Chapter 33: Friends of the Wilderness Pt II

A Few Hours Later

The murmuring of the others came to a halt when they reached Doyle and I's spot at the turn of the bend in the trail. We had actually made great time and were looking at the shack we were headed for while the sun of the afternoon was still above. It wouldn't be long before the sun would set below the mountains however, and although we could push on, the cliffs were tall around this place, and here was a good a spot as any to settle in for the night, especially since we were near some other friends of the wastes.

We were several miles deep into old-world Nevada territory, and we still had a ways to go for our objective based on the message that came with our orders. Still, we knew Daniel and his people were safe, and at least Doyle and I knew it could sometimes take a minute for our friend at this place to get a start on things of this nature. I won't lie, despite how unfortunate the things Daniel and his first-timers had gone through, a part of me was glad that I got to come out this way since it had been at least two years since I got to see "King Mercy" and his… friend… "The Father."

When all the others had congregated around us and before we continued towards the hidden little hovel, Nathan said to nobody in particular "Have I been here before?"

He actually hadn't although he had met "King Mercy" on a different occasion some time ago. Most of the scouts and several of my guys had met him before, but it was only really Doyle and all of his men who've been to this particular home in the wilderness. Meeting up with "The King" was always customary whenever a scout was sent this far south or into this region in general. In fact, The King was such a close friend of the scouts and New Canaan that it was probably around a decade ago that he was given a radio to set up in his shack. The dish for that radio atop the shack's roof was the most technical-looking thing in this l isolated little ranch homestead. Either way, nobody said anything to Nathan as we began forward, even as he added idly, "… I swear I've been here before" after the first few steps.

Thick brush surrounded the place and the dirt trail led our party past a little wooden corral with four Bighorners inside watching our advance. Off to the left was a covered shed with abnormally large versions of tools like brooms, buckets, cattle prods, smithing tongs, and all kinds of things on the walls. Past that was a vegetable garden with the largest squashes we'd ever seen as well as other edible plants of various sizes before we passed several troughs of water beside the water pump, and more miscellaneous scrap beside the next corral that contained two brahmin. At last, the path ended and about twenty feet before the wide door of the shack was an ashy campfire pit made out of a partially submerged circular water trough turned black by so much use. Fresh wood and kindling sat in the middle of the little pit ready for the evening, but what really caught our attention was the man in robes sitting beside the shack door in a battered lawn chair completely surrounded by almost a dozen empty bottles… The heavy smell of alcohol wafted our way and almost choked some of the men when Doyle asked the unconscious stranger,

"The King home?"

The man in the robes recoiled as if the words alone had punched him in the head. The hooded head of the man bobbed up for a fraction of a second like he glanced at who spoke but wasn't that interested;

"Take what you want and go away, raiders. I'm too hung over for this righ now… Do it quiet though… You wake my frend and he'll kill all… 10?... 20?... of you? Whadever."

The man was already snoring again before he was done speaking and I said, "Wonderful to see you again too, Father Tully. KING! You in there!?"

The head of the drunk rose in an instant and he stumbled out of his chair dragging it with his leg as the old man approached us with arms outspread, "Doyle! Paul! Hi there! Look at your frends! I remember you Hudson Ray! How you been!?"

Inside the shack I could hear several metal objects clatter around before the old drunk ex-priest of New Reno threw his arms around Doyle. Doyle's face was a real sight as the alcohol fumes of the "Father" were now pouring into the scout lieutenant's nostrils from close range. Doyle pried the man off him with some courteous words and I took a deep breath of clean air before the alcoholic priest hugged me next. As soon as he did, the wide doors of the shack were flung open, and the faces of the newest men in our group were made even more shocked by the 8 foot greenish skinned humanoid charging Lieutenant Doyle. The old Father released me from his grip to hug everyone else in the group the second the Supermutant "The King" lifted Doyle effortlessly in embrace shouting;

"My Friends! I was wondering when I would get to see you! I've been so excited to hear on my radio that you were stopping by! Of course that was before it went staticy Hahaha! "

King Mercy set the disoriented Doyle down and I immediately felt two enormous hands clasp my arms before feeling my feet leave the ground. Instead of hugging me nearly to the point of death, the King only lifted me up and looked me over like I was a small toddler saying, "Paul! It's so nice to see you again! Are you alright? Have you been eating enough? I got some extra bighorn meat you can take before we set out! I had to put down Ruby a week ago, but her meat has been excellent!..."

