Omens of Truth

Note: I am soooo sorry for the delay guys, life kinda got in the way, and my computer decided to crash. I will try to up load chapters more often (soon as I fix this damn thing)….

When Sarah opened her eyes she realized she was no longer in the cave with Marcus, but was instead standing outside in a small courtyard, with the remains of a white building sprawled out on three sides. At first she thought she was back in the Capital, but soon Sarah realized it was a city she had never seen before. An unfamiliar smell hit her nostrils, and Sarah turned and realized she was standing on the edge of a harbor. She could see several wrecks off in the distance, along with ruined structures on the other side. There was a strange, stillness about the place, and though the only sound that could be heard was the wind, it made Sarah feel uneasy. She called out for Marcus, but only her echo responded. As Sarah began walking, she felt the familiar sensation of being in power armor, and when she looked down she was indeed back in her T-51 suit. A few seconds later another smell hit her nostrils, but this one she recognized immediately.

It was the smell of death.

A loud noise from behind got her attention, and the Sentinel spun around. Her mouth was gaped open and her eyes went wide at the sight now before her. What was a second ago a peaceful, empty square was now the immediate aftermath of a large battle. The white building was on fire, and piles of bodies littered the square. One contained a pile of Meta Humans, another of ghouls, some feral, some normal. Another pile contained humans, but there was something about them that seemed….wrong to Sarah. But what caused the Sentinel to stand frozen with shock was the sight of dozens of Brotherhood soldiers with their rifles in the air, cheering at the sight of the carnage. Sarah stared into their faces - and they were filled with bloodlust. Movement to her right caught Sarah's attention, and she could see through the smoke a group of Brotherhood Knights leading four chained ghouls over to one of the piles. It was obvious these ghouls were not feral, but they were dragged kicking and screaming by the power armored clad soldiers. They stopped in front of the pile of bodies, and before Sarah could scream, the BOS soldiers raised their laser rifles and executed the ghouls. As their bodies crumbled to the ground, Sarah felt physically sick. What the hell was going on?! A million thoughts were screaming inside her mind, all of them coming back to one theme….this cannot be happening. This is not the Brotherhood I know.

"He's coming! He's coming!" A young woman, mostly likely a field Scribe began to shout, and Sarah spotted a BOS Vertibird hovering over the square. The BOS soldiers cheered even louder, and began shouting "Ad Victorium!" Soon the aircraft touched down, and Sarah could see a lone figure step out and everyone stood at attention and saluted. The way the soldiers were acting, this man must be the Elder but from what little of him Sarah could see, he was far too young to be at such a high rank. Sarah began to push her way through the throngs of Knights, trying to get a better look at this monster that had apparently corrupted her order. The man, whom she could tell was wearing a long, thick leather coat, stopped in front of a group of five kneeling and chained humans; with his back to Sarah.

"Are these the synthetics?" The man asked with a low, gruff voice.

Synthetics! Sarah's blood suddenly ran cold when she remembered the pile of human bodies, and how they seemed all wrong to her. It's because they weren't humans, but synthetic androids like Chief Harkness. She surged forward, trying to catch a glimpse of this monster, but her legs felt like they weighed a ton.

"Yes, Elder." One of the soldiers responded. "These are the last of them."

The apparent "Elder" drew a plasma pistol and pointed it at the head of one of the kneeling synthetics.

"NO!" Sarah blurted out.

The Elder lifted his head up, and turned slightly to his right; his gun still trained on the prisoner. Though she was close enough to see his face, it was as if a dark shroud had fallen over it, and Sarah could not make out his features. The only things that stood out were a deep scare running down his right cheek, and his eyes – eyes filled with nothing but hatred. The Elder began to mutter something that Sarah could not understand….and then he fired his plasma pistol into the head of the synthetic.

Marcus and Sarah both gasped as their eyes shot wide open. The panic they were feeling quickly subsided as they realized they were back in the cave, sitting by the fire with Dogmeat and White Bird. Marcus' eyes met Sarah's. "What did you see?"

A chill ran up Sarah's spine as she remembered the terrible vision. The vision of death, destruction and slaughter. Slaughter at the hands of her own Brotherhood. Part of her wanted to tell him what she had seen, but at the last moment she stuttered. "I….I saw nothing."

