Chapter 31: Redemption part 1

Obadiah Blackhall thought he knew everything he needed to know about the Lone Wanderer. He was raised in a Vault, was a member of the Brotherhood of Steel, Reilly's Rangers and the Regulators. He had an advanced targeting system that allowed his shooting skills to be unmatched, and he was the scourge of Slavers, Raiders and the Enclave. There was one minor detail, however, that Blackhall did not know, for if he did, he wouldn't have dropped Marcus into the irradiated water of the Sacred Bog. As soon as his legs were submerged into the murky water, his body began absorbing the radiation, and it's healing factor began to expel the hallucinogens paralyzing his mind with fear. Blackhall and his minions left the Sacred Bog; secure in the knowledge that the threat from Marcus Lincoln had been dealt with. Once the drugs had left his body, the damage to his mind began to be repaired. Soon the nightmare he was trapped in had ended, and Marcus opened his eyes - just as a mirelurk was about to grab his right leg and pull him further in.

Relying on pure survival instinct, Marcus pulled his leg back, and then drove his foot into the only soft spot on the mirelurk - it's face. The creature, obviously surprised that's it's meal had some fight left in it, staggered back and screamed. Marcus scrambled to get out of the water and onto dry land. The mirelurk quickly recovered, and charged at it's prey. Marcus dove out of it's way, and the mirelurk ran head long into a large rock formation, stunning the creature. Marcus got back on his feet and he frantically looked around for something, anything he could use as a weapon against the formidable creature. He picked up a soft ball sized rock just as the creature turned towards him. Marcus activated his VATS and threw the rock with all his strength, striking the mirelurk dead in the face. The creature let out a blood curtailing scream, and Marcus turned and ran for his life.

He could see more mirelurks to his right, and Marcus ran through the mud and muck of the Sacred Bog until, miraculously, he ran smack into the Bog's main entrance. He threw the wooden door open and was on the other side of it a second later. It was then that the exhaustion finally hit, and Marcus collapses into the dirt. As he laid on his back, struggling to catch his breath, a shadow fell on him. He was so exhausted and spent that he didn't care who or what it was. As the figure came into view, he realized it was a woman wearing a hooded black robe.

"Well now," she said with a familiar accent, "perhaps the fates have a use for you after all."

Madame Panada brought Marcus to the Herzog Mine located in the southeastern part of Point Lookout along the coast. He had not said a word as he followed the gypsy through the swamp. When they arrived at the mine, they were greeted by a familiar missionary.

"You found him! Thank God." She ran up to Marcus, and she was taken aback by the sight of him. He was covered in mud and blood, and Marcella knew the thousand yard stare when she saw it. She turned to Panada. "What happened to him?"

"The Dark Heart tried to take him, but he managed to escape it's grasp."

Marcella led the traumatized Lone Wanderer over by the camp fire, and he sat down. "Are you sure?"

Panada knelled down in front of Marcus, placed her hands on his shoulders and looked into his eyes. "Yes. His soul is scarred...but it has not been tainted."

Marcella grabbed a large pitcher. "I'm going to get some water."

She left, and Marcus continued to sit and stare at the fire. He was so fixed on the flames that he didn't notice the small child wearing a ragamuffin top hat approach him.

"Hi, my name's Kenny. What's your name?"

Marcus didn't respond.

Kenny jabbed his finger into Marcus' shoulder. "Hey! Helloooooo, Mr!"

"Kenny!" Madame Panada said. "Leave him be, child."

Kenny pouted and sat down next to Panada. A moment later Marcella returned with the pitcher filled with water. She sat down next to Marcus and began to clean the mud and blood off of him with a rag. Marcus remained unresponsive as she gently washed the filth from his face. "Believe it or not, but Kenny was actually born to the Swamp Folks. His parents were forced to hide and later abandon him because he quote 'didn't have the marks'. After I was driven away from my campsite at the beach, Kenny allowed me to stay here - after I managed to get past all of his traps, of course."

