L
lockout
Guest
5~Five~5
Farewell, Good Luck...And Goodbye
The elevator doors were pulling closed when a large, ebony forearm with a ham-sized fist attached to it bulled between them. The doors bucked jarringly and then stopped obligingly, retracting with the faint electric hum of servos, as Dave Childress stepped easily into the car.
“Hey, meat!” he said cheerfully. “Got all the downloads yet? You ready for the great escape?”
“The great escape,” Justin echoed. “Right. How dare you scoff at the main attraction, sir? Doc Holiday gets a rematch with the Clantons, and all you want to talk about is travel brochures.” He raised an eyebrow. “You’re out stalking the halls early, D.C. What’s the story? You here to see me off?”
Childress smiled broadly, revealing a pair of platinum-capped teeth. “That I am, Mister Marshall. That I am. Decided to make a quick detour, pay my respects then boot your tall ass out the door after. Gotta give the house boy a proper sendoff, doncha know?”
Justin laid a hand across his heart. “I’m touched.”
“Figured you were,” Dave deadpanned. “In the head.” He fell silent for a moment, his own head instinctively bowed an inch or two below the car’s roof. Then, suddenly, he asked: “You got those flasks?”
“They’re in the bag and not much else,” Justin said. He liked David, who was a young forty-seven and worked first shift for Vault security. D.C. was an old-school, off-the-cuff, “Here-it-is-and-if-you-don’t-like-it, so?” kind of person who accepted others in that same open manner. And, he was also the sole member of the brass class who hadn’t started carrying a pistola when the stress levels sprialed out of sight. Dave monitored the dwindling supplies in stores, and left it at that. Water stocks, especially. They were down to a four to five month supply.
“Flasks ain’t enough but they’ll have to do,” D.C. was saying now. “Damn, I hope you dig us up a chip somewhere. Soon. Ain’t had much trouble lately but the citizens are startin to get weird again. You know it. I got this end. You got the other.”
Justin nodded. “Theresa and her crew still giving you trouble?”
“No more ‘n usual,” Childress said with an uncharacteristic sourness. “Lil high-hat skirt an her outdoor wannabes think they got it all figured out. You oughta know.”
Justin grinned. “You could say that.” He and Theresa Mullen knew each other well. She was a spirited, pony-tailed redhead with a deceptive – and wholly persuasive – coyness that usually smothered her flaming Irish temper. She was confident and stubborn, with a determination that was a bit familiar. They weren’t all that different, he supposed. Except how each had gone about planning their exodus.
As the staff in Command had continued debating how to approach the chip problem, Theresa had spent that same time resolutely working the background, spearheading what was now a large and extremely vocal faction of supporters who wanted to leave the Vault. And they weren’t too particular about how. He’d dropped in on a couple of her rebel info sessions…and had been shown the door toot sweet after suggesting that maybe their leaving the Vault as one group might be a good idea.
Obviously, she wasn’t going to buy into that. Say what he would about her modus operandi, but people sat up and took hard notice whenever the brazen and outspoken Ms. Mullen came around. She had cornered sizable support with her single-minded blend of soapboxing and bamboozling. Her minions were organized and efficient, however; their preparation had left much to be desired.
When they weren’t being accused of liberating and stockpiling supplies like a bunch of packrats, Theresa and her group had begun training in the SimTek simulators about a year ago, readying for the palace revolt that seemed inevitable. She had stirred them all with a big stick, and people had taken sides. Opinions were being backed up with force – several fistfights had broken out as a result, as tempers among the hardliners began to flare.
Justin pointed at Dave’s empty hip. “Things are starting to liven up, my friend. You going to be able to keep the lid on darling Theresa?”
“Don’t need a strap for her,” Childress scoffed. “She ain’t no big deal. Bat her eyes, shake her tail then swing it around. Always givin folks that ‘poor me’ song-and-dance when she talk to em. Never think about nobody else but her. Thas Theresa…I’m tryin to tell ya. Besides,” he added with a wry grin, “folks upstairs tend to forget about us bluesuits below, an we ain’t been all that busy. ‘Cept for water, ‘bout all we watchin is empty lockers and walls. We got time to keep a fine eye on her silly ass. Put her out of your mind, Justin. They all follow her an she ain’t goin nowhere. You just take care of business. You got the PipBoy, right?
“It’s in the bag,” Justin said, silently thankful for cooler heads, and feeling his weight shift downward, as the elevator slowed.
“Hey, meat. About the gun…”
“What about it?”
“Load it up,” David said with troubled eyes. “Make sure it stay that way.”
Justin nodded. “That I will, Mr. Childress…that I will.”
Then the car stopped, more firmly, and Justin thought: Rock bottom. Level One: all points of egress. A light shiver touched him as the doors slid back…and then he thought that fear was a tangible thing, after all. But this door was open, and one led to another – it was time to go. He rocked on his heels, then Dave grabbed his arm. Hard.
“Got somethin for ya,” he said, tossing another water flask into Justin’s pack.
“D.C., what’s this f – ”
“Don’t ask,” he said quietly. “Call it a tip. Or for luck, whatever. Look, I ain’t much on goodbyes. Just watch your back.” He leaned down until their faces were inches apart, then his voice dropped to a low rumble. “Don’t need no more MIAs, meat. You come back…understand?”
Justin patted Dave’s cheek. “I plan to. You going to wait up for me?”
“We’ll all be, you crazy shit,” Childress said, releasing Justin’s arm. “And the boss is waitin now.”
“The boss man beckons,” Justin said absently, glancing into the junction. “Hold the fort, D.C.…I’ll see you.”
Dave tipped a finger. “You got it. Take care, meat.”
