Chapter Thirty-Six
The surviving members of the Enclave, both Rebel and Loyalist, huddled together in a small camp around the old farm house and barn that Patrick had found months ago. The weather was thankfully warm and calm, but the change from living your entire life underground to being thrust into the outside world without even a chance to properly prepare was a huge shock to the men and women of the Enclave. Many people were suffering from Agoraphobia, and they huddled in the old farm house, doing their best to not look outside. Others were injured in the fighting, so the few stimpaks, Radaway and Rad-X that the soldiers carried were quickly used up to help the civilians. Doctors did their best, but they were quickly overwhelmed.
Food was a major issue as well. All the hydroponic stations and greenhouses in the Vault were now inaccessible, the food that was growing in them now irradiated beyond any safety standard. No one, of course, thought to carry food with them in the few minutes they had to leave before the reactor melted down.
But the biggest problem, and the one that already lead to angry words, fistfights, and guns being drawn, was who was in charge of the Enclave now? Secretary of State Elizabeth Morgan and Secretary of Defense Creighton Hawthorne, even though they were far away in Winnipeg, and had "abandoned" them? The President Pro Tempore of the Senate, a senile old man who thought he was best friends with Abraham Lincoln and Teddy Roosevelt? Or should they have an election, the Old World way to solve these questions, an action that hadn't even been practiced in the 140 years since the Vault door closed?
Eventually the soldiers, scientists, politicians eventually agreed on two things: picking the highest ranking military officer, Major Ulysses Sherman as temporary leader of the Enclave, and that they had to go. The 500 or so Enclave survivors couldn't stay around the Vault. The radiation was spreading from the hole that lead to the hangar, and there wasn't enough food to feed everyone. It was decided to have everyone evacuate toward Brahmin Crossing, the closest town, and once where they could then go to Winnipeg easily enough, or at least get food and supplies to return back.
But it was all white noise to Patrick. He was still in shock that Colonel Granger was dead. The deathclaws, the super mutants, the coup in Winnipeg… and it was radioactive waste from an exploding nuclear reactor that killed him.
But why? Why would he go back? Why would he stay on the wrong side of the damn door when he closed it? Wasn't everyone here? Well, they couldn't know. They have no idea who all died in the fighting, how many were in Winnipeg, or how many quietly snuck out of the Vault sometime between when the doors first opened and when they closed forever, or how many were imprisoned or arrested by paranoid vault security on orders of the now dead, irradiated Speaker.
Patrick wish he could get the answers. But the only person who would know was dead.
Escorting the Enclave members to Brahmin Springs helped a bit to keep his mind off what just happened. Lots of questions about the wasteland, Winnipeg, Assiniboia and everything else was asked of him: Are there monsters? Cannibals? Bandits? Mutant monsters? What was that thing he was riding? Can they ride Demon? The answer to the last question was a big no. The last thing Patrick wanted was to have a kid break their neck.
But Patrick did the next best thing: he told stories. He had to smile as he told the kids and the adults of his adventures, as they listened in awe and amazement as he told the stories of Brandon, of Waskada, of Winnipeg and North Dakota. Vince told his own stories as well, from everywhere: New California, the Capitol Wasteland, the Commonwealth, Orleans, Texas, the Mojave Desert, the Appalachians, the Rockies. Most of them where stories Patrick heard before, but some were new to him as well.
One kid tripped in a radgopher hole, nearly broke his leg. There were a few cases of radiation poisoning, of those that were lower in the Vault when the meltdown and radiation leakage were starting. The supplies of RadAway were running out though, so the tough choices of who to save it for became important, and the scene of increasingly loud and angry arguments. One person a technician that was right next to the reactor when the safeguards went offline, eventually died after puking his guts out for hours and lost all his hair. Several other people seemed to be not much further from death from rads. Those that suffered from Agrophobia were getting increasingly distraught, and one woman suddenly ran screaming off to the south when she had a panic attack. A couple power armored soldiers went to go find her. They didn't come back until that evening, saying she had vanished, most likely got so far ahead of them that their slow, bulky power armor made it hard to keep up. Another woman, sobbing ever since she left the vault for a lost loved one, suddenly pulled a gun and shot herself. Her body, minus the gun and whatever valuables she had, was left to decay.
