Fallout: Vault Dwellers

[The-Artist-64]

A story I'm working on, and I've got the three chapters I've already done up on DeviantART. Working on Chapter VI at the moment, so I'm pretty far along. Just figured I'd start to post it here. This chapter is poorly written, I know, but bear with me. It gets better. Just....know that I'm not the best author.

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"When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears;
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?"

-William Blake, The Tyger


Vault City Productions Presents...

FALLOUT: VAULT DWELLERS

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CHAPTER I: THE LETTER​

Through the blazing sun he walked, sweat trailing down his spine. There was no indication of life anywhere, but he was used to it. He checked his Pip-Boy 3000S for any nearby radio signals.

None.

So, he continued his walk. Minutes turned to hours, till the sun began to fall back into the west.

And, through the corner of his wary eye, there was a small metal shack. Was it possible? Life?

He found his way to the front door, as he had been walking towards the back. He turned the knob, and the old door screeched open. The inside appeared to be a bar of some sorts. One man sat in a stool, and another in a chair nearby. An odd looking bartender served drinks. A lovely sound came from a radio sitting on the table, a sound of hope and joy. It made him smile.

"What is that wonderful noise?" he asked to no one in particular.

"Dream by the Four Aces. Recorded in 1954, if you can believe that. More than three centuries ago." the man sitting in the stool replied. It was strange for such an old song to be played, but sometimes that's all that could be found in the wasteland.

He sat down on a stool next to the man. "My name is Isaac. You seem to know a lot about history." Isaac said, trying to remember how he was taught to greet others.

"Edward. I used to teach history." he replied. Edward took a sip of the warm Nuka-Cola he bought from the bartender earlier. He was a tall man with dark hair. What stood out most to Isaac, however, was the clothes he was wearing. It was the same dark blue jumpsuit Isaac had worn all his life, but with a different number.

"So, Edward," he began curiously, "I noticed that you're wearing a jumpsuit like mine."

"Yep. Standard Vault-Tec issue jumpsuit." Edward said. He seemed suspicious.

"Wait a minute...there were other vaults?"

Edward blinked in disbelief. "Surely you know that! Either you took that jumpsuit off a corpse or something was seriously wrong with Vault..." he checked the number on Isaac's collar. "38."

"I never really payed attention to that sort of thing." he looked over at the table, where the other man was drinking water. He seemed to have gone through lots of bottles. This man was different. He had blond hair, and he was as pale as a sheet of paper. He was dressed in a long leather coat with the arms removed, worn over a white t-shirt; essentially light armor. He was very dehydrated.

The music began to phase out, and the radio let out sparks.

"Damn! That's the third time this week." the bartender shouted in frustration. Isaac immediately pulled the radio aside, opened the side and tinkered with the electronics inside. After a minute he closed it up and put it back. The bartender smiled when the machine began to function again. "Well I'll be! You got it working again! I was worried I'd have to get another one. Thank you!" he turned to his cabinet. "For your trouble, how about a free drink?"

"Yeah. I'll take a beer." Isaac said. The bartender reached for a bottle of Gamma Gulp brand beer. He set it on the table, making sure to remove the bottle cap.

"Here you go! Enjoy."

As he walked into the other room, Isaac quickly leaned in to Edward's ear.

"Why does he look like a corpse?" he whispered, trying to be polite.

"Well, when you take too much radiation, there are two things that can happen. You either die, or end up like him." Edward quietly sighed. "Poor man. He's so kind too."

Isaac shook his head in agreement and continued to drink. The bartender walked back into the room and began the long and tedious process of cleaning off the glasses. There was a long silence after that, the bar only being filled with the sound of the radio.

Finally, the bartender spoke once more. "You headed anywhere in particular?" he looked towards Isaac, leaning on the table.

"No." he said.

"How about you?" the bartender looked at Edward, who was reading a pre-war book.

"Not really." he replied. The bartender smiled.

"In that case, I've got some work if you're interested." he said. Isaac's interest was peaked.

"What kind of work?" he asked.

