He settled for a rest in the opening in the mountain, unable to keep standing any longer, and simply slumped against a big black rubber tire lying by one of the walls, and drifted off to sleep very soon, where he could sort out his life.

--------------------------------------

Dave had been born 22 years ago, and all life ha had known had been that of a vaultdweller and the only "world" he had known was that of the three levels the vault consisted of.

He had been raised to life in the vault, and to just keep doing the chores of everyday life, which mainly included keeping out of the adults way, when they were working (although there had not been much work to be done there, except repairing some systems, checking everything worked all right, and so on) and much of the free time he had spent with his friends, often just talking about what they knew as "the outside", fantasising about what it was like there, and how it had been before The War, which they heard so much about.

It had been quite a boring life, and he had not exactly been one to just sit around when there were things to be done. People around him had always referred to him as a "walking energy pack", and whenever something had to be fetched, or when he was bored (and hid anything he could find just to watch the tumult which then occurred), he was always nearby.

As an grown-up, he had also carried this energy with him, and was always busy with something, whatever it could be.

By his childhood, he had only known life as simple, and never thought of what actually made them available to keep living like that, and that was where the latest part of his life, and also the darker one, which would give him nightmares for many years ahead (and even now it pressed on his mind, always there at the edge of whatever he thought of, like an annoying bug you just can't get rid of), began.

A week ago, the Overseer, an elderly man in his sixties whom Dave always had liked, with a kind face (this time deeply furrowed with concern), had gathered everyone at a certain age, which was those who still was quite young and healthy in his room, and explained to them something which filled them all with a feeling of despair and something on the brink of panic.

One of the most essential things the constructors of these vaults had to have thought of was how to make the population survive, and in doing this they had constructed several machines, which enabled them to recycle their water, grow new food in the special plantations, and transform their waste into things of the biological.

There is no need to explain how important all this is to a vault and that is why fear was clearly etched in every face as the vault overseer explained the dire situation.

The overseer had taken a deep breath and then began

"Ahh, you're here. Good. That is good. You see, we have a problem. A big one" "The water chip for our water purification system has given up the ghost".

At this, some people in the room had paled some other recoiled in shock, and some just staring dumbly, before what that meant actually had gotten in their heads.

"B.But can't we make another one?" one of the youngest, Cathy, a short always-smiling 18-year old girl with her red hair put in a ponytail, her blue eyes pleading now slung over her shoulder, managed to stammer, before anyone else could manage to get a word off their tongues.

"No, we don't have the necessary parts, neither do we have the technology" the Overseer replied, his face a mask of hidden concern, as this probably was terrifying him as much as everyone else.

"And we can't make a work around system either, it's simply too complicated", he said, worriedly scratching his beard as he drummed his fingers on the side of the Overseer's chair (which was a three meter tall "chair", which can be best described as a small tower, with a place for the overseer to sit, where he can oversee anything going on in the vault) managing to stoke any further suggestions to solutions he had already examined (and to his disappointment, found fruitless)

He looked them all in the eye, and the next words were barely more than a whisper, but still, it echoed against the walls of the big control room

"We need one of you to leave, and we must find another chip, otherwise." he trailed off, before managing the next sentence "Otherwise this vault is doomed. Simply put, we are running out of drinking water, and we have roughly four or five months left."

The only sound was not the constant buzzing of the computer consoles placed against the walls, making calculations and generally controlling everything electronic in the complex.

"But.who?" a tall man with a blonde short hair and beard asked. Dave couldn't remember who he was, at that time, but there was certainly something he did not like about the man.

"I wish I would never have had to do this, but it is something that must be done, and hopefully, it will be done voluntarily."

"Wouldn't we have a bigger chance to survive if we sent out more than one?" Cathy asked again, now having regained most of the control of her voice.

"We can't. We simply need almost everyone to try work on finding a different solution, or." the Overseer hesitated before continuing "Or helping everyone here if we would have to leave."

Dave had looked around at the other twenty or so people in the room, seeing nothing but despair.

