Meresti Station
Aug. 2nd, 2009 03:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aaaaaaaagh_skyDespite King's claim to have seen signs of the Family there recently, there was no one and no trail at Hamilton's Hideaway when Ellen reached it. Neither was there anyone lurking among the ancient, rusted poles and parking spaces that made up most of Moonbeam Outdoor Cinema, with the exception of a couple of raiders huddled behind the ruins of the screen indulging in Jet. Ellen silently thanked heaven for the stealth field in her suit and left them to their own devices. She had no such luck outside the last place King suggested, though. A squad of Talon Company mercenaries sweeping the area took a few potshots at the blurry outline of her stealth field, and it turned into an all-out battle.In the end she dove into the entrance to the old Metro tunnels to get away... not that that was much of an improvement. The last Talon standing came after her, only to meet his end at the claws of a particularly vicious mirelurk.
Evan King, Ellen decided, owed her big for this. Whether Ian was still alive or not.
She did her best to slip through the mirelurk nest unnoticed, no small feat given that the stealth field only hid her from sight and did nothing to mask the sound of footfalls or equipment. Whether the acoustics in the tunnels were worse than at the Memorial or whether these lurks were more observant she didn't know, but by the time she got clear of them, her backpack was completely stuffed with mirelurk meat. No sense passing up a possible trade item, after all. Who knew, maybe she could-
Something brushed against her shin. Ellen paused mid-stride and looked down just in time. Another step further and she'd have broken a tripwire strung across the space between the tunnel wall and a wrecked train car. She peered around to see what it would have set off, but there didn't seem to be anything nearby; with tremendous care, she stepped over it. Beyond it there lay a few scattered mines in the shadows, and beyond that the sort of leg-breaking trap she'd only ever seen in old vids. Wherever she was, it was someplace that people wanted to be left alone in...
"Whoa, whoa, slow down there," came a man's voice from up ahead. Ellen squinted through the shadows and caught sight of a man in patched-together combat armor and a bandanna. "This area's off limits to everyone but the Family. Where do you think you're going?"
She exhaled in relief. "Oh good," she said, "you're the Family? I've been looking for you."
"Come forward into the light."
Ellen did so, both hands well away from her guns and sword. The man, a bearded, pale figure, eyed her suspiciously. "You don't look like someone who'd be looking for us," he said at last. "Not unless you've got a death wish, anyway."
She wasn't sure, but Ellen thought she could make out the butt of an assault rifle behind the man's head. Evan King had said these people had plenty of guns and muscle. Fighting was one thing, but these people were on their home turf. If they had Ian here somewhere, the only way she was going to get him out would be by convincing them to let him go.
"Actually, I'm trying to deliver a letter," she said with the best smile she could manage. "I"ve got a message here for Ian West, from his sister in Megaton."
"You're kidding."
"No, sir, I'm not." Ellen extracted the sealed envelope from the one part of her pack that wasn't completely covered in mirelurk goo. "I really need to get in- it's very important, sir..."
The man rolled his eyes. "Okay, okay, I guess you look harmless enough... but you'd better speak to Vance before you poke your nose into anything. You can usually find him on the mezzanine overlooking the common area." He jerked his head towards a side tunnel, one sized for humans rather than train cars. Ellen could hear the blithering platitudes of John Henry Eden from some ancient radio in that direction. "Just don't touch anything."
"Thank you, sir," she said, and set off at a trot.
The small tunnel opened out into another train tunnel, which abruptly gave way to the great arching space of a pre-War Metro station. Most of the train track gaps had been boarded over to give the place a proper floor; there were tables and chairs everywhere, and someone had set up what looked like a small shop next to one of the great flights of stairs that led up to the mezzanine. The space was lit by generator-fed lamps positioned among the tables; it was nearly as bright as in the Vault. She counted at least five or six people, maybe more. It was a little harder to see up on the mezzanine. Hopefully none of them would object if she headed on up.
Nobody did- although halfway up the stairs she ran into a woman who wore the same sort of too-tight, too-low-cut clothing as Nova, back at Moriarty's. "Hey there," the woman said. "You're new; my name's Brianna. Planning on staying?"
Oh, God, she even talks like Nova, Ellen thought; she shook her head rapidly. "No ma'am, just running an errand," she said. "I needed to speak to Vance?"
