Chapter Thirty-Eight
The command cabin landed on the ground forcefully. But it couldn't be called a crash like when a train went off a track, though most of the windows shattered from the impact. The hydrogen above them quickly burnt away, rising up due to it's lighter than air qualities. Within moments, the fire around them was nearly gone. Smoke filled the cabin, but it hadn't caught on fire.
Patrick had been toppled over from the impact, but other that some bumps and bruises, he wasn't hurt. Everyone else also seemed to be okay.
The pilot ran to the door, and slid it open. "Hurry up! Get out of here before-"
A dozen Brotherhood soldiers, three of them in power armor, surrounded the cab, pointing their weapons at the eight people inside.
"Dragoons!" one of them shouted. "He brought Dragoon's here!"
Someone then pointed to the pilot. "Traitor!"
"No, please, don't shoot!" the pilot said. "I can ex-"
He didn't get a chance to explain. Three laser bolts impacted him at the same time. There was a painful, haunting scream as the pilots entire body disintegrated into ash.
"You, dragoons, are all prisoners," one of the power armored men shouted. "Drop your weapons, and come out of their, arms up. If you don't, we shoot!"
"What do we do?" Patrick whispered to Colonel Mansfield.
The smile was gone from Mansfield's lips. "As we are told." He tossed down his assault rifle, and pulled the revolver from his holster and set it down beside it, and slowly stood up, and raised his arms, and walked out. The other Dragoons followed him, discarding their weapons and following, arms up. Patrick and Vince did the same, until they were all out, away from the smoldering wreckage. A couple Brotherhood soldiers then ran inside and collected all the weapons that were dropped, and carted them out.
"General! We caught them!" one of them turned and shouted.
Another power armored man, who was without his helmet, showing an old and scarred face, stomped forward from behind the crowd, and walked past the line of Brotherhood soldiers with their laser rifles pointed at the group of captured Assiniboians. "I'm General Abaddon to the Brotherhood of Steel, second only to the High Elder himself. And I have one, very simple question: which one of you is the Auxiliary?"
Patrick froze as he heard his title. From the mouths of most of the people he'd met so far, it was something that showed respect, fear, or admiration, or a combination of all three.
Here, however, it was most likely a death sentence.
But no one spoke.
"Anyone?" General Abaddon asked. No one replied.
"Alright then, we'll do it the hard way," he said, aiming his gun at a Dragoon, panic appearing on his face. "I'm going to count to three. One."
Patrick could feel a chill going down his back, sweat dripping down his face and not just because of the heat around him.
"Two." The general said, looking at everyone else.
"Th-"
"I'm the Auxiliary!" Colonel Mansfield barked.
Everyone turned to face him, Patrick included.
"Oh? Really now?" General Abaddon said, stomping up to him, his heavy boots snapping burnt aluminum and charred steel, looking him over. "You seem well equipped for the Auxiliary."
"I was given combat armor by the RAMP," Colonel Mansfield lied.
"Alright then. But answer me this first," the Brotherhood leader continued. "What's the name of your brother?"
Colonel Mansfield stopped. "It… I don't have a brother," he said.
The General stood there for a long moment, staring at Colonel Mansfield. "Liar!" He then raised his gun and fired point-blank into Colonel Mansfield's head. The RAMP dragoon was dead before he hit the ground. Patrick was visibly shaken as he watched the jovial dragoon fall dead because he tried to save his life.
"Alright, I will try this again," General Abaddon said, anger on his lips. "I know one of you is the Auxiliary. So tell me which one, or you will all die!"
This time all the Brotherhood soldiers aimed their weapons, picking out their targets.
Patrick looked away from Colonel Mansfield, and took a deep breath. "Zach."
The General turned around. "What was that?"
"Zach," Patrick repeated, louder this time. "Zach is my brother. I'm the Auxiliary."
General Abaddon looked at Patrick, a cruel smile crossing his lips. "Ahh, so you are the one that did so much against the Brotherhood of Steel, huh?" He then grabbed Patrick's arm. "Well, I think it's time you face the consequences for what you have done." He then turned to another Brotherhood soldier. "Take the rest to the stockade. We'll deal with them all later."
