Holy Water
It was a little weird, Ellen realized with a start, to be wearing something without the Brotherhood emblem on it. Yes, she was going to Sheriff Simms on their behalf, but… well, he’d known her since before she even knew the Brotherhood existed. He’d given her her house, for pity’s sake. He’d met her coming out of Vault 101, been the first human to welcome her to Megaton. It just seemed more appropriate somehow to get out her old Vault suit and pull that on instead- and to get the leather duster Sonora Cruz had given her when she’d first signed up to hunt bounties for the Regulators, and wear that as well. Simms had suggested that to her too, after all.
It was all her clothing, and she’d worn the suit all her life and altered the duster to fit her properly; and yet it still felt strange to wear now….
Oh well. She lifted a hand and knocked on Sheriff Simms’ door.
The door opened. At least some things were still the same; Simms’ face was as dark and lined as she remembered it, even from that brief encounter at the Citadel. “Hey there, kid,” he said. “Hey there, Dogmeat. Long time no see. How’re you holding up?”
There were… Ellen had no idea how many ways there were to answer that question. She settled for a small smile and, “About as well as could be expected, Sheriff. Yourself?”
“Doing all right,” said Simms, “more or less. Got some trouble with folks here in town, but I don’t think it’s the kind of stuff you need to worry about.”
“Maybe,” Ellen said, figuring any opening was a good opening. “Is it about the water caravans?”
Simms’ eyebrows jerked upward. “How’d you guess?”
“I didn’t really guess,” she admitted. “You know how I joined the Brotherhood back in December? They sent me here to find out what’s going on.”
Simms considered the words a while. Then he half-turned and gestured to the interior of his house. “Come on in,” he said. “Pull up a chair.”
Ellen nodded. The house was also still much like she remembered it; braided rag rug on the floor, dyed and painted Brahmin hides on the walls, strings of tiny lights running across the open space overhead. “Thank you,” she said as she sat down. Dogmeat curled up beside her, nose tucked up to his tail. “What can you tell me? Scribe Bigsley didn’t give me very much to go on.”
Simms closed the door behind him and drew one of his chairs over, leaning his hands on the back as he thought. “Well,” he said, “it’s like this. Ever since you and the Brotherhood kicked those Enclave fellows out of your dad’s purifier, we’ve had a deal going with your Brotherhood. You send us a caravan of water once a week, and we set aside part of whatever food we manage to grow with it for you. Or some of what folks find when they go out scavving, since they don’t have to spend time looking for water any more. Works pretty well, so far, or at least it used to.”
That didn’t sound good. Ellen leaned forward, frowning. “Used to?” she repeated.
Simms nodded. “People got used to having plenty of water real quickly around here,” he said. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re not the only person with a plot growing outside the walls any more. When the caravan didn’t show up two weeks ago, we figured it was just running late, and started trying to ration what we had left. Then it didn’t show up again this week, and now I’ve got a lot of angry people on my hands…”
“Huh.” Ellen scratched her head thoughtfully. “It just never made it here?”
“Nope.”
“There weren’t any signs or sounds of battle nearby? I mean, there might still be Enclave troops out there-“
“Nope. Stockholm’s been on the lookout for anybody in black power armor.” Simms grimaced. “All he’s seen that’s been strange is, there seem to be people in Springvale who aren’t your lady friends. Just ordinary Wasteland folk, too, not raiders or anything.”
“Hmm.” Ellen considered that. “And I haven’t heard anything about our caravans going missing. I’m pretty sure Scribe Bigsley would’ve mentioned it if anybody had come out here and gotten eaten by ants or something.”
“Yeah, none of that,” agreed Simms. “Stockholm hasn’t seen the caravan. Deputy Weld hasn’t seen the caravan. Nobody’s seen the caravan. I don’t know where it’s going, but it sure isn’t here.”
Ellen nodded slowly. “All right,” she said. “I think I can work with that. Sounds like it’s time for me and Dogmeat to head over to Springvale and have a look around.”
“Good luck, kid,” said Simms gravely. “There’s a lot of people counting on you to get us our water back.”
“I know, sir,” Ellen said, equally gravely. “I know.”
It was all her clothing, and she’d worn the suit all her life and altered the duster to fit her properly; and yet it still felt strange to wear now….
Oh well. She lifted a hand and knocked on Sheriff Simms’ door.
The door opened. At least some things were still the same; Simms’ face was as dark and lined as she remembered it, even from that brief encounter at the Citadel. “Hey there, kid,” he said. “Hey there, Dogmeat. Long time no see. How’re you holding up?”
There were… Ellen had no idea how many ways there were to answer that question. She settled for a small smile and, “About as well as could be expected, Sheriff. Yourself?”
“Doing all right,” said Simms, “more or less. Got some trouble with folks here in town, but I don’t think it’s the kind of stuff you need to worry about.”
“Maybe,” Ellen said, figuring any opening was a good opening. “Is it about the water caravans?”
Simms’ eyebrows jerked upward. “How’d you guess?”
“I didn’t really guess,” she admitted. “You know how I joined the Brotherhood back in December? They sent me here to find out what’s going on.”
Simms considered the words a while. Then he half-turned and gestured to the interior of his house. “Come on in,” he said. “Pull up a chair.”
Ellen nodded. The house was also still much like she remembered it; braided rag rug on the floor, dyed and painted Brahmin hides on the walls, strings of tiny lights running across the open space overhead. “Thank you,” she said as she sat down. Dogmeat curled up beside her, nose tucked up to his tail. “What can you tell me? Scribe Bigsley didn’t give me very much to go on.”
Simms closed the door behind him and drew one of his chairs over, leaning his hands on the back as he thought. “Well,” he said, “it’s like this. Ever since you and the Brotherhood kicked those Enclave fellows out of your dad’s purifier, we’ve had a deal going with your Brotherhood. You send us a caravan of water once a week, and we set aside part of whatever food we manage to grow with it for you. Or some of what folks find when they go out scavving, since they don’t have to spend time looking for water any more. Works pretty well, so far, or at least it used to.”
That didn’t sound good. Ellen leaned forward, frowning. “Used to?” she repeated.
Simms nodded. “People got used to having plenty of water real quickly around here,” he said. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re not the only person with a plot growing outside the walls any more. When the caravan didn’t show up two weeks ago, we figured it was just running late, and started trying to ration what we had left. Then it didn’t show up again this week, and now I’ve got a lot of angry people on my hands…”
“Huh.” Ellen scratched her head thoughtfully. “It just never made it here?”
“Nope.”
“There weren’t any signs or sounds of battle nearby? I mean, there might still be Enclave troops out there-“
“Nope. Stockholm’s been on the lookout for anybody in black power armor.” Simms grimaced. “All he’s seen that’s been strange is, there seem to be people in Springvale who aren’t your lady friends. Just ordinary Wasteland folk, too, not raiders or anything.”
“Hmm.” Ellen considered that. “And I haven’t heard anything about our caravans going missing. I’m pretty sure Scribe Bigsley would’ve mentioned it if anybody had come out here and gotten eaten by ants or something.”
“Yeah, none of that,” agreed Simms. “Stockholm hasn’t seen the caravan. Deputy Weld hasn’t seen the caravan. Nobody’s seen the caravan. I don’t know where it’s going, but it sure isn’t here.”
Ellen nodded slowly. “All right,” she said. “I think I can work with that. Sounds like it’s time for me and Dogmeat to head over to Springvale and have a look around.”
“Good luck, kid,” said Simms gravely. “There’s a lot of people counting on you to get us our water back.”
“I know, sir,” Ellen said, equally gravely. “I know.”