“I got your meat,” Justin said, grinning a forced half-grin. Leaving was harder than he thought it would be…but then the doors rolled shut and D.C. was gone.
Typical, Justin thought, his grin fading as he turned and began to walk, cutting hard left around the junction wall and into the entry foyer. As expected, he saw Ken and several others waiting for him by the inner security door – including Kristen McVay, the head of Vault security. And surprise – she was armed.
“A paranoid old man with a control complex.” That was what Theresa called Ken, among other things. But then, this was nothing new. He thought that Theresa would piss and moan about anything that anybody in Ops suggested, on principle alone. But Ken was the standard bearer; he wore the crown, so to speak, and that made him a target when things turned sour, much like it had in another life.
The political structure of the Vault was set up to operate much like an old-world democracy, with Ken as the president, and the staff in Ops as his cabinet. In their sealed society, there were few real decisions to be made, but the amount of work required to keep tabs on day-to-day operations made a chain of command absolutely necessary. The fundamental concept was sound, but in all fairness, there was a glaring drawback that no one could recrify.
Anyone sixteen or older was entitled to vote for their ‘president’ of choice but to date, in the history of the Vault, only two elections had ever been held. There was no length of term attached to the Overseer position – it was for life, and that fact had become much to the growing irritation of some.
Ken was a gravel-voiced, fatherly sixty-four (and was, by his own admission, a company man). He was conservative, but that didn’t make him a manipulating monster. He cared about all of them equally and took that responsibility seriously. Until the chip failure, he had ‘overseen’ the digs for almost forty years without complaint or incident, and then suddenly found himself as the villian.
And that wasn’t fair or right, Justin maintained. Because while Ken had the last word, he was knowledgable and reachable, willing to consider any discussion. He could be an engaging and entertaining host, but it was hardly a secret that the Vault and the welfare of its citizens were his main concern. That was his obligation, his job, and he had remained rock solid on one count. Without an all-clear signal, his word was “no” whenever the topic of people leaving the Vault came up.
Hence, the armed escort, Justin thought, as Ken approached him now.
“Ah, Justin,” he said, sounding genuinely pleased. “You’re here, good. How are you this morning?”
“Raring to go, I suppose,” Justin said, shuffling his feet nervously. He wished he had that butterfly net now. They and their fluttering wings were loose: all of them. “I’m sorry I had to skip Friday’s match. It was kind of a full day.” He and Ken did the cribbage and chess thing in the meeting room twice weekly. It passed the time.
Ken waved it off. “Ah, don’t give it a second thought. Besides, it gave me a chance to practice castling on the sim. I’ll be ready for you next time.”
“Count on it,” Justin said tightly. His smile felt only a little greasy for a crowd that was growing larger. Big smile for those cameras. A dozen or so people had spilled out of the Research and EML labs next door, and were milling about with the others in a quiet that was becoming deafening.
“You know as well as anyone what’s going on,” Ken said. “So, I don’t think there’s any need for me to explain. I assume you and Herm have reviewed the maps?”
“Just the two for the sectors between here and the other Vault,” Justin said. “We were an hour or so going over the roads. I didn’t think there was a reason to look farther than that, unless I have to.”
The Overseer nodded. “That’s understandable. You’re taking Big Pine Road through the Death Valley park?”
“Yes,” Justin confirmed, looking past Ken’s shoulder at Herm Stanton. He was standing at the door release terminal, his bald pate gleaming mellowly…and Justin could hear the words, as a brief, knowing look passed between them…
…the parks system used to run shuttles in and out of Big Pine all the time before the funding was pulled, Herm had mentioned yesterday. Many different peoples and cultures passed through there at one time or another…no way to gauge who or what might be there today. It’s only a short distance and, if a person were to exercise caution…
And then someone was tapping his shoulder.
“Are you with me?” Ken asked dryly.
Justin grinned sheepishly. “I’m sorry, Ken. I was just – ”
“Just sucking up!” Came a familiar, defiant shout from the rear of the foyer. Then Theresa the Terrible was shoving people aside, elbowing her way to the front without so much as an “excuse me”.
“Well lo and behold! If it isn’t Ms. ‘Outside is where we should be,’ Justin chanted, mocking Theresa’s rallying cry. God, he was sick of hearing that rhetoric. It had been going on for a year, and she was going to get a whole lot of people dead with her hot-headed ruse…and then sudden inspiration struck him.
“Come on up here and tell us all about it!” he challenged. “It isn’t allll that dangerous, is it? Oh, no! To start anew and live by our own skills and wits…why, that’s the great adventure!”
“That’s right, it is!” Theresa hissed, slightly out of breath as she reached the inner door. “And you – ”
“Why don’t you toddle off and make things worse than already they are,” Justin cut in, not giving her a chance to think. He didn’t want her to, yet. “Maybe you and your gang could pour over the Vault Dweller’s Survival Guide instead. It might help, you never know.”
“Why are we sending you out there?” Theresa flashed, rolling her eyes in disgust. “Is that the best you can come up with? Listen, mister, I’ll have you know that that thing is part of our program. I’ve read it fifty times; I know it better than – ”
“That thing,” Justin broke in, “was written eighty-five years ago. It’s outdated, but people are still buying into it like it’s gospel. People like you,” he said accusingly. He lifted his sunglasses and then dipped his head low, looking down on her, staring down on her for emphasis. “The rules have changed…it doesn’t apply. It’s garbage…it belongs in the trash.”
“How do you know it’s garbage?”, she snapped, balling her hand into fists. Her cheeks had gone bright crimson. “How do you fit your head through doors? You and your holier-than-thou attitude don’t know any more about the outside than the rest of us! Just because you’re his pawn,” she raged, throwing a smoldering glance at the Overseer, “doesn’t make you an authority on the subject!”
