Who else is pumped about the 76 expedition to Atlantic City they announced the other day?!
Also, the songs referenced are "Wildwood Days" by Bobby Rydell and then "Beyond The Sea" by Bobby Darin.
Chapter 11 - Free and Clear
Marilyn almost lost her footing on the slimy stone more than once, wrinkling her nose at the gradually worsening stench radiating from whatever was at the other end of the tunnel. She couldn't really describe the smell as anything other than rotten, something putrid and stagnant. If the way weren't so slippery, she would've doubled her pace. But as it was, she could only steadily press on. The tunnel continued on a slight incline for a few minutes, before Marilyn had to stop. Not far ahead, she could see it. The end of the tunnel. It was illuminated in a dim light, like a halo.
Unable to help herself, she hurried forward, catching herself on the wet tunnel walls every time her footing threatened to slip. She couldn't wait any longer. The excitement was overwhelming. Once she had scrabbled to the mouth of the tunnel, Marilyn gasped. It was just like the feed she'd seen on the camera, but different. So colorful, so alive. The sand was a pale brown. The water was murky blackish-blue. The sky was similar, but maybe that was only because it was night. Was that also why it was dotted with twinkling white stars? Maybe. She'd seen them in the old films and pictures, but they were never so clear. So… beautiful.
Taking a step forward, gaze still glued to the night sky, Marilyn gasped again as her foot slid between the splintered wood of the broken dock. Unable to catch herself in time, she slammed forward into the damp gray wood, and then through it. She cried out as she plummeted, but it was cut short as she fell into the dark water with a loud splash.
Marilyn flailed in panic, managing to thrust her head above and spit the disgusting salty water from her mouth. The water kept moving, that eternal ebb and flow, and it didn't seem as gentle as she'd thought it would be. Luckily, she managed to hug her arms around the slimy wet wooden pillar under the dock, gasping as the ocean waves continued to batter her. Shaking the saltwater from her stinging eyes, Marilyn saw that she really wasn't all too far from the shore. She could probably touch the bottom if she was just a little bit closer.
She tried to wait for a moment of calm, but the waves continued to slam into her again and again. Realizing there would be no ideal time, she braced herself and took a deep breath. Then she lunged towards the shore, trying to emulate the gestures she had seen people do to swim in the old movies. She flailed her arms forward like she was pulling herself along and kicked her legs wildly all the while. She didn't move very far, mostly just splashing, but luck was on her side. Another wave happened to push her forward at that very same moment. As a result, she felt her hands brush against the sand below. She gripped at it for dear life, managing to pull her legs down under her to essentially crawl to the shore.
Coughing, she all but collapsed into the dry sand, not even caring when it stuck to every exposed inch of her skin. She knew it would be dangerous outside of the Vault, but she hadn't realized how quickly that danger would rear its head. Once she caught her breath, Marilyn found herself quickly growing quite chilled. And itchy. She didn't know how, but she felt like the sand had managed to get into every nook and cranny of her Vault suit, and it wasn't anything like she had imagined it to feel. She thought sand would be soft, given how often people laid upon it in the old films. But it was actually coarse and gritty, thoroughly unpleasant. It made her desperately long for a shower. There was nothing to be done about that now, though, as she doubted there were functional showers outside of the Vault.
Instead, she stood up and brushed as much sand as she could away with her hands. She glanced towards the mouth of the tunnel once more, noticing the rusty cameras which framed it. The one on the left looked ahead steadily, a small red light blinking from below it. The other on the right, however, hung low and dangled from its internal cabling. No wonder it had been offline…
Shutting her eyes, Marilyn turned away from the Vault, trying to forcibly disperse the pang of sadness that arose within her. She had wanted to leave for years, she reminded herself. This was what she had always wanted. So why did it make her so sad? Was it because she would miss the people she'd left behind? Her parents, her sister, Dick? She didn't know, and she didn't want to think about it. She was happy now, she told herself. This was what she wanted.