"I've got a letter I need delivered up north, to a little town some folks call 'Blight'...always found the title rude personally. I'd walk there myself, but I'm not as spry as I used to be."

"Blight? As in the place that was shunned by everyone in Boomtown? The area is crawling with Super Mutants." the man sitting at the table said. Everyone turned their attention to him.

"What?" the bartender croaked, wide eyed. "That...oh my. I need to know if they're okay."

"Super Mutants? Sounds dangerous." Isaac said.

"I could go with you guys. I've taken down more than a few of them." the man offered.

"I guess that makes three of us." Isaac noted.

"My name's David, by the way." the man added.

"All right. So that's three...at how many caps each?"

"100 up front, 250 when you get back." the bartender said.

"Hmm...this is a dangerous mission. How about 250 up front and 400 when we get back, to cover expenses." Edward said. The bartender sighed.

"I'll do that, but no more." he said. The bottle caps were given to each man, and they all prepared themselves. They stepped outside, the bartender, Andrew, nodding as a goodbye. The air was cold and heavy, and the night had already came.

They walked onto the desolate, empty highway, squaring their shoulders at the task ahead.

 

[The-Artist-64]

Yeah, not too proud of this one either. Chapter III is when it gets good.​

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CHAPTER II: THE LONG NIGHT

​

Blackened, shriveled tree stumps lined the dusty, weathered highway, a lonely road darkened by the night sky. The only noise that could be heard in the empty void was the 'click clack' of boots upon the road. Nothing was said. Nothing had to be said.

In his hand Edward clutched the yellowed, stained envelope, and pressed forward. David did very much the same, but with a more wary eye. But Isaac? He was half asleep, kept only awake by his self-assigned mission of counting the number of threads in the big yellow 25 on the back of Edward's vault jumpsuit. He rubbed his eyes from exhaustion.

"Are we there yet?" he groaned, already knowing the answer.

"You can't just walk 83 miles in one night, Isaac." Edward replied sternly. "But...God, of all things to run dry, why did it have to be the oil fields?" he murmured to himself, staring up at a billboard advertising a Corvega coupe- only $199,999.99.

The highway was, for the most part, barren of cars. It was a rare event for one to come across any vehicle at all, and most of the time it was one of those dangerous, unpopular fusion-powered cars or a withering, yet still vibrant yellow school bus. It wouldn't matter anyways, because it would be beyond fixable. The 94 Stretch, in particular, was quite empty- aside from the occasional blackened, abandoned town or long-gone, looted roadside diner, nothing stood. A town with living people of any kind was a rarity due to the harsh weather of the wasteland.

"Maybe there's something on the radio." Isaac suggested, and began to turn the knob on his Pip-Boy. Through the static, he heard a voice. "Hey, I think I found a station!" the men waited for a cheery, pre-war song to emerge from the speakers of the device and bring them out of their hellish existence, if only for a little while. What came out was far from what they expected.

"WE INTERRUPT OUR NORMAL PROGRAMMING IN COOPERATION WITH SECURITY AND CIVIL DEFENSE MEASURES AS REQUESTED BY THE UNITED STATES GOVERNMENT. THE PRESIDENT HAS DECLARED DEFCON 1. NUCLEAR WAR IS IMMINENT. ALL RESIDENTS OF THE GREAT LAKES REGION SHOULD-"

"Turn it off! Turn it off!" Edward shouted over the blaring, centuries-old message.

"I can't!" Isaac tried every button, every dial, every knob, but nothing seemed to work. Unable to find a way off of the station, he relented and powered the Pip-Boy off. The two took a moment to breathe, and David shook his head in disbelief. "So what was that all about?" Isaac asked, roused from his weariness.

"You really don't know?" Edward said in disbelief. "An emergency broadcast, on repeat for the last 202 years. You know, because people would like to know if they're going to be nuked." Isaac nodded.

"So, the war- why did it happen anyways?"