Marcus still said nothing. After cleaning his face, arms and legs, Marcella placed two scoops of the stew she was cooking inside a small tin bowl, and handed it to Marcus. He held onto the bowl, but did not eat it's contents.

Marcella sighed. "Do you remember what happened to you?"

Marcus didn't say anything. Though the effects of the Punga spores had worn off, he remembered everything he had experienced in the bog. Every detail of the terrible visions, everything he felt during that nightmare - were as clear as day to him. The bowl slipped from his hands, and he began to sob uncontrollably. The stunned missionary wrapped her arm around Marcus' shoulder, and he pulled her closer and began sobbing in her lap.

Panada took Kenny's hand. "Come, child." She led Kenny down to another section of the mine.

Marcella caressed Marcus' hair as she tried in vain to console him. Neither of them knew how long they stayed like that, until finally, Marcus cried himself to sleep.

The next morning, Marcella woke to find Marcus had left the mine. In a panic, she quickly ran outside - and found him sitting on a ledge staring at the sea. After sighing in relief, she carefully approached him. "Are you okay?"

Marcus' voice was barely above a whisper. "No."

Marcella sat down next to him. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Marcus closed his eyes and let out a tired sigh. "I...I did something terrible before I came here. I've killed..." he quickly swallowed the lump forming in his throat. "...I don't know how many people I've killed. Most I had no choice; they were going to kill me or the people I cared about. But some..." his voice cracked. "...some I killed because I wanted to. I killed them because I was angry; because I wanted revenge." He could no longer hold back the tears, and he looked away from the missionary. "And because of that I've lost everything."

Marcella placed her hand on his shoulder. "Marcus, you haven't lost everything. You're still here. You managed to break free from the Dark Heart and survive; no one has been able to do that. It is further proof that God has a plan for you."

Marcus scoffed at her and shook his head. "How could your god, or any god, want anything to do with me after what I have done?"

"God will forgive you, Marcus. You just have to accept him into your heart."

Marcus stared at the ground. "No one will ever forgive me. Not my friends...the Brotherhood...no one."

Marcella took a deep breath; she had to choose her words carefully. "I can't speak for your friends, Marcus, but my God is a God of mercy and love." She reached inside one of her pockets and pulled out a bible. "Have you ever heard the story of the prodigal son?"

Marcus shook his head.

Marcella opened the bible and began to read: "There was a man who had two sons. And the younger of them said to his father, 'Father, give me the share of property that is coming to me.' And he divided his property between them. Not many days later, the younger son gathered all he had and took a journey into a far country, and there he squandered his property in reckless living. And when he had spent everything, a severe famine arose in that country, and he began to be in need. So he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him into his fields to feed pigs. And he was longing to be fed with the pods that the pigs ate, and no one gave him anything.

"But when he came to himself, he said, 'How many of my father's hired servants have more than enough bread, but I perish here with hunger! I will arise and go to my father, and I will say to him, "Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Treat me as one of your hired servants." And he arose and came to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him. And the son said to him, 'Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.' But the father said to his servants, 'Bring quickly the best robe, and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet. And bring the fattened calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate. For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.' And they began to celebrate.

"Now his older son was in the field, and as he came and drew near to the house, he heard music and dancing. And he called one of the servants and asked what these things meant. And he said to him, 'Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fattened calf, because he has received him back safe and sound.' But he was angry and refused to go in. His father came out and entreated him, but he answered his father, 'Look, these many years I have served you, and I never disobeyed your command, yet you never gave me a young goat, that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fattened calf for him!' And he said to him, 'Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. It was fitting to celebrate and be glad, for this your brother was dead, and is alive; he was lost, and is found."

Marcus sat in silence as he listened to the words. When she had finished, Marcella studied him for any kind of reaction. "If you give yourself to God, Marcus, he will accept you just as any father would accept his son."

