Chapter 1: The Beginning

"Kit, did you finish your homework yet?" Mom called from somewhere in the house, her voice muffled by numerous walls.

I sighed heavily, knowing she wouldn't be able to hear me. My mom wasn't the kind of lady you wanted to sigh at, not unless you wanted a slap to the back of the head. I dropped the remote on the couch, writhing slightly as I stretched heartily, having been jolted from my television induced trance. It was the weekend, and I was enjoying my (very fake and delusional) lack of responsibilities without my mother bringing them up.

"No!" I responded, voice warbling as my body trembled in the release of relaxed muscles. "It's Saturday!"

"Why put off to tomorrow what you can do today?" Came her shouted reply, the sound of the washing machine rumbling to life.

I rolled my eyes, falling backwards on the couch and wishing that the burgundy cushions could swallow me whole. I'd spent nearly my entire day lying on the couch, only getting up to get dressed in a nice pair of clothes, basking in the sunlight coming through the bay window beside it and trying to forget that I did in fact have an excessive amount of homework due come Monday. That's what I get for taking Advanced Placement classes and Dual Enrolling at the local community college. Nonetheless, I was fairly certain that if I went back to my room and opened my backpack, I'd be at the business end of a nervous breakdown, so I decided to continue pretending I was carefree and at ease.

"Why do today what you can put off till tomorrow?" I asked myself, not daring to say it any louder lest I be overheard

I relaxed into the soft furniture, eyes sliding closed and inhaling deeply the smell of lemon cleaner and laundry detergent. The house always smelt clean, even back where my brothers' room was. That was an impressive feat all on its own, a real tip of the hat to our Handybot. The sound of running water in the kitchen caught my attention, and I cracked an eye open to see who it was.

"Hey, Codsworth?" I asked, throwing a leg over the back of the couch.

"Yes, Miss Katherine?" Came the slightly accented voice, and the soft humming of him approaching.

Our Handybot came to a stop at the end of the couch, waiting patiently for me to say something.

"Where are Kiefer and Killian?" I queried, trying to recall where my brothers had been when I had woken up this morning.

"I believe Master Kiefer and Master Killian are in their respective rooms, playing a 'Call of Duty 25', Miss." Codsworth informed, his arms spinning absently by his sides.

I hummed in recognition, nodding my head as I tried to decide what I was going to do with that information.

"Thank you, Codsworth." I dismissed, rolling back over onto my side and staring at the television set.

The talking sponge on the screen danced around with the talking starfish, the cartoon a vestige from my grandparent's youth that still somehow managed to be relevant through the decades purely on the fact that it was mind numbingly entertaining. My eyes drifted past the TV to the empty bowl of cereal sitting on the coffee table. I knew I should grab it and put it in the dishwasher myself, but the lazy side of me knew that Codsworth would come by eventually and pick it up. Guiltily, I decided if it was still there in the next five minutes, I'd put it away myself.

Flicking my eyes to the left, I took in the boxed flag sitting on the bookshelf that made up the entertainment center. Dad's flag and a plaque stood side by side, a testament to his time in the U.S Army and the sacrifices he gave for his country. Beside it, Mom's certificate from graduating college with a Law degree was proudly displayed to the world, as were the numerous newspaper clippings in frames that documented all of the cases she had won as a prosecuting DA for the Commonwealth. That was all for them. All the other shelves, instead of housing books like they were supposed to, held trophies and awards and certificates from myself and my two brothers. It was a hodgepodge of miscellaneous recognitions of our intellectual, social, or athletic prowess in school and our personal lives.

Mixed in with the awards were pictures of the family and extended family, making it basically just a mess of memorabilia. I felt like it pretty much encapsulated who we were as a family – that is, the fact that as a family we were very family-orientated.

"Hey, Kit." Dad said as he entered the living area.

I peeked over the edge of the couch as he came in from the hallway, noting his freshly shaven cheeks and hair wet. Now, Dad wasn't usually the kind of guy to get a shower in the morning time without reason (being one of those night bathers), and I would have been confused if I didn't know what he was prepping himself for, and why he was awake so early when he was usually the kind of guy to sleep in.

"Are you nervous about giving a speech at the Veterans Hall ceremony this afternoon, Dad?" I teased, a smirk pulling on my lips.

Dad shot me a wide-eyed look, a hand flying to his chest in surprise and a gasp of shock leaving his lips in an exaggerated manner that had me rolling my eyes before he'd even spoken.

"That's this afternoon?" He fretted in false horror. "Oh, my, I – I completely forgot!"

"Ha ha, Dad." I muttered dryly.