"Well, the Earth started to deplete of fossil fuels around the 2050s." Edward began, reciting the history from memory. "Everyone wanted it, and that nearly tore the world apart. By the 2070s, Europe was a battle ground, the Middle East a smoldering mess and all of the oil gone. Those dirty commies tried to take our oil, and we fought to reclaim it. It was the United States and China, head to head. They already occupied most of Asia and Australia by the time of the war. They were a formidable foe, but we fought on bravely. Eventually, we had won, but then came World War III. October 23, 2077. And now, here we are, in the wreckage of the world, 2279. Chairman Xin Cheng and all of China are gone, and unfortunately we're set back too. But believe me, the United States is coming back. This great nation will rise again." he ended his speech bitterly.

"Interesting." Isaac nodded in fascination, and silence fell once again. It lasted for a mile or so, before being broken by the drawing of weapons. Three giant wasps were charging at them!

David was the first to spring into action, whipping out his sniper rifle at an unrivaled speed, a dexterous maneuver. He opened fire, shooting through the wing of one of the attackers. Slowed down by the shot, the wasp collapsed after being hit by three more bullets. A shrill death squeal confirmed the kill.

Edward was slower to react, but made up for it in his tactics. The wasp readied its stinger, sure in its victory. With an adrenaline-filled heave, he lugged his pipe wrench with all of his might at the mutated insect. It circled in anger, and he did the same. A final charge was met with another swing, which critically hit the mighty creature. It fell to its death, pale straw-colored blood spurting from its gashes.

Isaac drew the only thing he could muster up, a 10mm pistol. He took 4 rapid, albeit clumsy shots at the powerful insect. 3 went through its thick exoskeleton, but it continued its aggressive attack. Cursing himself for not procuring a better weapon, he continued his fire. The creature, in one last burst of energy, thrust its poisonous stinger into his stomach before falling to the ground. Isaac staggered backwards, violently coughed, and took a moment to vomit. The others quickly came to his aid.

"Oh crap. Are you alright Isaac?" Edward asked his comrade.

Through blurry vision, the blond haired vault dweller responded with a sickly "I...I guess." before vomiting once again. Edward, always a prepared man, reached into his sack for a Doctor's Bag and a bottle of Antidote.

"Don't worry, I'll get you fixed up. Now, I'm going to have to remove the stinger. It'll hurt, but it's better than the alternative." he said. Isaac nodded, sweating from the poison. The men laid him down on the desert floor, and began their work under the moonlit skies.

Removing the stinger brought more vomit, and left him shaking. The gash left on his abdomen was cleaned with alcohol (actually from a bottle of whiskey), and covered with a medical bandage to allow for healing. Finally, the Antidote was consumed. He was left, dazed, but recovering.

"We should probably set up camp for the night. He'll need to sleep it off." Edward said, combing his dark hair into place. David nodded, and unrolled the bedrolls that they had packed.

Edward's Pip-Boy 2000, mounted on his wrist by a black elastic band, listed the time as 1:33 AM. An alarm was set for 6:00 in the morning, so that they wouldn't oversleep. He laid on his bedroll, pondering about what the next day would bring. He tried to divert his thoughts away from his past, from Vault 25. However, there was one thought in particular that kept him up for an hour.

"What's in that envelope?"

 

[The-Artist-64]

This. This is where it gets good.

---

CHAPTER III: LONELY WASTELAND


​

The sun had risen, and with it, a new day had come. The air was warm and dusty, and the quiet morning breeze made a rustling sound as it passed through the withered tall grass.

Isaac slowly opened his eyes to the sky, blinking several times to adjust to the light. He spent a moment trying to recall the events of last night, but to no avail. He grimaced in pain as he attempted to adjust himself, covering his bandaged wounds with his arm. Turning his head to face his front, he noticed that his comrades were already starting off the day. To his left, David was sitting on a rock and doing the meticulous task of scouring the bore of his sniper rifle. He was deeply focused, and to interrupt his work wouldn't be a good idea.