They had to stop only a third of the way between the Vault and Brahmin Crossing to let the slow moving caravan to rest overnight, much to Major Sherman's annoyance. He was ready to march all night, but eventually the fact that the civilians would be left behind convinced him to stop. Patrick, Vince and the soldiers managed to hunt a few animals, including three radstags, which were cooked and eaten that night. But clean water was a problem, as there wasn't anything on the path that had been made between point A and B. The camp they built overnight was a sad sight: no tents, few bedrolls, the occasional sob or wail from someone as everything they had, sometimes including loved ones, was left behind.
But that quiet, warm, still night, without even a breeze, once again brought the questions Patrick was trying his best to put out of his head.
Vince came by with a small, charred slice of radstag, and offered it to Patrick, who took it with a grunt of thanks.
"You've had a rough few days," Vince commented.
"Now that you mentioned it: yes," Patrick said, tired and exhausted and bitter.
Vince sighed. "I don't know all that you and Colonel Granger went through, but from what you've told me, you two weren't exactly friends. But seeing you now… I think you've been lying to yourself."
"I-I don't know." Patrick could feel tears in his eyes. "When we started, it was a professional relationship: He wanted to see what America was like, and I was mostly along to help with getting him to understand the Wasteland. We butted heads, so many times, over Minot, over the Bomber City, over the Super Mutants."
"Some of the best friendships are those between people that have opposing views," Vince said. "I've seen people who were the best of friends, but couldn't agree on anything, from how to run a settlement to whether they should have mirelurk or brahmin for supper. As long as you respect the differences, and try not to force your beliefs on anyone, you can make friends with anyone, unless they don't follow those rules themselves."
Patrick thought about that, then nodded. "Well, yeah. We were like that."
"And I saw you two at the Legislative Building. You were both happy to see each other, wouldn't you say?"
"It was nice seeing a friendly face, even if he was in charge of the coup," Patrick admitted.
"And yet you managed to convince him to end the coup, even when he said that he couldn't. He must have respected you enough to at least listen to you, to see the flaw in his own thoughts. It takes a lot to accept that your ideas are misguided, and Colonel Granger seemed to have done that."
Patrick looked up at Vince. "Then why did he sacrifice himself? Couldn't he have stayed on the other side of the vault door to close it?"
"I can't answer that," Vince said. "But if he did it to make sure everyone was safe, then wasn't it worth it? Would you have done the same thing?"
Vince stood up and stretched. "Anyway, I better go find some shut eye." Something popped in his back, and he sighed, and coughed. "I might be getting too old for this."
Vince walked off to where he had set up his sleeping bag, leaving Patrick alone under the blanket of black and shimmering stars.
Nine people died through the night: two elderly men from heart attacks, a woman from a stroke, three more from radiation poisoning, two more suicides, and a young man from diabetes because he didn't bring his medicine. Another few people disappeared, most likely run off somewhere, or as much as Patrick didn't want to think about, maybe dragged off by animals like wolves or yao guai. Where they may have run or been dragged off to, Patrick couldn't even guess. Patrick hoped they at least had a gun with them.
Major Sherman was impatient, and it got to the point where he threatened to burn anything that slowed them down. That got folks moving faster than before, but still not fast enough for Sherman. But they eventually got going a bit after 10 AM.
The weather turned gloomy, and it began to rain after lunch time. Thankfully, to Patrick at least, it wasn't a rad storm from Radiation Alley. With a few hundred people tramping in a line, the prairie quickly turned into a thick soup of mud, as the short, radiation stunted grass couldn't hold the ground together. Men in power armor bogged down, and it took several other men to pull them out, only for others to get stuck. Some soldiers, exhausted and exasperated, eventually just climbed out of the power armor, locked it, and continued on foot, which wasn't much better.
Sleipnir's, however, made the trip a lot easier. Patrick and Vince only really had to worry about getting wet, though they would help to pull some power armor out.
"Man, if only we had some Fusiliers," Patrick said to Vince after helping another power armored soldier out of the mud. "Sure would make this a whole lot easier to get everyone there."
Vince nodded. "Well, the next time we have to evacuate a Vault on short notice, we'll keep that in mind." He was drenched in rain, and covered from his hips down in mud, with splotches all over his jacket and face and week old beard, including on his eye patch and hat. Patrick had a feeling he didn't look much prettier.
They had to camp again, the mud having slowed everyone down. But Patrick and Vince decided to ride on ahead, to warn Brahmin Crossing of the oncoming refugees.
The cold, wet night wasn't exactly easy to ride through. It was only thanks to the map and light on Patrick's Pip-Boy that they ensured they were still going east, and not stumbling into the middle of nowhere.