“What are you, jealous?” Justin asked innocently.
“Of what?” Theresa blazed. “Watching you play step-and-fetch-it? Hardly! Even if you do find another chip, what are we supposed to do after that? What happens after the next thing breaks down – and the next? This place is falling apart! We can’t stay in here forever, and that’s why I’ve been trying to convince others that we should leave – ”
Theresa closed her mouth with a snap, suddenly aware of where she was.
“Leaving? Really?” Ken gently injected, as Kristen stepped automatically behind Theresa. There was a hard, mirthless cast in his deep blue eyes that didn’t quite match the even tone in his voice. “Care to tell me about it, Theresa?” he prodded. “Or perhaps I should attend one of your meetings for the details.”
He let the implication hang, as additional security personnel arrived. The Research and EML staff must have recalled a sudden, urgent appointment that required their collective attention. And right now, Doc, Justin thought. Doors were rolling up and feet were moving past them as by ones and twos, people began filing away. Several of the early arrivals were part of Theresa’a clan, and now they too, were quickly discovering other things to do. Justin wondered if they would still be a part of her faction after today.
Theresa had leaned against the inner security door. Her hands were behind her back, like someone who has been handcuffed. That seemed appropriate. She was very still. And very pale.
And the foyer was nearly empty.
“Theresa, I respect your right to assemble and to disagree with policy,” Ken said firmly, “but you have to know that your activities are jeopardizing the welfare of all.” He sighed, then added: “That welfare is my obligation – ”
“How did you find out?” Theresa burst out, and then promptly answered herself with a jerk of her head toward Justin. “He told you, didn’t he? He’s only leaving because he’s under your thumb – right where you want him. He’s just another one of your stupid tools and he doesn’t even know – ”
“You want stupid?” Justin cut in with blunt, sudden force. “Look in the mirror. In case you missed the news, lady, here’s the update – we are down to where it binds, and we can’t afford to play follow the blind leader. You might know that pile of trash guide inside and out, but that info doesn’t make this any less of a crap shoot.”
“We’ve been over this before,” Theresa said sullenly. “If the outside is so dangerous, then why are you going out alone? Why not send a out whole team with weapons and equipment?”
“Because we don’t have any,” Justin said briskly, mentally crossing his fingers. Just a little more, then this shortsighted bitch could find somewhere else to be. He unshouldered the pack, and dug through it until he found the gun. It wasn’t hard to find. He pulled it out and flipped it to her, sans clip. “That’s all there is.”
Theresa caught the pistol more out of reflex, her own fate temporarily forgotten as she turned the lightweight weapon over curiously in her hands. They could see it was the first time that Theresa had ever handled a gun. Her expression was tinged with an almost dreadful fascination as she studied it.
“Is that really necessary?” Kristen asked with a hint of reproach.
Ken was wondering himself. His bushy gray eyebrows went up a notch as he Justin exchanged glances. Justin gave a little shrug – Let’s see. Ken looked at him thoughtfully, then, after a moment, pressed a finger to his lips. Kristen nodded sharply and remained silent.
“All right,” Theresa said, looking up at last. Her blue-gray eyes were filled with clear, sharp anger, but her tone had softened. “What’s your point?”
“My point is, I agree with you,” Justin said in a slow, measured tone. And now Theresa’s face began to fill with wary surprise. “You’re right, you know. We can’t stay in here forever, but you’re forcing the issue. You want to send people out into speculation and generalities, and that’s too much of a risk. Have a look at Josh and Ed, if you don’t believe me. They went out, and no one knows what happened to them. There’s far too much we don’t know, and you’re trying to find out the wrong way.”
“And what are we supposed to do, stay in here and drink poisoned water, or die of thirst.” Theresa said stubbornly. “It’s only a matter of time before we run out of water here. The outside world can’t be as bad as everyone says, and a few hazards out there are better than dying of thirst in here.” She jabbed a finger at the inner door, and now her voice rose to a shrill pitch. “This Vault has been home for a long time but it wasn’t meant to keep people inside forever! This has been going on for too long! We’ll all have a better chance out there and now it’s time to make our way outside! We have the people and the supplies to move and I – ”
Theresa inhaled sharply, then the color seemed to drain instantly from her face. Her hands shook as she brushed a loose hair from her eyes in a detached, absent way, like an afterthought, and her cheeks were ashen when she lowered her head, and began shaking it slowly, side to side. “You bas…”, she managed, barely above a whisper.
Yes! Justin thought exuberantly.
“Supplies.” Ken said flatly, and now Theresa began making weak moaning noises, low and faint, in the back of her throat. “It seems that we’ve narrowed the list of suspects,” Ken went on colorlessly. “Theresa, I believe that you and I will have much to discuss…later.” He waved a hand a Kristen. “Get her out of here.”
“I’ll need this,” Justin chimed in, plucking the pistol from Theresa’s hand. “And you have a nice day in detention.”
“Fuck you,” Theresa muttered thickly.
“I just luuuv you, too,” Justin replied sweetly. He wondered how her mouth tasted with her feet in it.
“Come on, dearie,” Kristen said with great relish, taking Theresa’s arm. “Time to go.”
Theresa shook the hand off. “Watch it, you old bitch.”
“You watch your mouth or you and me are going to have a serious problem,” Kristen bristled. “You’re in deep enough as it is. You want to add resisting arrest to it?”
Theresa glared at her and said nothing. Her pouty, downcast expression would have been comical if the situation weren’t so deadly serious.
