Chapter 7
"Only two things are for sure in life: death and taxes."
Deep in Zanna's industrial construct in the micro reactor room on the 10th floor is a person, no longer quite human. He's what's called a ghoul, which is to say he's one of the small percent of people on the surface that survived the unhealthy dose of radiation given 50 years ago. Keep in mind I'm using the term "survive" loosely. He resembles what pre-war people would call a "zombie" but without the bloody mess. Yes, this person who was once a man is now simply a walking carcass slightly burned. His name is Marty. His name used to be Dr. Martin Talbert Shaust M.D.. But these days and for the past 80 years he's been just plain ol Marty, glowing ghoul, helpful healer, surprisingly courageous friend with a bad stutter… Marty's been a son, a grad, a husband, a father, a fourty-something nearly over the hill, but always he's been a healer. That was the human side of his life, then the bombs dropped and he became a victim, a survivor, a widow, a founder, a friend, a fighter, and a survivor twice more, but now Marty doesn't know what he is or why he's still bothering to breathe. He reached the end of his wits when his last friend was blown away by a normal human 3 years ago – Harold. Harold, a fellow ghoul, had met the famed Vault Dweller and the meeting changed his… uh, life. Harold was a man of hope, hope he grew in the light of a hero; Harold became himself a hero to many a ghoul, Marty being one. Harold had given Marty a reason to go on, to try, to fight, and to care. Then he was gone, killed by normal humans. After Harold's murder Martin Tal's wandering feet brought him here to this construct, this floor, and this room with its little reactor. Buried in despair he remained, waiting for something to happen, wishing it would be bad.
And now, heeeeeere's Marty…
"I'm trapped in this hell-hole... hiding like a rat! I should leave. But that Fleshy..." he slides a hand along his smooth scalp as though running a hand through his hair "...that human's probably waiting with a bullet for me."
Distressed he turns searching for something to throw when his sight lands on a photo fragment tacked to the wall. Its once colorful hues have long faded to brown but the image is striking nonetheless: a family having dinner in their back yard. A blasé scene in any other sense but this was his family, his wife, his children, his home... once upon a time.
"Its been 50 years I think... maybe more than that..." He reaches for the picture but hesitates to touch it "Laura, Justin... the baby due in July, or was it June... I don't remember..." he sighs deeply glancing at the concrete ceiling "I know I've said it a million times but I can't help feeling guilty I wasn't there with you in the last moments. I wish I had been there to comfort you, to die with you."
He paces a bit, his hands on his head, eyes closed, quietly fraught with an internal clash.
"I'm so conflicted Laura, I don't know what to do." He's facing the picture, talking to the image of a young redhead beautifully pregnant. "I didn't give up though. I know you wouldn't want me to, so I struggled to survive. In the beginning I holed up in the sewer with the other glowing ones to escape the super mutant threat... then the Vault Dweller saved us all. But hunger eventually thwarted us and in the end we had to disband. A few years later I tried to start over with the Gecko settlement, I helped Harold as much as I could and we built a nice city, a haven for us ghouls, and even for the few humans who were willing to coexist. I put my heart into those people Laura, like you said I should do in my practice. I wanted to just curl up and let everything go but for you, because of your beautiful soul and the promise I made to you; I didn't give up. Instead I forced my heart to feel again. Laura I did feel, I put my heart into that city and I hoped for it, like I hoped for our kids, that because of my efforts their life would be better... that they would have a bright future..."
He turns from the image to the table just below against the wall; he places his hands apart on the desk – bracing himself "But the humans of Vault City, led by that Nazi Lanette, plotted against us..."
"Then everything else; that tribal wanderer who gave us hope in our most trying time, that one person brought us peace and a measure of benevolence with the leaders of Vault City..." He sighs deeply, closing his eyes tightly and letting his head droop. "But in the end..." his voice trembles "...they did what humanity always does when opposed to a peaceful coexistence..." He pushes off the table abruptly, fists clenched tightly. "They blew it all away." His tightly balled fists begin to smoke "...The buildings, the people, even our crops and livestock..."
"Humans... those damned fleshys! Murderers! Parasites! Their selfish existence is a viral destructive plague on this planet!"
He glances back at the picture and the image convicts him... he breaks his stare and unclenches his fists. His hands drop to his sides in defeat.