"I'm sorry for your loss, King," said I, still very much not used to being lifted up and studied.

The King set me down, and I too felt myself searching for breaths and trying to reorient myself. Father Tully finally flung the chair from his leg with the last of his hugs to all the confused or elated guardsmen and The King said, "All of you, please, make yourselves at home around the fire! I'll be right back!"

"Thanks King," said Doyle, and all of us spread out around the fire pit as the sun got a bit lower and the Father went to go fetch his chair again.

As we all took our seats on the log benches, on the dirt, or the chairs, Father Tully ignited the fire before taking a seat back down in his chair between Doyle and Lockwood with another open bottle he pulled from thin air. Across the fire, I couldn't see the face of Graham through the wrappings, but I was pretty good at figuring out his disposition by this time. He, just like the newer men of my group looked content, resting, but still a little confused.

The shade of the tall mountain rising behind the shack in the west had covered the whole area. Sunset would go on, but night would get to us in the shade of this hidden little homestead a bit faster than others. The fire felt warm as the winds got a bit cooler and after a few moments, the heavy footsteps of The King came to a halt in Doyle and I's immediate left. Standing there looking at us, then everyone else, the large mutant was holding a large minigun in his right hand, the ammunition belt underneath the weapon ran below his arm, then up to connect to the heavy backpack on the mutant's back,

"What do you think, my human friends?" asked the mutant to all of us with a large toothy grin. Father Tully took another long swig from the bottle I could smell even from 20 feet of distance.

"Got a new weapon I see," said Doyle with a chuckle.

"What happened to that super sledge you were fond of?" asked Hudson and Ray almost together.

"That a CZ-57 minigun?" asked Nathan.

"Looks like a CZ-34 with the feeding belt beneath the weapon," said Pat Fleischer.

The King turned to him, held the weapon towards the air and the 6 barrels started spinning without firing (or "spooling") as King wagged his finger towards Pat, "You got it, friend! A smart one you have here indeed, Doyle or Paul."

I told King, "That's why I recruited him," absently, not knowing Pat had knowledge of such weapons since he belonged to a family of strict Temple Sect members. He must have seen all the others looking at him, so he looked around the circle as the weapons stopped spooling;

"What? I read about them in an old magazine article once."

Everyone grinned, and the King said to nobody in particular as his eyes continued scanning the weapon;

"That's right, this was the first squad-level minigun ever produced for the pre-war military. Over three times the suppression power of older squad automatic weapons! I had to take off the bipod mount and place the carrying bar on the top to make it fit for my use... But you know-"

"Pretty rare weapon I imagine since there were so many other models that followed. So where did you get it, King?" asked Lockwood with a smile, not intending to interrupt.

The mutant grinned right at him, not upset about the interruption at all as he held up a finger telling him to wait, "… But do you know what I call my fine machine here?..." He looked around the circle. Everyone who'd met King Mercy knew he called his pneumatic sledgehammer "The Hammer of Justice," so all of us were waiting with anticipation for the enormous mutant to humor us. At last he did;

"… I call my beauty here, 1st Kings 13:34... Who can tell me the verse?" The mutant looked around.

Everyone was chuckling at this, and for a moment I saw some of the men start to reach for their bags to whip out their Bibles to the mentioned passage. Everyone else was trying to search their brains for the passage, a fruitless effort since our beloved Book is so large. The King indulged us again, quoting the verse he'd evidently memorized since acquiring the unique old minigun;

"… 'And this thing became sin to the house of Jeroboam so as to cut it off and to destroy it from the face of the earth' Quite a fitting name wouldn't you say?"

