James walks through the sparse trees. Matilda following him in silence, until they reach a cliff’s edge jutting out over a valley far below. Scanning the basin, James spots a service road snaking its way along the valley floor.
“When they’re not busy fighting Babylon, the Enclave focuses its efforts on settlement expansion. Luckily, all their outposts are connected by a uniform train communicator.”
He walks along the edge of the cliff, looking for a feasible way down.
Matilda maintains her silence, staring back at the Spire in the distance.
James continues. “It’s like a transportation hub that connects larger areas. If you can access one of the entry points, it takes you to the local hub. From a local hub, you can bounce around to another hub. It’s all interconnected, but very compartmentalized, in case they need to lock a section down in the event of an emergency. If I were to guess, we should be able to find a station somewhere on the other side of those mountains.”
James is still searching for a way down when he realizes Matilda isn’t behind him. He quickly joins the Scry where she is still standing, gazing out towards the Spire.
“What is it? Do you see something?”
There’s a strange glow in her eyes when she turns to him.
“I’m sorry.” She moves a little closer to him but stops. “I know he was your friend, but—”
James isn’t ready to have this conversation yet, but hears himself say, “But, you’re sorry?”
Matilda kicks a rock off the edge of the cliff.
“For killing him, no. I’m just… sorry, if it makes…” she trails off and grunts, clutching double handfuls of air in frustration.
Taciturn puts a hand up to stop her.
“Let’s not do this now. I think I see a way down, but we have to get moving.” James moves towards the edge, but Matilda’s voice stops him.
“Wait.”
James stops and stares at her, not even bothering to hide his frustration.
“I needed to say ‘I’m sorry’ before I ask you the next thing. Hank’s crown… you have it, right?”
It takes James a long, chilly moment to process her request. Looking down, he’s surprised to find himself still holding the band. He turns it around in his hands, absently rubbing the gold with his thumb.
Matilda takes a deep breath.
“It’s just, I gotta unlock more about me, you know? It seems everyone we encounter knows more about my life than I do. After Neverland, I saw glimpses of myself from Virginia’s band. With all the information Hank had from ruling the Spire, it’s got to kick something loose, right?”
James understands fully what she’s asking. But the timing bothers him.
“So, was that what all that anger was about? You just wanted Hank’s crown?”
The Scry withdraws a step, stung.
“What are you talking about? We always needed the key, and he was no better than Virginia. If anything, Hank was worse. You saw what he put those people through. I’m sorry he was your friend once… but he became a monster.”
James grips the band tighter. “So, what does that make us? You never told me what you planned to do in Neverland. Did you know the Lifesync would absorb everyone?”
He sees Matilda’s fists clench, her eyes water. James knows he’s stepping too far, but the words continue to rush out of him now, of their own accord.
“All those people, Matilda…”
She yells. “You think I don’t understand that? All their memories are in my head, constantly reminding me! I’m horrified by it, okay? But you knew what you were signing up for, traveling with a Scry. I’m sorry I put such a dirty mark on your perfect Taciturn record.”
James closes his eyes and sucks in a breath, trying to hammer his emotions into something that won’t make things any worse. Her anger at Hank now makes more sense. “Matilda, I… I understand that Hank couldn’t be saved. You’re right. The goal was always the key – but do you really need it right now?”
Matilda steps forward.
“If not now, then when? Wasn’t the point of everything we’ve done to get those keys and unlock who I am?”
The conversation is starting to remind James just how genuinely terrible he was at talking to his own son.
“We’ve both been through a lot. This can wait until we get to Metropolis.”
This time, she raises her voice.
“No, it really can’t. That’s what I’m telling you. I need time to process these things and as soon as we get into Metropolis, we’ll be dealing with Simmons. Do you really think we’ll find time to handle this there?”
Her outburst triggers one of his own. James gestures to the wilderness around them, waving the golden crown at the trees, at the sky.
“Yeah, because doing this here in the forest makes total sense!”
Matilda extends two middle fingers at the Taciturn.
“Fuck you, James. Don’t talk down to me like I’m a child. If it weren’t for me, you’d still be trying to get into Donovan’s tower!”
Deep down, he knows she’s right, but James can’t admit it right now. He’s done his best to avoid getting worked up, and his emotions are already strained. James raises his hands again, trying to stop things from escalating further.
“You’re right. You should explore the band before heading into Metropolis, but we can’t do it here. The first place that makes sense, we’ll stop. But for now, we keep going.”
Her glare is irritated, but a repressed grunt lets James know she’s stepped down from the fight. For now.
James shakes his head and resumes walking, before any more words can find their way out of his mouth. Reluctantly, she falls in behind him.
Carefully making their way down the cliff, James pushes a path through the trees and bushes to the service road. Trying to look everywhere at once, he steps out onto the trail.
“We need to be careful. We could be close to an Enclave outpost. Stay alert.”
James doesn’t hear Matilda respond, but her footsteps close behind him are acknowledgement enough.
Walking along the road, a sense of dread begins to dawn on James, and it takes him several minutes to pin it down. It’s the silence. There’s usually some level of ambient nature-chatter to help mask footsteps – birdsong, bugs, frogs, something – but the farther they follow the road, the quieter it becomes. The reason for the eerie silence eludes him until he spots something obstructing their way. He stops dead in his tracks.
Enclave barricades block parts of the road ahead, and a chain link fence extends through the trees in both directions. A layer of moss on the barricades gives mute testament to approximately how long they’ve obstructed this particular road. However, James quickly marks some conspicuously-fresh repairs in the chain link – indicators that this area is still patrolled and maintained. Starkly-lettered, unfriendly Enclave signage hangs from the fence at regular intervals. Quarantine. Off Limits. Category 10 Violation for Trespassing.
If the Enclave fear this location, James has a skin-crawling suspicion as to where he and the Scry must be. He is suddenly, soberly terrified. His fears are confirmed mere seconds later, when he notices a sign beyond the barricades that looks much older than any of the Enclave’s work. The green and white paint is faded, but he can still make out the letters: Welcome to Wharton State Park.
“What?” Matilda mutters, looking from his face to the faded sign and back again. “What’s wrong?”