“Move it, hon,” Kristen said coldly. “With or without the cuffs. Now, what’ll it be?”
Theresa looked from one to the other, her face irate and dejected, but not defeated. “You’re all a bunch of fools,” she said stonily. “You’ll see, soon enough.” Then she turned and marched away, head up, flanked by Kristen and two other guards.
Home, sweet, home, Justin thought, as they rounded the corner. It had gotten that bad…but maybe now it could be a little better for a while. “She won’t be exiled, will she?”
“No, no,” Ken said heavily. “Now that we can pinpoint the source of the shortages, I don’t think it will come to that. That was a good piece of work you did.”
“Thanks for playing along with it,” Justin said, reshouldering the pack.
The Overseer gazed at Justin, troubled. “I don’t like having to do it this way, but we’re out of options.” He sighed. “And, speaking of which…”
“Time to play beat the clock,” Justin said cooly. “Let’s do it.” With Theresa’s sideshow antics, leaving seemed almost anticlimatic.
“Very well,” Ken rasped. “You have the secondary maps, and I know you’re well aware of the regions they cover. They’re there if you need them…hopefully, you won’t.” Ken fell silent for a long moment, rubbing his forehead, as if a headache were about to appear, and then a slow, strained smile crossed his deeply lined face. “Justin, there isn’t any way I can tell you how much I appreciate you volunteering for this,” Ken said. “I wish there were another means, but there isn’t, and I wouldn’t risk losing another of my Ops people if this weren’t so important. Look, just be safe, okay?”
“I will,” Justin said simply. There was nothing more for him to add.
Ken nodded miserably, then he motioned to Herm. He keyed the code, then they all stood and watched as the warning lights above the inner door begin to flash bright red, covering their faces with crimson paint, as Justin looked back at Ken, then at Herm. There was only the three of them now, and in the stillness, they could clearly hear four muted clicks as the double-thick doors unlocked, and then slowly drew back.
And then there was one, Justin thought, as he stepped into the exit corridor. He barely had time to clear an electricial cable as thick as his wrist before the heat hit him like a hammer – beads of sweat popped onto his forehead, as the flourescents along the tops of the walls flickered slowly to life. The air in his lungs was hot and laden with dust; he could almost taste it, as he looked down the long corridor. The dry smell in here reminded him of something barely out of mind’s reach. It was…spicy? He couldn’t place it but the corridor was within his reach. It was clear…and was like he had walked into a forty-foot long drying oven.
Throwing a concerned glance over his shoulder, Justin said: “Give me two or three minutes before you open the outer door, would you?”
“Of course,” Ken rasped, his voice heavy with emotion. “Be careful, Justin…and good luck.” Then he turned away quickly. Seconds later, the inner door closed and relocked.
It was on.
Justin looked at the door for a long moment, then he inhaled deeply, fighting an urge to sneeze as stale, dusty air rushed past his nostrils. There was a terminal out here, he saw, ignoring his concern about the heat that was beginning to worry him. The terminal was active. For what reason, he didn’t know, but there was a utility locker above it, set flush into the east wall. He banged on the edge of the door to loosen the seal, then he tried the handle…
The door swung open with a rending creak, and inside was another pair of flares. They were flaked and worn, as dry as the dusty air, but looked to be in good condition otherwise.
He slipped the pack off and let it drop and then, moving quickly, he scooped the flares out of the locker and stuffed them into the other side compartment of the pack. Sweat trickled into his eyes as he grabbed the PipBoy and strapped it securely to his left wrist.
There was venting out here but it was dead. No climate control, he noticed. He wiped his forehead with his sleeve, silently thanking D.C. for the extra water flask. The temperature had zoomed up by ten or fifteen degrees, more heat than the seventy he was used to dealing with.
This much heat was a bad sign for things to come, and he was still in the Vault. How bad is it outside? He thought. What would that be like? His cheeks puffed as he blew out a stale breath and thought he would soon know.
He was loading rounds into the last of the clips, when the steel grating underfoot began to chatter. The incredible vibrating floor seemed to set off yet another set of warning lights, this time a row of evenly spaced bubble domes on the ceiling. They began their spinning gyrations, coating the walls with pulsing, scarlet shadows. A strobe effect, he thought anxiously, watching the shades of red phase in and out, in perfect sync with the blaring, teeth-rattling echo from the claxon alarm at the far end of the corridor.
“Strike up the band, boys,” he said nervously, barely hearing himself above the steady din. He began to move toward the exit with care, looking on with tense anticipation as almost thirty tons of PermaSteel outer door slid forward with ridiculous ease, grinding stones and dirt into fine powder as the gearlike door settled smoothly into its cogged track.
He heard the breathy hiss – psssst…tcssssss – of working pneumatics, followed by the dull clank of the inner stabilizer arm, as it gripped the massive door’s center hub…
…and pulled it, Justin saw, scarcely breathing, as the shrill pneumatics and deep throaty grind engulfed his ears during its slow, deliberate roll…right…to left…
…Open.
The warning lights faded, then the alarm cut off. The flourescents buzzed cold and bright overhead, but the caverns outside were dim and silent as he neared the door, leaving only the soft pad of his footsteps and the sudden rush inside his head –
…we have no choice son…we have to stay in here…ask your father he’ll tell you why we’re…
…down to where it binds and we can’t afford…
…the Great War that’s right…now off to the library with you…seek my only son and you shall find…
…the chip…we’re out of choices…we need the chip to…
…watch some of the holodisk movies again…you wanna go Justin…come on you can go back to those dumb files later…but why?…
…are we sending you out there…listen mister…
…load it up…make sure it stay that way…
Justin slapped a clip into the Colt and walked outside.