Patrick looked back to see Vince. He mouthed the words Good luck, but then he was also taken away.
Patrick was part walked, part dragged away from everyone else, and straight to the massive stone and brick pile arranged to make a dark, foreboding fortress, with towers and guard posts and small windows. It looked like a castle that was seen in the old fairytale books from before the War of 2077, just darker, more ominous and, quite frankly, evil. The weather didn't do much to dispel the notion: it was an overcast day, and quite cool: one of those days that could either have snow or rain come down from the sky. A cold wind from the north promised the former.
The entrance was flanked by guards in power armor that saluted General Abaddon as he walked by. One of them pulled a heavy steel door open to allow them to enter the building. Once they were in, the door slammed shut. Patrick jumped at the sound, while the torches on the walls flickered.
The closing door echoed through the massive, cavernous hallways. When that sound finally died down, voices that were distant and overlapping each other, to sound like a foreign language. Smooth cobblestone made up the floor, while the darker, burnt brick made up the walls. Patrick felt so small, so insignificant here.
"Like the place?" General Abaddon asked. Patrick meekly nodded, hoping it was the right answer.
"Eh, I don't. It's too big, too dramatic. Miserably cold in cold weather too," the General pronounced, as if it was the truth. "But Elder Ezekiel likes the outlandish and the bombastic, so here we are. A temple to war and destruction, built from the ruins of a hundred towns burnt in the Great War."
"Where did you get the name? That's something from the Bible, isn't it?" Patrick asked.
"Oh, yeah. Well, when a member of the Brotherhood reaches the rank of Paladin or higher, he has the opportunity to change their name to something that better reflects their personality. Some go for the literal, some for the metaphorical, some because it just sounds awesome and powerful."
"And yours?" Patrick asked.
"A bit of all of it," the General said. "Abaddon, the name of an angel who lead an army of locusts in Revelations. It means 'destroyer,' or so the scribes say." The General looked around. "Many of the stones here are from towns that I helped pacify in the name of the Brotherhood. Those that rose up against our rule, those that housed and served raiders that attacked us, and those that stood in the way of progress. It's a reminder to the Brotherhood and all that stand against us what we can do."
"That seems... fitting for you, destroying everything," Patrick said, his voice steely cold. "The man you shot had surrendered to you, you know."
Abaddon grunted. "He also lied to me. That is a breach in the code of honour of the Brotherhood, not to mention a sin in humanity itself. One that should be rooted out. By force if necessary."
"And so you killed him. Murder is a sin as well," Patrick said.
"Not when it's rooting out sin, or in a war. Both apply in that case."
"How can you say something like that with a straight face?" Patrick exclaimed. "You shot a man in cold blood because he lied to you?"
General Abaddon scoffed. "I've eradicated sin and dubious morals from the Brotherhood and the wasteland all my life. What is one more?"
Patrick then went silent.
The General guided Patrick through a maze of hallways and corridors. Other Brotherhood members, some in the uniforms he had seen so often in the field, others in red or blue robes walked by, hurrying from place to place.
They went up a flight of steps, then around another corner, then another, and down a hallway to another door. Before the General opened it, he instead stopped, and let himself out of his power armor.
When Patrick looked confused, the General shrugged. "The General only allows his bodyguards to wear power armor around him. I guess he's afraid I might try to overthrow him."
"And you wouldn't?"
"Of course not." The general was very offended. "I'm a loyal member of the Brotherhood, and he's my leader. The Chains That Bind are very strong between us. But I still follow his orders, no matter what they are." The General opened the door, and pushed Patrick inside.
It was a courtyard, with columns, flowers and plants growing in planters nestled between them, with a small pool of clear water in the center. The courtyard was open to the sky up above. The clouds had grown darker since Patrick and the General had entered the castle.
"Elder Ezekiel," General Abaddon shouted as he kneeled, his voice once again echoing off the brown and black stone. "I bring you the Auxiliary."
