was, she had no qualms about taking the man's life. None. In her mind, her subconscious mind, it was a pure tactical necessity. Emotion played no part in the decision and she wondered what kind of a person she used to be that could think of killing a man so coldly.
"Three Dog here, with another update on the supply of beautiful, beautiful purified water.
There are those folks, out in the Wasteland, that are only just starting to gain the benefits of the life-giving liquid. No longer having to search for and boil down water found out there. Supply lines are stretching.
And there are other folks who are taking advantage of the situation. Some raiders have taken it upon themselves to hijack the water caravans. These 'people' are low. The lowest of the low.
Here's the thing, raider assholes, the water is free! Gratis! No payment required!
Let the water flow! Let the people have their fill!
And to anybody paying these assholes for the water they steal, do yourself and everyone else a favour, go to the caravans, help them out and get your water from them. They want to give you the water. Let them! If there's no market for the water, it won't be stolen. Even raiders aren't dumb enough to put their lives at risk if there's no profit in it.
Stay safe, children. Help the water caravans and don't let asshole raiders take advantage of you.
This is Three Dog, keeping an eye out for all the good people out there."
The river flowed a sluggish trail through the area, a natural barrier between downtown D.C. ruins and the rest of the Capital Wasteland. Patience calculated that the river stretched over a thousand feet in width at this point. Too far to swim.
Upon reaching the river, Vincent turned the party south-east, following the bank, his eyes watching both sides. Several times, he brought them to a halt as he spied raiders on the northern bank and, once, a large party of Super Mutants exiting a building, dragging several humans along.
Patience's gut wrenched as she stopped herself from firing across the river. The idea of allowing the Super Mutants to take the humans, and do god knows what to them, almost made her choke with bile. It wasn't right. Every fibre of her being wanted to somehow find a way across and slaughter every last one of the Super Mutants.
"They're already dead. Or worse." Vincent noticed Patience's dilemma. He remained calm as the Super Mutants disappeared into the ruins, the shouts and screams of the humans deadening, becoming dull and then growing silent. "Pick your battles, vault dweller."
"Oh, she's already got one battle picked out ready." Valrie continued pushing Vincent's buttons.
"Don't torment the puppy, Valrie, it might snap and then I'll have to swat its nose." It helped to lighten her mood, but trifling with Vincent could work against them.
"You know what, fuck you! Both of you!" Vincent almost jumped to his feet, the Super Mutants now out of sight. "You don't know a fucking thing about me."
He strode away, head down, shoulders tense and hunched. Beside Patience, Valrie let out a cackling laugh. It didn't appear that the older woman was about to give Moriarty's bodyguard a moment's respite. As far as Patience could tell, if Valrie couldn't spit in the face of Moriarty, then his agent would do as well.
She couldn't find it in herself to feel any sympathy for the man. He had, after all, chosen to ally himself with Moriarty, a man that Patience forged an instant dislike and distrust towards. The only reason she allowed the man to come with them was due to necessity. He, through Moriarty, knew how to get to Vault-Tec HQ. She did not. It was a simple as that.
For, she guessed, the hundredth time, she considered what Valrie had said, before. It would be so easy to switch off. To settle down in Megaton, or as a bodyguard for Valrie on her trading route. It would be so easy to put aside her need to find answers. At least, that's what she thought to herself. The reality was, she could no more ignore the questions in her mind than she could stop breathing.
Vincent crouched, bringing them to a halt once more. Using military hand signals, he told them to observe beyond a broken down piece of wall. Patience kept low and hunched against the wall, taking a second, then glancing around the side.
She saw a wharf at the side of the river, built to take two or three small river boats. Pilings, set into the concrete of the dock, lined the edge, ready for boats to tie off to. On the inland side of the wharf, several tables and chairs sat, some with umbrellas, and, at the far end, a small hut stood alone and apart. The hut, large enough for, at most, three people, appeared well maintained. Brightly painted with a red and white striped awning protruding from beneath the roof. It all seemed so unreal. So mundane. Like a picture postcard of a time long gone.
"I go first, follow in single line, keep your weapons down." Vincent spun his assault rifle behind his back and stood up, walking around the broken wall, towards the wharf.