Farewell, Good Luck...And Goodbye
The elevator doors were pulling closed when a large, ebony forearm with a ham-sized fist attached to it bulled between them. The doors bucked jarringly and then stopped obligingly, retracting with the faint electric hum of servos, as Dave Childress stepped easily into the car.
“Hey, meat!” he said cheerfully. “Got all the downloads yet? You ready for the great escape?”
“The great escape,” Justin echoed. “Right. How dare you scoff at the main attraction, sir? Doc Holiday gets a rematch with the Clantons, and all you want to talk about is travel brochures.” He raised an eyebrow. “You’re out stalking the halls early, D.C. What’s the story? You here to see me off?”
Childress smiled broadly, revealing a pair of platinum-capped teeth. “That I am, Mister Marshall. That I am. Decided to make a quick detour, pay my respects then boot your tall ass out the door after. Gotta give the house boy a proper sendoff, doncha know?”
Justin laid a hand across his heart. “I’m touched.”
“Figured you were,” Dave deadpanned. “In the head.” He fell silent for a moment, his own head instinctively bowed an inch or two below the car’s roof. Then, suddenly, he asked: “You got those flasks?”
“They’re in the bag and not much else,” Justin said. He liked David, who was a young forty-seven and worked first shift for Vault security. D.C. was an old-school, off-the-cuff, “Here-it-is-and-if-you-don’t-like-it, so?” kind of person who accepted others in that same open manner. And, he was also the sole member of the brass class who hadn’t started carrying a pistola when the stress levels sprialed out of sight. Dave monitored the dwindling supplies in stores, and left it at that. Water stocks, especially. They were down to a four to five month supply.
“Flasks ain’t enough but they’ll have to do,” D.C. was saying now. “Damn, I hope you dig us up a chip somewhere. Soon. Ain’t had much trouble lately but the citizens are startin to get weird again. You know it. I got this end. You got the other.”
Justin nodded. “Theresa and her crew still giving you trouble?”
“No more ‘n usual,” Childress said with an uncharacteristic sourness. “Lil high-hat skirt an her outdoor wannabes think they got it all figured out. You oughta know.”
Justin grinned. “You could say that.” He and Theresa Mullen knew each other well. She was a spirited, pony-tailed redhead with a deceptive – and wholly persuasive – coyness that usually smothered her flaming Irish temper. She was confident and stubborn, with a determination that was a bit familiar. They weren’t all that different, he supposed. Except how each had gone about planning their exodus.
As the staff in Command had continued debating how to approach the chip problem, Theresa had spent that same time resolutely working the background, spearheading what was now a large and extremely vocal faction of supporters who wanted to leave the Vault. And they weren’t too particular about how. He’d dropped in on a couple of her rebel info sessions…and had been shown the door toot sweet after suggesting that maybe their leaving the Vault as one group might be a good idea.
Obviously, she wasn’t going to buy into that. Say what he would about her modus operandi, but people sat up and took hard notice whenever the brazen and outspoken Ms. Mullen came around. She had cornered sizable support with her single-minded blend of soapboxing and bamboozling. Her minions were organized and efficient, however; their preparation had left much to be desired.
When they weren’t being accused of liberating and stockpiling supplies like a bunch of packrats, Theresa and her group had begun training in the SimTek simulators about a year ago, readying for the palace revolt that seemed inevitable. She had stirred them all with a big stick, and people had taken sides. Opinions were being backed up with force – several fistfights had broken out as a result, as tempers among the hardliners began to flare.
Justin pointed at Dave’s empty hip. “Things are starting to liven up, my friend. You going to be able to keep the lid on darling Theresa?”
“Don’t need a strap for her,” Childress scoffed. “She ain’t no big deal. Bat her eyes, shake her tail then swing it around. Always givin folks that ‘poor me’ song-and-dance when she talk to em. Never think about nobody else but her. Thas Theresa…I’m tryin to tell ya. Besides,” he added with a wry grin, “folks upstairs tend to forget about us bluesuits below, an we ain’t been all that busy. ‘Cept for water, ‘bout all we watchin is empty lockers and walls. We got time to keep a fine eye on her silly ass. Put her out of your mind, Justin. They all follow her an she ain’t goin nowhere. You just take care of business. You got the PipBoy, right?
“It’s in the bag,” Justin said, silently thankful for cooler heads, and feeling his weight shift downward, as the elevator slowed.
“Hey, meat. About the gun…”
“What about it?”
“Load it up,” David said with troubled eyes. “Make sure it stay that way.”
Justin nodded. “That I will, Mr. Childress…that I will.”
Then the car stopped, more firmly, and Justin thought: Rock bottom. Level One: all points of egress. A light shiver touched him as the doors slid back…and then he thought that fear was a tangible thing, after all. But this door was open, and one led to another – it was time to go. He rocked on his heels, then Dave grabbed his arm. Hard.
“Got somethin for ya,” he said, tossing another water flask into Justin’s pack.
“D.C., what’s this f – ”
“Don’t ask,” he said quietly. “Call it a tip. Or for luck, whatever. Look, I ain’t much on goodbyes. Just watch your back.” He leaned down until their faces were inches apart, then his voice dropped to a low rumble. “Don’t need no more MIAs, meat. You come back…understand?”
Justin patted Dave’s cheek. “I plan to. You going to wait up for me?”
“We’ll all be, you crazy shit,” Childress said, releasing Justin’s arm. “And the boss is waitin now.”
“The boss man beckons,” Justin said absently, glancing into the junction. “Hold the fort, D.C.…I’ll see you.”
Dave tipped a finger. “You got it. Take care, meat.”