Brianna laughed, a low, throaty chuckle. "Not a problem, honey. Tall, pale, and broody's up there with the little lady." She indicated a pair of figures standing in the shadows at the top of the stairs and continued on her way.
Ellen let out a sigh of relief as she watched Brianna go. The older woman was easily at least as heavily armed as the tunnel guard, maybe more. As for Vance, well, Ellen couldn't even begin to guess what the thing on the brown-haired man's back was- but he very definitely had at least one bladed weapon hanging from his belt, and the woman next to him had a holstered pistol. It definitely looked like politeness was the way to go here. She made a point of keeping her hands where they could be seen as she approached the pair.
They were watching her; Ellen saw that as soon as she was close enough to see their eyes. She had the distinct feeling Vance had been watching her from the instant she stepped into the station below. Well, she had nothing to be ashamed of or worried about. "Um. Hello, sir," she said. "And ma'am."
The woman murmured a greeting. Vance inclined his head in response. "Welcome to our home," he said. "My people call me Vance. I lead this group of weary travelers and outcasts who need a home. And to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"
Anyone who put that much formality into their greeting wasn't about to respond to a stranger's demand to see Ian; Ellen would need to appeal to him on a personal level, she was sure. She grabbed at the first suitable question to come to mind: "What is this place, sir?"
The corners of Vance's mouth turned up in a smile. "What you see before you is the last bastion of hope for the downtrodden and misunderstood," he said, his tone one of long practice and conviction. "It is a sanctuary for the oppressed and a beacon of faith for the tyrannized." He seemed to be waiting for a response, but Ellen didn't know what to say to that; she just nodded instead. "We are the remnants of society," he went on, "cast aside like the clean-picked bones of a hunter's feast. I lead my flock beneath the sun-baked sands of the Wasteland to keep them safe and teach them my ways..."
Well, at least he seemed to be more sane than Confessor Cromwell. As obsessed preachers went, Ellen supposed it could have been worse. But then his words snapped her back to the immediate present:
"Men of science would call us cannibals, eaters of human flesh. Society labels us as monsters, demons and the unclean."
"What?"
Vance very nearly laughed at the look on Ellen's face. "Not, I think, what you were expecting to hear; but I've never been one to be anything less than honest with those who approach me. I think perhaps you have need of further education. Here- allow me to show you the rules by which we seek to transcend our cannibalistic nature."
That's a metaphor, right? Ellen wanted to say. The cannibal thing? You're using a metaphor? But Vance was already leading the way to a side alcove marked off by sheets of metal and stacks of sandbags. He flipped the switch on a small lamp nearby. Its illumination spilled over line after line of neatly printed text covering every wall:
The First Law "Feast not on the flesh; consume only the blood. This is our strength."
We do not eat the flesh of those we kill for food. We will only drink of their blood and leave the body intact. The consumption of flesh is filthy and unclean. This action is what causes the humans to treat us like animals. We are not animals, we are The Family.
The Second Law "Bear not the child; welcome only the exile. This is our fate."
Because we carry the stain of our past in our bodies, we can never let it pass to our offspring who would in turn carry out those foul actions beginning the cycle anew. The Family must seek the Wasteland for others of its kind in order to maintain itself. That is our fate.
The Third Law "Feed not for pleasure; partake only to nourish. This is our dignity."
We only kill the humans when we are hungry or when we must defend ourselves, we never hunt for sport or pleasure. We do not prey on children for they are not yet tainted by society's view of us. The Family will not tolerate murder.
The Fourth Law "Seek not the sun's light; embrace only the shadows. This is our refuge."
Because we are creatures of the night, we must not set foot in daylight. We move silently across the ground only under the watchful eye of the moon above. At the rising of the sun, we must seek the embrace of the shadows and never again gaze at its brilliance. The Family seeks the dark as its refuge.
The Fifth Law "Kill not our kindred; slay only the enemy. This is our justice."
Above all, no member of The Family will ever take the life of another member without the consent of the current leader. Anyone disobeying this action, the most heinous of all our crimes, will be exiled from this place forever. We must not let our own inner demons cause us to fight amongst ourselves. We number only in the few, and we cannot risk extinction.
There were no words. There were absolutely no words. Ellen simply had absolutely nothing in her experience that made any of it make sense; she could only stare...