"You have, have you?" a voice called from the shadows. There was a three beat clicking sound from the left, and both the General and Patrick turned to see an old man in long purple robes walking up to them. "It's about damn time."
General Abaddon bowed as the Elder approached. Patrick remained standing.
Ezekiel was not a young man: He was bald, with a white goatee on his chin, wrinkles and scars all over his body, with one particularly deep one over his left eye, covered with an eyepatch much like Vince's. He had a cane, and he walked with a limp. But the one good eye was a cold, unfeeling grey, and it pierced through Patrick. Two more Brotherhood soldiers in power armor flanked him on each side, each carrying a Gatling laser minigun.
"So you are the Auxiliary. You… you have done a lot of damage to the Brotherhood. To me." His voice was hoarse, barely above a rasp.
"This is the first time I've ever met you," Patrick said, doing his best to remain calm. This man… this old, decrepit man, had done so much to kill Patrick.
"Oh, but I am the Brotherhood," he said. "You attacked my eyes and fingers, way out in Brandon, in Winnipeg, all over that accursed nation you still claim so much loyalty to. You even attacked us in our own land! The land that Assiniboia itself recognizes as ours. Those agents, those brothers and sisters you slaughtered, are as much a part of me as this hand here." He held up his hand. "But for all that… here you are. Captured. A prisoner of the people you made your enemy. And yet you could have had so much had you accepted my offer."
"You think I would ever work for you when you captured my brother?" Patrick asked. "And where is Zach? I swear to god, if you ever…"
"Oh, the kid is fine," Elder Ezekiel said. He then turned to a guard. "Bring him here." The guard saluted and walked off.
"But anyway," Ezekiel continued, walking over to a bench. "I have to say, I'm impressed at how you tried to come here, to rescue your brother and, I'm sure, to kill me." The Elder groaned as he sat himself down on the wooden bench. "I'm but an old man, one that fought for years to do right in the world."
"You launched a war against Assiniboia. You enslave children and brainwash them to fight or work for you. And you think you are doing right in the world?" Patrick asked.
The Elder chuckled. "Oh, you Assiniboians are always the same. Going on about high ideals and morals. But your kind are not much better. You put your boot on the neck of those in old North Dakota. If enough people in Assiniboia gets unruly, wouldn't your vaunted Royal Assiniboian Mounted Police just stomp and kick them down as well? The rich and powerful in Winnipeg look down on everyone else, and they trod on all of you, robbing you of your wealth and giving nothing in return. Tell me, are you any better than we are?"
Before Patrick could answer, the guard returned with Zach. The two brother's locked eyes.
Zach looked much like the picture, but the smile this time was a true, genuine smile. He sprinted to Patrick, jumped, and clutched onto his older brother.
"Patrick!" he cried, clinging to his brother tightly. Patrick in turn wrapped his arms around him. A tear rolled down his cheek.
"I'm sorry it took so long," Patrick whispered to him. He felt so skinny, so tired, so weak. What did they do to him?
"I knew you were coming," Zach whispered back.
"Alright, enough of that. Initiate, get away from him, the murderer of your brothers in arms." Elder Ezekiel barked.
When Zach didn't let go soon enough for Ezekiel's liking, he snapped his fingers. One of the power armored soldiers came up and grabbed Zach, and pulled him away. Zach let out a whimper as he dragged away. Patrick tried to follow, but he was held in place by General Abaddon.
"Move from this spot, and you are dead instantly. Got it?" General Abaddon said.
Patrick began to breath heavily as he straightened. No… so close… why?
"Patrick, Auxiliary, whatever your name is," Elder Ezekiel said, his voice deep and clear, pointing his cane at Patrick. "You are guilty of war crimes against the Brotherhood, espionage, and murder. The punishment, as outlined in the Codex, is death."
"Wait, you can't do this… summary execution!" Patrick shouted. "I'm a prisoner of war!"
"You are not an official member of the Assiniboian Army or of the RAMP, are you… Auxiliary?" Elder Ezekiel grinned. "But because you aren't tied to any legal body, you are little better than a spy. And espionage alone is a death sentence."