Steeling herself and squaring her jaw, Marilyn marched forward. Well, she tried to. Walking on sand was rather difficult. But after struggling for a moment, she stepped up onto a small grassy hill. She was surprised that grass even still existed, but as she looked out to the swampy estuary before her, she realized that so much more existed than just grass. Cutting through all of the swamplands was a dark, damp dirt road. Considering her options for a moment, Marilyn decided it'd be a better choice to follow the road than wander off into the wilderness.
After walking along the dirt road for a good five minutes, Marilyn looked down at her Pip-Boy as it pinged. To her surprise, it picked up the signals of two separate local radio stations. She curiously activated the first broadcast, which was identified as Boardwalk Radio.
After a moment of static as the signal was tuned in, a man's voice came from the Pip-Boy's speaker, surprising Marilyn. She hadn't been sure if there were even still people alive outside of the Vault.
"-like it's gonna be a chilly one tonight, folks. Autumn's really come up on us now, huh? Brr!" The man said with an emphatic shiver, "Ah, but no matter how cold that ocean breeze might get on some nights, there's nowhere I'd rather live."
Marilyn perked a brow, lowering her Pip-Boy and continuing to walk on as she listened.
"Alright, alright, I know what you're saying out there now," The man chuckled, "You're saying to yourself, 'Carl, just shut up and play some music already!' right? Well, I got you! Here's our boy Bobby once again with a song about this very town!"
Marilyn hummed to herself in surprise when an upbeat song began to play, and then a man began to sing. She found it way more exciting than the same few jazz tracks that played inside of the Vault. Bobbing her head slightly as she walked, she very quickly came to the realization that she vastly enjoyed music with a singer better than without. She couldn't make out a lot of what the guy was saying, something about wild days, but it sure was catchy.
It wasn't long before the dirt road led Marilyn to a darker, sturdier road. It spanned far to her left and right. But she was more interested in the building directly across the road. It was down its own short road, which was smaller in size than the main road. It was a little bit dilapidated but she thought she might be able to find something interesting inside.
"Ah, love that one," Carl piped up from the radio as the song ended, "Now let's listen to a different Bobby, this one telling us about what's waiting beyond the sea!"
The second song began to play, this one a bit slower and jazzier, but wasn't anywhere near as boring as the Vault's jazz. Plus, it had another singer. This one was singing about a woman or something. Marilyn admittedly wasn't fully listening as she approached the ruined building. She could just make out a bit of the decayed sign, with only the word "crab" being legible.
She'd never actually seen a crab before, but she had tasted canned imitation crab. She wondered if it was close to the real thing. Not that she expected there'd be any century-old edible crab dishes laying around. And even if there were, it wasn't like she'd be desperate enough to eat them. At least, not yet. In her rush to leave, she'd kind of neglected to pack any food or other essentials. Maybe she actually would end up resorting to centennial crab eventually, if she didn't find something a bit more palatable first.
As the song about the sea ended, Carl's voice chimed in once more. Something about his pep and energy reminded Marilyn of Timbo. She wondered if he was still at work with the radio's night shift or if he was done by now. She frowned upon remembering that she would never see him again. Or Dick. Or her parents. Or anyone else she had known for her entire life. She felt another pang of pain at the thought. Frowning, Marilyn quickly switched off the radio, the silence welcoming as she stepped inside of the building.
But then, moments after she did so, her previous thoughts were proven wrong. Because she definitely knew that voice.
"I told you! I don't know anything!"
Marilyn's eyes widened as she looked towards the ceiling, where the sound came from. There was no doubt about it.
"Please!" Greg shouted, "Let me g—"
His words were cut short by the sound of a loud slap.
"Shut up! Don't lie, you little punk!" A gruff man shouted back, "You're from that Vault! So you have to be!"
"No, I swear!" Greg pleaded, "I-I'm not even related to the Aldens! Not even a little bit!"