To his right, he observed the sun shining through a caved-in cottage. Upon what was the lawn, next to a dented mailbox stood a tall iron pole, the American flag waving proudly from it. He barely recognized it, the thirteen stars encircling one smug star, the red, white and blue only a hazy memory. Something he had seen in a book, perhaps.

Edward appeared to be expressing allegiance to this torn and weathered rectangle of fabric, the words he uttered only faintly audible from the distance. Once he finished, he sipped down a bottle of Nuka-Cola Victory. Somehow, he was already clean shaven with slicked back hair. The flag almost seemed to give him comfort and hope, which he would need to get through the day.

Isaac finally managed to get on his feet, scratching his head. Edward turned to him, surveying his bandages.

"I see you're up. Are you feeling alright?" he asked, slipping the glass bottle into a strap on the faded straw-colored utility belt he wore around his waist.

"I guess, yeah." he said, still covering his wound. He looked off to the side, pausing for a moment. "Thanks. You saved my life."

"Of course. Don't mention it." he said with a proud grin on his typically dull and depressed face. Isaac couldn't help but smile either. He had a friend, and friendship was indeed a hard thing to come by nowadays.

"So I'm guessing we should get back to the road now, huh." he said.

"Yep." he looked over to their comrade, who had been quietly listening in to everything. "You ready David?" he shouted from a distance. The rugged man slung his rifle across his back and stood up from the rock, a non-auditory 'yes'.

They set out once more, further on down the road. The sky was clear, and there were few obstacles in their way. They were making good time, only stopping for supplies once. A caravan was passing in the opposite direction, and the men decided that it was in their best interest to stock up on supplies.

Edward had purchased five bottles of Nuka-Cola, which was when the others began to recognize an addiction. Isaac traded his 10mm pistol and a handful of bottle caps for a Wattz 1000 Laser Pistol with 12 small energy cells. David wisely held onto his money, recognizing that he may need it later.

"So where are you headed?" the merchant asked, making small talk. He was a balding, listless looking man who spoke in a monotone voice. Two Brahmin behind him were hitched to what used to be the back end of a car, with several crates in the open, rusty trunk. The trunk was painted haphazardly with the words 'JUNCTION CITY TRADING CO'. He was followed by a silent guard in leather armor, similar in stature and disposition to David. The guard closely watched their every move, and looked like he would be ready to shoot them at any moment.

"We're going to a town next door to Boomtown. We've got a letter to deliver."

The merchant nodded. "We used to do runs to Boomtown all the time, did a lot of trading there. Of course, place is a warzone now. Gotta bypass it. Yep, we used to walk 'bout a thousand miles and back on our route. Started back home in Junction City, did some trading with the Brotherhood of Steel in Brahmin Wood and the Devil's Graveyard..."

Isaac was peaked in curiosity, and motioned for the man to stop. "Brotherhood of Steel? Who are they?"

"Oh, the Brotherhood? Just a bunch of thugs with big guns trying to take over everything they can see. Last I heard they're going westward, so I don't think you'd see any of 'em around here." the merchant informed. Isaac nodded, taking note.

"So we would go through Junk Haven, then to Boomtown, and then south to avoid the radiation from the Detroit Crater. After that we'd follow the Erie Stretch and push north. We'd stop in a settlement called North Star, up in what some call the Winter Wonderland. Boy is that place cold! Colder than back home, that's for sure." he said. The guard rolled his eyes, and the man continued on with his rambling. "We also used to go south, all the way to the blackened prairies of Mississippi. 'Bout a decade ago, one of our caravans was attacked by a guy...if you could call him that. Had the strength of a super mutant, I tell you. He somehow impaled the driver with the brahmin...I don't know how, but I still get nightmares from it-"

"We don't have all day, boss." the guard said, finally putting an end to the chatter. The merchant nodded, and turned back to the men.

"Right, right." he replied. "Well, be safe out there." he said, in his usual monotone voice. They nodded, and both parties began walking in opposite directions.

They hadn't taken much notice to the darkness ahead, and continued their walk. Dust occasionally swirled by, and a bolt of lightening flashed miles ahead. It had quickly become a grim, depressing day- then again, it would be hard to have a hopeful atmosphere in a lonely wasteland.