Patrick turned to Zach. Zach's eyes were wide in horror, and tears were streaming down his face. He tried to not burst into tears.
"Why would you kill me in front of my brother?" Patrick barked.
"To show him. The Brotherhood is not tied together by ties of kinship. We are a Brotherhood that is tied to one thing: each other. You are not part of the Brotherhood of Steel, so you are forfeit."
The two power armored guards lifted up their Gatling lasers, and began to rev them up, the steel barrels flashing in the little torchlight that filled the room. The hand that held Patrick from his brother was gone: General Abaddon had wisely moved out of the way.
Patrick took a deep breath, and tried to stay still. "Well fine then. But I have one more thing for you all." Patrick reached into his jacket, and pulled out the pulse grenade, his finger on the trigger, then rolled it toward the guards. "Catch!"
The two power armored soldiers let go of their guns as they realized what it was. But before they could get away, it exploded, a bright blinding light filling the courtyard. Their suits were frozen instantly in the last pose they held, that of panicked fleeing. The two massive power armored men teetered off balance, then fell over, the soldiers inside now stuck inside, unable to escape. Their muffled cries for help was all that came from them.
In the confusion, Patrick lept forward, and grabbed one of the laser Gatlings, groaning as he lifted the heavy weapon off the ground. He aimed it at Elder Ezekiel and pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. The pulse grenade had damaged the guns.
He tossed it away. Elder Ezekiel was still sitting there, stunned. Patrick went up to the old man, his fists clinched, his face heating up in anger.
"Patrick! Behind you!" Zach cried out.
Patrick spun around, in time for General Abaddon to punch Patrick in the face. It wasn't a light one either, and Patrick went sprawling, his back landing on the foot of one of the incapacitated power armored soldiers. He cried out in pain.
General Abaddon came up to Patrick. "You bastard," he said, picking Patrick up by his jacket. "You are truly no better than any other wasteland raider or tribal in this world. Have you no honor?"
Patrick grunted in pain, but he did his best to scowl at the general. "Honor? You use that word, but you don't know what that is, do you?"
The general let go with one hand, and slammed his fist into Patrick's gut, making Patrick keel over on the floor. "A code of conduct to do what is right!" he shouted.
Patrick tried to catch his breath, but the General picked him up again. "So… tell me… how is this honorable right now?"
"Because Honor is not what others think, but what you do. I am death to my enemies, but loyal to my friends and comrades. You are not my friend. You are not my comrade in arms. You are my enemy."
"What does your code of honor say about fighting?"
Abaddon tossed Patrick with a powerful throw, the Auxiliary crashing to the paved ground in agony.
"To fight for a cause, to fight fair, to…"
"Well," Patrick groaned, as he sat up. "Is this particularly fair?"
That made the General freeze in his tracks. "What?"
"You're not going to listen to this Assiniboian scum, are you?" Elder Ezekiel shouted. "You have a gun. Shoot him!"
General Abaddon turned to Elder Ezekil and growled. "You stay out of this. He attacked my honor, and I'm going to make him pay." He then turned to Patrick.
"Very well. If you want to fight with honor, we'll do it with fists." The General helped lift the Auxiliary up, much to Patrick's surprise, then took off his cloak and metal armor revealing a heavily muscled chest and stomach. He then unholstered his gun and set it to the side.
Patrick took a deep breath, feeling something inside of him crack and pop. That didn't sound good. But he raised his fists, to prepare for the fight.
Patrick swung first, but Abaddon quickly sidestepped the swing, and replied with a punch to Patrick's stomach. The air forced out of his lungs, Patrick fell, but rolled out of the way before Abaddon could grab him. Patrick jumped back to his feet, and dodged a swing at his head and another jab at his stomach. This time Patrick balled his fist and smashed it straight into Abaddon's jaw, making the larger man stagger in surprise. But that really, really hurt Patrick's hand, and he grabbed it in pain.
Abaddon didn't miss the chance, he stood up, and snatched Patrick in a bear hug, and with a heave back, suplexed the Assiniboian into the ground behind him.