Valrie raised an eyebrow to Patience and Patience could do nothing but shrug. She stood, rested her assault rifle onto her chest (keeping her finger near the trigger guard), and followed Vincent around the wall. Valrie, reluctant at first, followed.
As they approached the wharf, Patience noticed the slightest movement in one of the windows. Vincent raised his hands, palms outwards, showing his intentions. Patience didn't. She didn't like the situation. They were now out in the open, without cover anywhere close enough to scramble to. The water to their left would hold no escape. Her eyes twitched this way and that, and she took care to shield Valrie the best she could.
"Who's that? Don't come any closer. 'Less you want buckshot in your ass." A woman's voice, shouting from within the hut. Now they were closer, Patience saw the muzzle of a shotgun edging through a hole in the hut wall.
"You know damn well who it is." Vincent sounded as if he was smiling, though Patience couldn't see. "Come on out or shoot me."
"You know this woman, Vacant?" Valrie edged around Patience to get a better look.
"Yeah, I know her." He began to lower his arms, stepping closer to the hut.
"Who's them others you got with you?" The shotgun didn't move, but it didn't follow Vincent as he stepped forward, it remained pointing at Patience. "I don't like the look of 'em. Especially that one with the gun."
"They're with me. They're ... clients." There was silence for a few seconds before the shotgun slid back into the hut and the sound of bolts pulling back.
After a while, the door of the hut opened, slow and steady, and the shotgun emerged long before the person holding it. The woman, close to her seventies, if not older, stepped out, her grey/white hair cropped short, dark brown dungarees over a patchy pair of long johns. She appeared healthy, tight, tanned skin upon her face, with sharp, high cheekbones highlighting deep brown eyes.
"Grandma Sparkles! This is Patience, she's a vault dweller, and that other one is Valrie, she's an asshole. They're on Mister Moriarty business." Vincent seemed genuinely pleased to see the woman, Grandma Sparkles. He turned to Patience and Valrie. "This is Grandma Sparkles."
"I don't take no truck with son-of-a-bitch Moriarty." Almost reluctant, Grandma Sparkles lowered her shotgun. "Vincent's a good boy. Don't need to be working with that son-of-a-bitch."
"We don't work for Moriarty." Patience held out her hand to shake, but Grandma Sparkles only looked at it, like it was something dirty. "It's just a one-time business deal."
"I don't give a shit." Grandma Sparkles lowered her shotgun and pinched Vincent's cheek. "Ice cream, Vinnie?"
"I fucking love her!" Valrie whispered to Patience.
So did Patience. She looked at the old woman, cuddling and mothering Vincent and wondered if she knew what Vincent was like, or whether Patience, herself, had misjudged the man.
Vincent seemed like a different person around Grandma Sparkles. Humble, respectful and smiling. Patience couldn't believe the change in the man that had shown nothing but a gruff, hard and angry personality up to now.
They sat, relaxed and carefree, on the seats outside the hut, eating ice cream and chatting. It seemed normal. The most normal interaction that Patience had found herself involved in since the moment that Valrie found her. It could have been a public holiday in the World-that-was, instead of a tense, furtive meeting in the surroundings of ruined buildings and under the possibility of attack at any time.
"How's the ice cream? I make it myself and if you don't like it, you can go fuck yourself." Grandma Sparkles sat back in her seat, legs akimbo, shotgun resting on her thighs.
"I never tasted anything like it." Valrie was demolishing her second bowl and stared at everyone else's bowl like a feral dog staring at a cornered rabbit. "How the fuck have I never tasted this before?"
"I reckon I'm the only one that makes it. Leastways, these days." Grandma Sparkles reached out an absent-minded hand and stroked Vincent's hair, causing the rough, tough bodyguard to blush and hunch his shoulders, a little smile on his face.
"Well, I have to say, it's strange to see Vincent like this." Patience pushed her bowl away. The ice cream had a strange metallic taste to her. "We've only known him a day or so. You seem very proud of your grandson."
