Wasteland Odyssey: Volume 1

by Gazelly Ramasama

When vault 123 descends into chaos, Nathan and Sarah are forced to flee the only home they've ever known for the harsh wasteland. They'll go on a continent spanning journey, experiencing all that life in a post-nuclear world has to offer. In this volume, Nathan and Sarah flee the vault, and quickly discover life in the Empire wasteland is harder than they ever imagined.

1. Chapter 1

As a boy, I often dreamt about New York City before the bombs fell. I'd close my eyes and imagine tall skyscrapers with bright lights shining up on them as though they were pedestals; showcases of what the American empire had to offer. I'd imagine the lively hustle and bustle of the cars and the people as they moved quickly on the streets below. I'd imagine that beautiful green colossus on the bay looking out to the sea with her torch alight to guide the weak and weary to the empire's shores. New York wasn't just a city, it was a symbol of American power. A testament to the prosperity, ingenuity, and diversity that defined the late great nation. As a boy, I thought of the city as someone would think of their far away home. I yearned to return to it, and rebuild what was destroyed in atomic hellfire, to sweep away the ash and rubble, to let those lights shine forevermore, and in restoring that symbol of the American empire, the empire itself.

That was the destiny ingrained into our vault's founding. We all knew that our bastion of old world ideals and society would not die out underground; someday we would sprout from the ground and bud into a new America. But things change, and our Vault certainly was not exempt from that fact. Long before I was born, an incident occurred that shook the confidence of the elders, and at the time of my childhood, the vault would open its doors for no one. Nobody could enter, and nobody could leave.

My early childhood in the Vault was pleasant. My parents were loving, my neighbors were friendly, and my friends were like my family. I lived a simple life: going to school, eating in the diner, running around the vault playing games with all the other kids. Growing up in the Vault before you turned ten was paradise. You had everything you could want and no responsibilities. We'd receive an old world education and then be let loose to have our way with our underground bunker. In my young mind, the small community we had was a utopia. Tight knit and orderly. Everyone knew each other and cared for one another. All raised with a sense of duty to each other, as family, friends, neighbors and citizens.

But as a child grows, the vault begins to shrink around them. The many halls begin to narrow. The ceilings of the great auditoriums where we would gather and play begin to sink down to the floor. The incandescent lights turn the vault into a colorless world of sullen blues and drab greys. Childish wonder and curiosity fades as every nook and cranny are explored. A precocious kid like I was begins to learn that the vault is not run by people but rather systems and cycles. Our lives were predetermined, as they were for our parents, grandparents and so on. The stages of our lives easily categorized from one stage of production to the next. One could stop for a moment and see the flow of people through the halls, like cells in a vein. See that each of us is determined to have one singular function in the grander continuous life of the Vault. See that our routines, and therefore our lives, run like clockwork on set time tables. And be driven mad. In these moments whether they be big or small, profound or insignificant, they begin to form cracks and chip away at the foundations of our lives. Slowly but surely, the cracks become divides and the foundations begin to crumble. Discontent, distrust, anger and fear nest here.

What is a kid to do but recede into imagination? Above this concrete and steel box was a great big world not seen by our kind in generations. Blue skies with clouds. Cities and towns. Great oceans, rivers, lakes and streams. Mountains, hills and prairies. Plants and animals. Rocks and trees. A world full of the mundane and the magnificent. A new world growing in the remains of the old. Above ground was a fantasy land to us, its legends existing only in the books we read. But it was real! And waiting for us to return. To come out and rekindle life and civilization in the wasteland. Therein lies the dream that stirred the hearts of every vault dweller in their youth. The dream of endless possibility. Of boundless hope for the future. Of unyielding strength and order in the face of the chaotic and untamed. The dream of America.

But the dreams of a child will fade with age. A necessary sacrifice in order to go on living. Such a case was the same for the history of our home. In the Vault especially, dreams are capped at the confines of our shelter. Generations before me were forced to embrace this as a rite of passage or live a miserable claustrophobic existence. But the cracks remain with each passing generation. The foundation grows weaker. The dreams of a child fade slower. A violent clash between dreams and reality becomes inevitable. And for the true dreamers, they will have to walk a great odyssey. Before their dreams can come true.

"Nathan Peterman… Nathan Peterman… I see you're here Mr. Peterman but are you with us?"

There was a nudge on my back and I snapped out of my daydreaming. The whole class was looking at me, giggling while the teacher, Mr. Church stood at the front of the room with a smirk. "I'm here Mr. Church."

He shook his head, "you could at least wait until the lesson actually starts before you tune out Mr. Peterman." The whole class laughed, and I stared down at my desk embarrassed.

"Sorry Mr. Church."

