Chapter 10

The Sons and Daughters of Anchorage

Twil is dead. The thought still makes me sick to my stomach. Every time I close my eyes, I picture her swaying on the noose. Her face is purple as her life slips away. I'm powerless to do anything, and I watch her die a hundred times over.

Kat dug Twil's grave a few yards away from the tree where Jethro's men hung her. It had only taken her an hour to make the hole. As Ali tended to my wounds, I watched her methodically jam her shovel into the dirt and then throw the dislodged soil over her shoulder, over-and-over again, in a mechanical motion.

Kat never took a break until she finished. She never broke a sweat. Her breathing was always at an even, flat rhythm. She never even took off her gear or her combat armor.

I'd never seen anyone - not even a slave with a whip to his back - work so tirelessly.

After the grave was completed, Ali and the other two mercs, Jonathan and Thomas, laid Twil to rest.

I was too exhausted to help them.

Kat piled dirt on top of Twil's body while Ali gathered up several large, white stones. All of us helped him make a cairn to keep coyotes and yao gaui from digging up the grave site.

As we finish our work, Ali pulls out his Koran, and begins to read from it.

I listen intently. There's still an ache in my back from where Ali sowed my wounds shut. A stimpak had eliminated most of the pain, but as of now, it's sore and itches like crazy.

While Ali continues to chant from his old book, Jonathan and Thomas take off their hats and put their hands over their hearts.

Kat and I do nothing.

"Allah hu Akbar! Bismillāhi r-raḥmāni r-raḥīm. Al ḥamdu lillāhi rabbi l-'ālamīn. Ar raḥmāni r-raḥīm. Māliki yawmi d-dīn. Iyyāka na'budu wa iyyāka nasta'īn. Ihdinā ṣ-ṣirāṭ al-mustaqīm. Ṣirāṭ al-laḏīna an'amta 'alayhim ġayril maġḍūbi 'alayhim walāḍḍāllīn."

The wind blows across the dry scrub. A tear trickles down Ali's cheek. He slowly closes book and his eyes.

"That sounded. . .pretty." The younger merc, Jonathan, turns to Ali, inquisitively. "What's it mean?"

"In the name of Allah, the Beneficent, the Merciful, all appreciation, gratefulness and thankfulness are to Allah alone. Lord of the worlds. Bringer of the Day of Judgment. To You we worship, and to You we seek help. Direct all of us to the straight path in now and the hereafter-"

"Twil didn't believe in Allah," I mutter, a tad unsteady on my legs. I've lost a lot of blood and still feel a dizzy. "Twil believed in Great Mother. You should say your prayers to Her - if anyone. What does Allah care about a heathen?"

"Allah has many names, my friend. And thousands of faces. Great Mother. Jehovah. The Father in the Cave. They are Allah, and Allah is them. All that matters is faith - not what you call Him."

I stare down at the alabaster stones that mark Twil's grave. The dead feel no pain. I wish I was buried under those rocks with her.

Goodbye Twil. . .

I loved you. . .

I barely knew you. . .

If I had any tears left; I'd be crying.

"Is that it?" Kat asks. Her deep voice breaks the long silence.

All eyes turn to Kat. Jonathan and Thomas look bemused. Ali's a blank.

I'm infuriated.

"What the hell's wrong with you?"

"It's okay friend. Don't be upset," Ali puts himself between Kat and myself. "We all mourn in different ways. Come back to my brahmin. You need another stimpak. And I want to check your stitches."

Disgusted, I limp away, holding onto Ali's shoulder for balance.

Ali digs through his inventory, looking for more medical supplies. I have no idea how he expects me to pay for them. I have no caps and nothing to trade. Slowly, I lower myself onto a rock and take an uncomfortable seat. Jonathan and Thomas return from the cairn and help Ali get his brahmin ready.

And life goes on. I remember hearing that somewhere - a long time ago. Twil is dead, but the sun's still rising in the sky. Ravens are cawing overhead. Mole rats are munching on agave fruit.

Everyone and everything is behaving like nothing just happened.

Everyone but me.

I have nothing left. There's nothing left for me in this world.

Well, maybe one thing.

Ali returns with a stimpak and I inject it into my upper thigh. He hands me another, checks the stitches running along my lower back, and then shakes my hand, firmly.

"Very sorry. It's time for us to go. We're headed to New Vegas." Ali gestures south. " If you want, you can join us. Freeside takes in anyone; Legion, NCR, regardless."