"And now, a question for you," said Vance's voice behind her, low and smooth. "If I say we are no longer cannibal, consuming only the blood of our prey, what would that make us in your eyes?"
"GAK!" said Ellen, jumping. "Um. Um. I'm sorry, sir, I-" Oh, God, just how far in over her head was she? She had to say something.... "I don't know- this is... this is like vampire stories, isn't it? In the old horror vids? But I- I thought they were just stories..."
Vance inclined his head. "Do you think I believe I can turn into a bat and fly away?" he said. "Of course not. Do I cast my image in a mirror? Absolutely. Now ask me if I believe these individuals from every corner of the Wasteland need me to give them a sense of purpose and identity."
Vampires. Seriously? Vampires? You're kidding, right? Ellen wanted to say, but the words wouldn't come. Vance sighed.
"Wanderer," he said, "every one of them- every one of us- has at one time or another turned to the consumption of human flesh to survive. I assure you that once such a thing has been done, the urge to repeat it is a craving too dreadful to ignore. I have found a way to elude its grasp; I have shown these people the ways of the vampire. I've provided them shelter, organization, and a sense of belonging. I have reined in their cravings and taught them to eat not of the flesh, but to drink of the blood. Most importantly, they have a Family- a place where they and their quirks are tolerated and understood. Without that belonging there is no reason for them to change their ways, nothing worth holding on to."
It occurred to Ellen then that the Wests had had their throats torn out. And that there had been no blood worth mentioning anywhere in sight... "Okay," she managed, "okay. I... all right, I... sir? I'm not here to cause trouble, I promise. I'm just- I'm looking for a young man named Ian West...."
Vance nodded smoothly. "Ah, yes, my newest charge. What would you want with him?"
Oh, God. Oh, that wasn't good. Still- "I've got a letter for him from his sister."
One of Vance's eyebrows went up at that. "Then a part of his human family still remains?" he mused. "Even more of a reason he needs to remain in isolation. Ian is at a critical moment in his life right now. After all that occurred in Arefu, he is scared and confused."
"All that- sir, what did happen in Arefu?" Ellen blurted.
"Quite simply?" Vance crossed his arms over his chest. "Ian's hunger for flesh overwhelmed him."
What??
"It drove him to kill his parents," Vance went on. "Because of my intervention that night he stopped just short of being lost forever to his cravings for flesh. The urge has ridden him all his life, Wanderer; that hunger driving him, and every one of us, must be kept in check. It is one of the most difficult things to teach. Ian lost control because no one was around to guide him. His own family was alien to him..."
Oh dear God. Ellen gulped, trying not to be sick. The image of Evan King twitching at the ramp came to mind, and Karen Schenzy's stash of guns. There was no possible way this could end well, was there? She closed her eyes a moment, took a deep breath; without opening them she said, "Sir, if what you're saying is true... the people in Arefu are out for blood."
There was a moment's startled silence. Then Vance spoke. "They've blamed us for the Wests' deaths, haven't they."
Ellen nodded fractionally. "Between the Wests and the town Brahmin-"
"That should not have happened. The Family members responsible are being punished for that; they should never have gone that far."
"I'm not sure it matters, sir. They don't really have much to lose in Arefu at this point," she said. "There's probably going to be a lot of deaths if this goes on. I don't think either of us wants that. If Ian's really here, and I can tell them what happened in his own words..."
"That... makes sense, I suppose." Vance sighed. "Very well. You may speak with him."
The room where Ian was staying had been a maintenance office once, by the look of things. The rusting shelves that lined the walls were largely empty, save for the odd box of Abraxo or can of turpentine. There was a mattress against one wall, though the bedding looked largely unused, and the whole place smelled of must and age. Ellen turned to face the lone light source, a flickering, slowly dying lamp, and in the shadows beyond it spotted a huddled figure. "Sir?" she called out. "Ian?"
The figure jumped, and turned to face her. "Huh? What- who are you?"
He wasn't much older than Ellen, so far as she could tell in the shadows, but Ian's eyes looked so much more worn and tired than anything she'd seen yet- even Evan King's. He looked like someone who had been up to his neck in struggle for a long, long time, and was starting to drown. "My name's Ellen Park," she said quietly, stepping forward. "I've been looking for you."