The memory of his father flashed into Marcus' mind, and he began to choke up. What would James say if he could see his son now? He would no doubt be disappointing, and would probably lecture him at length about what he had done. But in time, Marcus knew his father would eventually forgive him. 'All father's care for their sons' he once told him. He turned to Marcella. "You know...my father had a favorite bible passage."

Marcella was pleasantly surprised to learn this. "Really? Which one?"

"Revelation 21:6."

It took Marcella only a moment to recall the passage. " 'I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. To the thirsty I will give from the spring of the water of life without payment.' It's a beautiful passage." She handed the bible to Marcus, and though he hesitated at first, he accepted the book. "The answers you seek may be inside."

Marcus was a bit apprehensive about receiving the holy book, but he decided to accept the gift. "Thank you."

Marcella smiled and stood. "Just...try not to throw it in the mud this time."

A nervous chuckle escaped from Marcus. "I won't."

Marcella walked back into the mine, leaving Marcus with the bible. It took him some time before he opened the book and began reading. He didn't start at the beginning, rather he would jump around until something caught his eye. He spent most of the day sitting on the ledge reading the scripture, stopping only to eat and take care of his hygiene needs.

By the time the sun set, Marcus had made a life changing decision.

Early the next morning, Marcus woke Marcella up and asked her to meet him down on the beach. When the missionary arrived (still in a bit of a daze), she spotted Marcus kneeling down by the water. As she approached, she saw that he was scanning the water with his PIPBOY. "Marcus?"

A second later the scan was complete, and Marcus stood up and turned around. "Thank you for meeting me here."

"It's alright. Is there something you need?"

Marcus took a few steps towards her and cleared his throat. "I've a...been thinking about a lot of things these past couple of days." He paused as he struggled to find the right words. "About the things I've done...and the people I've hurt. If I could take it all back I would, but I know I can't. The only thing I can do is try and make up for it. Now...I'm not ready to join any church," he hesitated as he stared into her eyes, "and I don't know if I'll ever have the faith you have, Marcella. But I...I think you're right. I think God does have a plan for me...and I'm ready to accept it - no matter what it is."

Marcella had to contain her joy and relief as she approached him. She gently placed her hands on his shoulders and looked up at him. "I'm very happy to hear you say that, Marcus."

Marcus smiled at her as he fought back his tears. "I read somewhere that people who had sinned would get baptized. That they would be...reborn."

A glimmer appeared in Marcella's eyes. "Spiritually yes. It's a very beautiful ceremony."

Marcus turned and began walking towards the water with Marcella following. "This water has no traces of radiation. The current must be bringing fresh water from the Tidal Basin." He stopped at the water's edge and turned to Marcella. Tears were in his eyes, and his voice cracked. "Would you please...baptize me, Marcella?"

Marcella was so overwhelmed that she nearly burst into tears. Looking into Marcus' eyes she could see that he was sincere. This was why she had become a Missionary: to save lost souls - and she had never met a man more lost then Marcus. "I would be honored."

Marcus and Marcella waded into the water until they were waist deep. Marcella had her arm wrapped around Marcus' shoulder and gently held on to him. When she was ready, she began the rite. "Marcus Lincoln, do you renounce the forces of evil and all their promises?"

Marcus took a deep breath. "I do."

"Will you reject the temptations of anger and hatred, and instead serve the ideals of justice and mercy?"

"I do."

Marcella gently pushed Marcus face down into the water. "I baptize thee," she lifted his head out of the water, then gently pushed him back down. "In the name of the father," she lifted him up, and pushed him back down, "the son," she repeated the motions and third time, "and the Holy Spirit, Amen."

Marcus raised his head out of the water for the last time. As the purified water washed over him, the anger and rage that had consumed him for weeks faded from his heart. In it's place was something he had not felt for a long time: hope.

