[u][b]Mary Hawthorne - Near Salem - The Museum of Witchcraft[/b][/u]

[i]“The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents. We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of the infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far.” ― H.P. Lovecraft, "The Call of Cthulhu"[/i]


"Let me out, you heathens!", Becky shrieked as she struggled vainly against the bars of the cell, "Let me out [i][b]NOW[/b][/i]!"

Her captors, one a hooded figure, who was male by his deeper voice, and the second, a female ghoul in a tattered pre-war dress, standing in a circle of lit candles, ignored her and kept up with their chanting, as they had been doing for seemingly hours. It was all gibberish to Becky...ridiculous words like Ub-Qualtoth and such...and definitely not what she had been promised when the ghoul lured her away from completing her pilgrimage from Javert Brothers to Kingsport Lighthouse with promises about a "Holy Relic" of Atom. She had no idea what they were up to, but she was not so naive that it did not escape her that they did not have her best interests in mind. She was bitterly regretting venturing on her pilgrimage alone, and not waiting another week for Brother Luis and Sister Tabitha to make the journey with her as they had asked. "The Wasteland is dangerous, it's full of Heathens and worse!", Brother Luis had told her. But convinced Atom would protect her, she obeyed the visions she had received and departed alone. Suddenly, the pitch of the chanting became louder, and then climaxed with a loud incantation:

[b]Y’AI ’NG’NGAH,
UB-QUALTOTH
H’EE—L’GEB
F’AI THRODOG
UAAAH!”[/b]

At the last syllable, the candles suddenly went out as a strong, foul wind blew towards her, as if it came from the ghoul. She attempted to speak...to demand again to be set free, but found she could not control her body anymore. She suddenly felt as light as a balloon, floating up towards the ceiling. Even though the room was now dark, she could still see by the light of a lantern placed on a chair behind the robed man. To her horror, she could now see her body, where she had been, pressed up against the cell bars, gripping the bars in a deathgrip. Fear began to well up within her as a inky black cloud vomited up out of the ghoul's mouth, traveling at her through the cell bars as if it had a mind of it's own, and and poured itself into her own open mouth. At the same time, another wind began to push her towards the ghoul. She tried to resist it as best she could, but could not and found herself pushed into the ghoul's open mouth........

"Whatever you're doing", Becky shrieked, "stop it right now, you freak!"

As soon as she heard it, she realized that her voice wasn't her own, but the raspy voice of a ghoul. Also, suddenly her sense of sight and smell had dimmed, as if they were muffled somehow. She also now realized she was [b]outside[/b] the cell. And her muscles ached with a dull, throbbing ache. She held up her hands to see, and in the lamplight, she could see the bony and partially skinless hands of a ghoul. She looked up to see herself...still standing pressed up against the cell door....and screamed as a terrible look of triumph appeared on the face that she now understood was no longer her own.

"H..H..H...How?", Becky stammered, still not believing what she had just seen. 

"Long ago", "Becky" said as she let go of the bars and reached into the cleavage of one of the mannequins in the cell and pulled out a key, "When I was a young woman, about your age, in fact, they called it "Witchcraft". The men this museum was built to condemn were quite right about that...if nothing else. She then unlocked the cell door, pushing it open and stepping out until she stood before her, cocking her head slightly and looking at her in a inquisitive way. It was then that she remembered that the ghoul had a small revolver in her pocket...she had used it to force her into the cell after they got her Gamma Gun away from her. She reached into her pocket, feeling it's reassuring grip. Her fingers tightened around the butt and she pulled it out. 

"Atom save me!", Becky shouted as she drew the revolver, aiming it back and forth between "Becky" and the robed man. "When I tell my Brothers and Sisters about this, they'll purge you with Atom's Holy Fire!"

"I had [i]hoped[/i] you would see things differently", "Becky" replied, sadly shaking her head. "But I didn't really expect it to. I'm afraid Atom won't save you....or anyone else for that matter. Atom is merely the latest attempt by Man to give meaning to his meaningless existence....he's just as imaginary as the God I was taught to worship when I was your age. There are "Gods" out there...but I've seen some of them, and I can tell you that you [i]really[/i] don't want [b]them[/b] noticing you." 

