Scene 15
It was Giles Wolstencroft.
Lawman recognized him from the statues. He wasn't standing though. Instead he was seated cross legged in a plush leather armchair on the grainy black and white screen in front of them, leafing through a book as though no one was filming him. After a moment he turned to the camera in feigned surprise and smiled. Lawman thought it was a slick smile; more slippery than a deep ocean oil spill. If Lawman was feeling generous he'd describe it as the smile of a salesman, but Lawman was deep underground in a place that creeped him out more with every passing second. He wasn't in a generous mood.
It was the smile of a liar.
"Oh, why hello there," Wolstencroft greeted them through the screen. He closed his book and placed it on a side table before fixing the camera with his full attention. "Welcome to Vault-Tec. And a big welcome to your new life underground. I know this will be disorientating for you, but understand that if you are fortunate enough to be watching this, then you are amongst the lucky few who have survived a nuclear exchange, which of course means that you carry with you the responsibility of continuing on the legacy of these great United States of America; our culture, our traditions, and, of course, all of our undying duties as U.S. citizens at war. For these are the heritage of the founding fathers, and although times may look bleak, remember that so long as fine blooded Americans like you flourish, wherever you might be, old glory shall once again fly over this great land, untarnished from the communist menace, fluttering from sea to shining sea…"
"What does 'communist' mean?" Carter blurted.
"Something to do with 'China'," Lawman answered, having seen the faded old propaganda posters before, "some old enemy from before the war."
Lawman paced forward, closer to the image of Wolstencroft, until the shadow of his head reared up from the bottom of the silver screen.
"…And you, dear citizens of Sunshine, Louisiana, are especially lucky. Because this is, after all, the wonderful country town that raised me from boyhood into manhood, from where I went on to become Assistant CEO and then Acting CEO at Vault Tec – the company that guarantees the future of our great nation well beyond any calamity. As such, I have spared no expense in the construction of this facility. It is the pinnacle of scientific and technological know-how, with the capability to carry forward all Vault Residents, and the generations who follow your pioneering spirit, well into the next century and even into the centuries beyond that.
"Vault-Tec is here for you - Just like how this town was there for me when I was growing up." And here, just for a fleeting second, Lawman saw Wolstencroft's smile grow sharper, and his eyes glinted dangerously. Wolstencroft had too good a façade to let it slip for too long though. If you blinked you'd miss it. But all the same it sent chills running down Lawman's spine.
"Well, down to business," Wolstencroft resumed his speech, his slick smile once again lighting up the screen. "All Vault residents will have their own rooms located on the second floor in the residential area. A guide employed by Vault Tec shall be the one who shows you around all the different sectors shortly. Before that, however, you shall each be issued with your very own Vault Tec jumpsuit, which will replace your old clothes. In a moment you will each go to the changing rooms where you will change attire. Once changed, you shall hand your old clothes to the Overseer and his men, and they'll safely dispose of them. I am afraid you can't keep them as they do pose a contamination risk. The good news is that none of you need to worry about fashion anymore, as they all come in the same color and style! Now none of you fellas need to wait so long for your gal to get dressed when you want to go to the ball, am I right?"
Wolstencroft feigned a jovial laugh, which felt shallow and glib. Lawman almost expected to hear canned laughter crackling from the speakers.
"Well, it's time for me to take my leave now. In a moment I'll turn you over to Overseer Turnbull. But, if I may, I'll just leave you with one important footnote. In this Vault there are a number of areas that are absolutely off-limits. Unless otherwise directed by your Overseer you should never enter the Vault's sub-levels. There is nothing to see there, and it may endanger you should you gain entry, so it behooves me as the Acting CEO of Vault-Tec to caution you to steer well clear of the basement.
"Godspeed and God bless loyal Americans, and once again I welcome you to your exciting future as part of Project Safehouse."
The crew was left staring at Wolstencroft's lingering smile for a moment before some old world patriotic tune flared up. The screen faded to a waving old world flag, and the song and the reel finally finished with the words, '…from sea to shining seeeeaa…'
Then the company were plunged into darkness as the silver screen vanished, the crackling from the speakers suddenly died, and the eerie silence returned.
Slowly the light overhead flickered back on and the company blinked their bleary eyes in the sudden wash of artificial light.
"Did everyone speak like a fuckin' pussy back then?" Carter sneered. "What a crock of shit!"
"There was that warning about the basement again," Vyatch rumbled.
"Tch, I tell ya, the sooner we get outta here the better," Katherine said. She rubbed her face with the side of her revolver.
"Not before we get what we fuckin' came here for," Carter growled. He stalked his way out of the Orientation room and back out into the corridor. The light outside flashed on. Lawman followed suit with Vyatch and Katherine staying close behind him. They kept a watchful eye on him. Lawman could feel their gaze burn the back of his neck.