They'd gone for a few hours without speaking, but with a more friendly air than before. Edward would occasionally check the map on his Pip-Boy, if only to let the others know that he was still there. He was tempted to start up a conversation to keep himself from thinking too much, but then figured that perhaps the emptiness was better.

After walking a long way down the desolate highway, they began to wonder if the road would go on forever with nothing in sight. Then, amazingly, Isaac saw something in the distance. He squinted, just to make sure that it was real.

"Hey, I think I see something up ahead." he announced, a hint of excitement in his voice.

"I don't see anything." Edward noted. "...But, I lost my glasses a while ago." as he said this, David whipped out a pair of rusted binoculars and placed the filthy, corroded glass lenses to his sharp eyes.

"It's a town." he said. He wasn't sure how the others felt, but Isaac proceeded with a glimmer of hope inside.

The town consisted of about fifteen small wooden shacks, all doused in white paint. They were quite obviously made after the war, and judging by the look of the structures they were still in use. While not deliberately threatening, it was a strange sight to behold.

The others didn't mind, but Edward entered the town with caution. David, although not hit with the same gut feeling, walked in with the thought that there were a lot of freaks in the wasteland.

As the three proceeded down the road, through the town, Isaac would occasionally look to his sides to see if anyone was there. It was just as desolate as the road, and Edward's sense of uneasiness continued to grow. "We should probably just keep going. I don't think there's anything here." he said. They all froze in place when the noise began.

It started off as one stream, but quickly began to echo from the other buildings. It was clearly audible, nothing they would imagine, as it was only accompanied by the sorrowful winds. As the noise grew, they listened more intently. It was a disturbing sound, crackling through the static of radio waves- an unholy melody of twisted, painful screams, clanging and ringing metal, warped and backwards voices, and numbers. Random numbers, spoken by a voice that was somewhat human, but terrifyingly different too. The few minutes the sound emerged seemed like hours to them, as they stood trying to figure out what was happening.

It ended abruptly. Knobs moved, and radios were switched off. It was then that Edward's sense of dread was realized. There were people here, it was obvious now. Isaac had mustered up the courage to peek through one of the dusty windows and found a man on his knees, hands together. He was praying in the direction of the radio sitting on an aged, bent table in a corner of the room. His eyes widened, and he stepped back from the window.

The others had pieced it together by now- the berg was populated by a cult. Isaac backed away, and they attempted to leave the area as stealthily as they could.

"Greetings, wanderers!" the voice of an overly cheery, wrinkled and balding elderly man stopped them dead in their tracks. "Forgive us for not welcoming you sooner, for His Capacitance cannot be kept waiting. What brings you to Ashtown?" he inquired, a fake grin stuck on his face. Edward sighed, he knew that as the most charismatic of the group he had to speak for them. He put on his best smile and began to feign the same sense of warmness that the preacher had.

"Good afternoon, sir. Forgive us for taking your time, we're passing through." he said, as the two looked on. They were surprised at how good his act was.

"No, no! You're welcome any time!" the minister said, his unwashed robes blowing in the soft wind. "In fact, join us in our moment of prayer. It would bring His Capacitance much joy." Isaac rolled his eyes in annoyance while Edward quickly went over nice ways to decline.

"I'm afraid not. We've got a long road ahead, and we're on a tight schedule. We really can't stay." Edward said, sounding convincingly sorry. The preacher lowered his eyebrows, and took on an unpleased look. The sudden change was enough for him to appear menacing.

"...Oh. I see. Typical outsiders." he shook his head, and turned away. "Infidels. May Be'alza-Gates bring a dust storm your way." he muttered to himself. They stood for a little bit, having realized that they had barely learned a thing about the strange religious practices of the hamlet.

Edward sighed, relieved that it was over. "That was strange." he remarked. David definitely agreed, and had the same desire to leave the place. Curiosity got the best of Isaac, however. His scientific knowledge was very expansive, and from the names of the deities he concluded that they must worship technology...but who were they? Edward seemed to have a good geographic and political interest, and perhaps he knew.