'Human'... 'Fleshy'... when did they cease to be people?
He takes a deep ragged breath leaning heavily on a rail.
"When they attacked Gecko., all those people, ghouls like me, killed – all those innocents MURDERED!" He draws a tattered hand down his face, wishing he still had tears.
"Damn NCR... Damn First Citizen Lanette! Damn that foolish tribal for making us believe there could be peace. And damn us for letting our guard down."
He throws a glittery rock across the room and it clatters to the floor. He walks to the reactor and opens the small hatch flooding the room with a pale green fog, a note pad he had left on the table begins to smoke, then catch alight, turning some scrawled notes to ash. Marty closes his eyes as though savoring the radiation – then slowly closes the hatch. He's brighter now, like a newly shaken glow-stick.
"I won't go out like that. Not to a fleshy, not without taking at least one with me."
His damaged face coated in resolve he strides determinedly to the exit, placing a hand on the latch he takes a deep breath and opens the door.
The glowing ghoul makes his way through the construct, checking each level for the enemy presence before moving to the next. Finally, a sound reaches what's left of his ears; it both thrills and terrifies him...
"Back off!" Shouts an unfamiliar voice.
Then silence. His stance becomes instantly rigid.
"Damnit!" The loud voice again.
Noise, like dropped books or paper echo through the corridors, then the sound of running. The footfalls start out distant but quickly, alarmingly, they grow louder, nearer, the position of the runner is difficult to figure as the halls produce a metallic echo.
He presses himself against the wall, his startled eyes dart left and right down the long hall. Panic. He's too far from the stairway to make it quickly enough should the fleshy round a corner and draw a weapon, he's also too far from any hall to sprint for cover.
The fleshys' not running anymore, but I can hear it walking away.
The sound of a rusty door opening and shutting tells him the normal human has gone into the library.
The nearly fluorescent form moves stealthily through the hall leading to the reference library. His pace slows as he draws closer; he knows this area of the plant well as he has occupied this section for nearly two years.
"I don't deserve that..." the now clearly female voice lowers beyond his hearing "...you know I never meant for that to happen!"
Sounds like there's more than one... Damn!
Clatter, it sounds like she's throwing things around.
I've heard this before, all the shouting like an arguement... maybe I'm wrong and there are two fleshies here – no, I've only seen evidence of one... I should make sure. The only thing worse than a fleshy is two.
He moves near the double doors, they're almost closed and he sighs in relief. Peering through the gap into the large cylindrical room he sees the enemy; there it is – alone. The fleshy is standing in the middle of the room holding a large book above its head; it appears to be breathing heavily. Marty closes his eyes deliberately forcing his mind to conjure painful images; the hospital where he was working when the bombs hit (where he was one of only three to survive the effects of the low level radiation). How he rushed painfully home to find the charred remains of his family in their charred home... all the ghouls like him killed before the Vault dweller saved them... the massacre of Gecko and the death of Harold.
These images stir rage in him, so much that the skin on his fists cracks with the strength of his grip. Glancing to the right he notices a fire station still attached to the wall, its axe however was lying on the ground. He picks it up. The blade isn't very sharp, but that doesn't matter, its' a weapon and that's all that's important.
He returns to the door to find the fleshy has moved. Anxious for a moment, worrying his prey has fled, his grim composure returns when it walks back into view.
It screams, so loud and piercing... a scream of anguish.
"Dad! Mom! Please! Please..." It turns suddenly, eerily facing the doors that conceal him, staring.
"My God..." He breaths "she's so young..."
The girl with wild eyes screams again, gripping her hair like she wants to pull it out. She thrashes, knocking papers and books off the desks.
"How could I choose?" She freezes and stands panting, tear streaks line her face...
"No..." she shakes her head, her voice calmer now...
"I had to, I couldn't just..." She turns to her left, gesturing as though someone were there.
"... He wouldn't send anyone, you know that!" She pauses, her hand wiping her eyes. Then she retorts venomously "He was weak and afraid, they all were! If it hadn't been for me, for the initiative I took..." She kicks a stack of books over and pauses.
