Heyo! This is the second installment the Into the Wasteland saga, an original chapter to actually hint at the fact father-o was going to leave. or not. I just felt this chapter was needed. In any case, I do have some notes before we beginning. Thinking about it and failing in the actual execution, the characters will act more modernish. So, Butch will probably be acting more like a punk and bully rather than a greaser. But, hopefully, that's not something that will affect the story negatively. Read, Enjoy, Review.
Douglas sighed as he laid down on his bed, covered in the grime of another day of hard work. His father didn't say anything to him, somewhat of a blessing as Douglas doubted he would have the energy to respond. Burning garbage always sounded easy and a job to mock at the people who took it seriously, but damn if it didn't leave your muscles aching at the end of the day. The things that people convince themselves that they need to throw away often weighed more than one would think. After about ten minutes of lying motionless on his bed, Douglas finally gathered enough energy to spin himself around and look around for something to snack on. It was his normal ritual. Get home, pretend to sleep for a number of minutes, get up and eat his daily rations in a single setting, and then actually going to sleep.
"Hey, Dad, I don't suppose we have any of those Snack Cakes this week? I'm kind of getting sick of crams and all that. I need something unhealthy for me that's actually worth it." Douglas questioned as he slowly made his way into the kitchen. Having more spoken just to hear his own voice, Douglas had already dug through their available rations before realizing his father had not responded. "Hey dad, you here?" No response.
Douglas scratched his head, curious as to where his father could be as his old man normally beat him home after work. Maybe an emergency at the office? No, that was one of the advantages and disadvantages of being stuck in a massive underground vault. Secrets and rumors didn't stay that for very long. No doubt one of his co-workers or someone on the way up would have off-handedly mentioned something like that happening had it actually done so. Sighing, he rubbed his head and realized he should seek out his father. If anything, it was to make sure that the old man was alright since he was rarely late coming home.
The teenage garbage burner slowly trudged through the halls, his feet barely lifting off the ground as he walked, his legs feeling like lead the more he walked. He made it a couple of wings over before he finally ran into someone. Unfortunately for Douglas, it was his old bully, Butch. Butch had calmed down a little since being made into a barber, not wanting to admit to anyone that he had found an odd comfort in the job. More than once, he had walked by the barber to hear Butch humming a tune to himself when he was alone. Or maybe it was just because people didn't trust an angry teen with a pair of blades near their heads and his job was put on the line. Douglas often chose to accept the latter as fact, despite evidence to the contrary. Butch seemed startled when Douglas paused and stared at him, standing up from where he had been sitting against one of the support walls of the vault. "What do you want?!" Butch growled at him, straightening his jacket and puffing out his chest.
Douglas sighed and shook his head. Almost ten years now, him and Butch had been butting heads every time that they had met. Ten years since the bully had attempted to steal his sweet roll and Douglas had been adamant in refusing him. Ten years since Butch had broken his favorite victim's BB gun as revenge for Officer Gomez yelling at him for that same incident. About three years since he embarrassed Butch in a fight and then got ambushed later. "Me? I was just strolling through the vault in the off hours, thinking about ways to fuck with Butch Deloria today because I never have anything better to do in the middle of the night when I could be sleeping. You know, the usual." He replied, hoping his insult was sarcastic enough to strike. His tired mind felt like it was swimming through mud just trying to put together his thoughts. Butch growled and clenched his fist, genuinely believing that Douglas was about to start something.
"Well, just try. I've been wanting another rematch since your bitch hit me in the face." Butch told him, getting into his fighting position. Douglas shook his head weakly before waving Butch off. The Tunnel Snake had been grousing about that event to Amata and Douglas any time he was in the same room with them. Of course, he always twisted it so that it was Butch himself who took down Douglas and Amata had ambushed him with a ten-pound monkey wrench to the back of the head.
"God Butch, do you have nothing better to do with your time?" Douglas told him. "If you really want to know, I'm just looking for my dad. He isn't home yet and I want to make sure he didn't break a hip or something." Butch seemed to deflate a little at this remark but he quickly recovered in an attempt to save face. He puffed out his chest once more and put on a cocksure grin as if he had just won their unfought battle.
"Yeah, whatever, you're just too scared to fight me without your girlfriend to back you up." Butch announced proudly, laughing mockingly at Douglas. Douglas rolled his eyes, wondering if Butch had always been this deceived about the amount of fear he actually demanded in the vault.
"Yeah, sure, whatever. I'm quaking in my boots. If you don't mind, I'm going to leave now." Douglas told the disillusioned bully. He turned to continue on, only to stop when he heard a very faint voice calling from the opposite end of the hall. Butch paled and looked away, acting as if he could not hear the voice calling but Douglas stopped, listening and trying to decipher what the voice was in fact saying. "Butchie!" The voice called again, growing louder as the owner began to raise her voice. The word was slurred and said with a slight hint of amusement despite the lack of a joke. However, both boys knew who was calling the name and just why she was calling it like she was.