Marcus studied her carefully. He knew Sarah well enough to know when she was hiding something, but before he could press she changed the subject. "Did you see anything?"

Marcus turned and stared at the fire. "I think….I experienced my grandfather's final battle against the Enclave."

There was no hiding the look of surprise on Sarah's face. "Your grandfather? Are you sure?"

Marcus thought for a moment. He could remember the faces of his companions and how they called him Max. He remembered the feeling of the black Enclave armor against his skin, and the adrenalin rush of battle. He remembered the feeling of blood on his hands as Cassidy breathed his last, and he remembered….a kiss. A kiss from a woman named Miri, who apparently was his wife. "Yeah….I'm sure."

"Sometimes the omens show us the past through our ancestor's eyes." White Bird explained.

"How does a vision from the past help us now?" Sarah asked.

White Bird pointed at them. "You will know. When the time comes, you will know. Now, you are ready to hunt bear." The shaman reached behind him and opened an old sea bag, and removed two repeating rifles. "Here, all who have gone before use these." He held out the rifle, and Marcus accepted it. To his surprise, it was in pretty good condition. "Where should we start looking for the bear?"

"To the north are their caves….but make sure you do not go in the Father's caves….or you will not come back."

Following White Bird's instructions, Marcus and Sarah headed north to where the yao guai's caves were located. Neither of them had any idea how to hunt wild game, but with Dogmeat and Moira's motion sensor, it didn't take long for them to pick up the trail.

"Looks like a giant gecko….well, what's left of one anyway." Marcus said as he examined the half eaten carcass. "Tracks head off in that direction."

Dogmeat barked, indicating that he had picked up the scent, and they followed the canine. Since Moira was not picking up any movement in the immediate area, Marcus decided to break the silence. "So do you want to tell me what you saw back in the cave?"

Sarah let out a sigh. She could never fool him. "It was….it was terrible. I saw Brotherhood soldiers slaughtering ghouls, feral and non-feral, Meta Humans and synthetics."

The revelation nearly stopped Marcus in his tracks. "Are you sure they weren't the Outcasts?"

Sarah shook her head. "No, they were Brotherhood. I'm sure of it."

"Could it have been something from the Brotherhood's past? Before they left California?"

"It's possible, but I've been racking my brain and I can't think of a single time we encountered synthetics before we arrived in the Capital." Sarah shook her head. "It was just a dream….it doesn't matter."

Marcus wasn't sure he believed that, (and he surmised, she didn't either) but decided to drop the subject for another time. They continued to track their prey further into the wilderness, and after a while Dogmeat again signaled that he had found something.

Marcus kneeled down. "Well….looks like we found the rest of the gecko."

Sarah nearly gaged on the stench from the enormous pile of feces, and Marcus chuckled at her reaction. "At least we know we're heading in the right direction." Something caught his eye off to the right, and he went over to investigate. Tucked away in a small nook in the valley were the remains of an old campsite. There were several rusted metal crates, boxes and fire pits scattered around, as well as several skeletons. Out of habit, both companions began to scavenge the sight, and Sarah found a rusted 10mm submachine gun half buried in the dirt. "These supplies have been here for years. Why did the tribals leave all of this?"

"Joshua mentioned that they believe sites like this to be taboo and avoid them." As Marcus cleared away the dust from the top of one of the crates, he froze as he stared down at the faded writing. Most of it was unreadable but for one word: Vault-Tec.

"What the hell?" Marcus mumbled. Quickly he kneeled down near one of the skeletons and cleared away the brush that was covering it. The blue had long since faded from the tattered jumpsuit, but there was no mistaking the number 22 on its back. "Sarah! Come take a look at this."

Sarah was soon by his side, and her mouth hung open. "Vault dwellers! Joshua didn't say anything about a Vault being nearby."

Moira's avatar suddenly appeared on the screen. "That's because according to my records, there are none in Zion. Vault 22 was located in the Mojave outside of Las Vegas."

Sarah's eyes scanned the camp site. "What were they doing all the way out here?"