The rain finally let up around 2 or 3 AM when Patrick and Vince got to the outskirts of Brahmin Crossing. The streets were wet and muddy, and there was nobody out. They walked down one muddy street, then another, until they got to the train station. Patrick and Vince tied up their sleipnir's to a hitching post and walked in.
The inside of the station was just as quiet, but more people were inside. Most of them were quiet: a young woman holding her sleeping baby, a few men chatting in a corner on benches. A janitor slowly pushed a broom along the floor.
Patrick walked over to the main desk. "Excuse me?"
A middle aged lady in a UAR uniform looked up from the book she was reading. "Yes? Can I help you?"
"I need to send a radiogram to Winnipeg, as quickly as possible."
The woman shook her head. "I'm sorry, I can't…"
"What do you mean you can't?" Patrick asked.
She pointed to a sign taped to the edge of the desk, and Patrick looked at it.
PUBLIC RADIOGRAM SERVICES HAVE BEEN DISCONTINUED
THE DOMINION OF ASSINIBOIA, AS PER THE DEFENSE ACT, 2145, HAS ORDERED ALL PRIVATE COMMUNICATIONS TO SUSPEND SERVICE AND SUBMIT THEIR SYSTEMS FOR OFFICIAL USE OF THE DOMINION FOR THE DURATION OF THE EMERGENCY, AS DECLARED BY THE LEGISLATIVE ASSEMBLY, MEETING IN WINNIPEG, ON THE _ OF _, 2218.
WE APOLOGIZE FOR ANY INCONVENIENCE.
Patrick looked up from the note. "Wait, when did that happen?"
"Yesterday," the lady said. "I have no idea why, but I heard it's something to do with Fargo, and the Brotherhood of Steel. We can no longer send messages anywhere."
"Look, I'm the Auxiliary, and…"
"The Auxiliary?" The lady asked, surprise on her face. "Huh, I thought you'd be older."
"Dammit, listen to me! I need to talk to the RAMP, the Army, someone, right away…"
"I'm sorry, but I can't," the lady said. "But, we can take your message and send them when the system is restored…"
"It will be too late!" Patrick exclaimed. "I have almost 500 people coming here right now, and I'm pretty sure you don't have the supplies to deal with that, do you?"
The lady cocked her head to the side. "What are you talking about?"
"You know the Enclave Vault, right?"
"Oh yeah. You found them, right?"
"Yes, but there was a fight, the nuclear reactor exploded, and the survivors from the Vault had to evacuate, and we came here. Now I need to get a hold of someone to help feed them."
The lady bit her lips. "I… I… okay. Fine. But this is my neck on the line." She stood up, pulled a pad of Radiogram notes from under the desk and handed it to Patrick. "Make it short, and I'll try to send it as soon as I can."
Patrick grabbed a pencil and quickly scrawled a message, directed to the RAMP Commissioner, about the Enclave Vault evacuation, and needing food and supplies. He then gave it to the lady, who went to the back room with the Radiogram, and typed out the message.
"It will take time before those supplies would get here," Vince said. "You got to load them on trains or boats, then send them down the river."
"I know. But again, if I knew we were evacuating an entire Vault…"
Suddenly the lady came running back from the room, another piece of paper in her hand. "I'm sorry Auxiliary, but the message didn't go through."
"What? Why?"
She handed over the message she carried.
TO ALL STATIONS: PRIORITY LEVEL: MAX. WAR! THE BOS HAS ATTACKED FARGO. PM HAWKSON HAS SUMMONED EMERGENCY SESSION OF PARLIAMENT TO DECLARE WAR. MARTIAL LAW DECLARED FOR DISTRICTS OF: WINNIPEG, RED RIVER AMERICA, SOURIS RIVER, FARGO, DEVILS LAKE. ALL RESERVES ARE BEING CALLED UP. RATIONING TO BE IMPOSED SOON. UAR, CARAVANS, RIVERBOATS NATIONALIZED. ALL SIRENS TO BE ACTIVATED. FURTHER INFO ON ABC RADIO. MAY GOD HELP US IN THIS DARK TIME.
Patrick looked at the large, bold letters on the piece of paper. "It… it's happened."
Vince looked at the radiogram as well. "I think the Enclave refugees are now the least of anyone's trouble."