Everyone was laughing, King Mercy certainly did have a way with the boys and the mutant smiled wider. Father Tully took another swig of that disinfecting alcohol and Nathan said to the group as he pulled out his .45 pistol;

"King's 13:34, that's great-"

"King's 20:34 didn't quite fit, so I had to improvise Haha!" said the King with an enormous laugh. Nate removed the magazine from his weapon, emptied the chamber, and his eyes went around the circle as he laughed, "Wanna know what I call my weapon?... Anyone?..."

Some of the others started to do as Nathan did with their own weapons until Nate answered himself, "I call it Revelation 19:11, for 'Then I saw heaven opened, and behold, a white horse! The one sitting on it is called Faithful and True, and in righteousness he judges and makes war.'"

A few of the men laughed, a few said "That's My weapon's name!" Lockwood said the name for his weapon was "John 19:11" and others laughed out the names of their weapons usually derived from verses of the Bible ending in ":11" for the model of the handguns.

I stayed silent since for whatever reason, I felt if I admitted I named my weapon I would compromise some level of my authority as a Lieutenant. That all ended when King Mercy asked what I named mine and I relented with a grin I couldn't hide, "Fine, I named mine Acts 19:11… 'and God was doing extraordinary miracles by the hands of Paul.'… and yes, I only named it that because the verse included my name." Everyone laughed and all was fine as some of the others around the fire began to break off into their own conversations. Then, almost at once, everyone turned to Graham who'd been silent the whole time.

Graham's eyes went to everyone around the circle and after a moment, he removed the small .45 pistol he'd been using since I killed the raider boy. He and I had talked about the weapon he'd adopted since I cast it from me in the grounds of that raider fortress. Personally, I didn't have a problem with him doing so, even if there was a strange part of me that almost wanted to. I hadn't really thought about it much since he started using it, but the way I saw it, I still did not want to even touch the weapon I gave to Michelle, the weapon that could not protect her. Over time however, whenever we were out in the wastes, or even in the few times where the Constable allowed him to sneak into town for a few days, there would always be the odd moment where I'd see him doing something to the small pistol. Many times I had seen Graham engraving something into it at one of the community workbenches or cleaning it while in the rear atop a tower. No one ever really saw what he was carving into the weapon's slide till he spoke it that evening around the campfire of King Mercy the mutant and his roommate Father Tully;

"האור מאיר בחושך והחושך לא הבין זאת"

What Graham spoke left all of us very confused. It was somewhat clear to most of us that he was speaking Hebrew, and although some of us were familiar with a word or two from past sermons, none of what he spoke was intelligible to us. A glance out of the corner of my eye showed the mutant smile even wider before he interrupted the silence;

"A lovely passage, Mister?..."

"Graham, Joshua Graham." Said the Burned Man, still looking down at the weapon. Another short moment of silence lingered. Some eyes went to the mutant, some went to the Wrapped Man. Doyle asked the mutant,

"You speak Hebrew, King?"

The mutant glanced at Doyle, then returned his attention to Graham with a short answer, "I've been alive nearly 150 years. Found Christ about 30 years ago… Have lots of time to study things like the original languages of the Bible."

No one needed to ask if he also knew original Greek. The mutant's statement made all of us just a little bit embarrassed that we knew less than the mutant about the Word we all devoted our lives to. After a moment, Nathan asked from across the fire;

"So what's it mean?" His eyes went to Graham, and without looking up from the glimmering little weapon, the Wrapped Man said;

"'A light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it." When the last word left his bandage-wrapped mouth, his eyes were looking at me, almost like he knew it would make sense to me alone. The feeling was strange, and his eyes remained on me as Ray joked;

"John 1:5? Not bad but you can do better than that, Graham Ha! It's gotta end in :11!" Almost everyone started to giggle at that, and I think Graham smiled too, but those eyes remained on me.