Marcus had managed to find an old pair of miner's coveralls that fit him, and he discarded the tattered tribal clothing. As Marcella prepared breakfast for the four of them, Marcus struggled to shave with a dull knife. As he stared at himself in the piece of broken glass he found, he couldn't believe how terrible he looked. "You look like shit." he quietly told himself. His hair was so long it was now hanging below his ears, and he vowed to have Wadsworth give him a hair cut when he returned to Megaton.

Once he was finished, Marcus sat down by the fire next to Marcella, and the four companions began to eat the dry noodles and punga fruit the missionary had prepared. As they ate, Marcus leaned in closer to Marcella. "I never thought I'd see a missionary working with a gypsy fortuneteller."

Marcella stared at the gypsy on the other side of the fire. "She's more then just a fortuneteller. If it wasn't for Panada none of us would have made it this far. The Lord works in mysterious ways."

Marcus completely agreed with the last statement. "Blackhall said something that keeps bothering me. He said 'Soon all would know the Dark Heart'. I have a bad feeling he wasn't just talking about Point Lookout."

"It's certainly possible," Marcella said, "a man like Blackhall is hungry for power."

Kenny looked up from his breakfast. "But doesn't he need those spore things from the Mother Punga to put his spell on people?"

"The spores destroy the mind's will to resist," Panada said, "but it is the power of the Krivbeknih that ultimately corrupts the soul."

Marcus nodded. "Still, if he wants to corrupt everyone in the Wasteland, he'll have to find some way to the deliver the spor..." Marcus stopped as he stared down at the slice of punga fruit on his plate. A look of horror appeared on his face. "Oh my God!" he gasped. "When I was at the church, I saw dozens of punga fruit sitting in some kind of incubators. Nadine told me they were refining them."

Marcella's throat went dry. They were refining the punga so that the spores could be ingested. "People come here all the time to harvest punga and bring it back to the Capital!" The Missionary crossed herself.

"His darkness will spread over the entire Wasteland," Panada said. ",unless you stop him, He who Wanders Alone."

"How?" Marcus snapped. "I emptied an entire magazine of .50 caliber rounds into the guy and it didn't even tickle him!"

"You must first get the Krivbeknih away from Blackhall," Panada said, "and then you must bring it to hollowed ground. Once there, the Krivbeknih's power will be blocked, and Blackhall will be vulnerable."

"Okay, so where can I find hollowed ground here?"

"Unfortunately," Marcella began, "Blackhall has fowled all of the land in Point Lookout." She reached into a bag and pulled out what looked like a milk jug. "This contains soil from a sacred place. Once you place the book inside, Blackhall will loose his power and then you can defeat him."

She handed the jug to Marcus - who stared at the woman as if she had two heads. "Dirt. This is a jar...of dirt."

Marcella nodded. "Yes; sacred dirt."

Marcus continued to stare at the woman. He could not believe she was serious. "Is the...jar of dirt going to work?"

Panada stared daggers at him. "If you no want it, give it back."

Marcus held the jug close to his chest. "No! No...I'll use the jar of dirt."

Panada smiled. "Then it will work."

Marcus carefully placed the jug down. "You said we needed to use an obelisk to destroy this book once and for all?"

"Yes," Marcella began, "there is an obelisk in a place in the Capital called Dunwich. To most it looks like just another office building, but in reality it is an evil place. We must take the Krivbeknih to Dunwich, and press it against the obelisk there. Only then, will this evil be destroyed forever."

Marcus stood up. "Well if I'm going to do this I need to get my armor and the rest of my weapons hidden in the cemetery. I think you three should stay here until I get back."

Marcella shook her head. "We need to bring more supplies to the refugees at the camp. They'll starve if I don't forage for them."

Marcus sighed as he remembered the sight of the half starved refugees. "They need more then the few provisions you can bring them, Marcella. They need a steady supply of food, enough for everyone at the camp. Plus they need more guns and ammo..." Marcus stopped mid sentence, and a grin appeared across his face. "...and I know where we can get all three." He turned to his three companions. "I'll get my things, you three head back to the camp and wait for me. Trust me."