"You lie!", Becky screamed as she backed away towards one of the doors, the other being blocked by the hooded man, threatening the pair with her revolver as she moved. Once past the door, she turned and ran for her life. As she ran she heard her own, now Becky's voice, echo down the hall behind her.

"It was nothing personal", "Becky" said, "You had something I needed!"

Back in the room, once an exhibit of a 1690s Jail Cell of the type suspected witches awaited trial in, "Becky" calmly waited for what she knew would come next. 

"Why did you let her go, Marie?", the hooded man said, "and why did you leave that revolver in your pocket?"

"The bullets were wax, Obediah....theatrical blanks with only a primer behind them", Marie replied patiently, choosing to answer his second question first. A sudden roar, and a shriek followed by four muffled reports, and a second, despairing, shriek that was suddenly cut off was her cue to answer the first. "To answer your first question", Marie continued, "I didn't."

"If you'll excuse me a moment", Marie said as she grabbed the Gamma gun from within Obediah's robes and followed in the direction Becky had fled, "I'm going to get my revolver back." Adding over her back as she headed into the hall, "Don't follow me....there's only one way it won't attack you, and I doubt if your pride would allow me to do it."

Marie walked down the hallway, into what was once the lobby of the old Museum. her nose crinkled in disgust at the stench of manure and rotting meat, a reminder of the pitfalls of her new form. Near the front, an enormous Deathclaw fed upon the fresh corpse that had been her for over six hundred years. It looked up at her, sniffing the air in her direction, then relaxed and returned to feeding. About ten feet away, she saw her .38 revolver laying on the floor. For a moment, she she stood and watched the Deathclaw feed, feeling a twinge of regret, but it passed as rapidly as it came. She was a predator, Becky was prey....it was that simple. It was the way it was, in the Wasteland and in the vast and uncaring universe that she had long ago learned was what was really out there. She had noted that her body was beginning to fail, so she took another one...and a good one this was. The Cult Becky was part of, the Children of Atom, had a large number of members with a very special mutation....what seemed to be a complete immunity to radiation. It had taken several attempts to find a suitable host with this mutation, but it had been worth the effort. She walked over to the dropped weapon and picked it up, the Deathclaw taking no notice of her as if she were another member of it's pack, noting to her satisfaction her back no longer bothered her to stoop....in fact, the aches and pains she had long gotten used to were completely gone. She put the revolver into a pocket of the rough woolen robe Becky had been wearing, then removed the various ornaments and bangles that Children of Atom so loved to wear to show their devotion, and dropped them into a nearby pile of gore, followed by the contents of her pockets, then the Gamma gun. She then turned and walked back to the "cell" where Obediah waited for her. 

"Can we go now?", Obediah asked as he removed the robe and draped it over his arm. "I need to get back to the Manor". Marie noticed for the first time that the young man looked quite handsome, though he would look better in the white suits he favored back home in Maryland rather than the mercenary outfit he was now wearing. Thoughts she hadn't had in a long time flashed through her mind. While she had hardly been celibate all these years, much of her activity in that regard was transactional in nature, or done for other purposes than the sheer pleasure of it.   

"[i]Hormones[/i]", Marie thought to herself, "[i]Another thing I will need to get used to again....especially now that I could find myself with child.[/i]"

"Yes", Marie said. "Sun should be up, so you can see me into town. If everything goes as it should, you can head home from there." she then looked at him and smiled. "Thanks for your help, by the way."

"No", Obediah said, "Thank [i]you[/i], Marie. For opening my eyes, and showing me the Way....I've learned much from you these past ten years." 

"It's been my pleasure", Marie replied. "But, please, call me Mary from now on...Mary Hawthorne. I'm home now, it's time to begin using my true name again."

As you wish...Mary", Obediah said with a chuckle, "But do remember that I'm Zachariah Blackhall, now." 