Douglas was aware that Butch was watching him with a strange expression. One that hoped that Douglas wouldn't inquire, wouldn't tease, or wouldn't comment. An expression akin to fear but not quite with the same overture. It was no secret that Butch's mom spent most of her ration cards on alcohol, making many of the vault wonder how she had nearly enough to feed her son. Of course, knitting circle rumors let people choose which one they would like to believe. Douglas's personal favorite was the one involving Amata's father, but only because it made her blush and angrily deny it.
The idea to taunt Butch came to him for a moment, to mock him about his insecurity as the bully had done so many times to him. The taunts immediately came to mind, forming what Douglas considered to be well-crafted masterpieces of the revenge sage. The words were on the tip of his tongue, trying to force his mouth open in a way that would let them get out and spew their harsh justice. His emotions were already reveling of the faces he could force onto Deloria's face just by uttering a couple of words. But, despite his every instinct fighting him, Douglas simply brushed his shirt as if he had noticed a dirt spot on it and continued on in the search of his father. He even pretended not to hear the small sigh of relief.
When Douglas did eventually find his father, it wasn't in his medical office nor the small office that Jonas used when he worked with the doctor, but down in the shooting range. It was still set up, though mostly out of the sentiment since his disuse of the thing was spanning into the years. James and Jonas were seated on the cover that they had installed, both staring at the targets as they had their conversation in a hushed whisper. Both were so engrossed, they didn't notice that Douglas had entered the room and was walking towards them.
"…..should come with me, Jonas. I could always use the help." Douglas overheard as he stepped closer.
"I'm sorry James but I can't. I've already told you that. Besides, someone has to train the new kid." Jonas denied, apparently for another time. Douglas realized that he had stopped and was eavesdropping on the two adult's conversation. His father never quite appreciated it when Douglas did this, so to save himself the earful he would surely get later, Douglas stepped up and alerted the two by clearing his throat. James and Jonas jumped, both leaping to their feet and with faces that made it seem as if they had just been caught plotting rebellion.
"Douglas, what are you doing here? Aren't you normally asleep by now?" James demanded to know when they both saw who it was that had managed to sneak up on them.
"You weren't home and I was worried you broke a hip walking up the stairs or something." Douglas joked, waving off his father's rather irked expression. His dad frowned even more at being called old, something that Douglas had been doing with more and more frequency the older he got despite his father's growing annoyance to it. But, knowing his son didn't truly mean it, James sighed and rested a hand on Douglas's shoulder, motioning for his son to follow him away from where they were standing. Jonas watched them go as if he wanted to say something but didn't speak his thoughts or join the two.
They walked for a few moments in silence, just about until they were out of earshot of Jonas and into the main reactor room. "You know, you're an adult now Douglas, you shouldn't be so reliant on me." James told his son, turning towards him and leaning on the wall. "One day, it's just going to be you by yourself in your own room and I won't be around to help you."
"I'm not reliant. I just wanted to know if we had Snack Cakes somewhere." Douglas told him, shrugging off his dad's suggestion. James sighed and rubbed his forehead as if he was exasperated with Douglas's never-ending sweet tooth.
"They're in the cupboard behind the crams." His father told him. "You need to lay off the junk food or you're going to end up overweight."
"Eh, I'll be fine. Besides, the Vault needs a few overweight people. We're all like little toothpicks walking the halls." Douglas shrugged as if he didn't care. Truth was, his work was much more strenuous than one would normally be lead to believe. After all, heaving huge piles of garbage into an incinerator was good exercise on most days. Douglas often founds himself surprised on how so few people could produce as much garbage as he had to burn. "So, did something happen in the clinic? Why are you and Jonas down here in the shadows? You're not planning to overthrow the Vault's Overseer?" Douglas almost didn't see it, barely catching the fact that his father hesitated before he answered the question.
"No, its nothing. We were just discussing ways to produce more medical supplies. What we have is only going to last us so many generations." James told him, shaking his head. "Look, just go back to the room and get some sleep."
"Shame. I could have been the voice that convinced the youth to join the rebellion." Douglas shrugged and turned around, ready to head off with assurance. He was too tired to really poke around his dads business at the moment, deciding it was a task best left for tomorrow when his mind wasn't muddled with weariness and his wit was a little sharper.
"Douglas…" James' son stopped as he heard his father call his name.
"Yeah?" He responded as he turned around. James paused, the mix of emotions that dashed across his face in those few seconds so confusing that Douglas couldn't quite figure it out before it disappeared altogether and was replaced with a smile.
"Good night, kiddo."
Well, I'm sure by now it's obvious about some of the changes that I am going to make from the original. Also, I would like to assuage fears about whether or not all the characters that were in the original will appear. I did like the idea of Frank, so she will appear as will Amata, but that much was probably obvious. Until next time.