"We would've drowned eventually, poisoned by our own home if I hadn't..." She stops short, as though interrupted. Her expression turns into one of pain, and she staggers back a few steps. She's staring straight ahead. She gasps every so often as though watching some horrible film. A whole minute passes, he almost leaves...
"How could I know?" She chokes out as tears flow freely from bloodshot eyes down her ghostly pale cheeks.
With a jerk he realizes he's holding his breath. The axe is resting on the floor, and he looks at it as though it were an alien object. He recoils from it.
To think I was going to rush in there and kill whatever I found... Ooh Laura, what am I doing?
"I'm sorry..." The sound of the girl's voice draws his attention back into the library.
"I'm sorry Abba... Daddy... I'm so sorry." She reaches a hand pleadingly out to the face only she can see.
Her hands fly suddenly to the right "Emma... Momma. I'm sor... I love you..." She's reaching with both hands now, pawing the empty air, like a blind man without a cane. She stands turning in a slow circle muttering a string of names as she turns.
"For... forgive me friends... forgive me please!" She wraps her arms tightly around herself, her head bent, body lurching as she sobs. The desperation in her voice hurts him deeply. He knows the kind of pain that spawns such a plea.
"Please..." She's whispering now, he can't hear her, but he can see her speak the words. With her right fist she beats her chest as though in repentance as she mutters; please. Please. Please. Forgive me. Please.
She begins to sway then stumbles, she places a hand on a nearby desk to steady herself then collapses out of view.
In the next moment he finds himself running across the room to the cluster of desks where she had been standing.
I must be out of my mind!
He peers around one of the desks and there she is sitting with her legs splayed out, she's leaning like a doll against the desk. Her eyes are open but she doesn't respond to his approach, she just sits there staring at the floor.
"Uh, a-a... are you h-hurt?" No response.
"A-are you hurt?" He says a little louder, trying to best his blasted stuttering and sound calm despite his thrumming heart.
"My heart..." She slides a dirty hand to the left side of her chest.
"I'm sorry." That feels like such an awkward thing to say, so small, ineffectual. But how can I say to this stranger to communicate that even though I have no clue what happened I understand your pain, at least a little.
He sighs looking at the floor between them. This is one of those times Laura would've said: words just get in the way. Though they never did for her, she always knew what to say to sooth someone else's pain... it was the angel in her.
The pale girl with wild dark hair looks at him and the sight of her makes him want to do something, to embrace her, tell her its ok, make her smile, distract her, anything to change that look - she's awake, but she's not there – empty eyes stare half-lidded back at him. This is the doctor in him. Hers is the look he used to see most in the intensive care wing, the emptiness of someone who's lost they're love, someone who's losing time without hope of repose, someone who's lost everything. Blinking those memories away he focuses back on her.
"What's your name?" She's quiet for a long time. He begins to think she didn't hear him.
"Zanna." She seems to focus on him suddenly; she looks to have just realized he's actually real.
"Who are you? I've never seen you before." Her voice isn't distant anymore.
"My name is Mar... call me Tal."
"Pleased to..." She grimaces putting a hand to her forehead.
"Ugh, my head..."
"What does it feel like? A sharp or dull pain?" He squats down to get a better look at her.
"Sharp pain."
"Where do you feel it?" He leans slightly forward trying to see her eyes but the angle of her head blocks his view.
"Behind my eyes and all along the top of my head."
He reaches automatically to touch her but recoils remembering the extra dose of radiation he absorbed before coming over here; if he were to touch her right now she would be burned. He curses himself briefly for his rash action, if he hadn't he might be able to help this girl now or at least examine her a little.
While he's thinking she jolts to her feet shocking him so he stands. Her fists are clenched and suddenly hard eyes squarely meet his. She takes a few steps forward, nearly nose to nose with him. "Wait please!" he warns holding his hands up in caution. She doesn't retreat or even blink. Her skin starts to turn pink from his exuded heat.
"Tag..." She whispers then grins widely, its slightly menacing how the change makes her look like another person entirely. With a sudden shove of her gloved hands she sends him toppling backward into a pile of books.
She squats down before him, her fingers crossed and her expression placid.
"You're it." She says. Standing she vaults over a desk and bolts pell-mell out the door disappearing down the hall.
Tal sits there staring at the swinging doors trying to take in what just happened.
"What did I get myself into?"