His shoulders spasmed in a silent laugh. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. I'm sure Evan King is pretty pissed right about now."
Ellen thought back to the grenade on the overpass. "Something like that," she murmured.
"I bet he has the entire town out looking for me," Ian continued bitterly. "He's worse than my parents."
And the subject was upon them, ready or not. "Ah," Ellen began, "about that-"
Ian's face twisted in a sudden spasm of self-loathing. "You think I don't know that?" he snapped. "You think I don't know what I did?"
"So it's true? What Vance said?"
Ian's eyes closed, and he nodded. "It's true," he said, almost inaudibly. "All of it. You must think I'm some kind of monster."
Lord, give me strength, Ellen found herself praying. I don't know what to say to him, but I don't want to make it worse...
She took a deep breath.
"Maybe you'd better tell me what happened."
Ian nodded again. "It started when I was just a kid," he said. "I don't really know how or why, but..."
Ellen listened in slowly growing horror. If what Ian was saying was true, he'd been ridden by the urge to eat red, raw meat his whole life. Animals had been satisfactory enough at first, but there'd been a Wasteland traveler when he'd been about eight or nine who'd tried to attack his sister. The man had been too big for a child to fight with fist or foot, but he'd tripped and fallen and exposed his neck- and Ian had lunged at him and torn his throat out with his teeth. If Lucy hadn't stopped him...
"... well, I think you know how it would have gone," Ian said. "I can see it in your eyes. The point is that after it happened, animals just couldn't satisfy me any more, no matter how I managed it. I spent most of my time fighting the urge to find someone and take them down just to eat them, too. It went on for years, and I- I just couldn't fight it any more the other night." He heaved a sigh. "That's when Vance found me. I've been here ever since. I can't go back."
Feast not on the flesh; consume only the blood, the law had said. There was more than one way of getting blood. She'd been a doctor's daughter. She knew that much. But she also knew what she'd seen in Arefu.
"I don't know about can't so much as shouldn't," she said slowly. "Ian... do you really think these people can help you? You've known them longer than I have."
"I don't know. I really don't. But there isn't anyone else who can."
Ellen rubbed her eyes with one hand as she returned to the mezzanine, and to Vance. "I've spoken to Ian," she said.
The pale man nodded slightly. "And?"
"I'm going to talk to Evan King," Ellen said. "Ian belongs with people who can help him. Arefu's got enough trouble taking care of Brailee Ewers. Ian's only going to get worse there. You're the only ones with a chance."
Vance quirked one eyebrow at that. "That's... very enlightened of you, human," he said, startled.
"Please don't call me that."
"As you wish."
Evan King, Ellen decided, owed her big for this. Whether Ian was still alive or not.
She did her best to slip through the mirelurk nest unnoticed, no small feat given that the stealth field only hid her from sight and did nothing to mask the sound of footfalls or equipment. Whether the acoustics in the tunnels were worse than at the Memorial or whether these lurks were more observant she didn't know, but by the time she got clear of them, her backpack was completely stuffed with mirelurk meat. No sense passing up a possible trade item, after all. Who knew, maybe she could-
Something brushed against her shin. Ellen paused mid-stride and looked down just in time. Another step further and she'd have broken a tripwire strung across the space between the tunnel wall and a wrecked train car. She peered around to see what it would have set off, but there didn't seem to be anything nearby; with tremendous care, she stepped over it. Beyond it there lay a few scattered mines in the shadows, and beyond that the sort of leg-breaking trap she'd only ever seen in old vids. Wherever she was, it was someplace that people wanted to be left alone in...
"Whoa, whoa, slow down there," came a man's voice from up ahead. Ellen squinted through the shadows and caught sight of a man in patched-together combat armor and a bandanna. "This area's off limits to everyone but the Family. Where do you think you're going?"
She exhaled in relief. "Oh good," she said, "you're the Family? I've been looking for you."
"Come forward into the light."
Ellen did so, both hands well away from her guns and sword. The man, a bearded, pale figure, eyed her suspiciously. "You don't look like someone who'd be looking for us," he said at last. "Not unless you've got a death wish, anyway."
She wasn't sure, but Ellen thought she could make out the butt of an assault rifle behind the man's head. Evan King had said these people had plenty of guns and muscle. Fighting was one thing, but these people were on their home turf. If they had Ian here somewhere, the only way she was going to get him out would be by convincing them to let him go.