For some reason, it felt almost like he was communicating something to me. It was almost like I understood just for a second why he adopted the weapon I couldn't hold after killing the raider boy. Just for a second, I thought I understood why he cleaned the weapon every chance he could and why he engraved what he did on the pistol's slide. Just for a second, I thought how he knew me as well if not better than some of the men I grew up with or had in my detachment for years. Why he had been my confidant in all those terrible months after Michelle's tragedy. As he looked at me, he appeared to be saying in look and verse of choice alone;

"I saw how this weapon failed the daughter you loved, saw how you used it in sin, but don't worry, the darkness could not overcome the light in you. I will help you be cleansed, I will help you carve your bad into good, and I will carry the filth that you just can't. I will help you and everyone righteous but imperfect in this wilderness carry your crosses."

Although he may not have been communicating those exact thoughts to me in that exchange of looks, it was what he had been doing since he led us out the gates in search of Michelle's defilers, and the others' destroyers. My thoughts returned to earlier that day when he was covered in blood, and all the other times when he lowered himself to the filth of this world so we could stay clean. Already, he had been returned to us renewed only a little over a year ago, and he was New Canaan's unblemished lamb. Born anew after the fire and the fall from the top of the Grand Canyon, and continuously lowering himself to such a low place so the rest of us wouldn't have to… He is not The Son of God, but he is a son of God, and in his own way, he had been trying to follow Christ's example of doing what none of the rest of us could do without our destruction. He was born for it, and he was born for what's to come.

When Graham put his weapon away and I returned to the moment, most of the others had drifted into their own conversations until King Mercy asked the whole group in his enormous voice;

"So, friends, I just need to put on some armor over my rags here, but Kings 13:34 and I are ready to set out when you are."

Doyle and I both looked up at the sky. The area around the fire was brighter while the area beyond the glow was much darker. The sky was purple with a streak of orange just visible over the top of the mountain behind us. Doyle said what I was going to say;

"We were thinking of crashing here tonight, set out early in the morning when it's still dark. They say we're not that far, are we?"

The mutant looked around and all the conversations were still on pause when the mutant said after a moment of thought, "If we set out in the morning dark, we should be at their hideaway probably around noon if I had to guess. Your call though, friends."

Doyle stretched his legs toward the fire, "Yeah we've been marching for over a week straight so the boys and I could use a night to recover in friendly territory. You got lodgings in there in case it rains?"

"If it comes to rain, yes, but It'll be cramped. Should be clear though, so you all might prefer the stars. I'll go grab some blankets for the cold." Said the mutant as he began to walk towards the door to his and Father Tully's home.

Doyle and I both said our thank you's and King returned a few moments later carrying an enormous bundle of heavy blankets for what looked like all of us. He laid them out on the ground behind the bench and returned to his place by the fire. As the others went to their own low conversations from earlier, King Mercy said to Doyle and I;

"I'm very glad New Canaan has sent someone, and you two in particular…" He slowly shook his head, "… Such a shame, I love Daniel and used to do quite a bit of trading with the Sevieri people."

During the pause, I thought back to a few days ago and said, "About that, I never heard the full story. We passed a couple of burnt villages out by Lake Sevieri. Some other little tribe or band of scavers looks like it moved in, but they didn't look like the ones who made the Sevieri's move."

Doyle nodded, and King Mercy said, "Probably about a year ago, the Sevieri were pushed away from their ancestral homes on the shores of the lake. Not even the Sevieri really know who did it, but considering the region, it could have been either the White Legs or 80s… Maybe even both…"

"Not sure about that," said Doyle as he appeared deep in thought, "… Those two been fighting one another on and off for probably what? 3 years by now?"

"I think you're right, Mr. Doyle," said the mutant, "… But the result's the same. The Sevieri had to relocate far to the west. I helped in that effort and did a lot of trading with them to help them settle in their new home. After a few months, they were doing quite well until they started suffering a series of attacks by what Daniel said were NCR prospectors."

"And that's why we're here," I said more aloud than to the King.

