Suspects
“Well,” said Ellen as she raised her head from the scope,“I’m not seeing any giant ants. That’s something, at least…”
“They’ve been pretty active lately,” Stockholm said. Even up here, on the highest walkway to run around the inside of Megaton’s walls, he wore goggles against the Wasteland dust. “Just the usual, though. Same patrols and scouting runs they’ve been doing ever since that Tanya woman got here.”
“But they haven’t been attacking people?”
Stockholm shrugged, his combat armor clattering faintly. “Raiders, yeah,” he said. “I’ve seen them dragging dead raiders back to the school. Regular people? No.”
That, also, was something. If the ants weren’t attacking ordinary people, Tanya probably wasn’t doing anything- unless the ants had dug enough tunnels under the Springvale ruins to make subterranean corpse runs. Then again, the ants tended to prefer their openings well away from buildings and other paved areas, so… probably not. “All right,” Ellen said, and handed the rifle back. “Thank you, Stockholm.”
“You’re welcome,” the sniper said gravely. “Now get out of here so I can get back to watching for raiders.”
That was one candidate down- no, Ellen corrected herself, not candidate. That was the wrong word. The word she wanted was suspect. Unless some hideous accident had befallen the caravans and the water in the Wasteland, and the note from the Apostles of Eternal Light was entirely coincidental, this was a crime. That meant that anyone who might have been involved was a-
She paused, one hand on the inside of the city wall. That name. There was something disturbingly familiar about it. It was like the last line of the note, twisting her mother's favorite Bible verse- close and yet so far, like something she'd heard but knew the speaker had gotten wrong. Where had she-
( "Come forth and drink the waters of the Glow, for this ancient weapon of war is our salvation, it is the very symbol of Atom's glory!" )
Oh, no. Oh, no no no no. Not Confessor Cromwell. Please, God, Ellen thought as she broke away from the city wall and ran for the walkway curving around the crater, don't let the Church of the Children of Atom have done this.
She'd made a point of staying away from the bomb at Megaton's center ever since Annabelle and Demyx had helped her disable it. The Children of Atom still made up something like a quarter to a third of Megaton's population, and if any of them ever realized she'd tampered with it, she'd probably have to put everything she owned on a Brahmin's back and make for the Citadel as fast as the cows could carry her. She still wasn't sure if any of them realized their holy object wasn't .... the.... same....
She came to a halt halfway down the path that led to the crater bottom. Confessor Cromwell couldn't have done this, she realized. If he'd brought water into town he'd be keeping it there, giving it out to his followers. If he was spreading the worship of Atom outside of town, he'd be using Atom's name, not some kind of nonsense about Eternal Light. And either way, there were enough of his followers in town that they wouldn't feel the need to hide what they were doing. This wasn't Cromwell's work; it couldn't be.
( I mean that each of you is saying, “I belong to Paul,” or “I belong to Apollos,” or “I belong to Cephas,” or “I belong to Christ.” )
On the other hand, he was the leader of a religion that preached division as a holy act. If someone in his flock had taken that to heart and started rewriting Cromwell's teachings... well. That might explain a few things. More than a few things.
Ellen squared her shoulders and resumed her course at a much more sedate pace. She still wanted to talk to the Confessor, of course, but there was no need to panic about it now. Asking who hadn't showed up at church lately was a very different matter from accusing a man of water theft.
“They’ve been pretty active lately,” Stockholm said. Even up here, on the highest walkway to run around the inside of Megaton’s walls, he wore goggles against the Wasteland dust. “Just the usual, though. Same patrols and scouting runs they’ve been doing ever since that Tanya woman got here.”
“But they haven’t been attacking people?”
Stockholm shrugged, his combat armor clattering faintly. “Raiders, yeah,” he said. “I’ve seen them dragging dead raiders back to the school. Regular people? No.”
That, also, was something. If the ants weren’t attacking ordinary people, Tanya probably wasn’t doing anything- unless the ants had dug enough tunnels under the Springvale ruins to make subterranean corpse runs. Then again, the ants tended to prefer their openings well away from buildings and other paved areas, so… probably not. “All right,” Ellen said, and handed the rifle back. “Thank you, Stockholm.”
“You’re welcome,” the sniper said gravely. “Now get out of here so I can get back to watching for raiders.”
That was one candidate down- no, Ellen corrected herself, not candidate. That was the wrong word. The word she wanted was suspect. Unless some hideous accident had befallen the caravans and the water in the Wasteland, and the note from the Apostles of Eternal Light was entirely coincidental, this was a crime. That meant that anyone who might have been involved was a-
She paused, one hand on the inside of the city wall. That name. There was something disturbingly familiar about it. It was like the last line of the note, twisting her mother's favorite Bible verse- close and yet so far, like something she'd heard but knew the speaker had gotten wrong. Where had she-
( "Come forth and drink the waters of the Glow, for this ancient weapon of war is our salvation, it is the very symbol of Atom's glory!" )
Oh, no. Oh, no no no no. Not Confessor Cromwell. Please, God, Ellen thought as she broke away from the city wall and ran for the walkway curving around the crater, don't let the Church of the Children of Atom have done this.
She'd made a point of staying away from the bomb at Megaton's center ever since Annabelle and Demyx had helped her disable it. The Children of Atom still made up something like a quarter to a third of Megaton's population, and if any of them ever realized she'd tampered with it, she'd probably have to put everything she owned on a Brahmin's back and make for the Citadel as fast as the cows could carry her. She still wasn't sure if any of them realized their holy object wasn't .... the.... same....
She came to a halt halfway down the path that led to the crater bottom. Confessor Cromwell couldn't have done this, she realized. If he'd brought water into town he'd be keeping it there, giving it out to his followers. If he was spreading the worship of Atom outside of town, he'd be using Atom's name, not some kind of nonsense about Eternal Light. And either way, there were enough of his followers in town that they wouldn't feel the need to hide what they were doing. This wasn't Cromwell's work; it couldn't be.
( I mean that each of you is saying, “I belong to Paul,” or “I belong to Apollos,” or “I belong to Cephas,” or “I belong to Christ.” )
On the other hand, he was the leader of a religion that preached division as a holy act. If someone in his flock had taken that to heart and started rewriting Cromwell's teachings... well. That might explain a few things. More than a few things.
Ellen squared her shoulders and resumed her course at a much more sedate pace. She still wanted to talk to the Confessor, of course, but there was no need to panic about it now. Asking who hadn't showed up at church lately was a very different matter from accusing a man of water theft.