The church bell began to ring out, followed a moment later by the warbling siren. Patrick froze in place: the last time he heard the siren, Melita was being attacked by raiders. This time, the siren blared for at least a minute, then a few moments later began to go again: an attention signal, signaling something had gone wrong.
Patrick turned on his Pip-Boy radio to DBS. The announcer was struggling to remain calm as he said exactly what the radiogram had said: the Brotherhood of Steel had attacked Fargo, the reserves are being called up, the Legislative Assembly is meeting, and Martial Law was in effect.
Patrick and Vince walked outside, and almost immediately ran into Bill Kovak, the blonde haired, large bearded owner of the motel Patrick had stayed in the first time he came here.
"Patrick?" the businessman asked, before yawning. "What's going on?"
"The Brotherhood just attacked Fargo," Patrick said. "We're at war."
Bill blinked, mentally processing what he just heard. "Well, shit."
"But there's another thing," Patrick then explained about the Enclave evacuees.
This time Bill's eyes jumped. "Wow, you sure seem to know how to get into trouble, eh?"
"You have no idea," Patrick said. He thought that Bill Kovak was about the only person he'd met that he didn't give his name as the Auxiliary. "But can you help out? At least long enough until Winnipeg can send assistance?"
Bill stroked his beard, thinking. "Well, maybe. Those Enclave people have treated us right, even if they were out of their element. Many of them didn't even understand how money works!"
Patrick chuckled. "So what do you need?"
"Don't you worry about that. I have a few favors to call in, and I'm sure I can convince the mayor to open up the community hall and get some supplies, as well as the district reeve. You won't have to ask the Church twice to help either. So you just go back and tell them we will be ready to welcome them with open arms."
Patrick and Vince headed out after a bite to eat from Bill, some hamburgers grilled over an open fire and even a couple cans of Borealis Ginger Ale in their shiny aluminum can, still giving the Aurora Borealis effect even after 141 years.
"I wonder how they did that," Patrick said, turning the can in his hands when he was done drinking, admiring the light show.
Vince shrugged. "Something sciency, I bet. The same reason why you can eat Salisbury Steaks or Fancy Lad Snack Cakes even now."
The two eventually stopped admiring the cans and saddled up, and went off to the Enclave camp. They arrived in the early morning, a couple hours after the sun got up, as it was easier to travel when rain wasn't pouring down. Enclave soldiers patrolled the perimeter of the camp as they got ready to move out again. Patrick rode up to Captain Sherman, who was fixing a servo on his power armor while puffing on a cigar, something that was most likely some fake product made in the Vault.
"Captain, I've informed Brahmin Crossing that everyone is coming."
The soldier puffed on his cigar as he turned a wrench as tight as he could. He then set it in a compartment on the power armor that held tools for handy repairs. "That sounds good. But I have a feeling you have some not so good news."
"Well, yeah. I wasn't able to get ahold of Winnipeg to get supplies for everyone."
"Why the hell not?" Captain Sherman barked.
"Because Assiniboia is at war with the Brotherhood. All 'non-essential' communications has been suspended."
Captain Sherman's cigar twitched. "Well shit."
"But I talked to a guy in Brahmin Crossing, and he said he will do all he can to help you guys for a while, until we get in contact with Winnipeg again."
Captain Sherman grunted. "Well, better than nothing. Alright, we'll get moving."
More people died through the night, but more from lack of medication, old age or medical problems than suicide or running off. The rest of the camp, hungry, tired, cold, and wet, sluggishly moved out an hour later.
They finally arrived at Brahmin Springs in the later afternoon. And like Bill Kovak promised, the town was ready to help. The Mayor and the District Reeve were on hand to welcome everyone, while other people were already working at a massive outdoor kitchen, and began to dish up food for everyone. The three doctors in town, with their nurses, were on hand to help to the sick. They were soon aided by the two doctors that were in Vault when the attack went in. Lists of everyone that came from the Vault were quickly written down to be taken to Winnipeg to the Enclave leadership there, to figure out what to do with them, and people were organized into shelters and homes where they were to stay for a while. A couple ministers consoled those that had lost loved ones as best as they could.
"This is incredible," Vince said from atop Treherne, watching as the Enclave refugees were organized and processed through the different stations set up.
"Hmm?" Patrick asked, looking up as he finished tying Demon to a hitching post. "What do you mean?"
