CHAPTER 2: THE LION'S DEN

And so, the child's life went on. David and Rachel named him Marcus, after Rachel's father. But, all was not well in Vault 72…

Shortly after Marcus was born, a fellow vault dweller by the name of Jimmy Crawford contracted a strange disease. The doctor wasn't sure what to make of it; nothing about the disease seemed harmful. The only symptoms seemed to be extreme headaches, cramping of the muscles at random times, and an incurable case of bloodshot eyes, as if the man had been drinking way to much. Doctor Rogers simply passed it off as old age.

And still, life went on. Before he knew it, Marcus was turning ten, receiving his new Pip-boy 3000 wrist computer. A DNA scan had finally come through (Vault 72 seemed to have incredibly out-of-date technology, DNA scans taking years to process.)

What he saw in the computer image was a rough depiction of what he would supposedly look like in ten years. Staring back at him was a man with features identical to his own.

Well, of course he looks like you! Marcus thought to himself. He is you!

In the 3D image, he could easily see the rounded forehead, the pronounced cheekbones, the intense eyes he had now. According to the computer, his green-ish eyes would darken to a deep blue by the time he was a man. Other than that, there wasn't mush else the image simulator could tell him that he didn't already know. Would a computer-generated depiction really suffice as an accurate representation of what he would really look like? It was too soon to tell.

That got Marcus thinking. How the hell would a gene reader know what he would be like when he matured? Sure, it could predict his features that distinguished him, but he could have those his entire life. What the machine would never be able to analyze was the events in his lifetime that made him who he was. Was the face on the screen before him that of an evil man, or a saint? Someone who had witnessed and caused death and pain, or a human enclosed in a perfect home for the rest of his life? Again, it was too soon to tell.

So yes, this machine might know what shape his head would be, how dark his eyes would become, what color his hair and skinnwould naturally be toned. But when he grew up, he would never be exactly the same as far as a machine could predict. His face would show the years of his life experiences.

At that moment, staring at an older version of himself on his Pip-boy, Marcus made a personal vow. He would save the image that he was looking at now, and in fifteen years he would compare it to himself then, and see just how much the world had changed him.

Meanwhile, Doctor Rogers' office was becoming more and more full with patients who had contracted the infamous Crawford disease, later christened "72 syndrome."

Unfortunately for the vault dwellers, this disease was unlike any they had ever encountered.

Since Jimmy Crawford's first case, almost ten years ago, the effects had seemingly evolved, from that of a mild flu to what was now a feverish, wild state. The infected patients would have random bouts of rage, often spluttering nonsense and getting over-dramatically angry for no reason at all. Other victims would suddenly feel faint and dizzy, collapsing on the ground with no warning and seemingly no cause. Various medical samples showed that their blood was beginning to dry out, turning a rusty sunset-orange color, and becoming incredibly thick.

Doctor Rogers simply had no idea what to do with the patients. They seemed incurably dehydrated, and no medications he possessed were able to alleviate the effects of the diseased. Water practally dried up in their systems, doing little more than dampen their dried throats. 72 Syndrome was incredibly contagious, and Rogers could only spend so much time tending to his patients before he had to lock them in quarantine, for his own safety.

But the disease wasn't deadly. Not yet at least. And that was enough to keep spirits up in the lonely Vault.

Marcus turned 13, and the unthinkable happened.

At age 63, Jimmy Crawford died of 72 Syndrome. It was the first death in the vault (aside from old age deaths) in over thirty years. After spending weeks in mourn, some of the vault dwellers began to wonder…was it worth it to stay here? They could leave if they wanted, the Overseer wouldn't stop them. But was is logical to depart from a vault that kept them so safe from the harsh wasteland that awaited them just beyond the steel doors? No, most of them agreed, it wasn't. They would find a cure for the now-lethal sickness, and everything would be fine, they said. The few who still wanted to leave were much too afraid to leave on their own. And so, they remained in their precious vault, and life went on.

For the most part.

Three years later, and the vault was in turmoil. Over twenty people had perished from 72 Syndrome already, and forty others were on their way. After confirming that he, himself, had contracted the disease, Doctor Rogers offered to lock himself in permanent quarantine with the other infected, cutting them off from the rest of the vault by literally dividing the whole of Vault 72 in half.

Unfortunately, it didn't quite work.

Only a week after the two sides of the vault were officially closed off from each other forever, Maria Stewart came down with 72 Syndrome as well. She was on the wrong side of the vault, with no doctor to treat her.

Still, despite the incredibly grim, inevitable fate they all saw for each other, the 72 dwellers tried to continue their lives as normal. G.O. were taken, children were given assignments to be carried as long as they remained in the vault. Marcus was written off as a security guard. It wasn't head of security, as he had wanted, but it was better than Janitor, like Mike Alridge had gotten.

Marcus really didn't have any friends in the vault. Sure, there were people he liked, cute girls, kind old ladies, responsible men to look up to. But he really didn't truly care about anyone other than himself and his parents, David and Rachel. And he intended to keep it that way.

But still, he couldn't help but feel sorry for the others inside the vault. Here they were, locked up like David in the Lion's den. The door was right there, but still they refused to leave, for fear of something worse on the other side. So while those inhabiting Vault 72 cowered here in their 'safe' little nuclear bunker, they were being ever-so-slowly wiped out from the inside…

A year later, and there were hardly fifteen 'clean' inhabitants of the vault. Food was running out, people were dropping like flies, and the survivors could only wait to meet their doom. Fifteen people who still had a chance. The day before he turned 17, Marcus found out that his mother was not one of them.

Note: You may have noticed that I changed the vault number from 77 to 72. This is because I recently realized that Vault 77 is the vault from the story "One man and a box of puppets" (If you don't know it, google it. It's the story where the saying, "vaults were never meant to save anyone" came from). The number 72 is an inside joke, I'll give you a shoutout if you can figure it out (Hint: Said inside joke involves Chris Rock)