The clouds above looked grey and daring. Daring anyone left out in the radiation infested water to survive the down pour they were about to unleash. "Looks like rain huh Jim?" One of the older men said. The other replied with a simple nod of the head. They were sitting on they're front porch. House made of scrap sat behind them, it had supported them for damn near 30 years, and would support them for many more. A rifle and a box of shells sat between them. They rarely used it, but safety first was the law of the wasteland.
The rain began as a simple pitter patter on the metal roof. They knew better than to expect it to last longer than a few minutes, it rarely did. Bill raised a small tin can to his mouth and spit in it, getting the excess of the chewing tobacco from his withered gums. "That shit's gonna kill you one day you know?" the other man said, Bill laughed, "Yeah, just like raiders and muties will. Damn Jim your like a broken record." They shared a laugh, it was an inside joke between the two. One naming something, the other saying 'It'll kill you, you know?'. It had kept them entertained for years. Or 'Damn near 30 years' as they put it. Bill spit in the can once more before sitting it back down.
The rain was lasting longer than usual, Bill had counted off the minutes, a habit he had picked up as a youngster. Just when he thought it would begin to eat away at the houses' roof it began to let up. As the last little plink plink plinks of the perspiration died away a figure appeared on the horizon. Bill and Jim lived in a crater so the horizon wasn't much farther than 100 yards. From here the boy looked 19 or so. He wore a jumpsuit. "Jim, you seeing this too?" Bill asked, Jim nodded, standing and grabbing the rifle. He pulled it to eye level, closing one eye, drawing a bead on the boy, just as his finger squeezed the trigger the boy fell, the bullet passed through where his body would have been had he not fallen. "Shit! Jim what the hell you do that for!" Bill yelled, grabbing the rifle from Jim's hands. "I didn't shoot him ya idiot, I missed!" "Don't look that way to me!" Bill spit his tobacco out, and slung the rifle onto his back, running the short distance to the boys now still body.
As he approached it was apparent that Jim had missed. And Jim was an excellent sharpshooter. "Your one lucky sonnovabitch, you know?" Bill said, hauling the boy to his feet, as he did he noticed the numbers '101' printed in yellow letters across the back of the jumpsuit. By the time Bill had the youngster on his feet Jim had arrived, the two men drug the boy back to they're house. Kicking open the door and laying him on the floor, they quickly reverted back to they're wasteland wandering days. Without a spoken word, Jim grabbed a fluid bag of Rad-Away, connected the tubing and needle to it. With a quick and precise movement he had the radiation counteracting medicine flowing into the boys body. All that was left to do was to wait.
The two men were at a home made table, playing a game of bullshit when the boy finally came to. He panicked, and tried to stand, his weak bodies response was only to roll out of the bed onto the floor. He was whispering to himself, and licking his lips. Both men knew what that was a sign for. Bill handed him one of they're few bottles of non-radiated water. He tried to chug it, but Bill snatched it away, saying "Small sips.". Seeing the men were no threat the boy allowed himself to follow they're advice. He took one small gulp of water, then another, and one last before sitting the bottle down. He had hardly made a dent. "What happened?" he asked, his voice raspy from the radiation. Jim had came from the table and was kneeling beside him. "You got caught out in the rain, boy. Don't you know any better?" The boy's head shook slowly. "What? What the hell you mean? Where you from?" "Vault 101." he answered. Bill scratched his head. "Their's a Vault City out west in California, you mean that place? Bunch of stuck up pricks out that way." The boy shook his head again. "No. California? No, here in D.C. Near Megaton… you know about vaults right?" Both men shook they're heads. The boy sighed. "Ok never mind. Help me back on the bed please, I feel weak." The two old men helped him onto the bed, easing his body slowly, he probably felt as old as they were. The rain was nothing to play with.
As he lay there, listening to the two men playing they're card game, his mind was racing, he could hear Three dog on the radio, talking about that little muther fucker that had ran out after his dad. In a way he hated him, but in a way he also owed him. Had he not ran out that night, Jake wouldn't have had a chance to escape himself. But right now it didn't matter, the rust in his veins was washing away, and his strength was returning. Tomorrow he would head east, into the ruins, to find this 'Three Dog'. He would know how to find that snot nosed brat. And if it was the last thing he did, he would kill that punk. To many people died in the perfect little world of Vault 101. Too many for it to go unjustified. This would end with one of them dying. And right now, as he lay in a shack, with two old men he didn't know, his clothes being eaten away from the residue of the acid-radio-rain, he didn't really care which one.