They once again strode down the corridor, once again the darkness stalked close behind. It wasn't long before they stopped by two doors, one with the 'men' sign and one with the 'ladies' sign. Carter opened the door with his gun hand, sliding it back and stepping in sideways with his Colt 45 at the ready. The light inside flickered on but all that was revealed was a simple changing room. There was a security camera in the corner above the door. The room was remarkably clean – it had probably only been used once.
Carter turned to the security camera. Presumably it was there to make sure no heirlooms or clothes were hidden or stashed away when the residents changed. Carter pointed his gun at the camera with one eye closed, and pretended to shoot it. He twizzled the Colt 45 around his finger and then holstered it. He looked around the clean white tiled room one last time, scanning the neat rows of beech wood benches, but saw nothing of interest. He left the room into the corridor.
There was a sign opposite the two doors pointing further down the corridor. It read 'Elevator to Residential Level.'
The Cazador's turned to each other and Carter nodded at them, as though to say the room was clear. Vyatch prodded Lawman's back with his gun and once again Lawman lead the way down the corridor until they reached the end – another elevator that led further down into the vault. He pushed the button. The doors tinged open. The soft cone of light inside flickered on invitingly.
Lawman and the rest of the crew stepped inside.
This elevator didn't take as long as the first one did to take them down. It soon came to a jerky stop and slid its doors open to reveal a vast foyer. Lawman stepped out upon a large balcony that encircled it. Along the sides of the balcony were the residential spaces where forty-one of the residents of the Sunshine Vault lived (the overseer, security guards and scientists had their separate rooms). Down below was where all the shops and eating places were. Once it would have all been bathed in light. It would have been open, inviting, and modern. Now, without the light, the vast area was a swirl of grey shapeless silhouettes, a foreboding cavernous space filled with darkness, shadows and winding corridors branching off to the side that plunged deeper into blackness.
Lawman took a tentative step forward and heard his footstep echo eerily through the empty foyer. The first light a few feet ahead of him flickered to life, and Lawman could just see, over the balcony, in the space below, the silhouette of tables and chairs. They'd been overturned, piled up on top of each other as though to form a barricade. Lawman looked to the wall on his other side and saw bullet holes. It looked like the residents had ripped each other apart, or something else had.
Lawman felt a gun prod him in the back. He turned around.
"That way," Vyatch rumbled as he pointed down one of the corridors that branched off from the foyer.
Lawman did what he was told. He went down the dark corridor, feeling the walls beside him to negotiate his passage. The lights down there must have been broken or something because they didn't flicker on. Instead Lawman switched on his pip-boy light and made his way to the bottom of the passage where the path forked at two doors standing opposite each other. One was marked 'William Stein' and the other was once labelled, 'Herbert Winfred', but that name had been crossed out and replaced with, 'Arthur Applecroft'.
Lawman remembered Zelda P. Winfred's profile and how her husband hadn't made it to the vault. Apparently, the Overseer had refitted the room for the investigative journalist who was never supposed to have been there in the first place. Lawman wondered how Zelda had felt about this.
He chose to go into the room whose name he recognized, and found it to be a tip. He almost immediately tripped over a vault jumpsuit that was sprawled on the floor as he stepped inside. The light overhead tried to flicker on, but soon frazzled into darkness. Instead, as Lawman stepped further inside, a bed side lamp switched on and bathed the bedroom with its warm orange glow.
Lawman spotted a luxurious writing desk the other side of the room, opposite the bed and near to the door to the en-suite. He found scribbled notes scattered all over it. None of them seemed particularly interesting. They were just numbers and jottings that made little to no sense. Some were in black ink and every now and again red ink would be used to encircle the odd figure or write exclamation marks.
Lawman tried to open the desk's drawers but found them locked.
"My lock picking kit…" He said, turning to the others.
"What about it?" Carter retorted.
"I need it," Lawman replied. "Unless, of course, you'd rather blast the lock open with my gun…"
Carter fished in his satchel and carelessly chucked the lock picking kit to him. Lawman caught the thing as it flew towards his head. "Gee, thanks Carter. You're a doll."
"Just get the fuckin' thing open."
Lawman used the tiny screwdriver and bobby pin, twisting them until he heard a faint click. He opened the drawer and found two things inside: a brown leather backed journal, and an audio cassette dated, 25th October 2077. Lawman turned to the back of the journal. The last entry was dated, 'March 7th, 2083'.