“I got your meat,” Justin said, grinning a forced half-grin. Leaving was harder than he thought it would be…but then the doors rolled shut and D.C. was gone.
Typical, Justin thought, his grin fading as he turned and began to walk, cutting hard left around the junction wall and into the entry foyer. As expected, he saw Ken and several others waiting for him by the inner security door – including Kristen McVay, the head of Vault security. And surprise – she was armed.
“A paranoid old man with a control complex.” That was what Theresa called Ken, among other things. But then, this was nothing new. He thought that Theresa would piss and moan about anything that anybody in Ops suggested, on principle alone. But Ken was the standard bearer; he wore the crown, so to speak, and that made him a target when things turned sour, much like it had in another life.
The political structure of the Vault was set up to operate much like an old-world democracy, with Ken as the president, and the staff in Ops as his cabinet. In their sealed society, there were few real decisions to be made, but the amount of work required to keep tabs on day-to-day operations made a chain of command absolutely necessary. The fundamental concept was sound, but in all fairness, there was a glaring drawback that no one could recrify.
Anyone sixteen or older was entitled to vote for their ‘president’ of choice but to date, in the history of the Vault, only two elections had ever been held. There was no length of term attached to the Overseer position – it was for life, and that fact had become much to the growing irritation of some.
Ken was a gravel-voiced, fatherly sixty-four (and was, by his own admission, a company man). He was conservative, but that didn’t make him a manipulating monster. He cared about all of them equally and took that responsibility seriously. Until the chip failure, he had ‘overseen’ the digs for almost forty years without complaint or incident, and then suddenly found himself as the villian.
And that wasn’t fair or right, Justin maintained. Because while Ken had the last word, he was knowledgable and reachable, willing to consider any discussion. He could be an engaging and entertaining host, but it was hardly a secret that the Vault and the welfare of its citizens were his main concern. That was his obligation, his job, and he had remained rock solid on one count. Without an all-clear signal, his word was “no” whenever the topic of people leaving the Vault came up.
Hence, the armed escort, Justin thought, as Ken approached him now.
“Ah, Justin,” he said, sounding genuinely pleased. “You’re here, good. How are you this morning?”
“Raring to go, I suppose,” Justin said, shuffling his feet nervously. He wished he had that butterfly net now. They and their fluttering wings were loose: all of them. “I’m sorry I had to skip Friday’s match. It was kind of a full day.” He and Ken did the cribbage and chess thing in the meeting room twice weekly. It passed the time.
Ken waved it off. “Ah, don’t give it a second thought. Besides, it gave me a chance to practice castling on the sim. I’ll be ready for you next time.”
“Count on it,” Justin said tightly. His smile felt only a little greasy for a crowd that was growing larger. Big smile for those cameras. A dozen or so people had spilled out of the Research and EML labs next door, and were milling about with the others in a quiet that was becoming deafening.
“You know as well as anyone what’s going on,” Ken said. “So, I don’t think there’s any need for me to explain. I assume you and Herm have reviewed the maps?”
“Just the two for the sectors between here and the other Vault,” Justin said. “We were an hour or so going over the roads. I didn’t think there was a reason to look farther than that, unless I have to.”
The Overseer nodded. “That’s understandable. You’re taking Big Pine Road through the Death Valley park?”
“Yes,” Justin confirmed, looking past Ken’s shoulder at Herm Stanton. He was standing at the door release terminal, his bald pate gleaming mellowly…and Justin could hear the words, as a brief, knowing look passed between them…
…the parks system used to run shuttles in and out of Big Pine all the time before the funding was pulled, Herm had mentioned yesterday. Many different peoples and cultures passed through there at one time or another…no way to gauge who or what might be there today. It’s only a short distance and, if a person were to exercise caution…
And then someone was tapping his shoulder.
“Are you with me?” Ken asked dryly.
Justin grinned sheepishly. “I’m sorry, Ken. I was just – ”
“Just sucking up!” Came a familiar, defiant shout from the rear of the foyer. Then Theresa the Terrible was shoving people aside, elbowing her way to the front without so much as an “excuse me”.
“Well lo and behold! If it isn’t Ms. ‘Outside is where we should be,’ Justin chanted, mocking Theresa’s rallying cry. God, he was sick of hearing that rhetoric. It had been going on for a year, and she was going to get a whole lot of people dead with her hot-headed ruse…and then sudden inspiration struck him.
“Come on up here and tell us all about it!” he challenged. “It isn’t allll that dangerous, is it? Oh, no! To start anew and live by our own skills and wits…why, that’s the great adventure!”
“That’s right, it is!” Theresa hissed, slightly out of breath as she reached the inner door. “And you – ”
“Why don’t you toddle off and make things worse than already they are,” Justin cut in, not giving her a chance to think. He didn’t want her to, yet. “Maybe you and your gang could pour over the Vault Dweller’s Survival Guide instead. It might help, you never know.”
“Why are we sending you out there?” Theresa flashed, rolling her eyes in disgust. “Is that the best you can come up with? Listen, mister, I’ll have you know that that thing is part of our program. I’ve read it fifty times; I know it better than – ”
“That thing,” Justin broke in, “was written eighty-five years ago. It’s outdated, but people are still buying into it like it’s gospel. People like you,” he said accusingly. He lifted his sunglasses and then dipped his head low, looking down on her, staring down on her for emphasis. “The rules have changed…it doesn’t apply. It’s garbage…it belongs in the trash.”
“How do you know it’s garbage?”, she snapped, balling her hand into fists. Her cheeks had gone bright crimson. “How do you fit your head through doors? You and your holier-than-thou attitude don’t know any more about the outside than the rest of us! Just because you’re his pawn,” she raged, throwing a smoldering glance at the Overseer, “doesn’t make you an authority on the subject!”