He continued with the roll call. I looked over to my right where a girl was sitting. She was looking back at me grinning. "You spend more time in that head of yours than real life. What're you thinking about now?"

I chuckled, "What else but our big adventure."

"Sarah Huntley," Mr. Church called, and she answered back with a "here".

The kid behind me that nudged me before tapped my shoulder. "So, we're still doing that? We're really going through with it?" he asked sounding rather nervous. "I've been thinking about it and I'm not sure if I—"

"Shh," Sarah hushed with her finger to her lips. "Wait till after class."

"But I—"

"Zachary Denglar."

The nervous kid looked up at Mr. Church, "Yes? Oh yeah, here."

Mr. Church put down his clipboard with our names and went over to the chalk board. "Now if I recall correctly, last we left off in social studies, we were at the start of the civil war…"

I always paid close attention to social studies. I loved learning about American history. The more I learned and understood what the old world was like, the more I could see it in my dreams, and the more I wanted to return to it. I didn't speak to Sarah or Zach about what we had planned until school was over.

After class, the three of us were weaving our way through the halls of the vault on our way to the diner. The adults had just been let out for lunch, so the halls were particularly packed with people on their way to wherever they liked to go on their break. Some people were just standing around shooting the breeze, clogging up the hallway. Men were standing by one of the air vents smoking, some ladies were gossiping, a couple of teenage boys were flirting with some teenage girls, while another group of teenage boys were teasing one of their own not too far away. Eventually we managed to snake our way through what seemed at the time like a forest of people that towered over us. We reached the diner. Luckily, it hadn't filled up with many people yet. We grabbed a booth in one of the quieter parts of the diner.

As soon as we sat down, Zach leaned in close and spoke quietly. "Listen guys, I'm not sure if this is such a good idea. We could get in a lot of trouble, and my dad says that it's dangerous outside the Vault."

"Relax Zach," Sarah said calmly. "Nobody's going to know. And we won't be out there for too long. Right Nate?"

I nodded, "Yeah, don't be such a chicken Zach. I know it'll be fine."

"How can you be so sure?" he asked

"Well… I can't tell you why but trust me. And stop blabbing so much about what we're doing," I said giving him a noogie. "If you're so afraid we'll get caught, then shut your mouth."

He started slapping my hand away, "ow—okay—knock it off. I'm just nervous is all. Why aren't you?"

"How could I be nervous," I said. "Haven't you ever dreamed of seeing what it's like outside the Vault?"

"My dad says there's nothing out there but radiation and bad people," Zach said embarrassed. "I've only had nightmares about being out there."

"It can't be all bad," Sarah said. "Besides, your dad's never actually been out there either."

"Yeah but he knows what happened when we did go outside the Vault. He says a lot of people were killed."

"We can't always live in fear, Zach," I said annoyed. "But if you care so much about what your dad says, why did you say you wanted to go with us?"

He shuffled around uncomfortably in his seat, "well…"

"Hello kids," said a man in an apron as he approached our table. "What can I get for you today?"

"Hi Mr. Emerson," we all said. We went around the table giving our orders. He Wrote it all down on a little notebook. Closing the little book, he looked down at my left arm. "That new Pip-Boy is fitting you well Nathan. It's nice being ten isn't it."

"At least until I get my first job assignment," I said with a frown.

He laughed, "well growing up means gaining more responsibilities. You can't be a kid forever."

I rolled my eyes, "I guess so."

With another chuckle, he left us to give our orders to the kitchen. Sarah marveled at my Pip-Boy. "That's so cool! My birthday is so close that I can't wait to get my Pip-Boy!"

"Yeah," said Zach. "I can't wait to play games on it and listen to the radio wherever I want."

They had me show them all the different things my Pip-Boy could do while we waited for our food. I was showing them how I can change the light on the screen when a couple of guys sat down in the booth behind us. One of them uttered an audible groan and we could hear a paper being torn from the wall. "Look at this shit. Preserve the vault 123 way of life," he read mockingly. "Vote Allen Denglar for Overseer." We could hear him crumple up the ad. "As if him and his people are the only ones who care about the Vault."

"Guy's such a blowhard," another one of the guys said.