"Vinnie ain't my grandson." Grandma Sparkles didn't like Patience and made it clear with every intonation in her voice, every guarded stare. "My boys never had kids. No, Vinnie damn near saved my life a while back. God damned asshole raiders tried to rob me. Vinnie appeared out of nowhere and kicked their asses, and by 'kicked their asses' I mean shot the shit out of them. He stayed to protect me for weeks after that. He's a good boy."
Grandma Sparkles stared at Patience, daring her to say anything against Vincent.
"Maybe you should teach Vac ... uh ... Vincent to choose a better fucking employer." Valrie raised her eyebrow towards Patience and nodded at the bowl of unfinished ice cream. Taking Patience's eye-roll as a 'yes', she pulled the bowl towards herself. "The guy he's working for is the biggest ass licker in the Wasteland. An evil piece of shit and, I'm sure, has ordered 'Vinnie' here to kill us first chance he fucking gets."
Vincent's coy, child-like smile disappeared. His hand slipped to the butt of the .45 on his hip. Patience was faster, though, and had her sidearm out and pointed at him before he could blink. The pleasing, relaxed atmosphere had soon descended into a tense stand-off. What Patience hadn't expected was the shotgun being pointed at her by Grandma Sparkles.
Patience calculated she could shoot Vincent and move at the same time, avoiding the worst of the buck shot, but Grandma Sparkles shifted the barrel of the shot gun, pointing it at Valrie. Valrie froze, ice cream filled spoon half-way to her open mouth. The older woman glanced at Patience. There was no way she'd be able to avoid the buck shot.
"What say we all take our hands off our damn weapons and get back to talking like civilised folk?" Grandma Sparkles looked at both Patience and Vincent. "Vinnie, you move to break the peace again and I'll slap you so damned hard, your real grandma will feel it. Rest her soul."
Vincent removed his hand from the butt of his pistol and glowered at Valrie. Patience, keeping her eyes on Grandma Sparkles, slowly replaced her sidearm to its holster, folding her arms. Grandma Sparkles returned the shotgun to rest upon her thighs and Valrie allowed the spoon of ice cream to finally reach her mouth.
"Three fucking women at a table of four and there's still more testosterone flying around than a fucking football locker room!" Valrie used her spoon to make a point, waggling it in the air. "This is why I fucking hate guns. You have one, you always gonna want to use it instead of fucking talking."
"You got that damned right." Grandma Sparkles lifted a foot on to the table and pushed her seat back on to two legs, balancing between falling either way. "Vinnie here does his job and, yeah, he has control issues. Don't look at me like that! You know you do."
Vincent dropped his eyes as Grandma Sparkles admonished him. Patience almost laughed at the reaction Grandma Sparkles elicited from the man. He was a killer, a dangerous killer, but under the reproachful gaze of the old woman, he became akin to a child.
"So, Vinnie works for, what did you call him? An evil piece of shit? An ass licker?" Grandma Sparkles frowned the question to Valrie. Valrie, mouth full of spoon and ice cream, nodded. "So, Vinnie works for this piece of shit and that makes you think he'll kill you? You don't know my Vinnie. Oh, don't get me wrong, he ain't no Boy Scout, but you listen to me, he don't kill people for nothing."
Vincent looked away, avoiding the eyes of Grandma Sparkles, and that told Patience everything she needed to know. That look made it obvious that he had been ordered to kill them. But there was something else in that look, too. A shame. He had orders, but the orders made him feel ashamed and that made Patience hope that they could get through this without trying to kill each other.
Moriarty had, Patience was certain now, given the order. Whenever it was supposed to go down was irrelevant. The fact that the order had been given was enough. If she survived this, there would have to be a reckoning with Colin Moriarty. Vincent, however, was a more complicated matter. She needed to try and get him to disobey the order. Yet, was Vincent a mere 'Yes-man', only capable of following orders blindly, or did he have a bit more meat to his morality? That remained to be seen.
"Who wants more ice cream?" Grandma Sparkles stood up, cradling the shot gun in the crook of her arm.
"Oh, god! Fuck yeah!" Valrie almost made it sound sexual, rolling her eyes and holding out the bowl to Grandma Sparkles, like a starving beggar.