Marcus continued to examine the skeleton. "Maybe they escaped like I did. Whatever happened though, it doesn't look like they died from natural causes. This one has a bullet hole in the side of his head." He stood up and pointed to another skeleton. "That one over there looks like it had both legs blown off."

Sarah ran her hand over two holes in the side of one of the metal crates. "This must be where they made a last stand."

'But from what', Marcus thought. He reached down and removed the PIPBOY 2000 from one of the skeletons, and plugged in his USB connector. "Okay Moira, do your stuff."

"Sure. What am I looking for?"

"Any logs or files that can explain what happened."

"Okidoki." Moira seemed lost in concentration for a moment as she scanned the PIPBOY. "Most of the data's corrupted, but I'll try to make sense out of what I can. They left their Vault in January of 2096 - something about a containment breach but no details. The last entry is dated one year later. I'll play it for you."

"...vengeful spirit in these caves! There were 118 of us when we arrived last year, but now we're down to 34; most of them killed by this...whatever it is. We've tried to hunt it, thinking it was a man, but no man can do what this demon has done! We're being punished! I knew, I knew we shouldn't have {cough} done it! But now {cough} it's punishing us! Death is coming..."

"That's all I can recover. I'm sorry."

A chill ran up Marcus' spine as he heard the message. "Vengeful spirit." He muttered.

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Okay, it's pretty obvious that what happened was a bunch of Vaultees, who weren't used to this terrain, went up against a group of people with superior training and tactics."

Marcus reached down and pulled a cracked Vault riot helmet out of the dirt. "They may have been Vaultees, but they were well armed. You're telling me that someone killed one-hundred and eighteen armed men during the span of a year without ever being seen?"

Now a chill ran up Sarah's spine. "Well….it sounded like they were sick. Maybe they caught some disease from their Vault that made them hallucinate."

Marcus didn't miss the slight hesitation in her voice, as if she was trying to convince herself of her theory. The fact that all of the Vaultees had been killed was not a hallucination. "All I know is I've seen a lot strange things Sarah. Anything's possible. Still, we probably shouldn't take anything from this site. If they were sick, we don't want to risk catching whatever it was."

Sarah nodded, grateful that they were leaving. "Good idea."

Later on in the day the hunting party finally caught up to their prey. Marcus and Sarah crouched down in the brush as they observed the yao guai drinking from a small stream.

"We'll get closer and take him together." Marcus whispered.

Sarah readied her repeating rifle and nodded. Slowly they began to creep forward. Dogmeat was clearly getting agitated and wanted to bolt after the bear, but he held back and stayed with his masters. As they closed the distance, the ya guai's head suddenly snapped up, and the creature stiffened. The hunting party stopped, and it was clear that the bear had heard something. Figuring that it was now or never, both Marcus and Sarah took aim and opened fire. Both of them scored hits on the right side the creature, and the yao guai veered up and took off running. The hunting party took off after it, and Dogmeat bolted right past his masters, but even he was having a hard time keeping up with the wounded creature. Marcus fired again, scoring another hit, and though the creature stumbled it still was on the run.

They chased the bear into a cave, and Marcus quickly called Dogmeat before the canine could follow. As good as a fighter as he was, Marcus did not want to risk his dog being cornered alone. There was a sudden explosion from inside the cave, followed by an agonizing howl from the creature. Then there was silence.

"What the hell was that?" Sarah asked as she tried to catch her breath.

Marcus only shrugged and slowly made his way towards the cave entrance. He could smell the familiar odor of gunpowder, and he cocked his rifle. "Only one way to find out."

They carefully entered the cave, and it didn't take them long to find the dead yao guai. Its right front paw had been blown off, and there was a gaping hole in its chest.

"Must've hit a mine." Marcus said. Using his PIPBOY light to see, he began to walk deeper into the cave. He only walked thirty paces before abruptly stopping. "Look at this."

Sarah looked over his shoulder and spotted the compression plate. It didn't take her long at all to find the shotgun hidden in the cave wall. "Now we know why people who go into these caves don't come back."

"There must be something pretty important in here for all this. Come on."

They continued deeper into the cave and encountered more traps, and though they were able to disarm them, it took them nearly an hour to reach the cave's main chamber.