I saw King nod in my peripherals, "Only a few weeks ago, the Sevieris second biggest village was attacked all out by them. The Sevieris moved who they could back to their main home outside the cliffs, but they must have been followed because the attack was almost immediate from the sounds of things. Daniel and several of the others made it out with some wounded but they're in no condition to move across the wastes, especially since you probably can't even label the Sevieri a 'tribe' anymore. It's more like just a couple dozen men, women, and children."

"How're Daniel and the girls?" asked Doyle staring into the fire and gently clenching his fist.

The mutant thought for a second, "Daniel is alright. Was a little concussed when he found himself near the explosion of a grenade, but he was able enough to use my radio to communicate his message back home before the attackers found the hideaway. Mary Hughes is fine too from what I hear, but Maya Lukinay got cut up pretty badly in the initial fighting. She should be alright though, I've been making runs to their hidden camp in the cliffs to drop off medicine every few days. There are only so many entrances into the survivors' camp, but there are just too many hurt to move without an escort, especially since the prospectors are just waiting to see them move."

Doyle and I sat quietly after the mutant was done speaking. There was a lot to take in, and I found myself saying, "Thank you, King. You've already done more than could have been asked of anyone human or mutant."

"Ha!" shouted the mutant, and Doyle smiled, but this was serious. The three of us were already going over plans of action in our minds as I looked around the circle at the men. They were resting, enjoying the fire, and talking lowly with one another. Part of me wished we had at least a few more men for this task even though there were only a few dozen war weary tribespeople left of the once vast Sevieri tribe. Although my newest men were pretty fine guardsmen after only a little less than a year in the guard, I wished there were a few others joining us out here. I knew King Mercy and his minigun could probably serve as a good replacement for about 10 guardsmen, and Graham was similarly capable, I wondered who else would be a fine addition if things were to go south.

I didn't know how capable the NCR prospectors were, but if they could destroy two large villages of a formerly great tribe, I would be lying if I said I wasn't nervous. At thought of NCR, I began to feel my blood boil when memory of citizens from that nation operating a trading post just outside the walls of New Canaan hit me. NCR traders were never the easiest tradesmen to get along with, but they'd been kind enough if not a bit too demanding with the guard since the establishment of their post. Still, as I stared into the fire, I began to wonder if the NCR traders outside New Canaan's gates knew anything about the conduct of their citizens operating in the dead zone between New Reno, the Mojave, and the shores of the Great Salt Lake. Part of me knew without question that some part of the next few days would be bloody, and as I looked around wondering who might not be able to walk away from this task, and who else should be joining us. Suddenly, I heard Nathan say to Hudson and Ray across the fire;

"… How do you think he's enjoyed his stay with the little Coalmen tribe? Isn't the kid supposed to head back soon?"

I'd almost forgotten that Duncan Schmitt had left on mission almost a year ago. Actually, he didn't leave on his own volition, he was essentially forced to go. The Elders were willing to overlook the way he joined the guard at the start, but eventually, the Elders got around to his file and nearly died of heart problems when they realized there was a guardsman in the ranks who hadn't ever gone on mission. It had finally caught up to him, and around a month or two after we returned from our mission of retribution, he had to set out to do missionary work. Nathan, Hudson, and Ray were right, he was about due to come back in the coming days or weeks. Then again, so were Daniel, Mary, and Maya. Daniel and his group actually should have been back over a month ago, but something told me the attacks from prospectors were behind that delay. Either way, I found myself agreeing to myself when Hudson said to Nathan;

"... I'm thinking I might ask Gerald that question before anything. But yeah, they'll probably be back by the time we are." The three of them laughed, and so did the others listening in on the conversation.

Ray added, "I wonder if that was the first time Gerald escorted a kid with his own rifle and body armor out into the wastes?"

Lockwood chimed in from the side, "I'll bet at some point Gerald said, 'alright kid, you leave the sermons to me and just stand watch over everyone from that hilltop.' Haha…"

Hudson was about to say something when I decided to hop in, "Don't speak ill about someone not here, boys. Duncan's Biblical illiteracy is your failure, our failure, not his."