Marcella hesitated before answering. She wasn't sure what Marcus was planning, but she had faith in him, and soon she nodded her head. "Okay, we'll wait for you there."

Marcus nodded and turned to leave when Marcella stopped him. "Marcus wait!" She reached down where he was sitting and picked up his bible. "You'll need this."

Marcus smiled at the missionary and took the book. "Thank you." He stared down at the jug she had given him. "And ah...don't forget my dirt." He turned and headed off into the swamp.

"You want me to do what?" Desmond snapped as he stared at the Lone Wanderer. After retrieving his armor and weapons, Marcus made his way to Calvert Mansion to enlist the ghoul's help.

"You have enough MRE's and weapons stored in that bunker to give the people here a fighting chance."

Desmond crossed his arms. "Listen kid, I don't know what brought on this sudden 'I give a shit about the world' complex you seem to have, but I'm not about to just give up everything that took me two centuries of back breaking work to acquire."

Marcus' jaw hardened. 'I hope I wasn't this big of an asshole'. "Even with all this you will not be able to hold out forever, Desmond. I can't beat Blackhall alone; I nearly lost my mind trying. He's got an army of followers, and that means we need an army to beat him."

"Ha! You call that rif-raf out there an army! Half of them would be killed in the first five minutes, and the other half would run like rabbits."

Marcus pointed his finger at the ghoul. "Not if they're given a chance. I'm asking you to give them that chance!"

"If you're trying to appeal to my humanity kid...I lost it a long time ago." Desmond turned his back to Marcus, who sighed and clenched his fist.

"Alright...then I'll appeal to your logic and need for self preservation. If we don't take care of Blackhall, we're all going to die here...and that includes you. All of those weapons and supplies you're clinging to...you'll be buried with them, and you know it. The only way any of us are going to get through this is if we work together."

Desmond rubbed the roof of his nose and let out a growl. "I liked you better when you were an asshole. Alright, kid, I'll join your little crusade. You just better not fuck this up, because if Blackhall doesn't kill you, I will."

Marcus relaxed and a slight grin appeared on his face. "You'll be remembered as a hero, Desmond."

The ghoul snorted. "Like I give a fuck! Take whatever you can to your army, and then have them come back for the rest."

Marcus nodded. "Thank you."

Desmond waved him off. "Yeah, yeah, now go!"

Marcus carried as many MRE's back to the refugee camp as he could; even leaving behind his AK-47 so that he could carry more. When he arrived, Marcella, Panada and Kenny were waiting, and all of the refugees cheered when he began handing out the desperately needed food. As he handed out the MRE's, Marcus couldn't hide the smile on his face. It was the first time in weeks that he felt...good.

Later that night, after everyone had more then their share of food, Marcus was sitting in the camp's administration building with Marcella, Panada, Kenny, Plik, Rip Smithy, and a few other Point Lookout residence to discuss strategy.

"Ahhh," Rip Smithy moaned as he tapped his stomach. ",those were the best 200 year old MRE's I've ever eaten."

Everyone grunted in agreement as they downed the last of their food. There was a knock on the door, and when it opened, Marguerite arrived holding a large jug. "This calls for some celebratin'!" She declared with a long southern drawl.

The building's occupants let out a cheer, and Haley, a black man who owned a small general store before tribals burned it down, began handing out mason jars. Marguerite began pouring the contents of the jug into the mason jars, and soon she introduced herself to Marcus. "My name's Marguerite, and I want to thank you for the help you've given us. Here you go." She handed the jar to Marcus, and he stared at the brown liquid. "What is this?" He asked.

"Only the best moonshine in all of Maryland."

Marcus placed the jar to his lips, and after downing a mouthful, he immediately began coughing. Everyone inside began to laugh.

"[cough] Wow...[cough] that's...you could set the swamp on fire with this stuff!"

Marguerite smiled. "That's nothin'; you should try some of my white lightnin'."