Patrick lay in a puddle, barely able to move. He tried to get up, but the Brotherhood general picked him off the ground, and held him high in the air. He then tossed Patrick into a column, smashing into it and making the stone crumble. Patrick cried out in pain.
"Well, we fought with honor," Abaddon said. "But you were no match for me." Abaddon went back to the pile of clothes, and grabbed his gun, a large, powerful handgun. "But enough of your games. It's time for you to die."
Patrick groaned, trying to stand up. Blood was dripping from his nose and cuts all over his body. He staggered up, using the pillar he just smashed against to stand up
"And… so," Patrick said, with a groan, pushing himself up as straight as he could. "So, what makes you better than me? You shot a defenseless man after he was promised a chance to live. That… I think is a war crime, isn't it? Not very honorable, I would say."
General Abaddon paused as he raised the gun to Patrick. "Well… no… because…"
"Because he gave up his honor when he lied, because lying is a sin, right?" Patrick said.
"Of course," Abaddon said, wondering what the Auxiliary was saying.
Patrick leaned himself up against the column. He could taste blood in his mouth. "What is the definition of a lie?"
"It's a false statement," General Abaddon stated.
"Then… you lied, didn't you?"
"What, no I…" General Abaddon began.
"You told him he would be safe. Then you killed him. You. Fucking. Lied." Patrick said, grunting every word. Zach raced to Patrick, to help him stand up.
"No… I… I… no…" General Abaddon said, trying to wrap his mind around the philosophical issue he just found himself in.
"You are just like everyone else on this planet. You are not free from sin, even in your demented, deprived logic," Patrick said, with Zach at his side. "You found a reason to kill that unarmed dragoon. And that applies to you just the same."
General Abaddon stumbled backwards. He was stunned, confused: his whole world shattered in an instant. "I… I…"
"How many times have you justified killing for lying? For killing? Did you ever lust after someone? Make a plan to take over something that wasn't yours?" Patrick continued. "How about greed? Sloth? Envy? Pride? Wrath?"
General Abaddon was a broken man by now, on the verge of totally breaking down.
"Oh suck it up you pansy," Elder Ezekiel said, standing up and walking over. "You are a warrior. Warriors only do two thing. Fight. Win. You fought, you won. You are good enough."
General Abaddon was breathing in ragged breathes. "No… no… no!" He turned to Elder Ezekiel. "What makes us better than the damn animals then if that is all we are? Better than the wasteland, than fucking Assiniboia!" He looked at his shaking hands. Was he seeing all the blood he had spilled now? All for something that was taken away from him.
General Abaddon looked at the gun in his hands. "I have betrayed myself. I have betrayed the Brotherhood. Maybe this will make up for it."
"No, you fool-!" Elder Ezekiel shouted.
But Abaddon put the barrel in his mouth, and pulled the trigger. The bullet passed through his brain, and out the back of his head, making it explode into a million bloody pieces. The standing body of the general then collapsed to the ground.
Everyone stood there for a moment in the silence after the gunshot, ears ringing.
Elder Ezekiel was the first to move, moving closer to the body of his second-in-command. "You… you killed him."
"He killed himself," Patrick growled. "He at least had a bit of morality left in his body. Unlike you."
Elder Ezekiel reached down and grabbed the gun. But before he could even aim it, Patrick ran up and kicked the cane out that Ezekiel was leaning on, making the old man sprawl out on the ground, the gun just out of reach of the old man.
Patrick turned to Ezekiel, fury consuming him. "The Brotherhood - you, as you like to call it - did so much to me and my family." he picked up the cane, a finely carved, well used piece of wood. It would do.
"You started this war because of your delusions!" Patrick said, bringing the cane, handle out, down on the kneecap of the old man, making him howl in pain.
"The attempts to recruit and blackmail me to join you!" Patrick continued, bringing the can on Ezekiel's other knee, making the man cry out again.
"You have killed hundreds, consigned thousands to pain and agony by helping the Syndicate in Brandon, and all the other raiders and gangsters!" Patrick brought the cane down again on the man's chest.
"Patrick?" Zach called out.
"You tried to undermine a nation, while we were both at peace!" He swung the cane like a golf club at the man's head, making it snap as it was forced away.