"Oh it ain't like that, LT," said Nathan, "we just mean there's certain strengths some of us have more than others is all."

"Yeah, Lieutenant Young, we love Duncan," added Hudson and Ray together.

I sat back, thinking about the kid and wishing the kid was here for this despite how good Missionary work is for a man his age. Still, the men across the fire were right, Duncan was someone much better suited to be out here with us than ministering to a small tribe in the mountains south of New Canaan. This was especially because I knew the coming days might be very dangerous.

Looking around the circle, the sun was gone but all the faces were there in the glow of the fire. Granger sat studying his new revolver, chatting idly with the younger men he joined up with. Graham and King were silently looking into the flame, the latter still with that big friendly smile on his face. Dean Parrish and Lockwood were chatting lowly about something humorous, occasionally turning back to the conversation between Hudson, Ray, and Nathan. Then Doyle was reluctantly listening to Father Tully slur drunkenly for the 12th time about how he was chased out of New Reno by every single one of the New Reno crime families a decade ago. It was funny to listen to Doyle try to get a word in about how Father Tully should quit alcohol only for the good Father to go right along with his story Doyle had already heard so many other times.

It was a fun night, but the sky was getting even darker, and I could see a few of the boys yawn. For all I knew, God forbid, this could be the last night like this for a while if Daniel and the surviving Sevieris were still in so much danger. I hadn't lost a man in my squad since the time I lost so many of my men to the White Legs in the month before Graham returned. Part of me was feeling another loss was long overdue, and for the briefest moment, I thought of Michelle. I thought of little Joseph, about Hannah, my amazing wife Daniella, and then about that baby that might not grow up with a grandpa. For whatever reason, that thought didn't disgust me the way it would have any other time. For the briefest moment, I realized then and there that Graham was right in the talk we had before the Frumantarius showed up. With the brief image of my children and that infant, I asked myself "What am I doing out here?..." Then to God I prayed,

"If it isn't too much to ask, Lord. I'd really like to spend some time with my family if Your plan has me return home. And…" I paused, looked around the circle once again at all the faces, "… And if that plan has the rest of my boys and the Sevieris get out too… I think we'd all love to keep praising your name a bit longer before we join You."

There was no proof that my men would die, that my men would survive, the journey we were about to embark on the very next morning was just a big blank unknown in that giant nonexistent place called "tomorrow." We trusted Him, and although the feeling of dread in my gut persisted, I began to speculate how the whole thing would go. After a few moments and after I realized that trying to discern or predict God's plan was practically impossible for anyone not gifted with Prophesy, I was at least reminded that new unknowns became known every day at the proper time.

Man, with the help of God, can triumph over the worst unknowns with tools of the unknown. All we need is a little faith, and a willingness to be amazed when the work is revealed.

Everything was good, and I think this final trust in a great and wonderful unknown plan suddenly calmed me when I found myself yawning across the fire;

"So why did you say you think you've been here before, Nathan?"

And what happened next appeared to solidify that trust in what the near future had for us... but I can't quite explain why.

Nathan and all the others on that side of the flame turned their eyes to me and Nathan immediately stopped what he was saying to Doyle's men to answer me, "Oh right! Well, about two years ago when I was under Salazar and his boys, rest in peace boys…" He glanced upward at that last part before resuming, "… We were on a scout with some of Herbein's men when we came across a shack just like King's here… a ways north actually come to think of it. Anyway, we go inside and see the wildest thing."

"What was it?" asked Licus, turning from his conversation with Hansley, Pat, and Granger.

