Fallout 4: AR

32. The Freedom Trail

"We hear you have a puzzle for us. You've piqued our curiosity. If you want to learn more, follow the Freedom Trail." I played the tape again, the lilting tenor voice sounding like he had seen too many spy movies. Forgotten until the morning, I inserted the data file Hancock had given me into my Pip-Boy as soon as I had woken up.

"That's it? That's the whole message?" MacCready demanded incredulously. "I hate guessing games," he griped, wrapping his green woolen scarf snugly around his chest and neck as we prepared to leave the Rexford. For once, I had awakened before my partner, and he was less than thrilled to leave his warm nest on the couch to go on what he suspected was a futile chase for this mysterious group who may or may not be able to help me.

"What other choice do we have?" I asked him mildly, figuring most of his temper was probably a result of a mild hangover. I tossed him a can of purified water which he caught and downed with a quick nod of thanks. "I hate the cold with a passion, but if we keep moving it shouldn't be too bad."

I knew from a previous trip to Boston that The Freedom Trail was a tourist walk, a path that wound through the city leading past various historic sites and buildings. How a pre-war tourist attraction was going to help us locate this mysterious faction, I had no idea. Fortunately, the cold and previous night's dusting of flurries kept nearly everyone and everything inside to try and keep warm. Our journey to the beginning of the trail, helpfully marked on my MAP screen by the cryptic tape file was uneventful, if frigid.

We ignored the robot tour guide, not wanting to call unwanted attention to our presence. MacCready had advised me to stay quiet as the center of Boston was a haven for raiders and Super Mutants. Standing on the metal trail maker, I noted the fresher graffiti in red spelling out a code: 7 – A. I inputted it into my DATA screen and we were off, following the thin brick trail to find the other parts of the code.

Staying low and moving quietly, we made our torturous way through downtown Boston, following the line of markers, taking down another letter/number combination each time. At several points in our journey we were forced to step into side alleys or behind cover to avoid alerting the occasional roving Super Mutants of our presence. Each time, the fear of discovery and lack of movement chilled me further, to the extent that I was starting to shiver audibly, my armor clattering lightly against itself as we crouched behind a decimated brick retaining wall. With a nearly inaudible grunt, MacCready pulled me over to crouch under him, his hands splaying across my arms to muffle the noise from my involuntary shaking. "Geez, Boss," he breathed, his face pressed against the back of my head, chin bristles rubbing my neck. "Can we try not to alert every Super Mutant in the area to our presence?"

Listening carefully to the heavy footfalls treading right outside our scant cover, I pressed in to MacCready, closing my eyes to imagine his body heat warming me, stilling my shivers and quieting the rattle of my armor. We stayed in that awkward embracing half-crouch for several minutes until the Super Mutant wandered off. When I would have moved on, he held me close for another moment, leaning his chin into my shoulder. "You gonna be okay to keep going?" The concern in his voice was almost as warm as the cheek pressed to my ear. "We should be close, but if you need to go back and warm up..."

"I'll make it," I replied, pressing my face into his. "Thanks for looking out for me."

I could feel his smile. "Anytime, Boss."

The rest of the trail was less difficult as we wound our way north and east from the center of Boston. Going out in the bitter cold was wearing, but it also kept most of the streets clear. We eventually found ourselves outside the Old North Church. A chalk drawing of a lit lantern decorated the side of the building. "End of the road," I murmured, staring up at the old wooden doors. "Let's see who's inside."

As soon as we entered the church, we were swarmed by a collection of feral Ghouls. MacCready strafed right, his rifle moving smoothly and unerringly, taking his usual head shots. I stepped to the left side of the door, forcing my cold-numbed hands to squeeze off my own shots. Fortunately, my V.A.T.S. assistance didn't seem to care that I couldn't feel my fingers, and we shortly took care of our welcome party. Examining the rest of the church, we discovered a recently excavated tunnel to the catacombs beneath. We moved slowly, ready for more resistance as we followed the catacombs further beneath the church. Sure enough, a few stragglers from the main force of feral Ghouls upstairs were hiding out in the relative quiet of the sepulcher. They were easily dispatched.

Finding our way to what looked like a dead-end, MacCready pointed out the electrical wiring disappearing into the stone wall. "I'm pretty sure that wasn't here when this church was built," he quipped.

"Considering electricity hadn't been discovered yet, I think you're right." There was a plaque set into the wall, underneath a light powered by those same wires. Examining the disparate pieces making up the decoration, I discovered the outer ring of text was movable. "Look at this, Mac." The inner ring had a recent addition of a pointer icon carved into the metal.

"Huh, pretty clever," he admired. "Let's see those letters we picked up from the Trail."

Rearranging the letter-number combinations into numerical order spelled out an eight-letter word: RAILROAD. "Seems simple enough," I commented, spinning the outer ring like a combination lock and pressing the raised central protrusion to confirm my selections. As soon as I had locked in the last letter, a hidden door in the stone next to the plaque swung open to reveal a pitch black entrance. We exchanged a triumphant glance and cautiously entered the darkened doorway, weapons at the ready.

Before we had taken more than a few steps into the darkened chamber, we were suddenly blinded by several high-powered lights shining directly into our faces. "Stop right there!" a hostile female voice called, low-pitched and threatening. We froze, slowly lowering our weapons. As soon as my eyes began to adjust, I counted three forms standing on a raised wall, all pointing weapons at us. "You went through a lot of effort to get here. Before we go any further, who the hell are you and how did you find us?"

"We'd be more inclined to answer your questions if you weren't pointing weapons at us, you know." MacCready retorted sarcastically.

"Until I determine you're not a threat, we'll point our weapons wherever we damned well please." she said.

"Fine." I spoke up, drawing the woman's attention. "My name is Anne. And I received a message to follow The Freedom Trail to find you. Now, who are you?"

"A message?" she looked perplexed for a moment, then shrugged. "We'll check into that. As for who I am, I'm Desdemona, and I'm the leader of the Railroad." At this moment, a pale man sauntered in from the shadows behind the three people accosting us. He looked absolutely, completely average, wearing a white T-shirt, in this weather?, faded jeans, and a pair of darkened sunglasses that hid his eyes. His black hair was swept up into a pompadour style. "Deacon!" Desdemona admonished. "Where have you been? I need intel."

"Having a party without me, Dez?" he drawled. I immediately recognized his voice as the one from the data file. "I even brought my own guests!" he announced, gesturing to us. I glanced over at MacCready, who had narrowed his eyes suspiciously, staring at the group on the wall. "Well, aren't you going to invite them in?"

"You," and Desdemona's voice was hard, "vouch for these people?"

"Sure," Deacon answered breezily, "these two have been out and about meeting folks, helping the occasional stranded settlers, clearing the baddies out of a couple of technological sites of interest." He grinned and leaned casually against the wall, crossing his arms. "The lady there has herself one heck of a non-VaultTec Pip-Boy that Tom would give his right leg to examine. Probably his left leg, too. Word is, she needs help getting home, but 'home' isn't in the Wasteland, which is quite a puzzle."

At his recitation, the other two people pointing weapons at us lowered their firearms, though still keeping a wary eye on us.

Desdemona sounded suspicious, but resigned. "All right, Deacon. As long as you vouch for them. Stand down, Drummer Boy, Glory. Let's all take this inside." She turned to us, "Welcome to the Railroad." The two guards, a man and a striking woman with white hair, shouldered their weapons and filed into a doorway farther back from the wall they had been standing on. At Deacon's expansive wave, MacCready and I also put our weapons up to follow him into the next room.