He moved over to the bed, sitting on it by the warm glow of the bedside lamp. The entry read, 'I'm going down to the basement today. Turnbull finally agreed to show me what's down there. If it's a problem with the reactor that is causing the power outages and keeping the water recycling systems from working, then the only way to fix it is by going through the basement. I'm glad Turnbull has finally listened to reason. I sense it might well be dangerous, but someone needs to do something and none of the damn scientists or security, let alone Turnbull, have seemed willing to talk about the problem to anyone else. I will need their help, of course, I doubt it will be as easy as changing a light bulb, but I'm pleased Turnbull turned to me for the task. If I can locate the source of the vault's problems then I'm sure the egg heads can do the rest. It's been a rocky relationship at times, I've often been critical of how he runs things down here, but I feel Turnbull and I might, at last, be beginning to respect one another. I'm pleased he trusts me with this task. To be honest, I've never quite felt like I belonged here. The other residents still ignore me. It's as though I should have drowned in the nuclear fire back when it all began. However, I hope that through this act I can finally become an accepted member of the Vault.'
Lawman raised his eyebrows. So after less than six years the vault dwellers were already doing what they'd been told never to do. Although, he granted the fact that if the water recycling system had stopped working the vault must have been in deep trouble. Trouble enough that the Overseer would seek the help of a resident to fix the problem in the basement…instead of one of his own men? Something, about that didn't add up. Why was this Overseer Turnbull sending an investigative reporter to fix the issue in the basement? Perhaps the guy volunteered? It certainly sounded like he'd been inquiring about the basement for a long time beforehand. Were Turnbull and the scientists permitted entrance into the basement? Did they know what was down there? And if they did why didn't they go down?
Lawman handed the journal over to Vyatch, who began to leaf through it with the others. Lawman turned his attention to the audio cassette dated, '25th October 2077' – Just under six years before Arthur's last journal entry.
He slotted it into his pip-boy and listened as the static crackled through the room. There was a whir and a clunk as the thing began its recording.
"…Why am I so cynical when I have so much to be thankful for?" the crackling voice of what Lawman assumed to be Arthur filled the room. Vyatch continued reading the journal, but Katherine and Carter looked over towards Lawman. Lawman felt eerily similar to how he felt when he was amongst the trees by the burned wreckage of the vertibirds, listening to the last recorded words of Paladin Salter, piecing together who the unseen enemy had been.
"Exactly," another voice answered back with an indignant tone. "Why are you so cynical when you're one of the few who has survived the blast. There's so many out there…So many out there are just dead. Anybody else would be thanking their lucky stars just to be alive down here."
Lawman heard Arthur laugh. It was an aged, tired and forlorn laugh.
"Bill," Arthur answered patiently, "You don't get it. The occupation of Canada wasn't some patriotic preemptive strike to preserve freedom. It was pure Bismark. Nineteenth century realpolitik in the twenty-first century. There was nothing noble about it. They had the resources so we took them. We needed military access through to Alaska, so we stormed through the only country that shared a land border with the damn place. The whole Sino-American war is an exercise in brutality - from both sides."
"So now you're comparing us to the commies? You could be imprisoned for less."
"Not much chance of that now is there."
"You smug bastard, don't you realise you owe it to American capitalism that you're even safe inside this vault? It was freedom loving people and the prosperity they generate that gave you this shelter!"
"You want to talk about American capitalism and Vault Tec?"
"Vault Tec is a fine example of the American entrepreneurial spirit…"
"Well, I've seen Vault Tec's accounts, Bill. And let me tell you, I've never seen so much red ink in all my life."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean it takes some seriously dark arts in accounting to be drowning in that much red ink and to stay afloat…"
A new voice, harsher than the first two, suddenly spoke up. "What are you two discussing?"
"Uh, nothing Officer MacConnaugh," the voice of Bill stammered. "We were just…we were just leaving."
Lawman heard footsteps clap away down a hall through the crackling of the audio cassette. It was a while before Lawman heard another set of footsteps pacing slowly closer, up to the recording device.
"Having fun, Arthur?" MacConnaugh's voice was menacing. Lawman imagined the man sneering as he leant into Arthur's face. "You know the Overseer will hear of this."
"Well, then you better get going, Macky. You don't want to keep your master waiting."
"One day, Applecroft, you'll ask the wrong question, and d'you know what will happen?"
Lawman found himself admiring Arthur's cool as he replied, "Tell me."
There was a pause as Lawman imagined MacConnaugh leaning his sneering face in closer. "You'll get the answer..." And, with that, Lawman heard the officer turn, and his footsteps made their way down the hall.
"…Fools," Arthur breathed.
The recording whirred and clunked to a stop.