I looked at Zach. He was slumped in his seat with his shoulders drooping and his head down. Election time was always a big deal in the Vault. With tensions rising every election, people's opinions of the other side became nastier and nastier. With his dad being as involved in politics as he was, it was especially hard on Zach. Neither I nor Sarah's family cared much for Mr. Denglar both as a person and for his policy ideas. He didn't like us much either; he always thought we were a bad influence on Zach. There was a social hierarchy between those of us that lived in the lower levels of the Vault, like Sarah and I, and those that lived at the top, like Zach. The living quarters near the top were generally nicer so they were reserved for the elderly and citizens with what we considered to be more valuable jobs like lawyer, doctor, or working in government. Some of those elderly where alive when the Vault was sacked by wastelanders, and that incident stuck with them. They were so afraid of the outside world that they despised talk of opening the Vault again or any kind of criticism of it. We didn't have official parties, but the Isolationists had maintained control of the Vault ever since the incident, and their beliefs had become entrenched in the upper levels. It was only in those recent years that the "lower level riff-raff" had gained strength in its opposition to them, especially with young people who were two generations removed from the sack, coming of age and becoming discontent with the establishment.

But Zach wasn't one of those young people. He trusted his dad's every word, like any nine year old boy. I felt bad for him still, so I put a hand on his shoulder to comfort him. I couldn't find any comforting words to tell him though. Even Sarah with her calming nature couldn't find anything to say. Luckily the men changed the subject and after some awkward silence, so did I. Our food arrived and we carried on like we had before.

A few hours later, I was in my room packing my backpack in preparation for our adventure. There wasn't much I could really take. I had a few Fancy Lad snack cakes and some potato chips, a few bottles of water, a holotape so I could keep a log while we were out there, and a can of BB's for my BB gun that my dad gave me for my birthday. I had already shot and killed a few small radroaches and rats with it down in the maintenance levels, but I was also bringing my baseball bat just in case. With my gear ready to go, I headed out.

It was just after dinner, and as is their post-dinner ritual, my parents were nestled together on the couch listening to their beaten up radio. Their backs were turned to me and the door, so I tried to sneak out. But those vault doors aren't quiet and sure enough they turned around when they heard it open. "Where are you going young man?" my dad asked.

"I'm gonna go play with Sarah and Zach."

"What's with all that stuff you got there?" my mom asked.

"… It's just stuff…"

They both looked at each other and smirked. "Well you know well enough not to get into trouble," my dad said turning back to me. "You better be careful with that BB gun though. You can still really hurt someone with that. And be careful if you're going to hunt radroaches with it. Those things can still hurt you too."

"I know dad." With that, they let me go.

I hurried out of our apartment and Sarah was already waiting for me in the hall. Her family's apartment was right across the hall from us. She asked me if I had any problems getting out and I told her I didn't think my parents were too suspicious. Then Zach came running down the stairs at the end of the hall and all the way over to us.

"Are you alright?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said trying to catch his breath. "I. Was. Just. Really nervous about. My old man… If he finds out about this, he'll kill me. Let's just get this done before he starts wondering where I am."

We traveled deep into the bowels of the Vault, all the way down to the reactor level. Rarely was this place ever visited by anyone but select members of the maintenance crew. That would explain how the secret that was lying there was never discovered. In one of the reactor rooms, in the back corner behind one of the generators, was a steel panel that appeared no different from any other. But upon closer inspection, it would be revealed that this particular panel wasn't sealed properly like the others. There may have been a mistake during welding because enough of the panel was detached that with a good pull, this flexible sheet of metal would bend out enough that someone could get behind it. That's exactly what we did.

As soon as we did, we could feel it; a slight breeze flowed through the opening, and it carried the scent of fresh air. I crawled through the opening first since I had the Pip-Boy with its flash light. I found myself in a crawl space with pipes overhead and big bundles of wires covering the floor. The crawl space was spacious enough for all three of us to fit in it. Once we were all in I looked over at an opening in the second wall, which was clearly made with cheaper material. There was an opening where someone must have cut into the wall. Once again, I went first, making sure to have my BB gun ready. Zach followed close behind with my bat. We were amazed to see an entire cave open up to us. But it clearly wasn't a natural cave; the entire thing was a single tunnel with evenly cut walls. It must've been created when Vault-Tec was building the Vault.

That slight breeze was better felt, and it gave us all a shiver. The pitch blackness in front of us gave me a chill as well. But it was my idea and I had to be the brave one of our group. I tightened my hold on my BB gun and moved forward slowly, listening closely for anything scurrying around in the darkness. I could only hear the generators running through the wall behind us. But as we stepped further into that darkness, I could hear something coming from further into the tunnel. It wasn't any kind of scurrying as I feared, but a whistle; the whistling of a cave opening. "It's not far now," I said quietly. We turned around a corner and suddenly the darkness was pierced by a faint orange light.

We were so amazed by the sight of natural light that we just stood in awe. In the Vault, there's only the same dull blue florescent light to tell us that it's daytime. If it weren't for them turning off and the dim night lights coming on, we wouldn't know that it was night out either. Times of the day like dusk and dawn were unknown to us. I think the light even frightened Zach. "Is it supposed to look like that? What if the world is still on fire?"