It was clear that the campsite had not been used in a long time, but it was surprisingly well organized and stocked with a variety of equipment and supplies. In one corner were several boxes marked USGS containing MRE's and other canned food stores. Nearby were two work benches and a reloading bench, with various weapons, parts of weapons and ammo scattered on them. In the center was a cooking station, and on the far cave wall was a computer terminal on a make-shift table. At the foot of that table was a military duffle bag and a bedroll - and on the bedroll was a skeleton lying next to a military style rifle.

Marcus picked the rifle up and cycled it. It was covered in dust, but had been well maintained. "Look familiar?"

Sarah nodded. They had both seen the exact same type of rifle - in the Operation Anchorage simulator. "Standard American military issue."

Marcus kneeled down by the skeleton, and it didn't take him long to find the holotages around its neck. "Randall Clark, U.S. Army Rangers." With curiosity now taking hold, he sat down at the terminal and began to go through the files while Sarah was looking over his shoulder. Marcus opened the first entries:

"October 28th, 2077
Five days on foot, still can't sleep.

Outside it's like nothing happened. Sky looks wrong, that's all.

Hike back to overturned NatGuard truck near Toquerville? After blisters heal, maybe.

Looks like USGS team was researching something here in cave. Cleared out when bombs fell, left equipment behind. Probably thought they had families to run back to."

"October 29th
Char, must've said this out loud a thousand times walking here. Maybe writing it will feel more like you heard.

You were right.

I was north of Spanish Fork. Took the 77 along Provo Bay to steer clear of town. Would've been home in an hour. Engine died, truck just stopped. So did a Chryslus in the other lane. Knew right away.

First nuke hit SLC inside a minute. I was looking South - Lucky Man! Flash behind me so bright world looked on fire. Old couple from the Chryslus starts screaming they can't see.

Didn't watch you die, Char. Saved my eyes. Counted 12 more flashes next 7 minutes. Ground shook each time, 18 seconds later.

When nothing hit for half an hour, took a look. Globe of fire where you and Alex died. Didn't kid myself.

Didn't know what to do. Grabbed my pack and rifle.

Saw to the old couple. Sat them up against car, let them hold and comfort each other. Told them I was going to get help, everything be okay. One bullet through both heads. Instant.

Five day hike back to Zion.

You told me. Stop running off to the wild. Man belongs with his family.

You were right. You were right. You were right. You were right. Wasn't there to hold you and my boy. Died without me. Never touch you or him again.

Should shoot myself. What I deserve.

Can't. Maybe soon."

"October 31st
Black rain falling outside. Geiger jumping. Should let it kill me but bottling water from back of cave all the same."

"November 2nd
Sounds dead outside, but can't look. Geiger goes crazy 15 feet from cave mouth.

Do the math. Radiation goes down before water runs out or I never leave this cave."

As they read the account from Randall Clark, both Marcus and Sarah felt a tug in their hearts as they remembered the two children they had left behind. Though it had only been a few days, it felt like a life time ago. As depressing as the story was, Marcus forced himself to open the next entries.

January 1st, 2078
Happy New Year.

Two months in cave. Still lethal outside. Don't get it. In army they said 2-4 weeks cleared fallout.

Less than a month's water left. Been mopping condensation off cave walls, wringing shirt into bottles. Trading calories for H2O. Food stocks holding. Thanks, USGS.

If there was even a chance I'd see the two of you again, I'd run outside.

January 10th
Sounded like windstorm out there for 2 days. Radiation down 500. What happened?

January 15th
Took a peek. Snow. It glows green.

January 28th
Radiation low enough I could risk short exposure outside.

More important, cave stream now drinkable if I use Rad drugs.

January 30th
There is nothing alive out there.

June 14th, 2084
Just got back. Tired. Good scrounging along the way. Ended up dragging back a cart of stuff.

Write tomorrow. Sleep.

June 15th
Departed April 10th. Walk to SLC took 15 days. Would've been 7-9 back in the old days but had to circle pockets of radiation and foraged along way.

Don't know what I was thinking. Imagined I'd find my house, dig through rubble, find - something. Your bones I hoped, and Little Nut's. Would've buried them. Here in Zion maybe.

SLC is mostly craters. Warped steel girders where highrises sat. Mounds of bricks.