"No, Kit, what should I do?" He continued on with the act, walking over to me and grabbing my shoulders as he shook them in fake panic. "I'm not ready! I haven't prepared! Maybe I should fake my death and take on a new alias. That way-,"

"You're no fun, Dad." I struggled out of his strong grip, a smile on my lips even as I glared at him halfheartedly.

My father, Nate Martin, was handsome still even though his weathered face was showing his age. At just a shade past forty years old, laugh and sun lines had etched themselves into the once smooth skin on his tanned face. His dark black hair was damp and slicked back from his face, his usually hard blue eyes soft as he joked with me. Even still, I could see a tiny sliver of exhaustion in them that was always present no matter his mood. I called it the War Effect.

Nate Reginald Martin, a retired soldier who served in the 2nd Battalion, 108th Infantry Regiment of the U.S. Army during the Sino-American War. I had been rather young when he had gone off to war, to serve his country, but I remember his absence vividly. He always came home whenever he could, taking leave as often as his superiors would allow him, but it never seemed quite enough. But, after being honorably discharged three years ago, he was finally finding his place in the family he had reared and was actively raising the three children he'd brooded. Quite frankly, it was almost strange to have him so involved in our lives – a good strange, but strange nonetheless.

"I'm tons of fun." He countered, letting me go so that he could walk over to the kitchen where Mom had entered while he'd been faking a panic attack, the woman scanning the newspaper in front of her.

"You'll knock 'em dead, honey." Mom greeted her husband with a kiss as he moved past her towards the coffee pot.

Nora Elaine Martin, A.D.A of the Orlando D.A office, was a few years older than her husband but looked a few years younger. Her golden-brown hair was down, since she wasn't working today, and hung just above her shoulders in a no nonsense straight cut. Hazel eyes were emphasized with a pair of plain black glasses perched on her nose, making her heart shaped face seem even more so. Some would say my mother was a plain looking woman, but I thought she was beautiful. Was I biased? Was it because she was my mother? Or was it because people were always saying how we looked so similar and I was vainly hoping that some of her subtle grace would some day pop up on my face instead of the wayward zit?

"You think so?" Dad questioned absentmindedly, pouring himself a cup of straight black coffee and drinking it still piping hot without even flinching. "What are we doing for dinner?"

"Why don't you ask Codsworth?" Mom suggested, pulling a highlighter out from behind her ear and dragging it across the newsprint in front of her.

She was already dressed and ready to go even though we still had about an hour until we were supposed to be walking out the door. That being said, I'd been ready myself for almost an almost two hours, so I had no place to judge her.

"Did you call for me, Mum?" The Handybot questioned as he floated into the kitchen from the back of the house.

"Just wondering what was for dinner, Codsworth." Dad asked.

"Ah, well, Sir, I have a planned for a simple three course meal in celebration of your recognition. To start the night, we'll have a tossed salad with vinegar and herb dressing – minus the olives, of course, for you Mum, and…"

I stopped listening not even halfway through as two bodies vaulted over the couch and landed on either side of me, sending my body into the air for a moment before gravity grabbed a hold of me and yanked me back down. I grunted at the impact, head whipping from side to side to glare at the newcomers while simultaneously straightening my dress.

"I was enjoying my solidarity." I complained, leaning back into the cushions after quickly snatching the remote before the young man at my left could snag it.

"Ah, Kit." Killian groaned. "You've been hogging the TV all day."

I raised an eyebrow at my younger brother by two years. At fifteen, he had the horrible tendency to act like five. His black hair was shaved on the sides and spiked up loosely on top, the smell of gel wafting off of him the way most young men would smell like cologne. Hazel eyes like our mother sent me an annoyed look, one dark eyebrow arching to further show his displeasure.

"Well, guess what." I said matter-of-factly. "You both have TV's in your rooms."

"So do you." Kiefer, my older brother by two years informed.

With the same light golden-brown hair as me, we should have resembled each other the most but we didn't. Not only did his hazel eyes match those of Killian, but their facial structure and build were similar as well. The angles and strong jawline of our father had been gifted unto them, whereas I sported my mother's softer features.

"I was here first." I informed, holding the remote jealously tight in my grip.

"Technically, I was here first." Kiefer informed, referring to our birth orders for the thousandth time in an effort to win an argument.

I shot him a blue glare.

"Shouldn't you be getting ready to go?" I questioned with narrowed eyes.

"I am ready." He frowned, looking down at himself.

Dressed in a pair of nice jeans and in a button-down shirt, his light brown hair long but slicked back with gel, he did look quite presentable and ready to go. Nonetheless, I made a point of giving a onceover with a skeptical look on my face. He bristled, assuming that I was judging him negatively.