"Patrick?" Zach said again, louder
"The raiders you hired to kidnap Zach and kill my grandparents!" He then began to whack and beat the old man lying on the ground.
"Patrick!" Zach screamed.
Patrick stopped, and turned around to his brother. Zach stood there, eyes wide as he watched his brother bludgeon an old man to death.
"Patrick… stop. Please," Zach pleaded.
Patrick looked at Zach, then at the blood on the cane, and the mess of a man on the floor.
Patrick let go of the cane, and stepped away from the severely injured man. He then walked over to Zach.
"Patrick?" Zach asked. "Can we go home now?"
Patrick took a deep breath, and nodded. "We can. Yes."
Patrick stood up, and began to walk away, to the door that brought them here.
There was a gasp behind them. Patrick turned around to see Ezekiel, nearly dead and bleeding all over, grabbing the gun and turning around to fire it.
"You... are too... soft hearted," Ezekiel groaned. "And you... will pay for that."
The elder pulled the trigger. Zach screamed as the bullet struck him in the leg.
Patrick caught his brother, who was crying in agony at the bullet, lodged in his leg.
Patrick roared, and raced toward Ezekiel, and kicked the gun away.
"Okay, no more!" Patrick shouted. "I'm ending this once and for all." He reached for his wallet, and pulled out the card
"You going to kill me?" Ezekiel gasped. "With that?"
"Oh yes. I'm going to kill you. All of you." Patrick said, lifting up his Pip-Boy and adjusting the frequency on the radio.
"This is the United States Strategic Air Command Computer Automated Launching System," a female robotic voice said. "Awaiting authorization."
"Code 522-665-728-786," Patrick read into the speaker installed on his Pip-Boy.
"Please stand by, verifying code." the voice said. There was some whirring and static. "Code Accepted: Welcome: Mr. President. Please select one of the following options: Launching a Full Strike on One Target, please say one. Launching a Full Strike on Multiple Targets, please say two. Launching a Limited Strike on One Target, say three. Launching a Lim-"
"Three," Patrick said.
"You have selected: Launching a Limited Strike on One Target. Is this correct?"
"What are you doing?" Ezekiel croaked.
"Yes." Patrick replied.
"Excellent!" the computer voice cheerfully exclaimed. "Please say the name of the option you would like to target today."
"Bemidji, Minnesota," Patrick said. Ezekiel's eyes went wide.
"Calculating… please stand by," the computer voice said. More clicks and whirls.
"You… what are you doing?"
"I'm ending this, once and for all, like I said," Patrick said.
"But… you…"
"Target location identified. Warning: this is in an area designated as part of the United States of America. Do you wish to continue?"
"No!" Ezekiel screamed.
"I'm sorry, I didn't hear that."
"Yes," Patrick said.
"Confirmed. Targeting: Bemidji, Minnesota. Estimated flight time: Twenty-five minutes. Do you wish to continue?"
"No!" Ezekiel screamed again, trying to claw at Patrick. Patrick just took a step away to avoid him.
"I'm sorry, I didn't hear that."
"Yes!" Patrick said.
"Command Accepted." There was a pause. "Awaiting Secondary Authorization."
"Wait, what?" Patrick said,
"Awaiting Secondary Authorization. Launch cannot continue until Confirmation from Secondary Authorization."
Patrick suddenly realized: the only other person he knew with a code was Colonel Granger, currently lying dead somewhere in the middle of a heavily irradiated Vault.
"Shit!" Patrick exclaimed.
"So, your brilliant little plan failed, huh?" Ezekiel croaked, coughing as he smirked at Patrick. "Any moment now, a loyal brother will be coming to provide the reports of the battles today. And he will find everything that happened. And he will summon everyone else to avenge me…" Ezekiel coughed again, and then gave a laugh. "You will not live to see Assiniboia fall!"
"Code 982-746-019-736," a hoarse, gravelly voice came in over the speaker.
Patrick looked down at the speaker. "Who is that?"