I feel the anesthetic from the stimpak course through my veins. My head clears a little. I feel energized.

"What about Twil?" I sniff.

"What do you mean, friend?"

"They murdered her. You're just going to walk away? They murdered your malak. You and your mercs aren't going to do something?"

"Io," Ali sighs. "I loved Twil. I watched her grow up from a shy little girl, to a proud woman. But Twil killed herself. You know this. If you're consumed by hatred it will consume you. She did not have to challenge Jethro - as I'm sure she did. And you did not have to be her champion. What's done is done. Her fate was decided by Allah. Best to let it rest"

"Jethro murdered her!" I fume. I want to wring Ali's neck, but think better of it.

"You helped him." Ali says dryly. "If you hadn't agreed to fight, Twil would still be alive. More violence won't solve anything."

Violence won't solve anything, but I lust for it. I picture throttling Jethro - jamming my machete deep into his pale neck. As he falls to the ground, choking on his own blood, I can faintly hear Broken Legs crying.

"Twil and I rescued a girl. I took her to White Tree. Jethro will kill her. I have to get her."

I'm not sure that Jethro actually will kill Broken Legs; but I'm not sure he won't.

Ali walks over to his pack brahmin and grabs an old hunting rifle off of its side. He hands it to me along with two clips of ammo.

"If you want vengeance, take it." He shrugs. "I'm going. It's bad business to attack towns I trade with. I'm a merchant and a man of peace. Sorry my friend. Allah teaches us to forgive."

"What about you?" I turn to Ali's mercs. I don't expect them to offer any help, but figure I might as well ask.

Thomas and Jonathan refuse to meet my gaze. They pack up their gear like they didn't hear me.

Cowards.

I use the hunting rifle as a crutch and turn to limp off, into the woods.

"I'll come with you."

I look back and see Kat smiling at me.

It's unsettling.

I watch as she walks over to the brahim and digs through its saddlebags.

"Kitarshna!" Ali waddles over to her. "You haven't completed your contract. It's not up until we reach New Vegas."

"Then I'll take half payment."

Kat shoulders a rucksack, grabs a grenade, and removes a wicked-looking rifle from a leather sleeve that's tied to the side of the brahmin.

I've never seen a weapon like it.

Ali calls after Kat, but she doesn't heed him. She walks up to me and stares at me with her blue glass eye.

"Well?" She motions to the woods. "Are we going?"

(***)

Kat takes the lead during our march back to White Tree. She's chosen a path that goes through the woods, meandering across the rocks and scrub, into dry conifer forest.

She doesn't talk, but the lack of conversation doesn't bother me.

I still resent her.

After a half an hour or so, we come upon a small pond nestled under an outcrop of red rocks. My mouth is parched. I feel queasy from dehydration. I pick up a leaf and use it to scoop up some water.

The tepid water feels heavenly on my cracked tongue. I offer some to Kat, but she waves it off with a head shake.

"Thank you for coming along." I say between gulps. "I didn't think you would. You didn't seem to care about Twil."

Kat fiddles with her pony tail. She stares at me.

"What are you good at?"

"Good at?" I furrow my brow. "I can read and write - in English and Latin. I'm good at dice. I know Prewar history and mythology-"

"No." Kat cuts me off. "In combat. What are you good at? Sniping? Infiltrating? Scouting? Demolitions?"

"Oh. . .I'm a decent shot with a rifle. I'm bad at sneaking. I'm good with a machete - though not as good as I thought I was. Obviously."

"Can you set or disarm mines and booby traps?"

"No."

Kat pulls the strange rifle from her back and examines it. She removes its magazine.

"How many men are guarding White Tree?"

"Five that I saw. There's a wooden wall around the town. And a tall guard tower in the center. They saw Twil from pretty far off. They have a good vantage."

"Then we'll attack at night. When only I can see." Kat taps her glass eye. She motions for us to keep walking.

"You can see in the dark with that eye?"

Kat ignores the question. We continue to walk in silence.

"I'm sorry about your friend. Twil. You're angry at how I treated her body." Kat glances back. "I'm not used to death. I find it fascinating."

"You aren't used to death? By the look of you, you must have killed someone."

"I've killed those who've attacked me, but I've never knownsomeone who's died. Personally. It's unfamiliar."

"Really? No one?"

Kat takes a moment to answer. "Where I come from, we don't die."

The trees creak all around us.

"How's that possible? Where doyou come from?"