"What?" He demanded, looking down at himself worriedly.

"Oh, nothing." I dismissed, stifling my smile and knowing that the paranoia was going to eat at him for the next half hour or so.

"You're such a bitch." Killian snickered, making sure to keep his voice soft so that we wouldn't be heard in the other room where the adults and Codsworth were congregated.

Turning to him, I gave him the same onceover as I had Kiefer. Tight fitting dark jeans, a burgundy dress shirt and black vest paired with a pair of shiny black dress shoes. Killian was never a one to miss the chance to dress up fancy, and he never slacked when given that chance. I gave him the same appraising look before snorting and turning back to the TV.

"I invented that." He snapped. "That won't work on me."

"Mmhm." I agreed lazily, eyes glued to the TV screen.

"What about you, huh?" Killian tried to turn it on me.

I glanced down at myself with no concern, knowing that I looked just fine. I was dressed in a simple pale blue dress that showed off my shiny legs I'd painstakingly gone over with a razor for an hour and a half. With my long hair pulled back in a French braid and my feet encased in a pair of white canvas shoes, I managed to balance formal with the not-quite-cold weather of fall in Massachusetts. Where my brothers would be damp and sweating only an hour after being outside, I'd be cool and comfortable.

"I think I'm good." I assured him cheekily, propping my feet up on the coffee table.

Killian made a grab for the remote, but I yanked it away for him just in time for Kiefer to wrap his hands around it from my other side. I snapped my teeth at him angrily, trying to jerk the device free to no avail. Killian joined, boxing me between the two of them as he added his own hands into the mix. We all wanted to watch something different, meaning that there were no friends to be had here. This was our war and there could only be one winner. All three of us completely disregarded the fact that our tussle was most definitely going to wrinkle our nice dress clothes.

Our bickering fell to the wayside as our attention was jerked to the TV, but with confusion as the sponge and starfish were suddenly replaced with gray and white scale of the WWN station. Chet Hallowman's face took up most of the screen, and since it did we were more than able to see the stark fear etched into his features. A thin sheen of sweat covered his heavily powdered face, making it look like somebody had smeared him with paint instead.

"We interrupt this program to inform you of some harrowing news." Hallowman's voice was stunted and strained, and each word he spoke was disjointed, as if he couldn't believe he was saying them. "The information is coming in as we speak, as we are being updated live, and it seems that we have reports of what appears to be…bombs…being dropped along the eastern coast."

The bickering between the three of us died abruptly as we took in what he was saying, a dead silence settling in the absence of it. Hallowman was staring straight into the camera with one hand by his ear to press the radio firmly into his ear canal to hear better. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly.

"We…we have confirmation that there have in fact been bombs dropped in major cities along the eastern coast. Confirmed hits include Augusta, Maine. Laconia, New Hampshire. Providence, Rhode Island. New York, New York. Albany, New York –,"

"Mom, Dad!" I hollered, my voice shrill as nervousness crept into it.

Both of my brothers mimicked my cry, forming a cacophony of desperation. The quiet conversation in the kitchen halted as they heard our call, and it must have been the panic in it that had them hurrying their steps as they stepped around the half-counter and entered the living room.

"What's wrong?" Dad questioned, put on edge by the obvious distress in our voices.

Kiefer pointed at the television set, face pale and eyes wide. As a whole, our attention returned to the news anchor.

"…yes, followed by…flashes, yes, blinding flashes…sounds of explosions. We're, uh, trying to get confirmation whether or not these bombs are nuclear. We've seemed to have lost contact with our outpost stations. W-We do have coming in, that's confirmed reports – I repeat, that's confirmed reports of nuclear detonations in New York, Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, South Carolina…oh my God."

With that last whispered word, Chet's face was replaced with a static screen before the NO CONNECTION screensaver popped up on the little set. A brief silence followed as we all sat there in fear, our hearts in our throats and disbelief flooding through our veins. This couldn't be happening. This was the kind of stuff that only occurred in videogames, horror movies, and science fiction novels. There was no way this could be happening to us. I wrote about this kind of crap in my journals when I wasn't burdened by schoolwork; it was all fictitious. This wasn't happening, not really. A bad dream? Maybe. I pinched my thigh hard, harder, and then so hard that I actually felt the tissue underneath my skin crackle as vessels popped. The pain was immense, and I still found myself staring at the NO CONNECTION screen. It wasn't a dream.

"Mom, Dad." Killian's voice broke as he turned around to look at our parents over the couches back. "What's happening?"