Marilyn gasped quietly upon hearing her surname.
"My name is Vel—" Greg was cut off by another smack.
"Did I ask your name?!" The gruff man growled, "Huh?! Did I?"
Marilyn heard another smack and hastily moved to grab her pistol from the holster. She didn't know what was going on, but she knew Greg was in trouble. But before she could do anything…
"Ease off," A different man ordered.
His voice was smooth, almost unnervingly so. Marilyn didn't know why, but his very voice made her uneasy, even though he was clearly less frenzied than his companion.
"Sorry, boss," The gruff man uttered.
Correction. He was less frenzied than his employee.
"There must be others like yourself," The smooth-voiced man said as Marilyn heard footsteps moving overhead, "More of you Vault dwellers, hm?"
Greg was quiet for a moment.
"P-Please," He finally responded, "Please let me go…"
"...Evidently, this one isn't related to Alden," The smooth-voiced man sighed, "That means we have no use for him."
"Th-Then… you'll let me go?" Greg sniffled.
"Sure, kid," The smooth-voiced man answered calmly.
Marilyn could hear scrambling overhead, likely from Greg.
"Th-Thank you! Thank yo—"
Greg's words were cut off by a single gunshot, which was swiftly followed by a loud thump. Marilyn's eyes practically bulged out of her head at the sound, her spasming heart dropping into the pit of her stomach.
"Now what, boss?" The gruff man asked as Marilyn heard two pairs of footsteps begin to move overhead.
She knew she should've ducked back out, ran away as fast as her legs could carry her. But she was paralyzed by her terror, unable to even breathe.
"I want you to take some men to Shawcrest," The smooth-voiced man answered, his voice moving towards the nearby stairs, "See if those raiders are hiding anything."
"What about you, boss?" The gruff man asked from behind him.
Marilyn finally regained control of her stiff legs and moved back towards the door. Unfortunately, the old floorboards creaked underneath. She saw the boots at the top of the stairs pause midstep.
"Did you hear that?" The smooth-voiced man asked, and Marilyn could see his silhouette on the wall as he looked back over his shoulder.
"Hear what?" The considerably larger gruff man asked.
"Hm, must be hearing things," The smooth-voiced man hummed, and then the feet began to descend once more.
In a panic, Marilyn ducked forward under a nearby table. The tablecloth was long, though didn't entirely reach down to the floor. As a result, her boots were still visible. But if she was quiet and still, maybe they wouldn't notice.
She heard the two men reach the bottom of the stairs but then they stopped short.
"...Stop," The smooth-voiced man ordered quietly, which Marilyn could barely hear over the hammering of her heart.
"What is it, boss?" The gruff man asked.
"The door's open," The smooth-voiced man responded, "...Knew I wasn't hearing things."
"Company, huh?" The gruff man grunted, and then Marilyn heard the click of a gun.
Her trembling hands gripped tighter around her own gun, which she held close to her as though it would give her some sort of comfort. She wasn't looking forward to using it, but after what had happened to Greg, she knew these guys weren't just empty threats.
"Look around," The smooth-voiced man ordered.
The two men fanned out around the room slowly, pausing every now and then. Then one of them stopped right by her table, their boots visible. Marilyn held her breath, trying not to make the slightest noise. She felt sick, like she was going to throw up.
"...I don't see nothing," The gruff man said from right beside her, "Maybe the wind blew it open? It's a breezy one tonight."
Marilyn felt a faint flicker of hope upon hearing this, but it was snuffed out instantaneously.
"No, I know I heard something," The smooth-voiced man responded from across the room, "Keep looking. Check everywhere. Every nook and cranny."
Marilyn bit her lip, hearing the gruff man sigh.
"Yes, boss," He grumbled, before a gloved hand gripped the bottom of the tablecloth.