Almost all of them had some reason to stay, and a lot of them were couples, with their own children, and for the others who weren't, they were simply too young. He had lived a very hectic a life, and had not yet even began to envision considering a relationship.

He made his decision then and there, before he would regret it.

"I'll go" he had said, stunning everyone in the room as intently watched him as to make sure they had heard him correctly.

As if he wanted to assure them, he repeated, but more like a whisper this time "I'll go".

--------------------------------------

Dave awoke with a shock; the first thing noticing was the intense heat, as he saw the sun was high in the sky. And it was hot, so awfully hot, he could scarcely believe it, and he was feeling trickles of sweat running down his neck, into the synthetic suit he wore.

He heaved himself to a standing position, using the rubber tire to leverage himself, and then quickly jerked the hand away as it felt as though it was burned instantly.

Gathering his courage, he left the opening in the mountain, to his home, and wandered off into the direction the Vault Overseer had given him, and had programmed in his PIP-computer (Personal Information Processor, an old dusty and scratched personal computer, but which had been the only one available, and it could still hold data files, and record information).

He wandered for hours, trying to ignore the sweat soaking his suit, and occasionally stopped to re-check this position, or drink from one of his water flasks he had been allowed to bring along.

There was nothing but sand, and from time to time, some log or weed sticking up from the dunes. At times he even saw some rusty kinds of metal- heaps, with rounded places for something at four places (supposedly rubber tires), and these he supposed would be the "cars" the archives had spoken about, and they had actually been a bit of one part of what started the war. The most harmful thing now about them would probably be the green desert- salamanders, who were all misshaped in some way, who intently watched him as he passed by, but made no move, only kept to watch him.

After a few hours in this desolate landscape, he felt a change in the air. It suddenly felt as if it was not the dank desert air anymore, but more the kind of air that was produced by a fan (but still very hot). He had hardly been able to finish his line of thought before he was hit by a gust of wind, which increased to a roar in his ears, spitting sand in his face, in his mouth, in his nostrils, making sand get stuck to the sweat on his back, and as he tried to cover his face, it hit the arm and the skin of his hand with such a force it felt as if it was slowly tearing the skin off, bit by bit.

For minutes, he could not see anything, and he just stumbled on, until he felt something with his hand. A smooth surface, not such as stone, but this was more finely cut than stone, or perhaps, he figured, it was the sand storms that had shaped it as such.

He tried to follow the surface, and tripped and fell face first in the sand, his mouth being refilled of the small particles, and as he tried to spit it out, even more came into his mouth, threatening to choke him.

He managed to get himself into a standing position once again by grabbing a hold in the wall to his right, and to his surprise as he continued to drag himself further, he felt there was an edge.

He swung himself around the edge with the last of his reservoir energy, and all around him, the wind went still. Or he could still hear it, but he could not feel it, or any of the sand it brought along.

When he had spent a minute or so at spitting up sand from his almost choked throat, clearing it away from his nostrils and eyes, and making sure there was no permanent damage on his hands, he looked around.

He was surrounded by four walls, who probably once had been white or such, but now was a dull grey coloured black and brown, by rust, and they all also appeared to have been badly burnt.

The door had been blasted off its hinges, and was lying in small room in the opposite corner as to where he was, battered, and hardly good for anything more than splinters now.

What had him most surprised was that the roof was almost intact, and even if he could not see what material it was, due to the gloom and the fact that it was badly burnt, but it seemed as quite solid. There were only some small holes in it, where small grains of sand slowly seeped in, putting themselves in small organized piles on the floor, where a broken chair of now rotten wood and some other unidentifiable objects lay.

Dave picked up what was left of the door, and ignored the fact that it was almost split apart in three pieces. It was still solid material, and had fared a bit better than the other wood in the room, since it was built with a metal frame.

With this in thought, he put it as well as he could in front of the door opening, leaning it a bit against the site, to make sure it would not simply fall out, before he went back to a corner of the room.

As the sandstorm outside continued to howl, and the world all around him seemed to be in disintegration, Dave once again fell into a blissful sleep, in a world he knew practically nothing about.