Kiefer and I mimicked him, staring wide eyed at the two of them as they looked back at us. Shock and disbelief seemed to be a shared quality between the lot of us as we sat in the quiet of suburban Massachusetts. Massachusetts…that was one of the states with confirmed nuclear detonation. I jumped violently and yelped as a loud and painful siren broke our reverie, howling like a wounded animal at a decibel that was sure to wake the dead. I knew that drill – it ran every week on Wednesday as a practice drill. Today was Saturday. The Nuclear Warning Sirens. No, please God, this wasn't happening.

"Dad?" I croaked, pushing myself up off of the couch alongside my brothers.

"We need to get to the Vault, now!" He snapped, all of his previous horror gone as he fell into the commanding and persevering soldier he had been years ago.

"Oh my God, Nate." Mom whispered, face drained of all color.

"Not now, Nora." Dad shook his head, grabbing her arm and pushing her towards the door. "Kids, let's go."

When we didn't move, fear freezing us to the spot, his voice rose.

"Now!" He shouted.

Like somebody had waken me up from a dream, I jumped and blinked before grabbing Killian's arm and tugging him with me around the left side of the couch as Kiefer stumbled around the other side. Fear wracked my body, making me light headed and nauseous as reality started to hit me. Just minutes ago, I had been arguing with my brothers about Spongebob Squarepants, and now we were being ushered out the front door to the neighborhood streets. I nearly tripped over my feet as I shoved my younger brother in front of me in line for the door.

"Oh, dear." I heard Codsworth fret, hovering nearby the door as his visual receptors grew and shrunk in panic.

"Stay safe, Codsworth." Mom called in a wavering voice over her shoulder.

"And you, Mum!" He hollered, voice quavering.

I blinked, disoriented as the morning sun overhead blinded me, the faint heat suffocated me, and the wailing sirens deafened me. I felt Killian's fingers wrapped around my wrist in a bruising grip, and my own were latched into Kiefer's shirt as we waited like lost kittens for our parents to take the lead. All deep thought left my mind, and I was only aware of the here and now. Eyes fluttering, I took in my surroundings.

It was chaos.

Families poured out of their houses, people were screaming, kids were crying, dogs were barking. Some of our neighbors were frantically hauling messily packed suitcases into cars, but most of them were sprinting down the street in the direction of the Vault. Its construction had begun back when the Sino-American War started, but it hadn't been fully completed until a year ago. It had been a big deal, in our neighborhood especially since the Vault was literally at the end of the subdivision on top of a hill. The billboard could be seen even from here, showing the smiling cartoon of the Vault-Boy that was Vault-Tec's mascot. When the Vault-Tec salesman had knocked on our door to try and sell us one, Dad hadn't wasted much time in signing. I had thought he was being paranoid. I was wrong.

"Go!" Dad snapped from directly behind us, hands latching onto our shoulders roughly with adrenaline.

We were running before I could fully grasp it, falling in with the rest of our neighborhood as we sprinted towards the paved road that had been put in to make the trip up the steep hill easier. Killian was quicker than all of us, but even though our safety was a good hundred feet away he didn't stray from our group. His fear of the unknown was greater than his fear of the incoming bombs. A deep whirring noise made my head whip up as we darted down the street. Vertibirds hovered above us in the air, coming from the direction of Boston.

"Residents of Sanctuary Hills," Came the voice of one of the soldiers hanging from the Vertibird's open side, "if you are registered, evacuate to Vault 111 immediately."

My attention was pulled back to the ground as tanks started rolling over Sanctuary Hill's bridge, soldiers already on the ground and directing the mob of people in the proper direction. I was breathing hard by the time we crossed the bridge that arched over the shallow stream that fed the swift and rough river carving Sanctuary Hills away from the rest of downtown Boston. I wasn't in the best shape and having asthma didn't help to make our evacuation any easier, but even though my breath was wheezing in and out of my lungs I didn't slow down. In fact, I just ran faster.

As we marched up the steep incline, seeing the advertisement billboard situated prominently at the top of the hill, we came to an abrupt stop. A mass of people had congregated in front of the chain-link fence that prevented them from continuing towards the Vault. Soldiers were positioned along its length, armed and very visibly stressed by the look on their faces. A hand shoved into my shoulder, sending me to the ground as Mr. Alderman and his wife, neighbors of ours for years, bulldozed me over to try and reach further into the writhing crowd. I hit my knees hard, wincing as skin split on asphalt.

"Son of a bitch." I heard Kiefer snarl.