Marilyn almost went cross-eyed, her sweaty hands shakily moving to point the muzzle of her pistol towards the hand. She felt like the world moved in slow motion as the tablecloth was lifted. Then the face of a man wearing a gasmask appeared directly in front of her. Tears in her eyes and trembling with terror, she squeezed the trigger.
Bam. The gasmask shattered around the bullet hole, hot red blood spurting across the black plastic. And across Marilyn. Marilyn cried out in response, and then again as the man collapsed onto the table, smashing into her and breaking the table.
Marilyn thrashed and writhed under the limp, heavy body. Blood and viscera poured from the wound like a faucet, drenching her as she lay trapped under it. She kicked and pushed to shove the body off of her, dropping her gun in the process. She scurried backwards away from it, sputtering and gasping. But then she backed into something.
Looking up slowly, she was met with the muzzle of a gun against her forehead. The cold steel was gentle, like the way Dick would always tap that same spot between her brows. Tears filled her eyes as she stared up at the lanky man looming over her. He wore goggles over his eyes and dirty stained layers of clothing. But his skin and hair were both a toxic green. She saw his eyes, also green, flick over towards the bloody corpse.
"...That guy was expensive," He mumbled, looking back at Marilyn with a smirk, "Guess he wasn't worth it."
Marilyn could only tremble and stare up at the green man, the muzzle of his pistol still glued to her skin.
"Really, I should be thanking you," He chuckled before eyeing her Vault suit, "So, what's your name?"
Marilyn thought back to Greg, and what happened to him for not having the right name. Seeing no other way out of it, she swallowed hard and steeled herself for whatever was to come.
"M-Marilyn," She said in a trembling voice, "Marilyn Alden."
"Alden?" The green man perked a brow, "By birth or by marriage?"
"B-Birth..." Marilyn answered nervously.
The green man grinned, pulling the muzzle away from her skin ever so slightly.
"...I could use you," He said ominously before nodding to her, "Get up. Hands on the wall."
Marilyn hurried to do as he commanded, pressing her palms against the grimy wall. He moved over and patted her down, tossing aside her switchblade when he found it, before moving back. There was some distance between them by then, but he kept the gun trained on her, even as he retrieved something from his pack. Marilyn glanced down as that same something skittered across the floor, landing by her boot. It was a syringe kit with an empty vial attached. Uncertain, she glanced back towards the green man.
"Don't be shy, turn around and put it on. Fill it with your blood," The green man ordered, holding up the gun threateningly, "Or else we're gonna have to do this the messy way."
Marilyn furrowed her brow, slowly stooping to pick up the syringe then turning her back to the wall. What in the world did this guy want with her blood? She glanced at the needle, skeptical that it was very clean. She knew how to draw blood due to her many years of forced volunteering in the clinic, though never without a tourniquet or decent lighting. Thanks grandpa, Marilyn thought bitterly. She reached over and felt for her vein, earning an impatient grunt from the green man.
"Let's move it," He growled.
"I have to find the vein," Marilyn protested quietly.
The cocking of a gun responded, effectively ending all further discussion. Wincing slightly as the needle picked her skin, she wasn't sure whether to be relieved or not when blood began to fill the vial. She glanced back towards the green man with worry, seeing him watching her from where he leaned against the counter. Gun still pointed readily, of course. She wondered what was wrong with him. Why was he green? Was that what happened to people as a result of radiation?
"Take a picture, sweetie," The green man snorted, "It'll last longer."
Marilyn blinked, realizing she was staring, and looked down at the half-filled vial.
"I know what you're thinking," The green man said with a chuckle, "You're wondering what the hell is wrong with me, right? With… this?"
Marilyn glanced back at the green man to see him run a hand through his green hair, pulling away entire clumps with the mere gesture.
"Well, it doesn't matter," He smiled at her, "Because this is exactly what your blood is gonna fix."
Marilyn furrowed her brow in confusion, not sure what to say to that. What could her blood possibly do to heal whatever his strange affliction was? Registering her confusion, the green man laughed.