"Please stand by, verifying code," the female voice came back to life. "Code Accepted: Welcome: Chairman of Joint Chiefs of Staff. Secondary Authorization Required. Do you approve designated targets?"
"Yes," the hoarse voice said again.
"Confirmed. Missile launched. Estimated time to impact: twenty-two minutes. Have a nice day!"
Patrick turned to the clock. It was 4:38 pm.
"Zach! We got to go!" Patrick said, running over to his brother.
"What's happening?"
"I just launched a nuke here."
"What?" Zach exclaimed.
"It's the only way to make sure you or me are never hurt again, okay?" Patrick said.
"But… you…"
"Look, I'm sorry. I did a lot of things. Bad things. But also good things. All to find you. But… Let this be the last bad thing, okay?" Patrick said, pleading with his brother.
Zach swallowed. "I… I understand."
"Then let's go!" Patrick said, pulling open the door, then grabbing his brother and carrying him out of the room.
"No, no, no!" Ezekiel called after them. "Don't you leave me here!"
Patrick turned around. "Then maybe you should have accepted my offer." Patrick slammed the door shut, the old, wounded man screaming after him.
Patrick and Zach tried to run as fast as they could down the hallways they came earlier, but he soon got lost. He looked at the Pip-Boy. 4:40.
"Hey, what are you doing here?" Someone in a red robe asked as they walked by, a scribe of some kind.. "Aren't you the guy that was being taken by General Abaddon earlier? And is the little guy hurt?"
"Yes, and now he's dead, and I'm free, and a nuke is coming here!" Patrick said.
"What? An atomic bomb?"
"Yes! Now, help me and my brother get out of here, and you'll be safe, okay?"
The Scribe was clearly panicked. "O-okay, follow me!"
The scribe turned around and began to run down a hallway in the opposite way that Patrick and Zach came earlier.
"This way, let's go!" the scribe said, turning down another hall. Patrick and Zach followed, but then the Scribe stopped
"What are you doing?" Patrick said. The time was now 4:42. "We got about twenty minutes!"
"I'm going to warn everyone first, okay?" The scribe said. There was a red panel on the wall with a glass case and "WARNING SYSTEM" etched on it. The scribe grabbed the small hammer on the side, smashed the glass, and pushed the button.
A siren began to wail off in the distance. Through the echoing stone halls, cries of panic came up.
"Okay, follow me!" The scribe shouted, and they continued to run.
Soldiers and scribes were also running around now, shoving past each other. Men and women screamed as they tried to get out of the building. Patrick, still holding Zach as tight as he could, continued running after the scribe.
Finally they made it out, and began to sprint dead east. The scribe, however, ran to the south. Patrick called to stop him, but the scribe continued running. Patrick sighed, and continued running. The clock now said 4:45. Seventeen minutes.
"Patrick," the gravelly voice came over the radio again. "There will be a couple vertibirds there. They should be there any moment."
"Who are you?" Patrick asked, still running as far away from the building as he could get.
"Don't you recognize me?" the voice said.
"No, you sound like a ghoul."
"Well, I am. This is Colonel Granger," he said.
Patrick stumbled and stopped, nearly dropping Zach., panting heavily. "What? You… you were locked in the Vault!"
"I was, yes. But I'll tell you more later. Just get the hell out of there!"
"Patrick!" Zach said. "We got to go, right?"
Patrick looked at the Pip-Boy. 4:51. Twelve minutes. He began to run again.
"Wait a minute, where's Vince? Where are the dragoons?" Patrick spun around, and looked.
He saw four men in red combat armor and a man in a trench coat with an eyepatch were racing from another building, firing guns they must have stole to ward off any pursuers. But nobody was worrying about them now. One of the dragoons saw Patrick, so directed everyone's attention to him. They all raced after.
"Auxiliary!" they shouted. "What's going on?"
Patrick gave a wry smile. "The Final Resort."
Vince began coughing. "Well, I'm not a marathon runner anymore, I'll tell you that."
"Okay, how are we getting out of here?" A dragoon asked.
Two Vertibirds came in from the north east as they were talking, their rotors kicking up dust and sand as they got closer.