Hands grabbed my arms, hauling me back to my feet. I muttered a shaky thanks to my older brother before Dad was taking my hand firmly in his. I looked up at him, felt somebody else grab my free hand, and then looked behind me to see Kiefer repeating the gesture with me and Killian. Mom brought up the rear of the group. Then, we were moving again. I whipped back around to face forward, watching as Dad aggressively shoved our neighbors out of his way as we made for the gate. I was only half-surprised by his callousness, knowing that he would sacrifice everybody here if it meant getting our family to safety. My hands were sweating, and I worked hard maintaining a strong grip on my brother and father. Thankfully, we reached the man with the clipboard without incident.

"If you're in the program, step forward! Otherwise, return home!" The soldier was shouting.

"We're on the list." Dad informed, stopping in front of the man with the clipboard. "Nate Martin."

The man turned his shade covered eyes to the papers in hand, hesitating only a moment before finding the information he needed.

"Martin family; adult male, adult female, three children. Alright, go ahead." He stepped out of the way and ushered us all forward with a wave of his arm.

"Thank you." Dad muttered in passing, yanking me with him as he shot forward.

I threw a glance over my shoulder to make sure we were all accounted for, saw the way our neighbors tried to surge after us with angered and fearful shouts. They were abruptly caught and shoved back by the Vault-Tec soldiers. I caught the eye of Mandy Hobart, a girl I went to school with who lived a few doors down from us. We weren't friends, but the look of abhorrence she threw at me as we saw one another nearly took my breath away.

"You five, follow me." Another man ordered us, taking over where the last one left off.

He was dressed in a vibrant blue jumpsuit, body armor covering his vitals with the words Vault-Tec stamped on the clothing. We released our grips on one another as the crowd had dramatically thinned, following the Vault-Tec worker.

"What's gonna happen to all of those people outside, Dad?" I asked shakily, Mandy's eyes haunting me.

"Don't worry about them, Kit." Dad told me grimly.

I hadn't seen the Vault entrance until just now, and it wasn't what I had expected. It looked more like a landing pad than a doorway, blue and yellow and already holding a small group of people who trembled as they waited impatiently for the Vault-Tec workers to lower them into the mountain.

"Step on the platform." The worker leading us ordered, nearly shoving us one by one onto the pad. "In the center.

Our footsteps were loud on the hollow metal, clanging unpleasantly and jarringly. And suddenly, after minutes of panicked sprinting…we were still. We had to wait, had to stand there and just twiddle out thumbs. That was almost worse than the dead sprint to make it up the hill. The five of us formed a close circle, eyeing each other and heaving panicked breaths. Mine were the loudest, ripping from my lungs in a whistling manner that had Mom reaching for me.

"Nate, her inhaler-," Mom said urgently to my father.

Dad fumbled in his pockets with hands that only shook minutely. I usually forgot to keep the small inhaler device with me, not needing it unless I exerted myself enough or worked myself into a tizzy. Dad had taken on the habit of carrying a spare on him usually at all times, and I was just lucky that it was a habit that had stuck. He pulled the little medicine container free, handing it to me. I took it with trembling fingers, popping off the attached cap and wrapping my lips around the nozzle. Pressing the metal canister down, I inhaled deeply as a shot of icy cold air rushed into my lungs.

Forcing myself to hold my breath, I pulled the inhaler away and tasted the artificial plastic taste of the ultrafine powder. Thankfully, the tightness in my chest eased bit by bit as I tried to let to let out a controlled breath. Mom's hand on my back continued to rub in small comforting circles as I came down from my asthma episode, clenching the inhaler tightly in my fist.

"Are you okay?" She asked, nervous eyes flickering between me and the beautiful horizon that had Boston highlighted against pale blue sky.

I opened my mouth to respond, but I didn't get the chance.

I heard it before I saw it, the booming noise of the bomb touching down on earth. A flash of blinding white light assaulted my eyes next, and I brought my hand up to try and block some of it. Screams erupted around me, male and female, but I found myself unable to utter a sound. Instead, I stared in dumbstruck awe at the brilliant illumination coming from the direction of Boston. It was strangely beautiful, and I almost missed the screeching of metal as we started to abruptly descend.

The blank whiteness disappeared in a flash, revealing the giant ball of orange that grew in size and intensity by the second, like a second sun hurtling into the sky. Even it dimmed, though, and the telltale mushroom cloud plumed in its stead. I saw the shockwave racing across the landscape, the force of it knocking trees over and sending shards of miscellaneous material whizzing through the air to form a black wave of debris that raced towards us faster than the fire from the explosion.

Numerous arms wrapped around me, yanking me down to my knees and forcing me into a hunkered down position. The last thing I saw before my head was blocked by the chest of my father was the steel walls of the Vault rising up around us just in time to save us from being incinerated by the shockwave that blasted just over our heads. I felt the wicked heat of it down to my very bones, smelt the indescribable scent of death it carried with it…then it was dark.