"You… You don't even realize how valuable your blood is," He grinned, "Do you?"
Hesitantly, Marilyn shook her head. Honesty had served her well enough thus far, so she figured there was no need to lie. At least she wasn't dead. Yet.
"Well, sweetie, once I get your blood…" The green man nodded towards the vial, "...the wasteland will be mine. Ain't that nice?"
Marilyn's brow furrowed, gathering that probably wasn't very nice at all. Still, she didn't understand what was so special about her blood. Again, as though reading her mind, the green man chuckled.
"Want me to clue you in as to why your blood is so special, sweetie?" The green man offered, propping his chin on his hand as he leaned more against the counter, "I'll tell you. See, you're the talisman. Or, should I say, talis-woman. Eh?"
Marilyn blinked at him.
"Woof, you Vault kids are a tough crowd," He clicked his tongue, gesturing to her with his gun, "Oh, that reminds me. Sorry about your little pal. Killed him, you know? Ah, but you don't really care about him right now. You're more worried about yourself, right?"
Marilyn flinched back slightly as he leaned off the counter, striding up towards her.
"Bet I'd get a lot of caps for a pretty girl like you," He smirked as he roughly grabbed her chin, "The Pitt always needs more pretty girls."
Marilyn swallowed hard and tried to turn her face away, but he held her in place.
"You're quite the little fighter, huh? I bet you'd make one hell of a raider, too," He hummed, glancing towards the nearby corpse,"I mean, you shot him in cold blood. No hesitation."
Marilyn refused to follow his gaze, her stomach roiling at his words. She didn't want to think about what she'd done. She'd had to. Did he think she took pleasure in it or something? What a sick man. And not just physically!
"Almost makes me wanna keep you around. Bet you'd be useful," He clicked his tongue, looking back at her, "Ah, but you'd just knife me in the back the first chance you got, huh?"
Marilyn winced slightly as his grip tightened painfully against her chin.
"Y-You're gonna shoot me anyway," She mumbled, clenching her jaw so that she wouldn't tremble so visibly.
"Heh, maybe, maybe not," The green man grinned, "Who knows? Maybe I might need more blood later, hm?"
Marilyn glanced away, unable to look at him anymore. No matter what he said, she knew in her gut that he was just playing with her. There was no way he would let her walk out of there alive. In the end, she was no better off than Greg had been.
"...Wh-Why?" She mumbled, staring over at the stairs, "Why did you kill him?"
"Who? Oh, what's-his-face upstairs?" The green man followed her gaze, "Didn't need him. Not like you. See, you're special. But then, I told you that already, didn't I?"
"Why?" Marilyn repeated, tears beginning to fall.
"You wanna know why? Because your blood is a key," He grinned, leaning his face closer, "A key to something real special."
Marilyn looked up at him questioningly through her tears.
"The Elixir of Life," He elaborated quietly, his breath wafting over her face.
It was putrid, like sickness and decay.
"And you know what?" He whispered to her.
"W-What?" Marilyn whispered back shakily.
"The vial is full," He smiled, swiftly ripping it from the syringe.
Marilyn scrambled aside just as swiftly, moving for the door. Unfortunately, she was only able to move a few steps before the butt of the gun smacked into the back of her head with such force that it knocked her to her knees. She could feel a dampness through the throbbing pain and she knew the injury had been bad. This became even more evident when her vision blurred. Even through her disorientation, she could see the green man's boots stop directly in front of her.
"What a shame," He clicked his tongue, "And here I thought we could be friends."
Marilyn tried to look up to him but stopped when her eyes locked on the vial in his hand. She didn't know what good it would do, but at least she could make his life harder before he took hers. Lunging forward, she grabbed his hand with both of hers and pulled the vial free, smashing it against the floor.
The green man shouted curses and something along the lines of "I'll kill you!" before the barrel of his gun was in front of her face. There was a flash and a loud bang.
And then everything went white.