Never found our house. Didn't even find street. What wasn't a crater was scorched clean.

Want to believe it was fast, a flash, both of you vaporized. Lies to make me feel better. I'll never know. Which part of city got hit first? Northeast and you both died in a blink. Farther away and you burned alive screaming or the blast broken glass and bits of brick and wood splinters shredding you like hamburger. Look at it coward and listen don't turn away face it. If you'd been brave lucky man you would've found a spot and blown your brains out.

But not you. You took your time walking back, made a shopping trip out of it. Scrounger.

The truck was still there on the 77 north of Spanish Fork. The Chryslus too, but no sign of the old couple's bones.

Outside Nephi I caught a trail. Three men, tracks heading toward Fountain Green. Thought about following but didn't. Stupid fantasy of friends, more likely cannibals.

June 20th
Took two days to lay traps inside the cave.

No soliciting, assholes. Home sweet fucking home.

Both Marcus and Sarah stared down at the skeleton of Randall Clark with pity after reading his haunting words. "Jesus. He experienced it all. The bombs falling, the fallout...his family dying."

Sarah swallowed the lump forming in her throat. "I couldn't imagine loosing so much and still finding the strength to go on. I'd like to think I could but..."

She left the sentence go unfinished. Marcus opened the next file.

September 20th, 2095
I count 28 of them. 11 adult males, 8 females, 9 children aged 2 - 10. Some rifles and pistols in bad repair. Old world clothes, ratty.

September 22nd
Got close enough last night to hear them talk. Spanish, I think. From Mexico?

Heard them say "paradeeso" a bunch. Think that means paradise. Here to stay, then.

Seem harmless. SEEM.

October 5th
The one I call "Maria" is pregnant. Think the father is "Jose" but she spends a lot of time with "Pablo" too.

October 7th
"Pedro" ran out to pee in the stream and would've seen me if he looked to his left. Too close. Need to give them space.

November 10th
"Jose" broke his leg chasing a bighorn. Too far from camp for them to hear. Told myself to leave it be but couldn't. 300 yards from their camp did my best Jose screaming imitation until a bunch of them came looking, then strung them along to the crest where they could hear the real Jose.

Probably useless. Compound fracture, broke the skin.

November 11th
"Infec-shee-own." So many goddamn words nearly the same, think I'd be fluent. But anyway Jose's leg has got it so he's going to die. Nature for you. Of course they're giving prayer a try.

November 12th
Left bottle of antibiotics on a rock outside their camp last night. They thanked God (Dee-os) of course. As though that asshole saw fit to burn the world but still cared enough to leave some medicine on a rock.

November 15th
Jose will always limp but otherwise he'll be okay. Good deed for the month.

Will they make it through the winter?

February 11th 2096,
Fuckers killed all the men. I think they would've taken the women alive but Maria and Selena opened fire and some of the others went for their guns so they shot them down and some of the kids with them.

If I could've warned them.

February 12th
Elena and Carmen and 5 children still alive, being kept in a pen.

There are more than 100 of these assholes in blue suits. Every suit says "22" on the back. Why? Armed to the teeth with submachine guns, pistols. Estimate 60% male. Everyone seems to follow the dark-haired guy but can't get close enough to tell. Assholes are disciplined - patrols, sentries - they mean business.

Say I go in at night and get the women and children out. Where to next?

But I have to get them out. Have to.

February 13th
Recon during night.
Well-organized, sentries along most approaches, but stream not covered.

Are they sick? Lots of coughing fits. Tuberculosis?

Women and children still in pen. Will try to infiltrate by stream tomorrow night.

February 14th
They ate them.

February 19th
Ambush along riverside trail. 6 males killed. Heard their coughing a mile away.

Used their grenades to booby-trap bodies, kept half. Secured 6 SMGs, 500 rounds 10mm, 6 frags.

February 20th
Ambush along riverside trail. 2 males died checking bodies. Killed 2 more with rifle. Shot 1 through calf and let asshole crawl off to spread message. Coughed like I'd shot him through lungs.

February 23rd
Ambush half-mile east of coal pits wash. 8 males killed.