Lawman couldn't pretend to understand much of what had been discussed, but he had begun to understand much better what Arthur had meant when he said that his and Turnbull's relationship was a 'rocky' one. It was easy to see how the guy aggravated authority. He was like a sheriff, in his own way; he always stuck his nose in other people's business and got himself into trouble. And, he guessed, Arthur sounded like he wanted justice too, or, at least, the truth. It took Lawman a long time to learn that 'justice' was a hard mistress. He wondered if Arthur had felt the same way.
Carter had the journal now and he impatiently turned through the pages, almost ripping them apart as he flicked through it. He angrily tossed it aside. "Is there nothing in this damn vault that will tell us about the fuckin' tech file?"
"What about the Overseer's office?" Katherine replied. "There's sure to be something in there, hon'." She stroked his arm affectionately.
"The Overseer's Office… Fine," Carter said at last. "Let's go to the overseer's office."
Lawman could see Carter was hesitant to go there though. He might even have been a little scared. Lawman remembered that the Overseer's office had been the only route through which to get to the basement, so Lawman shared his anxiety.
The company made their way out of the room and down the stairs at the far end of the balcony. They ambled their way past the dark barricades of chairs and tables, Lawman's pip-boy lighting the way. Several skeletons lay sprawled in their vault jumpsuits over the metal barricades, emerging in the green light before slipping away again into darkness. Occasionally there would be one in security guard attire; stab proof vest, helmet and 10mm pistol clutched in its fleshless hand. The bodies seemed to become scarcer the closer that they made it to the far door. It was labelled, 'Overseer's Office' with an arrow pointing up the stairs beyond, which led the way up into a veil of darkness. Apparently, this had been what the ten security guards scattered throughout the foyer had tried to protect, seemingly from the residents.
They stepped slowly up the steps, Lawman's pip-boy lighting the way like a faint green beacon, before finally reaching a sliding door. It was locked tight, but it only took a few moments for Lawman to open it with his lock picking skills.
Once they stepped inside they found themselves in a large space with a round metal desk that 'screamed' authority as you approached it. It was the sort of desk a boss uses to intimidate you with, to peer over at you as you sweated on the other side of it. No light came on as they entered the room (another burnt out lightbulb), but Lawman did spot some silvery light shimmer from behind the desk, making the shadows recede to the corners of the room. As Lawman walked around it to the seat, he was startled to discover a line of flickering monitors, all in black and white, but each overlooking a different part of the vault.
Once again he remembered the Vault Status Report from earlier: 'Security Cameras: minimal'. The cameras they had all come across as they penetrated deeper into the vault were working. Lawman spotted one screen that showed him the vault entrance where the tram used to be. He could see Vance slouched by the railing. For a moment Lawman thought the tough old nut had passed away, but then he saw him move slightly, lifting his head.
He even spotted the monitor that overlooked the changing rooms…and one that overlooked the foyer. If all the vault residents weren't dead they would have spotted the crew arrive a long time ago.
Carter looked over Lawman's shoulder and saw the terminals too.
"Hey, Vance, you still hearin' us okay?" Carter grunted into his walkie-talkie. It crackled in the silence.
They both saw Vance react in the monitor, grudgingly picking up his own walkie-talkie.
"Yeah, I'm still here," he wheezed. He gave a spluttering cough. "Y'hear okay?"
"Everything's loud and clear our end," Carter replied.
Lawman also spotted a computer terminal by the side of the monitors, and beyond the desk were two sets of doors that led the way to the Vault Tec employee's residential spaces and the science offices. However, it was beneath the desk that Lawman was wary of. Just behind the office chair was a grid that was labelled 'basement'. Lawman could readily believe that some computer prompt from the terminal would override the quarantine, making the grid slide backwards, revealing a set of stairs or a ladder or something that would lead down into… just whatever the hell it was that lurked down there.
Lawman steered clear of the Overseer's computer, at least for now. He noticed there was a space next to it that was a socket for his pip-boy, which he had no idea what it was used for. Also, he didn't wish to accidentally press the wrong button while he was hacking into it. Instead he moved towards the science offices. If he could glean information about the tech file without triggering a shutdown of the quarantine then it would be better for everyone as far as Lawman was concerned.
"Just where do you think you're goin'?" Katherine interrogated him.
"You want to learn about the tech file, right?" Lawman countered.
"The Overseer's terminal is here."
"And the Science offices are this way. Which do you think is more likely to give us what we're looking for?"
Carter dragged his attention away from the monitors and looked over to Vyatch. "Go with him," he commanded. "Make sure he doesn't do anything he regrets."
"Yes, boss," Vyatch rumbled.
Carter resumed studying the monitors with Katherine. Meanwhile, Lawman and Vyatch headed through the door into the Science Offices. Lawman immediately gravitated to the cubicle marked 'Zelda Winfred'. He powered up the terminal and scoured through the scientist's reports.
It proved to be more revealing than Lawman had bargained for.