“What are you, jealous?” Justin asked innocently.
“Of what?” Theresa blazed. “Watching you play step-and-fetch-it? Hardly! Even if you do find another chip, what are we supposed to do after that? What happens after the next thing breaks down – and the next? This place is falling apart! We can’t stay in here forever, and that’s why I’ve been trying to convince others that we should leave – ”
Theresa closed her mouth with a snap, suddenly aware of where she was.
“Leaving? Really?” Ken gently injected, as Kristen stepped automatically behind Theresa. There was a hard, mirthless cast in his deep blue eyes that didn’t quite match the even tone in his voice. “Care to tell me about it, Theresa?” he prodded. “Or perhaps I should attend one of your meetings for the details.”
He let the implication hang, as additional security personnel arrived. The Research and EML staff must have recalled a sudden, urgent appointment that required their collective attention. And right now, Doc, Justin thought. Doors were rolling up and feet were moving past them as by ones and twos, people began filing away. Several of the early arrivals were part of Theresa’a clan, and now they too, were quickly discovering other things to do. Justin wondered if they would still be a part of her faction after today.
Theresa had leaned against the inner security door. Her hands were behind her back, like someone who has been handcuffed. That seemed appropriate. She was very still. And very pale.
And the foyer was nearly empty.
“Theresa, I respect your right to assemble and to disagree with policy,” Ken said firmly, “but you have to know that your activities are jeopardizing the welfare of all.” He sighed, then added: “That welfare is my obligation – ”
“How did you find out?” Theresa burst out, and then promptly answered herself with a jerk of her head toward Justin. “He told you, didn’t he? He’s only leaving because he’s under your thumb – right where you want him. He’s just another one of your stupid tools and he doesn’t even know – ”
“You want stupid?” Justin cut in with blunt, sudden force. “Look in the mirror. In case you missed the news, lady, here’s the update – we are down to where it binds, and we can’t afford to play follow the blind leader. You might know that pile of trash guide inside and out, but that info doesn’t make this any less of a crap shoot.”
“We’ve been over this before,” Theresa said sullenly. “If the outside is so dangerous, then why are you going out alone? Why not send a out whole team with weapons and equipment?”
“Because we don’t have any,” Justin said briskly, mentally crossing his fingers. Just a little more, then this shortsighted bitch could find somewhere else to be. He unshouldered the pack, and dug through it until he found the gun. It wasn’t hard to find. He pulled it out and flipped it to her, sans clip. “That’s all there is.”
Theresa caught the pistol more out of reflex, her own fate temporarily forgotten as she turned the lightweight weapon over curiously in her hands. They could see it was the first time that Theresa had ever handled a gun. Her expression was tinged with an almost dreadful fascination as she studied it.
“Is that really necessary?” Kristen asked with a hint of reproach.
Ken was wondering himself. His bushy gray eyebrows went up a notch as he Justin exchanged glances. Justin gave a little shrug – Let’s see. Ken looked at him thoughtfully, then, after a moment, pressed a finger to his lips. Kristen nodded sharply and remained silent.
“All right,” Theresa said, looking up at last. Her blue-gray eyes were filled with clear, sharp anger, but her tone had softened. “What’s your point?”
“My point is, I agree with you,” Justin said in a slow, measured tone. And now Theresa’s face began to fill with wary surprise. “You’re right, you know. We can’t stay in here forever, but you’re forcing the issue. You want to send people out into speculation and generalities, and that’s too much of a risk. Have a look at Josh and Ed, if you don’t believe me. They went out, and no one knows what happened to them. There’s far too much we don’t know, and you’re trying to find out the wrong way.”
“And what are we supposed to do, stay in here and drink poisoned water, or die of thirst.” Theresa said stubbornly. “It’s only a matter of time before we run out of water here. The outside world can’t be as bad as everyone says, and a few hazards out there are better than dying of thirst in here.” She jabbed a finger at the inner door, and now her voice rose to a shrill pitch. “This Vault has been home for a long time but it wasn’t meant to keep people inside forever! This has been going on for too long! We’ll all have a better chance out there and now it’s time to make our way outside! We have the people and the supplies to move and I – ”
Theresa inhaled sharply, then the color seemed to drain instantly from her face. Her hands shook as she brushed a loose hair from her eyes in a detached, absent way, like an afterthought, and her cheeks were ashen when she lowered her head, and began shaking it slowly, side to side. “You bas…”, she managed, barely above a whisper.
Yes! Justin thought exuberantly.
“Supplies.” Ken said flatly, and now Theresa began making weak moaning noises, low and faint, in the back of her throat. “It seems that we’ve narrowed the list of suspects,” Ken went on colorlessly. “Theresa, I believe that you and I will have much to discuss…later.” He waved a hand a Kristen. “Get her out of here.”
“I’ll need this,” Justin chimed in, plucking the pistol from Theresa’s hand. “And you have a nice day in detention.”
“Fuck you,” Theresa muttered thickly.
“I just luuuv you, too,” Justin replied sweetly. He wondered how her mouth tasted with her feet in it.
“Come on, dearie,” Kristen said with great relish, taking Theresa’s arm. “Time to go.”
Theresa shook the hand off. “Watch it, you old bitch.”
“You watch your mouth or you and me are going to have a serious problem,” Kristen bristled. “You’re in deep enough as it is. You want to add resisting arrest to it?”
Theresa glared at her and said nothing. Her pouty, downcast expression would have been comical if the situation weren’t so deadly serious.