"You don't see this too often nowadays," Vince said, shaking his head. "There are times in my travels when I thought the end of the world also ended common human decency, with the strong taking whatever they want from the weak, or just killing folks because they thought they looked at them funny," Vince said. "But then there are times, like right now, that my faith in humanity is restored. That ordinary people can take in random strangers, and given them so much, when they have so little to give in the first place."
Patrick was just as amazed as Vince at the outpouring of help that popped up on such short notice. Vince went off to help the doctors with his medical experience (years in the wasteland would do wonders for you), while Patrick went to find Bill, to see if he needed anything.
The town was in a state of organized chaos, with people racing around and Fusilier's drawn by sleipnir's or brahmin clogging the street. A radio blared away with DBS going on about the recently started war, and the "cessation of normal programming until further notice." Patrick thought that might have been a poor choice on the part of the people in charge of DBS to cut programs that would have entertained people in Assiniboia, but he wasn't the one in charge of it.
As Patrick was walking past a couple store fronts on his way to Bill's motel, a hand reached out and grabbed his arm, another covering his face, and dragged him into a the narrow, dark space between the two buildings. Patrick tried to struggle to break free, but whoever grabbed him was very strong.
"Now, don't shout Auxiliary," a woman whispered into Patrick's ear. "I just need to talk to you quickly."
Patrick paused. He heard that voice before. He looked over his shoulder to see a hooded figure, and the glimpse of a red ponytail. She then let go of him.
"Sorry about that, but I need to talk to you," Paladin Lord Ariel of the Brotherhood of Steel whispered.
"What the hell are you doing here? There is a war on!"
"I'm well aware of that," she said. "And that's why I'm here."
Patrick glared at her. "All I need to do is shout, and you'd be dead."
"Not if I kill you first," she said. "And I'd be a bigger challenge than anything you'd have faced before."
Patrick stood there for a solid minute, trying to stare her down. "Alright, fine. What do you want?"
"I have been asked to recruit you to the Brotherhood of Steel," she began. "This war is a major test of strength, and the Brotherhood is a lot stronger than Assiniboia. You should know that. So why sacrifice yourself?"
Patrick rolled his eyes. "And I think we went over this a long time ago. The answer is still no. My country, right or wrong."
Paladin Ariel didn't even blink. "What if I was able to promise you that your brother would be returned to you the moment you switch sides?"
Now Patrick was dumbfounded. "What?"
"Your brother, Zach. He was being trained as an Initiate of the Brotherhood, along with the other children that had been… recruited in various ways," she said, as diplomatically as she could.
"Was?" Patrick asked.
"Was." Paladin Ariel confirmed. "When we made the connection between the two, your brother was withdrawn from the training, and taken to Bemidji, where Elder Ezekiel had made his headquarters." She then reached into her robe, and pulled out a piece of thick paper. "As proof, here is a photograph of your brother."
Patrick took the picture, then dug into his wallet for the other picture he had of his brother. In the old photo Zach was happy and cheerful, giving a million pound smile that brightened everything. In the new picture, Zach's hair was closely cropped, he was wearing a Brotherhood uniform, and had a forced smile that was sad and tired and miserable. But the scar on his cheek was the same.
But Patrick was well beyond stunned. His brother was safe, and no longer being put through the hell that was Brotherhood training. The picture looked natural, not cropped or edited.
"This… this is real?"
"I took the picture myself," Paladin Ariel said.
Patrick looked over both pictures again, studying every detail. His hands trembled. "It… it's all true. He's fine."
"If you agree to come with me, you will see your brother again in just less than a week." Ariel said. "That's how long it takes to get to there from here."
Patrick finally looked up. "There is something more to this though. I just know it. What's the catch?"
"We want you to denounce Assiniboia. Join with the Brotherhood and fight against this forsaken nation. You will be given the highest honors, made a member of the Forge, whatever the High Elder believes is right for working against Assiniboia."
Patrick looked at Ariel, then looked down at the pictures again. "I… I…"
"Yes?" Ariel said. "I don't have all day, you know."
"I… I can't."
Ariel's eyes didn't go wide in surprise, and she didn't exclaim in shock. But she was still surprised. "I thought you wanted your brother?"
"I do. I want it more than anything. But I want to be able to go home too. And if I work with you, then I will be declared a traitor, a person non grata in my own nation." Patrick turned to her. "What if that happened to you."
"It never would. I'm loyal to the Elder and the Brotherhood."
"But what if you had a family member in Assiniboia, and the price to go to them was that you renounce your loyalty?"
"I have no family in Assiniboia," she said.