Marcus forced down another mouthful. "I'll take your word for it." He placed the jar down and addressed the group. "While I appreciate your gratitude, the fact is we're not out of this yet. I have a plan to deal with Blackhall once and for all, but I'm going to need your help. I tried to take him on alone and I failed."

Silence filled the small building, until finally, Plik spoke up. "Aren't you the Lone Wanderer? Man I heard you killed a hundred Enclave soldiers single-handed, with nothing but a shotgun and a hand grenade."

Rip Smithy walked over to Plik and slapped him on the shoulder. "Man I told you, he's not the Lone Wanderer! Everyone knows the Wanderer's over seven feet tall!"

Marcus couldn't stop himself from smiling and he shook his head. "Yes, I to have heard those stories about him. He kills Raiders by the hundreds; eats Super Mutants for breakfast. And if he were here, he'd consume Blackhall and his tribals with fireballs from his eyes, and bolts of lightning from his ass!"

Everyone, even Marcella, got a laugh from that one. Marcus looked over at the missionary. "Tell them, Marcella."

Marcella addressed the group. "He is the Lone Wanderer; no doubt about it."

Marcus shrugged. "Sorry if you're disappointed."

"Don't be." Haley said. "We heard that you survived the Dark Heart. Anyone who can do that is one tough sonofabitch in my book."

Everyone agreed. "What's your plan?" Plik asked.

"Desmond has enough guns and ammo at his mansion to start World War Four and Five. Panada and Kenny will take the children and all those too weak to fight to the Herzog Mine where they'll be safe."

"But I want to go with you." Kenny said.

Marcus placed his hand on the boy's shoulder. "I'm sorry, but where we're going it's too dangerous for a kid."

Kenny pushed his hand away. "I'm not a kid! I've killed more pirates then most of you..."

"Kenny!" Panada snapped. "That's enough, child."

Kenny crossed his arms and began to pout. Marcus tried to make him feel better. "That's why I need you to go with the other kids; to protect them. Okay?"

Kenny reluctantly nodded his head. Marcus continued. "The rest of us will head to Calvert Mansion. It's very easy to defend, and with those weapons you can holdout forever. I'm going to provoke Blackhall and his tribals into attacking the mansion."

You could've heard a pin drop inside the building. "You want to draw them to us?" Smithy asked.

"Only as a distraction. While you're holding them at the mansion, I'll get down into the catacombs and steal the Krivbeknih."

"I'm going with you." Marcella said.

"I think it's best if I go alone, Marcella."

"You said it yourself, Marcus: you cannot do this alone...and this mission is as much mine as it is yours. I'm going to see it through to the end."

Marcus stared into the missionary's eyes, and he could see the determination burning in them. He knew there would be no stopping her. Besides, he had to admit, it would be nice to have some backup. "Alright. We'll do it together." He turned back to the rest of the group. "I know this plan is...well, it's crazy. But it's our best shot."

"There's nothing wrong with the plan," Haley began, "it's just...to you, these are just mindless tribals, but they weren't always like that. They were our friends, our neighbors...even family." He swallowed the lump forming in his throat and stared at the ground. "My half sister, Woodrose, is one of them."

As Marcus listened to Haley, he finally began to understand why these people were reluctant to fight. It wasn't fear of death, it was the fear of killing someone they loved. "I know this is difficult, but once we get the Krivbeknih they should all return to normal, right?"

Panada answered. "Yes. Once it's magic is blocked, Blackhall will lose his influence over them."

Marcus thanked her. "You will only have to hold them off for a short time. I spotted flash-bang grenades in the bunker; you could use those to incapacitate them. If you have to shoot them, try to just wound them." He let out a sigh. "I can't promise you that no one's going to die; you may have no choice but to kill some of them. If that happens, you cannot hesitate. If you do, we're all dead."

His words hung in the air for several moments. "How do you plan to draw Blackhall out?" Marguerite asked.

Marcus picked up his mason jar of moonshine and grinned. "Let me worry about that."