"Actually, I'm trying to deliver a letter," she said with the best smile she could manage. "I"ve got a message here for Ian West, from his sister in Megaton."
"You're kidding."
"No, sir, I'm not." Ellen extracted the sealed envelope from the one part of her pack that wasn't completely covered in mirelurk goo. "I really need to get in- it's very important, sir..."
The man rolled his eyes. "Okay, okay, I guess you look harmless enough... but you'd better speak to Vance before you poke your nose into anything. You can usually find him on the mezzanine overlooking the common area." He jerked his head towards a side tunnel, one sized for humans rather than train cars. Ellen could hear the blithering platitudes of John Henry Eden from some ancient radio in that direction. "Just don't touch anything."
"Thank you, sir," she said, and set off at a trot.
The small tunnel opened out into another train tunnel, which abruptly gave way to the great arching space of a pre-War Metro station. Most of the train track gaps had been boarded over to give the place a proper floor; there were tables and chairs everywhere, and someone had set up what looked like a small shop next to one of the great flights of stairs that led up to the mezzanine. The space was lit by generator-fed lamps positioned among the tables; it was nearly as bright as in the Vault. She counted at least five or six people, maybe more. It was a little harder to see up on the mezzanine. Hopefully none of them would object if she headed on up.
Nobody did- although halfway up the stairs she ran into a woman who wore the same sort of too-tight, too-low-cut clothing as Nova, back at Moriarty's. "Hey there," the woman said. "You're new; my name's Brianna. Planning on staying?"
Oh, God, she even talks like Nova, Ellen thought; she shook her head rapidly. "No ma'am, just running an errand," she said. "I needed to speak to Vance?"
Brianna laughed, a low, throaty chuckle. "Not a problem, honey. Tall, pale, and broody's up there with the little lady." She indicated a pair of figures standing in the shadows at the top of the stairs and continued on her way.
Ellen let out a sigh of relief as she watched Brianna go. The older woman was easily at least as heavily armed as the tunnel guard, maybe more. As for Vance, well, Ellen couldn't even begin to guess what the thing on the brown-haired man's back was- but he very definitely had at least one bladed weapon hanging from his belt, and the woman next to him had a holstered pistol. It definitely looked like politeness was the way to go here. She made a point of keeping her hands where they could be seen as she approached the pair.
They were watching her; Ellen saw that as soon as she was close enough to see their eyes. She had the distinct feeling Vance had been watching her from the instant she stepped into the station below. Well, she had nothing to be ashamed of or worried about. "Um. Hello, sir," she said. "And ma'am."
The woman murmured a greeting. Vance inclined his head in response. "Welcome to our home," he said. "My people call me Vance. I lead this group of weary travelers and outcasts who need a home. And to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"
Anyone who put that much formality into their greeting wasn't about to respond to a stranger's demand to see Ian; Ellen would need to appeal to him on a personal level, she was sure. She grabbed at the first suitable question to come to mind: "What is this place, sir?"
The corners of Vance's mouth turned up in a smile. "What you see before you is the last bastion of hope for the downtrodden and misunderstood," he said, his tone one of long practice and conviction. "It is a sanctuary for the oppressed and a beacon of faith for the tyrannized." He seemed to be waiting for a response, but Ellen didn't know what to say to that; she just nodded instead. "We are the remnants of society," he went on, "cast aside like the clean-picked bones of a hunter's feast. I lead my flock beneath the sun-baked sands of the Wasteland to keep them safe and teach them my ways..."
Well, at least he seemed to be more sane than Confessor Cromwell. As obsessed preachers went, Ellen supposed it could have been worse. But then his words snapped her back to the immediate present:
"Men of science would call us cannibals, eaters of human flesh. Society labels us as monsters, demons and the unclean."
"What?"
Vance very nearly laughed at the look on Ellen's face. "Not, I think, what you were expecting to hear; but I've never been one to be anything less than honest with those who approach me. I think perhaps you have need of further education. Here- allow me to show you the rules by which we seek to transcend our cannibalistic nature."
That's a metaphor, right? Ellen wanted to say. The cannibal thing? You're using a metaphor? But Vance was already leading the way to a side alcove marked off by sheets of metal and stacks of sandbags. He flipped the switch on a small lamp nearby. Its illumination spilled over line after line of neatly printed text covering every wall:
The First Law "Feast not on the flesh; consume only the blood. This is our strength."