"It's a fucking hypothetical question!" Patrick nearly shouted, but quickly got himself under control again. "Okay. So, pretend for a moment that there is something, someone that connects you to Assiniboia, the biggest thing in your life: a family member, a loved one. Now, imagine that you had to give up the loyalty to your country, your ideals, your entire way of life, to a group that was responsible for you losing it in the first place, just to see it again. Now, would you?"
Ariel didn't even blink. "No. The Brotherhood is all I have. There is nothing for a brother or sister to have but loyalty to the Brotherhood. We break all our ties with the outside world. The Brotherhood is my entire world."
"Well Assiniboia isn't my whole world, but it's a big chunk of it. My family, which your raider friends destroyed months ago, was even bigger. So why should I work with a group that hired a bunch of thugs to kill my grandparents, kidnapped my brother, and then tried to kill me?" Patrick asked. "Like I told you before: Assiniboia isn't my whole world. But they at least are decent enough to ask me to help them, rather than you blackmailing me."
Paladin Lord Ariel straightened her shoulders. "You realize you just signed your brother's death warrant, didn't you?"
Patrick glared at her. "If you dare to kill him, I will do everything in my power to not only kill you, the Elder, and every single power armoured bastard between here and Fargo, but I will destroy the Brotherhood, and grind it into ash, and ensure not a single trace of it remains!" Patrick was nearly shouting now. "I've survived your 'Fist of Steel,' I have brought down your agents and influence in Assiniboia. I have been underestimated by every single bastard that thought I was just a kid." Patrick came right up to her, his anger seething. "So don't you fucking dare think I won't make good on my promise."
Paladin Lord Ariel finally let a small smile cross her lips. "Elder Ezekiel would have found your passion a great asset to the Brotherhood." She bowed. "If you decide to change your mind, I'm sure a brother or sister will take prisoners." She then disappeared into the shadows.
Patrick left the alley, his anger boiling under his skin, until he got to the motel. He was directed to Bill, who was busy back in his office at the Motel organizing everything, and preventing the whole hastily organized effort from falling apart. He puffed on a cigarette, which was only the latest: his ashtray was full of butts of it's predecessors.
"Ah, Patrick… something wrong?"
"No. Nothing you can help with," Patrick said, then sat down in the chair. "But is there anything I can help you with?"
Bill looked for a moment, then slowly shook his head. "Nah, I think we got this." He stubbed out the cigarette, and got another one going. He offered one to Patrick, who refused it. "I got to say, this is going a lot better than I thought it would," Bill said "Still going to have people sleep on little more than some old blankets, but at least everyone will have a roof over their head, and a bit of food in their belly."
Patrick nodded. "Still wish it hadn't come to this, but thanks for helping out."
Bill looked up, and gave a small smile. "Well, we can't very well turn them away. We finally got a RadioGram up to Winnipeg, so more supplies will be arriving in a couple days."
"Well that's good," Patrick said.
"But I also have a message for you," Bill said, digging through the papers on his desk. He muttered something about clutter and being unorganized, until he finally found the piece of paper he was looking for. "Ah ha! Here," he said, handing it over.
Patrick took the Radiogram and looked at it. He read it over again, then sighed.
"No rest for the wicked," Patrick said, folding the message and putting it into his pocket.
"Off to go fight?" Bill asked.
"That's my guess, yeah. All the message says is that I'm being summoned to Fort Landon south of Grand Forks," Patrick said. And I know where the leader of the Brotherhood is now Patrick thought to himself. Maybe we can end this war quickly.
"Quite a few soldiers that stop here are usually coming from or going to Fort Landon. If half of what they say is true, it's perhaps the biggest stronghold in the entire Great Plains," Bill replied.
Patrick had a feeling he wasn't going to be safe for long though. But if he heard of something that happened to Zach, he wasn't the one that was going to have to worry about his safety: Elder Ezekiel was.
Pip-3000 Infotracker Note #0000
WE APOLOGIZE FOR THE INCONVENIENCE. ALL NON-ESSENTIAL COMPUTER, TELECOMMUNICATION, AND ELECTRICAL SERVICES HAVE BEEN DISCONTINUED FOR THE DURATION OF THE EMERGENCY. PLEASE STAND BY FOR IMPORTANT NEWS AND INFORMATION ON THIS DEVICE. NEWS AND WEATHER WILL BE PROVIDED EVERY HOUR ON THE HOUR.