"That way!" Patrick shouted, pointing at the flying contraptions. It was 4:57.
The aircraft got closer. Patrick and the dragoons began to wave and shout to get the pilot's attention. After what felt like forever, they were noticed. One of them peeled off and headed straight for the group, and swooped down low. The other circled around and began to head back the way it came.
An Enclave soldier was hanging out the side of the open side. He motioned for the group to come up. Patrick, Zach, the scribe, and the dragoons all raced for the Vertibird. Patrick grabbed Zach, and nearly threw him in. The dragoons climbed in as best as they could into the hovering vertibird. The scribe had a gun pointed at him, but Patrick batted it away. "He's with me!"
Patrick was last. Everyone was fastened with a safety line to make sure that if something happened, they wouldn't plummet to the ground so far below.
"Alright, let's get out of here!" the soldier said. As if on cue, the vertibird turned 180 degrees, and headed in the opposite direction they came from. The engines were racing faster than Patrick ever heard them, trying to get as far away as possible. The wind that came into the cab was like a tornado, and Patrick had to hold his hat on his head to make sure it didn't fly away.
"Patrick… are we flying?" Zach, who was sitting right next to his brother asked, shouting as loud as he could to be heard. His eyes were wide, not in fear or terror or sadness, but in amazement and wonder. But he looked woozy, and the wound on his leg was still bleeding.
"Yes. Yes we are," Patrick said. He looked at his Pip-Boy again. 5:02.
"Do not look at the bright light! Do not"
There was a flash. Patrick closed his eyes, and clutched his brother as tight as he could.
Then a roar, a loud, echoing roar that went on forever, as the nuclear bomb struck home. The vertibird shuddered in air, bouncing back and forth. Everyone clung on as tight as they could. Bemidji was no more.
The vertibird was now at least twenty miles away from the detonation zone, and only then did it slow down, and slowly turn around. Patrick and everyone else watched in silence as the orange and grey mushroom cloud rose over what had been the base of the Brotherhood of Steel. After they watched for a few minutes, the mushroom rising high into the air, the sides of the Vertibird were closed, and it turned around again, and headed straight for Winnipeg.
Vince looked down to Zach. "So, is this your brother?"
"Yep," Patrick said, holding Zach close, as the Enclave soldier did his best to look after the gunshot wound that Zach got earlier. "Thank you so much for helping me Vince," Patrick said.
Vince smiled, then began to cough. "Well, it was nothing."
"Now, I got to hold my end of the bargain up," Patrick said. "Let's go find that NorthTec place when we get back."
"No. No," Vince said. "Like I said, you don't have to. Besides, you have your brother to look after now. Do that first." Vince smiled. "I think I got a bit more life in me anyway." He stood up, and walked to the other side of the Vertibird to chat with one of the dragoons.
The soldier finished patching up Zach, and went back up to the front of the Vertibird. Patrick and Zach were left alone now.
"So, what did you do to find me?" Zach asked Patrick.
"It's a long story," Patrick replied.
"Well I want to hear it."
"Eventually, I'll tell it all." Patrick said, jostling the hair on his brother like used to do. It was too short to do it right though, much to Patrick's disappointment.
"But, like I said: I did a lot of bad things, and a lot of good things," Patrick said. "I only hope that the good things outweigh the bad."
"I'm sure they did," Vince said. "The Elder wasn't a nice person anyway, starting the war on Assiniboia. And taking me."
Patrick gave a chuckle. "That's an understatement, you could say."
Zach began to doze off in Patrick's arms. He didn't mind.
He came so long, and here he was: his brother was safe and sound. All that work, all the fighting, the war he fought against all that stood in the way. All the victories and defeats. All for his brother. His family.
Was there anything else worth fighting a war for?
He leaned his head up, and looked to the roof.
"War. War never changes."
Pip-Boy 3000 Infotracker Note #0001
Greetings, Vault Participant! There has been a detection of a nuclear missile in flight headed for the United States, so this is a warning that you should seek out your designated Vault as quickly as possible. Do not delay, or you may face total atomic annihilation!
And welcome to Vault H!