"Anchorage." Kat turns away from me and continues walking.

I struggle to keep up with her quick pace. "Everyone's immortal in Anchorage?"

"We're all networked to Anchorage. If my body dies, a piece of me survives in the mainframe. I will always be part of Anchorage."

"I don't understand. . .what – what is Anchorage?"

"A computer. It was built to link several minds together to form a collective consciousness. The military thought a collective consciousness would be more intelligent than any A.I. and that all of its constituents could retain a separate identity. Just before the war, one hundred men and women were plugged into the Anchorage mainframe. When the bombs fell, the facility went dormant, but the mainframe survived. The bodies of the men and women linked to Anchorage eventually died, but their minds live on - in the system."

"So you. . .you were one of those people?" I say in disbelief. "You're Prewar?"

"No. Those people are trapped in the mainframe. They have no bodies. I was born into the Kamchatka Tribe. One of our elders rediscovered Anchorage. Overtime, my tribe modified ourselves so we could link up with Anchorage. Become a part of Anchorage. Anchorage showed us the way. We're a collective. The Sons and Daughters of Anchorage."

None of this makes sense.

"So. . .you're human?"

"Correct." Kat nods. "With augments that allow me to access Anchorage. My eye is the most noticeable. Most others are internal."

"Are you linked to it right now?"

I feel a sudden rush of nausea. Kat helps me over to an old Joshua tree. I lean against it to rest and then vomit.

Slowly, I regain my composure and Kat meets my gaze.

"I chose to sever myself from Anchorage. All of us have the option to - as long as we still have bodies."

For whatever reason, I'm still curious. "Why'd you leave?"

"I've been with Anchorage for one hundred and forty-seven years. I was curious what else was out there. Anchorage has scouts that roam the wastes, but I wanted to see the world for myself. This is the only way to do that."

"Can you go back?"

"Yes. Anchorage will be eager to access any new knowledge I've acquired: I've scouted sixteen frontier towns, recovered this prototype automatic rifle, and learned six new languages."

"Do you?" I cough. I feel even dizzier than before and assume that the stimpak is wearing off. "Do you want to go back?"

"Not yet. I want to see New Vegas. The NCR. The Capital Wasteland. There are many things left for me to see, and may years left to see them in."

I close my eyes. This makes me feel even worse. I see flecks of metallic yellow.

"Ali knew about this? About you?"

"No. We are forbidden to tell outsiders."

"Then why did you tell me?"

Kat leans into my ear.

"You're going to die."

"What – what do you mean?" I back away. "Everyone's going to die. Except you and your tribe."

"When I told you I was fascinated by death – I was talking about you. That's why I wanted to come along. You're going to die in less than seventy-two hours. You will not have an opportunity to tell anyone about Anchorage. Our secret is safe with you."

"How am I going to die? You're going to kill me?"

"You're suffering from an intraparenchymal hemorrhage." Kat points to her glass eye. "I can see it. The blood flow."

"A what?"

"Your brain is bleeding. You must have taken a hard blow to the head. The physical symptoms will progress. Fatigue, dizziness, hearing loss, vision loss, loss of muscle control - and eventually - death. You have seventy-two hours."

My mind swirls.

"You - you can't do anything about it?"

"You'd need surgery to survive. Prewar databanks I downloaded from Anchorage before severing myself allowed me to diagnose you - but I have never preformed surgery. I know how to, but lack the equipment. Even if I had the equipment, knowing what needs to be done and doing it are very different. I would probably kill you if I attempted to operate."

"You won't try?"

"I lack the equipment and there is no suitable equipment within walking area. Even if I were able to operate, afterwards, you'd be bedridden for weeks. You'd be unable to save the child you mentioned. You'd be paralyzed - partially."

"Broken Legs? Why didn't you tell me before? Why now?"

"I couldn't be certain of the diagnosis until it progressed. You seemed intent on a suicidal assault on White Tree - I didn't think it would matter. I want to observe you."

"So I'm dead." I sniff. "Regardless. I'm dead. . .and you. . .you want to watch me die. Like a. . .lab rat?"

"Correct." Kat blinked. "I will aid you in your assault as fire support – if that is your wish. It will give me an opportunity to field test this weapon. That is, if you wish to continue. . ."

I laugh.

"Well what the fuck else am I going to do? If I'm going to die; I may as well take Jethro down with me."

"Good." Kat smiles. "White Tree is two miles from here. Rest. We'll move in at nightfall."