"Well now we know the vengeful spirit that killed all the Vault Dwellers." Marcus said.

Sarah's jaw hardened as she read the notes. "Sounds like the fuckers got what they deserved."

The next few entries detailed the one man war Randall Clark waged on the Vault Dwellers, and his encounters confirmed that they were in fact sick with something. The most surprising revelation was that one of the Vault Dwellers, a female named Sylvie who escaped from the group, was initially captured by Clark, and she later became his wife. But the story did not have a happy ending. Sylvie and Clark's unborn son both died in child birth. Marcus opened the final entries to the tragic story.

April 25th 2123
24 of them, half boys, half girls. Youngest is 8 maybe, oldest 13-14. Dirty and scrawny, been on foot a long time. Children's crusade.

Struck camp on nearly the same spot as los mexicanos, 30 years and a lifetime ago.

I've spent 2 nights listening to them. English. Literate. One of them reads stories while the little ones fall asleep.[1]

They escaped someplace they call "The School" but can't figure out where it was. When they want little one to behave they tell him to stop or "The Principal will get you."

Principal better not show up or I'll blow his goddamn head off. I can still shoot straight.

January 2nd, 2124
I've been leaving notes for them, and gifts.

They like the books. Started with stories but moved on to weapons manuals, medical books, practical stuff.

In the notes, well it's embarrassing, almost like those cards people used to give each other, everything sweet and loving. I tell them to read and to learn and to make the most of their new home. I tell them I'm giving them Zion as a gift to make up for all the sorrows of their lives so far and all the sorrows man has visited on man. I tell them to be kind to each other and modest. I tell them never to hurt each other but that if someone else comes along and tries to hurt them to strike back with righteous anger. Stuff like that. I sign every note "The Father", because well, just because.

January 18th
Have I mentioned that I'm dying?

Mind's still sharp. Lungs are the problem. Might be cancer. Cough's been getting worse for months, finally there's blood in it. Getting harder to visit my little friends, breath's so short.

I've given away most of what I own. They'll find the rest in caves when they get a little older. I don't want them to find me, though. "The Father" is a broken-down old man? Disappointment.

It's time. I don't want another birthday.

January 23rd

I hope they'll do well. I hope no harm comes to them, from within or without. Did my best to prepare them with the last notes. Said something kind about each one of them, what makes each one special. Told them "The Father" was pleased by their kind natures and that it would be up to them to handle things on their own from now on, that I'd be silent but still watching and still caring.

Lying, then. Oh yes.

Lied to you, Char. And Alex. And Sylvie. Told you I'd be with you forever. But I wouldn't go back and unsay it once if I could.

What was the point of it all? So many failures.

But I never forgot your face. Or Little Nut's. Or (sorry) Sylvie's. They used to say that happened after a while but it never did for me.

Maybe the only point of all that living was to keep those pictures in my head going for as long as I could. It was the only life I could give you. Not a day went by without.

It wasn't choice. I chose to die again and again. Just never did. Body had its own drive.

Well, the little ones will need it. Species will need it if it's to continue. That blind drive onward.

I wish them well. It's been a gift to me, at the end of it all, to behold innocence.

Goodbye, Zion.

Randall Dean Clark
Feb 5th, 2053 - Jan 2124

Marcus leaned back in the chair. He only now realized his eyes had been practically glued to the screen nearly the entire time they read the notes. Both of them stared at the computer; the only sounds in the cave were of their breathing. The story of Randall Clark resembled that of a Greek tragedy, and Marcus couldn't help but feel that their stories were eerily similar. A man forced away from his home and everything he loved, destined to live in a god forsaken world. Along the way he helped the innocent and punished the wicked, and made a difference in people's lives. A man who tried to find happiness, only to have it slip away. But Randall Clark never lost his humanity, or his drive. He went on, alone, till his last breath.

A true Lone Wanderer.

A chill ran up Marcus' spine as he stared down at the skeleton. "The children he helped must have been the Sorrow's ancestors."

Sarah found herself staring at the remains of Randall Clark with more reverence than before. "He protected them….looked after them."

Marcus' voice nearly cracked . "Like a father."

"Should we….should we tell them?"