[u][b]
Later[/b][/u]

Mary and Zachariah, the latter leading a Brahmin, walked down the main street past crumbling buildings towards the church, passing a active turret, it's generator chugging away as the stubby gun moved back and forth. Soon they reached the Village Common, now dotted with a collection of abandoned vendor stalls...as if some sort of market had been there. Down a cross street, to their right, was an dilapidated Drumlin Diner.....by the look of it, someone had begun repairs on the abandoned structure. Mary remembered when the place was built....in the 2050s....how the old biddies on the Historical Preservation Committee had shrieked about it. "It'll destroy the historical character of the Village Common!", they bleated. If only they were here today...they'd shit themselves to see how all they'd cared about had crumbled to dust and been forgotten. She'd learned a few tricks from Orne and Hutchinson once she had been introduced by her teacher....not surprisingly they had completely escaped detection by her first husband and his fellow oafs during the Trials...it would almost be worth it to raise one of them up and let them see just how futile their lives had been. Almost. They turned left at the Diner, along what she remembered to be Essex Street, and there it was...her house. Somewhat worse for wear, but still standing after over four hundred years. Fortunately, the doors and windows were boarded up so no one was squatting there...that would have complicated things. they approached the house, tying up the Brahmin to a lamp post, where it contentedly grazed off the overgrown yard as, while Mary watched, Zachariah pulled a crowbar out from the Brahmin's pack and began to remove the boards barring the door. As Zachariah made progress, a voice called out from the street. 

"Miss", a man called out, "Do ya have a minute?"

Mary looked over to see an elderly man, rather unkempt, standing in the street, a lit cigarette jutting out of his mouth. He had a rifle slung on his shoulder, but made no sign of reaching for it. He did appear to be anxious about something...though she didn't get the impression he had hostile intent. 

"Of course", Mary replied, "Mister...."

"Rook, Miss", the man said respectfully, "Barney Rook. I'm head of the Salem Volunteer Militia." He then chuckled. "hell, I pretty much [i]am[/i] the militia right now....hopefully that will change as folk come in." His serious look returned and he continued. "We got plenty of room here in Salem, especisally for a young lady like yourself, but I wouldn't recommend moving into that house."

"Why not, Barney", Mary asked, "is it claimed already?" She then placed the palm of her hand against her head. "I forget my manners, Barney. I'm sorry. My name is Mary Hawthorne. And before you ask, Zachariah here is not my husband, he's a friend of mine."

"Oh, no, Miss Mary", Barney exclaimed, "That house isn't claimed by anyone. Even back before the mirelurks swarmed the town a few years back. Hell, for as long as I can remember." He looked both ways down the street, then leaned forward and continued in a stage whisper. "People say that house is haunted."              

"Really?", Mary replied, successfully suppressing the urge to laugh. Inwardly, she smirked with satisfaction. The wards she had placed before her trip to Maryland....about a hundred and ninety years longer than she had intended to stay there, had held all this time. Excellent. She put her hands on her hips in a defiant pose, careful to speak in such a way that it came across that she didn't believe him, but wasn't ridiculing him. "Well, Barney, I don't believe in ghosts, or spirits, or "Gods" named Atom for that matter. I'll take my chances...thanks for warning me though. If there turns out to be something in there that needs shot, I'll come running."

"Hopefully it won't come to that", Barney said with a grunt. "but if it does, I'm usually at the Diner, the Militia HQ over on the corner where the turret is, or in the basement of my old house in the north end of town. Ya can't miss it, it's the only one with power." He then added, "If you do visit, mind the fence...it's electrified. Welcome to Salem, by the way." His duty done, he waved goodbye, and walked back towards the Diner. 

"Haunted?", Zachariah asked sarcastically as he levered off the last board, revealing the door. Mary wordlessly waved him aside, pulling a key hanging on a cord around her neck from  her robe and inserting it into the lock. "Should I wait outside here, too?" 

"Not any more", Mary said as she turned the key in the lock, feeling the spell..a minor cantrip...dissipate as she did so. She then pushed open the door and stepped inside, coughing at the dust disturbed by their passage. A quick check showed all was largely as she had left it...if crumbling from two centuries of neglect and under a very thick coat of dust. A quick check of the attic revealed the roof looked in serious need of repairs...a few more years and the interior would have been ruined. She'd have to do something about it, and soon. Perhaps she could hire Barney?

A check of the basement showed it to be dry..which she expected given the structure was on the top of a small hill, and the more substantial wards she had placed on the hidden sub-basement were undisturbed. Satisfied for now, she went back upstairs, and then up to the second floor and began opening windows. The housewife deep inside her was appalled at the dust and crumbling furniture...not to mention it bothered her new form physically, making her sneeze constantly. 

"Think you could stay one day, Zachariah", she asked between sneezes, "I really need to do something about all this dust!"