We do not eat the flesh of those we kill for food. We will only drink of their blood and leave the body intact. The consumption of flesh is filthy and unclean. This action is what causes the humans to treat us like animals. We are not animals, we are The Family.
The Second Law "Bear not the child; welcome only the exile. This is our fate."
Because we carry the stain of our past in our bodies, we can never let it pass to our offspring who would in turn carry out those foul actions beginning the cycle anew. The Family must seek the Wasteland for others of its kind in order to maintain itself. That is our fate.
The Third Law "Feed not for pleasure; partake only to nourish. This is our dignity."
We only kill the humans when we are hungry or when we must defend ourselves, we never hunt for sport or pleasure. We do not prey on children for they are not yet tainted by society's view of us. The Family will not tolerate murder.
The Fourth Law "Seek not the sun's light; embrace only the shadows. This is our refuge."
Because we are creatures of the night, we must not set foot in daylight. We move silently across the ground only under the watchful eye of the moon above. At the rising of the sun, we must seek the embrace of the shadows and never again gaze at its brilliance. The Family seeks the dark as its refuge.
The Fifth Law "Kill not our kindred; slay only the enemy. This is our justice."
Above all, no member of The Family will ever take the life of another member without the consent of the current leader. Anyone disobeying this action, the most heinous of all our crimes, will be exiled from this place forever. We must not let our own inner demons cause us to fight amongst ourselves. We number only in the few, and we cannot risk extinction.
There were no words. There were absolutely no words. Ellen simply had absolutely nothing in her experience that made any of it make sense; she could only stare...
"And now, a question for you," said Vance's voice behind her, low and smooth. "If I say we are no longer cannibal, consuming only the blood of our prey, what would that make us in your eyes?"
"GAK!" said Ellen, jumping. "Um. Um. I'm sorry, sir, I-" Oh, God, just how far in over her head was she? She had to say something.... "I don't know- this is... this is like vampire stories, isn't it? In the old horror vids? But I- I thought they were just stories..."
Vance inclined his head. "Do you think I believe I can turn into a bat and fly away?" he said. "Of course not. Do I cast my image in a mirror? Absolutely. Now ask me if I believe these individuals from every corner of the Wasteland need me to give them a sense of purpose and identity."
Vampires. Seriously? Vampires? You're kidding, right? Ellen wanted to say, but the words wouldn't come. Vance sighed.
"Wanderer," he said, "every one of them- every one of us- has at one time or another turned to the consumption of human flesh to survive. I assure you that once such a thing has been done, the urge to repeat it is a craving too dreadful to ignore. I have found a way to elude its grasp; I have shown these people the ways of the vampire. I've provided them shelter, organization, and a sense of belonging. I have reined in their cravings and taught them to eat not of the flesh, but to drink of the blood. Most importantly, they have a Family- a place where they and their quirks are tolerated and understood. Without that belonging there is no reason for them to change their ways, nothing worth holding on to."
It occurred to Ellen then that the Wests had had their throats torn out. And that there had been no blood worth mentioning anywhere in sight... "Okay," she managed, "okay. I... all right, I... sir? I'm not here to cause trouble, I promise. I'm just- I'm looking for a young man named Ian West...."
Vance nodded smoothly. "Ah, yes, my newest charge. What would you want with him?"
Oh, God. Oh, that wasn't good. Still- "I've got a letter for him from his sister."
One of Vance's eyebrows went up at that. "Then a part of his human family still remains?" he mused. "Even more of a reason he needs to remain in isolation. Ian is at a critical moment in his life right now. After all that occurred in Arefu, he is scared and confused."
"All that- sir, what did happen in Arefu?" Ellen blurted.
"Quite simply?" Vance crossed his arms over his chest. "Ian's hunger for flesh overwhelmed him."
What??
"It drove him to kill his parents," Vance went on. "Because of my intervention that night he stopped just short of being lost forever to his cravings for flesh. The urge has ridden him all his life, Wanderer; that hunger driving him, and every one of us, must be kept in check. It is one of the most difficult things to teach. Ian lost control because no one was around to guide him. His own family was alien to him..."