"Edward, who are these people?" he asked.

"I'm not sure. You'd have to ask, and these people don't seem to be the most open." he replied. The others simply stared as him, as if telling him to do it.

He sighed. "Come on, you really expect me to talk to a bunch of whacked-out cultists?" Edward pleaded in a begging tone. Isaac stood firm.

"We should know if they could help us." he reasoned.

"Fine." he shuffled toward one of the wooden shacks. "You owe me." he said, turning around and pointing at Isaac. He knocked on the door, sighing. As the door creaked open, a woman appeared to answer. She appeared to be roughly 30 years of age, and wore a dusty old world dress. She had crow's feet on her face and looked a little worn down, but had a generally optimistic look about her.

She smiled, seemingly a courtesy offered to all in the town. "Hello, my brother. Can I help you today?" as she finished, Edward put on his charm.

"Yes, good afternoon ma'am. I'm just a traveler, passing through, and I wanted to learn a little bit about your lovely town. May I come in?" he gave his million dollar smile, and she motioned him in.

"Come in." the door closed behind them, and David and Isaac secured a hidden viewing spot by the window. Edward sat down on a musty couch, and she walked over to a barely functioning stove. "I was just making coffee. Would you like some?"

"No ma'am, I'm a Cola man myself." he laughed, and she sat down next to him.

"So...what would you like to know?" she said with a smile, eager to please her visitor.

He had it all planned out. "Well firstly, my dear, I'd like to know your name." she blushed, taken aback by the manners shown to her. The wasteland wasn't typically a friendly place.

"I'm pleased you asked. My name is Margaret." she said, sipping her mug of coffee and looking at him expectantly.

"Hi Margaret, I'm Edward." they shared a laugh, all really just an act to get the information.

"I'm pleased to meet you." she gave him a handshake and stared into his face. It stood out as cleaner than others, and his strange-looking outfit made him seem quite mysterious. "...Your smile is so sincere, but your eyes tell a different story. You're trying to forget something, aren't you?" she'd taken on a more serious look. He looked away, dropping some of his charm.

"No. Just...just tired." he blinked slowly, and then focused on Margaret once more.

"I know that look. I lost my husband three years ago." she replied, taking on a sad face.

"My condolences." Edward said, and they didn't speak for a little bit. He began his informational dig. "If you don't mind me asking, Margaret, where do your people come from? These roads are pretty empty, and I wouldn't expect much civilization from them."

She looked at him and smiled. "Well, you're such a kind person I think that you deserve to know the truth. We come from the west, a place called 'Newton'. We wished to worship and be left alone, and one day evil machines attacked our town. We fought bravely alongside men calling themselves a 'brotherhood', and together we destroyed the leader of these unholy forces. Then, the men in powered suits betrayed us. They took our technology, the thing that we valued among all else, and slaughtered our brothers and sisters. My parents were among those who fled during the mass killing. Our leader, the brave Albert Lamore the Second, led us here, to this barren land away from the danger."

"...And the current leader of your town, the preacher, he's the son of Lamore?" Edward asked, listening closely.

"Yes. He is a good, honest man. With his leadership and faith, we believe that His Capacitance will favor us and lead us to salvation." she smiled once more, having been holding Edward's hands.

"This...this god you worship. Who is He?" he asked, now genuine in his interest.

"The guide, He leads us through radio transmission. I'm not supposed to share this with outsiders, but here is the signal at which He broadcasts at." before Edward could respond, Margaret stood up. She pulled him up as well, and handed him a slip of paper. As he stuffed it in one of the compartments of his belt, she gave him a quick kiss. "We never spoke. Goodbye, Edward, and good luck."

Knowing not to say anything, he nodded politely and exited the building. Outside, Isaac and David were holding back laughter. Edward knew what they were going to say, and stopped them before they could.

"Not one word." he said. As they made their exit, the two cracked up even more.