Marcus snorted. "Tell them what? That their Father of the Caves was just an old soldier; trying to find a reason to live?" He shook his head. "It could destroy them."

Though Sarah agreed with his statement, it still felt wrong. "So we just let them continue to believe in a lie?"

Marcus looked up at her. "Is it that much of a lie? Is it not possible that he was destined to be here and help those children?"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "I think you've been talking to Joshua too much."

Marcus shrugged. "Maybe. Before the Battle of the Mall even you admitted that it seemed some force beyond our control had led me to that critical moment. That I, we, were destined to lead the Capital and defeat Ashur. Maybe the same force led Clark here, so that he could make Zion safe for those children, and so that they would thrive and become the Sorrows. Either way….they're not ready for the truth. Maybe they will be someday, but not now."

Sarah reluctantly agreed. "Okay, but we should scavenge what we can before we leave. Some of this stuff will no doubt come in handy when we go up against the White Legs."

Marcus stood up and respectfully laid the rifle next to the skeleton. "Rest in peace Randall Clark." He whispered. "You didn't fail."

That night the Sorrow's held a large celebration in honor of the newest members of their tribe. The yao guai Marcus and Sarah had killed was being slow cooked on a large spit, and a large bon fire was burning in the center of the camp. Many of the tribals were beating on drums and singing, while others were dancing. Marcus and Sarah were sitting around a small campfire with Dogmeat and Follows-Chalk, and it seemed that not a moment would pass without one of the tribals coming over and welcoming them into their tribe.

Follows-Chalk of course, could not stop asking them questions about the "civilized lands", but both Marcus and Sarah enjoyed how he marveled at every story.

"So this….boat? It's like a canoe, but can push it's self through the water?"

Marcus nodded. "That's right; took me all the way to Point Lookout in two days."

The young tribal's eyes were wide open. "A journey like that would take us weeks. That is amazing."

Marcus couldn't help but smile. 'If he thinks that's amazing, I wonder what he'd think about a starship', he thought.

"The civilized lands sound so exciting. I have often thought of leaving Zion and seeing them for myself. Do you think this is a good idea?"

Both Marcus and Sarah shared a wary look, and though neither of them said it, both were thinking that the kind hearted scout (though a capable fighter), would be eaten alive by the outside world. "Aren't you needed here?" Sarah asked.

Follows-Chalk shrugged. "Once the White Legs are defeated, the Dead Horses will return home, and I will be able to leave if I choose. Perhaps….I could go with you?"

Marcus could tell it would take some convincing for the young tribal to stay, but he decided now was not the time. "After we defeat the White Legs, we'll talk about it more. Okay?"

It was obvious Follows-Chalk was slightly disappointed, but grateful they didn't tell him no. "Okay."

They sat around the campfire enjoying their grilled yao guai and all of the plentiful food that Zion had to offer. The tribals had even figured out how to make their own wine, which Marcus and Sarah found tasted better than most of the alcohol in the Capital. Halfway into the meal, Waking Cloud and White Bird made their way to the center of the camp, and White Bird raised his staff, and the music abruptly stopped. Waking Cloud waved the newest members of their tribe over, and Marcus and Sarah made their way to them. As they arrived in the center of the camp they were joined by Joshua and Daniel, who stood behind Waking Cloud and White Bird. The Sorrow's midwife was the first to speak. "Today we welcome you into our tribe; into our family. Though we do not share blood, you have both shed blood to protect Sorrows lives. Blood alone does not make family." She walked in front of Sarah and carefully placed a lei of flowers around her neck. "From this day forward, you shall be known as Shakaru. Though that name had been given to you out of fear, you have shown us that like the Sun Goddess, you are kind as a mother, and fierce when protecting your children."

Sarah was at a loss for words, and simply bowed her head.

White Bird approached Marcus, and placed a neckless with several bones and feathers around his neck. "From this day forward you shall be known as….Shark Bait!"

Marcus stared at the shaman as if he had two heads. "Shark Bait?!"

The rest of the male tribals shouted: "SHARK BAIT, OOOHAHA!"

Marcus stood there with his mouth open. "Um….okay."

The tribals suddenly busted out laughing, and White Bird waved his hand. "Naaa, old joke!"