Nathan went on, "If you don't believe what I say next, ask Klyto or Herbein himself, they'll vouch for what I say.. Anyway, inside the shack, the far wall opened into a cave network of the mountain. The lanterns still on, the place was clearly in use recently, not only that but there were two fresh dead bodies near the center of the open room. Make that three actually. One body was of a man who wore a dirty blue Vault suit with a yellow 22 on the back. Clenched in his deathgrip was a laser rifle in his left hand, and in his right was something the nearby manual on a table said was an '11mm submachine gun.'…"

Nathan looked around, seeing that everyone including myself was about to correct him to "10mm submachine gun" but Nathan saw this and said, "… No, you heard me right, an '11mm submachine gun' but the dead body beside the Vault Dweller was lying upward encased in a suit of power armor none of us had ever seen before marked 'D Series Power Armor: Property of The Steel Brotherhood', not that Brotherhood of Steel that traders from NCR occasionally talk about. Still, the giant power-armored warrior was dead. The Vault 22 dweller had shot him right through the eye with his 11mm SMG…"

"What about the other dead body?" asked Lockwood, not sure what to make of Nate's story.

"… Well the third wasn't a man at all. No, the third was a beast. Just beginning to rot, and looking just like a deathclaw but with a much bigger head to accompany a wide row of teeth three times the size of a mother deathclaw's. Herbein and I decided to call the thing a 'Deathjaw' since the jaw was so large and the name seemed fitting…"

I was left feeling oddly comforted, even at this point. Everyone else was just left puzzled about what to even think. "… You see, I'm thinking, 'Deadeye Ricky', that was the name stenciled on the front of the vault man's jumpsuit. I think Deadeye killed the deathjaw when it came out of the cave, then the Steel Brotherhood guy showed up demanding that laser rifle. Deadeye started to hand it over when he shot the Steel Brotherhood soldier right in the eye, but not before power armored man got a few shots off and killed Deadeye… Pretty crazy thing to come across out in the wastes, huh?" said Nathan.

Doyle had turned from the drunk Father Tully, "So you're saying a Vault 22 man called 'Deadeye Ricky' killed a D Series Power Armor wearing 'Steel Brotherhood' member with his 11mm submachine gun, but not before he killed a 'Death-jaw' a creature nobody has ever seen or heard of?... Sounds made up."

Everyone at the fire began to laugh, and Nathan showed no embarrassment. He only sat himself back in the dirt, and said through a smile, "Go ask Herbein and Klyto about it when we get back."

"I intend to," said Doyle and several of the others through laughs. However, all laughing abruptly ceased when King Mercy himself said without almost any emotion;

"I've been to that shack a few months ago. The bodies are a lot more decomposed now, and some scaver must have made off with the vault suit and the 11mm prototype, but Nathan's not lying."

Everyone else remained dead silent, and I felt strangely even more comforted about the coming day. Five minutes ago, nobody knew that an 11mm SMG, a Deathjaw, or a Steel Brotherhood soldier existed, but they did, and the plan for all three of those things was already determined by the time there were eyes to witness what happened when they all met. There truly was a strange comfort in knowing that even the unknowns were already taken care of. But still, there would be plenty for us to do when that tomorrow comes about. So, I stood myself up, yawned with a stretch, and reached down for one of the blankets behind me before turning back to the men around the fire and telling them;

"There's a lot coming our way in the morning. Let's get some good sleep before it starts."

A/N: Hi all. I don't normally do this, but I want to ask my readers to please leave a review about what you like, dislike, want to see more of, etc. I don't get a whole lot of comments beyond the usuals (Xcom and Bobby in the Lobby), so I'd love to hear from others as well if you're enjoying the story. I write and upload chapters for this story pretty consistently and it's a lot when I have to juggle new responsibilities at work, adjustment to married life, and all kinds of other household duties intermixed with this. Leaving even simple reviews helps me know this project is all worthwhile when the inspiration well is beginning to run only a tad on the dry side. I've been considering taking a short little break from this site just to compose myself before the finish, but that can be averted if I get enough comments and see the number of viewers remain at least where they are... All I'm saying is that I see lots of people viewing whenever I post to this story, but don't be shy about telling me if there's something enjoyable or interesting to you. It means the absolute world to hear from my readers :)