“Move it, hon,” Kristen said coldly. “With or without the cuffs. Now, what’ll it be?”
Theresa looked from one to the other, her face irate and dejected, but not defeated. “You’re all a bunch of fools,” she said stonily. “You’ll see, soon enough.” Then she turned and marched away, head up, flanked by Kristen and two other guards.
Home, sweet, home, Justin thought, as they rounded the corner. It had gotten that bad…but maybe now it could be a little better for a while. “She won’t be exiled, will she?”
“No, no,” Ken said heavily. “Now that we can pinpoint the source of the shortages, I don’t think it will come to that. That was a good piece of work you did.”
“Thanks for playing along with it,” Justin said, reshouldering the pack.
The Overseer gazed at Justin, troubled. “I don’t like having to do it this way, but we’re out of options.” He sighed. “And, speaking of which…”
“Time to play beat the clock,” Justin said cooly. “Let’s do it.” With Theresa’s sideshow antics, leaving seemed almost anticlimatic.
“Very well,” Ken rasped. “You have the secondary maps, and I know you’re well aware of the regions they cover. They’re there if you need them…hopefully, you won’t.” Ken fell silent for a long moment, rubbing his forehead, as if a headache were about to appear, and then a slow, strained smile crossed his deeply lined face. “Justin, there isn’t any way I can tell you how much I appreciate you volunteering for this,” Ken said. “I wish there were another means, but there isn’t, and I wouldn’t risk losing another of my Ops people if this weren’t so important. Look, just be safe, okay?”
“I will,” Justin said simply. There was nothing more for him to add.
Ken nodded miserably, then he motioned to Herm. He keyed the code, then they all stood and watched as the warning lights above the inner door begin to flash bright red, covering their faces with crimson paint, as Justin looked back at Ken, then at Herm. There was only the three of them now, and in the stillness, they could clearly hear four muted clicks as the double-thick doors unlocked, and then slowly drew back.
And then there was one, Justin thought, as he stepped into the exit corridor. He barely had time to clear an electricial cable as thick as his wrist before the heat hit him like a hammer – beads of sweat popped onto his forehead, as the flourescents along the tops of the walls flickered slowly to life. The air in his lungs was hot and laden with dust; he could almost taste it, as he looked down the long corridor. The dry smell in here reminded him of something barely out of mind’s reach. It was…spicy? He couldn’t place it but the corridor was within his reach. It was clear…and was like he had walked into a forty-foot long drying oven.
Throwing a concerned glance over his shoulder, Justin said: “Give me two or three minutes before you open the outer door, would you?”
“Of course,” Ken rasped, his voice heavy with emotion. “Be careful, Justin…and good luck.” Then he turned away quickly. Seconds later, the inner door closed and relocked.
It was on.
Justin looked at the door for a long moment, then he inhaled deeply, fighting an urge to sneeze as stale, dusty air rushed past his nostrils. There was a terminal out here, he saw, ignoring his concern about the heat that was beginning to worry him. The terminal was active. For what reason, he didn’t know, but there was a utility locker above it, set flush into the east wall. He banged on the edge of the door to loosen the seal, then he tried the handle…
The door swung open with a rending creak, and inside was another pair of flares. They were flaked and worn, as dry as the dusty air, but looked to be in good condition otherwise.
He slipped the pack off and let it drop and then, moving quickly, he scooped the flares out of the locker and stuffed them into the other side compartment of the pack. Sweat trickled into his eyes as he grabbed the PipBoy and strapped it securely to his left wrist.
There was venting out here but it was dead. No climate control, he noticed. He wiped his forehead with his sleeve, silently thanking D.C. for the extra water flask. The temperature had zoomed up by ten or fifteen degrees, more heat than the seventy he was used to dealing with.
This much heat was a bad sign for things to come, and he was still in the Vault. How bad is it outside? He thought. What would that be like? His cheeks puffed as he blew out a stale breath and thought he would soon know.
He was loading rounds into the last of the clips, when the steel grating underfoot began to chatter. The incredible vibrating floor seemed to set off yet another set of warning lights, this time a row of evenly spaced bubble domes on the ceiling. They began their spinning gyrations, coating the walls with pulsing, scarlet shadows. A strobe effect, he thought anxiously, watching the shades of red phase in and out, in perfect sync with the blaring, teeth-rattling echo from the claxon alarm at the far end of the corridor.
“Strike up the band, boys,” he said nervously, barely hearing himself above the steady din. He began to move toward the exit with care, looking on with tense anticipation as almost thirty tons of PermaSteel outer door slid forward with ridiculous ease, grinding stones and dirt into fine powder as the gearlike door settled smoothly into its cogged track.
He heard the breathy hiss – psssst…tcssssss – of working pneumatics, followed by the dull clank of the inner stabilizer arm, as it gripped the massive door’s center hub…
…and pulled it, Justin saw, scarcely breathing, as the shrill pneumatics and deep throaty grind engulfed his ears during its slow, deliberate roll…right…to left…
…Open.
The warning lights faded, then the alarm cut off. The flourescents buzzed cold and bright overhead, but the caverns outside were dim and silent as he neared the door, leaving only the soft pad of his footsteps and the sudden rush inside his head –
…we have no choice son…we have to stay in here…ask your father he’ll tell you why we’re…
…down to where it binds and we can’t afford…
…the Great War that’s right…now off to the library with you…seek my only son and you shall find…
…the chip…we’re out of choices…we need the chip to…
…watch some of the holodisk movies again…you wanna go Justin…come on you can go back to those dumb files later…but why?…
…are we sending you out there…listen mister…
…load it up…make sure it stay that way…
Justin slapped a clip into the Colt and walked outside.