Marcus let out a sigh of relief and chuckled. The shaman's humor was definitely an acquired taste. Once the laughter had died down, he continued with the ceremony. "Your name is Eagle of the Sun. You are strong and noble as the eagle, and like him, you thrive under the glow of the sun." He gestured to Sarah, and the couple smiled at each other as they understood the meaning. In that moment, though he had been against Sarah coming with him on this mission, Marcus knew he wouldn't have gotten this far without her. White Bird stretched out both his arms. "May the Spirits guide and protect you. Welcome to your new family."

The rest of the tribe let out a cheer, and Marcus saw several of the men fist pumping in the air (which he found rather odd, but decided to go with it). The music started up again, and the tribals continued with their dancing and celebrating. Joshua stepped forward and shook Marcus' hand. "It is a great honor, and blessing, that has been bestowed upon you. Congratulations to you both."

"Thank you, Joshua."

"I am glad you're with us," Daniel began, "but I wish it was under better circumstances."

They each responded with a solemn nod, and Joshua quickly got down to business. "We have preparations to make before we can go up against the White Legs. We have some time, but not much."

Daniel nodded. "Which is why I have a favor to ask of you, Sentinel."

Sarah stood up a little straighter. "What do you need me to do?"

"Though the Sorrows are eager to fight, as you tragically discovered they are not warriors. They need someone to train them." For a moment, Daniel's eyes looked to be tearing up, and his voice almost cracked. "The more they know how to fight….the more of them will survive this."

Sarah didn't hesitate. "I'll do it."

Though he was relieved, it was clear the missionary was no less saddened by the affair, and simply nodded his thanks and walked away. A moment later, several of the female tribals (who seemed to have had more than their share of wine) rushed up to Sarah, and began pulling her towards the crowd of dancing tribals. At first Sarah tried to decline, but the women insisted, and soon she was with the rest of the tribals. Marcus smiled as she watched Sarah very slowly and cautiously begin to move, but it didn't take long for her to find her rhythm, and she began to mimic the moves of the female tribals. She wasn't the most graceful dancer, but seeing her laughing and enjoying herself with their new family began to stir something in Marcus.

The moment was cut short however, by the ever present Joshua Graham. "Tomorrow we will continue with your training; there is much you still have to learn. Now that the tribes are united, and with God on our side, victory will be assured." He turned and began to walk away. Marcus called after him. "Joshua."

The Burned Man stopped and turned. "Yes?"

"You say that God's on our side, but shouldn't we ask ourselves if we're on his?"

Joshua stood in silence; his eyes never leaving the Lone Wanderer. Rather than respond to his question, the Burned Man chose to ignore it. "Be at Angel Cave tomorrow at first light. Good night, Eagle of the Sun."

Marcus watched as he turned and walked away. A moment later someone grabbed him from behind, and he found himself staring at Sarah's smiling face. "Hey there."

Marcus smiled back and took her into his arms. "Hey you."

Sarah flashed him a seductive grin. "As your goddess I order you to come to bed. Now!"

The sound of her voice and look in her eyes told Marcus that she was definitely feeling frisky. Whether it was the wine or dancing he couldn't tell….and he didn't care. "Well….who am I to disobey a goddess." His hand made its way to her rear. "Especially one with an ass like this!"

Sarah purred as they're lips met.

Primm

Jessup searched the dead courier's pockets and handed the contents to the man in the checkered suit. "That's all he has on him. Is it what you're looking for?"

The man examined the contents for a few moments before shaking his head. "No. This one's also a fake."

Jessup cursed under his breath. He was hoping this courier (number four, apparently) would have the chip this guy has been dragging them all over the Mojave to find.

The man reached inside his jacket and removed a list. "Okay, that leaves….courier number six. According to this, he should be in the area around Goodsprings in a few days." He folded the list and placed it back in his jacket. "Let's go meet'em."

As the three men headed off down the road, they had no idea they were being watched by the local deputed, who was hastily taking notes.

Note: I hope it was worth the wait. I think the story of Randall Clark is one of the most interesting and tragic in the Fallout universe. (Maybe I'll write a separate Fanfic about him someday, what do you think?) I hope you all liked my little "Finding Nemo" joke. I couldn't resist.