Chapter Six.

Under normal circumstances, Moira was always sure she had an assistant with her when she traveled. Two heads were better than one when it came to spotting danger.

There had been no time to hire an assistant and Silver had to watch the shop, a task Moira was wondering if she was even capable of. She liked to be charitable when she could, but in the wasteland, some concessions to personal survival had to be made.

Getting to Grayditch didn't take half the time Moira thought it would. Alone and on foot, she was able to follow the makeshift pathways and old roads caravans used. She was careful to keep an eye out for landmines and other booby traps.

Only having been to Grayditch once, she didn't immediately see the problem but she could smell it.

Burnt flesh was a common smell. Fire safety wasn't something most Wastelanders thought about, and at first she thought the people of Grayditch had a little mishap. When she stood at the town's four corners, she began to think different. A few of the ruined houses were on fire, but what puzzled her the most was what looked to be the remains of the caravan strewn about down the street towards the ruins.

She drew her pistol, hoping she wouldn't have to fire it, and walked towards the scattered bags, boxes, and trinkets which she saw many of which had been charred or burnt up completely.

The part of Grayditch that was inhabited was only a small fraction of the homes that could potentially house people. The others that stretched south in blocks were left abandoned either because there weren't enough people to fill them, or there weren't enough who wanted to risk it. Grayditch had nothing in the way of fortification, and in the wasteland, large unfortified settlements didn't last long.

Raiders must have attacked, Moira thought. Or super mutants. The burnt bones of humans and brahmin were scattered everywhere, with few complete skeletons. Something had thoroughly picked them clean.

Moira found that most of the gear was burnt up, but some valuable things were left untouched. Bullets, a shotgun, a rifle scope, a pair of binoculars, some denim clothes and…a mini nuke.

The gun kept her from clapping her hands together, but she let out a small cry of surprise and delight. Mini nukes weren't cheap, and while she felt bad about the caravan and what looked to be the rest of Grayditch, their misfortune would save her a few hundred caps. She slipped the small nuclear weapon into her knapsack and as she began to debate the merits of staying around to investigate what had happened, she heard the broken pavement crunch behind her.

Spinning around, she pointed her pistol at the small figure standing not ten feet in front of her. It was a small, shirtless boy wearing a pair of dirty coveralls. His face was smudged with ash and he needed a haircut.

"You gotta get out of here," he said. "B-before they come back."

"They?" Moira said. "You mean the super mutants?"

The boy shook his head furiously. He seemed to be making an effort to remain standing where he was instead of running off. He was looking at the ground, and seemed to be struggling with something. "My dad called them ants. Fire ants. They used to come around now and again for food, but we always drove 'em off, but then…"

Moira stood and moved closer to him, but he backed up as if afraid she would touch him. "Then what?" Moira asked.

The boy looked up at her, his eyes had gone wide and the corners of his mouth had widened. "They breathed fire," he said. "Fire ants, breathed fire…get it?"

He was at the edge of hysterics, Moira could tell, and as much as she wanted to, didn't move closer. "What's your name?" she asked.

"Bryan Wilks," he said. "I lived her with my dad and a few other people, but they're all dead now."

Moira's eyes scanned the rest of Grayditch. The sun was high in the sky, adding to the heat from the nearby burning houses. She was sweating and felt a kind of creeping sense coming from the abandoned blocks to the west.

The wind picked up, wafting the stench of the flames and smoke over them. "What are you going to do?" she asked the boy. The people of Megaton frowned heavily on new people, even orphaned children, coming in and using water. Still, she felt she would have some trouble sleeping if she didn't try to help Bryan Wilks.

The boy began shaking his head. "They'll come back," he said. "They eat everything. Anyone who comes through here is dead meat."

Hopefully not everyone, Moira thought.

"I'll warn people," Bryan said, not looking at Moira anymore. He was speaking to the pavement, or more likely himself. "I can hide from the ants, I'm small enough. I'll come out and tell people about the ants, put up signs…eat what's left."

The boy began to wander off back the way he had come. She moved to follow, but her attention was caught by what sounded like twigs being clapped together.

Walking out from behind a fire hydrant was an ant. Twice the size of a large dog, its reddish brown body skittered quickly over the broken pavement towards her. Its sightless black dot eyes, its wiggling antennas, and most of all its foot and half long mandibles turned Moira's spine into jelly.

"Crap, run!" Bryan shouted, dashing off down the street and disappearing down an alley. Moira heard him clamor over junk and knew he had gone somewhere she wouldn't be able to follow.

It was time to leave Grayditch.

Moira started to run back the way she came but saw two more ants had come out from behind another building. She kept running, confident she could keep enough distance between them to get around and escape. That confidence evaporated when a string of flame spewed twenty feet out from one of the ants in front of her, blocking her path.

Fire ants, Moira said. Now I get it.

She wasn't leaving without expending some bullets it seemed, so she pointed her gun at the ant that had spit fire and pulled the trigger. The bullet missed and she fired again, and again, and again.

Oh yeah, I'm a bad shot, she thought, now remembering why she tried to get assistants with some combat experience. Another ant had joined the first one she had seen behind her, and as she backed up, she realized the only place she had to go was through a burning building.

She really wished she had some Mentats. Just thinking about them made her mouth water and her body ache. Shaking her head, she took careful aim at an ant to her right and fired, knowing if she didn't start scoring hits, she would burn her to death.

Her bullet clipped the antenna of the ant's antenna, severing it. The gun clicked empty for her next shot, and her shoulders slumped. That's it, I'm dead, she thought. I wonder what heaven will be like?

The ant she had wounded spit another gout of flame, this time on its companion. Puzzled, Moira almost didn't move in time when the other ants from the left fired their flame jets. With the other two preoccupied, she dashed forward, away from the burning house to her back and the murderous ants.

That ant went crazy, she thought. Maybe their sanity is in their antennas? She kept running, risking a look back to see that the other hands had teemed up on their crazed companion. Strings of fire were going everywhere, mandibles were clashing. The first ant had burned the other to death, and now it seemed to be an ant free-for-all going on in the center of Grayditch.

More ants were joining them and it seemed as though the mini-insurrection would soon be over and the ants would be a team again. Not wanting to be around for that, Moira headed back towards Megaton.

The fact that she had found no Mentats was offset by having located a mini nuke so easily and gaining a valuable lesson in ant management for the Wasteland Survival Guide. Bryan Wilks seemed like the sort who could look after himself, even if he was an orphan.

As she traveled quickly over the waste towards home, she wondered about the boy. His staying around Grayditch and warning people of the ants wasn't unlike what she was trying to do with the guide. She only hoped he didn't fall victim to what he was serving as a warning post for.

To be continued…