Oh dear God. Ellen gulped, trying not to be sick. The image of Evan King twitching at the ramp came to mind, and Karen Schenzy's stash of guns. There was no possible way this could end well, was there? She closed her eyes a moment, took a deep breath; without opening them she said, "Sir, if what you're saying is true... the people in Arefu are out for blood."
There was a moment's startled silence. Then Vance spoke. "They've blamed us for the Wests' deaths, haven't they."
Ellen nodded fractionally. "Between the Wests and the town Brahmin-"
"That should not have happened. The Family members responsible are being punished for that; they should never have gone that far."
"I'm not sure it matters, sir. They don't really have much to lose in Arefu at this point," she said. "There's probably going to be a lot of deaths if this goes on. I don't think either of us wants that. If Ian's really here, and I can tell them what happened in his own words..."
"That... makes sense, I suppose." Vance sighed. "Very well. You may speak with him."
The room where Ian was staying had been a maintenance office once, by the look of things. The rusting shelves that lined the walls were largely empty, save for the odd box of Abraxo or can of turpentine. There was a mattress against one wall, though the bedding looked largely unused, and the whole place smelled of must and age. Ellen turned to face the lone light source, a flickering, slowly dying lamp, and in the shadows beyond it spotted a huddled figure. "Sir?" she called out. "Ian?"
The figure jumped, and turned to face her. "Huh? What- who are you?"
He wasn't much older than Ellen, so far as she could tell in the shadows, but Ian's eyes looked so much more worn and tired than anything she'd seen yet- even Evan King's. He looked like someone who had been up to his neck in struggle for a long, long time, and was starting to drown. "My name's Ellen Park," she said quietly, stepping forward. "I've been looking for you."
His shoulders spasmed in a silent laugh. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. I'm sure Evan King is pretty pissed right about now."
Ellen thought back to the grenade on the overpass. "Something like that," she murmured.
"I bet he has the entire town out looking for me," Ian continued bitterly. "He's worse than my parents."
And the subject was upon them, ready or not. "Ah," Ellen began, "about that-"
Ian's face twisted in a sudden spasm of self-loathing. "You think I don't know that?" he snapped. "You think I don't know what I did?"
"So it's true? What Vance said?"
Ian's eyes closed, and he nodded. "It's true," he said, almost inaudibly. "All of it. You must think I'm some kind of monster."
Lord, give me strength, Ellen found herself praying. I don't know what to say to him, but I don't want to make it worse...
She took a deep breath.
"Maybe you'd better tell me what happened."
Ian nodded again. "It started when I was just a kid," he said. "I don't really know how or why, but..."
Ellen listened in slowly growing horror. If what Ian was saying was true, he'd been ridden by the urge to eat red, raw meat his whole life. Animals had been satisfactory enough at first, but there'd been a Wasteland traveler when he'd been about eight or nine who'd tried to attack his sister. The man had been too big for a child to fight with fist or foot, but he'd tripped and fallen and exposed his neck- and Ian had lunged at him and torn his throat out with his teeth. If Lucy hadn't stopped him...
"... well, I think you know how it would have gone," Ian said. "I can see it in your eyes. The point is that after it happened, animals just couldn't satisfy me any more, no matter how I managed it. I spent most of my time fighting the urge to find someone and take them down just to eat them, too. It went on for years, and I- I just couldn't fight it any more the other night." He heaved a sigh. "That's when Vance found me. I've been here ever since. I can't go back."
Feast not on the flesh; consume only the blood, the law had said. There was more than one way of getting blood. She'd been a doctor's daughter. She knew that much. But she also knew what she'd seen in Arefu.
"I don't know about can't so much as shouldn't," she said slowly. "Ian... do you really think these people can help you? You've known them longer than I have."
"I don't know. I really don't. But there isn't anyone else who can."
Ellen rubbed her eyes with one hand as she returned to the mezzanine, and to Vance. "I've spoken to Ian," she said.
The pale man nodded slightly. "And?"
"I'm going to talk to Evan King," Ellen said. "Ian belongs with people who can help him. Arefu's got enough trouble taking care of Brailee Ewers. Ian's only going to get worse there. You're the only ones with a chance."
Vance quirked one eyebrow at that. "That's... very enlightened of you, human," he said, startled.
"Please don't call me that."
"As you wish."