"It can't be," Sarah said. "But there's only one way to know for sure huh."

With that, I was snapped out of my trance. That's right. If this sight alone amazes me so much, I can't imagine how much more beautiful it will look when I actually get up there. I was about ready to run to the mouth of the cave.

"Nathan!" I stopped and turned around. All I could see was another Pip-Boy light bobbing up and down as it got closer. When the light reached us, it shined up menacingly on my dad's face. "What in the hell are you doing down here!?" We just stared up at him with our mouths agape. I nearly shat myself. "You answer me goddammit!"

I was shaking out of fear of what my punishment may be. "W-w-we we're… we wanted to… see the outside…"

He glared at me for a moment, then he snatched my bat from Zach, my BB gun, and my Backpack. "You thought you could go out there with a baseball bat, a toy gun, and a bag full of…" he opened the bag— "junk food." He threw my things on the ground. I never felt so small, and my dad had never scolded me so fiercely; him and my mom weren't the scolding type. Sarah and Zach weren't fairing much better. Zach was trying not to cry and Sarah slowly inched behind me for protection from my dad's wrath. He looked past me at the mouth of the cave; his face tried to soften. "There's things out there that would tear you apart. And these things," he said pointing at my stuff, "will do nothing to save you… Nothing out there cares if you're a kid. Can you imagine how much it would hurt your mother and I if something happened to you out there? What about your friends here and their families? You're lucky I had the intuition to follow you."

As much as I tried to be tough in front of Sarah and Zach, I couldn't hold back anymore. Tears started to roll down my cheeks. My dad saw this and his expression softened completely. He put a hand on my shoulder. "It's okay bud. What matters is that you're all okay." He picked up my things and turned back towards the Vault. We followed him in complete silence until we reached the wall. "How did you even know about this?" he asked.

"… I… I followed you and Mom down here."

He let out a great sigh as he pushed the paneling back and let us through. "I was afraid you would say that." Once we were all back in the generator room, he squatted down and looked us all in the eye. "Listen, I won't tell your parents, but you have to promise me that you won't tell a soul about this," he said pointing at the loose paneling. "and promise me that you'll never try this again. As for you Nathan, we'll talk more about this when we get home."

A little while later, I was lying in my bed waiting for whatever punishment would come, when my parents finally came in. My bedside lamp was on a dim setting and my back was to the door in the hopes that they might come in and think I was sleeping. Then whatever they had in mind would have to wait a little longer. Then I heard the door slide open; I closed my eyes. There was a moment where they just stood in the doorway and I thought I was going to get away for now. "I know you're not sleeping," my mom said. I held still and didn't respond, still hoping my plan could work. But then I could hear her walking over and felt her sitting on the side of the bed. Still I didn't move, but then she put her hand on my shoulder and gently rolled me over. I knew it was time to give up, so I opened my eyes. "You can't fool me," she said softly with a smile. It was strange to see her like that after what happened with my dad in the tunnel. If he could uncharacteristically lose his temper with me, I thought for sure my mother could too. "So, Dad tells me you had a bit of an adventure." I nodded hesitantly, still waiting for her to blow up on me. "Well I'm just glad nothing happened to you… But we need to talk to you about how you found out about that panel."

"I followed you and Dad down there one night. I wanted to know where you go when you leave at night sometimes."

"You didn't believe we were going to play cards?"

"I saw your gear hidden in your room."

"I see…" There seemed to be a trace of guilt in her and my dad's faces. "Your Dad and I found that panel when we were kids. We were just as adventurous as you are, so we went out there. We learned a lot being out there, we discovered things, met people, so from time to time we sneak out still to check up on things out there."

"I just wanted to see it Mom," I said. "If you can see it, why can't I?"

"Honey, you know someday I want everyone in this vault to see what's out there, and that includes you. But that day will only come when you're ready."

"But I am ready Mom. Why can't I go out there with you?"

"You're not old enough now to understand, but things are very different out there. Maybe when you're older, you'll see what I mean. The wasteland is not for the faint of heart, and especially not for a child like you."

"So when I'm older, you'll take me out there?"

She turned back to my father in the doorway. They seemed to have a kind of silent dialogue for a moment before she turned back to me. "When we think you're ready."

Then my dad walked further into the room. "But you have to promise us that you won't speak to anyone about this, and you won't try to go out there without us again. If anyone found out about that panel, and what we've been doing, there would be a lot of trouble."

At the time I didn't think much about the trouble he implied, or what it meant for someone to leave the Vault. All I knew was that if I wanted to go out there someday, I'd listen to my parents, and say nothing of the secret tunnel. "Okay."

After my parents' secret was out to me, they no longer had to hide anything. Their expeditions became more frequent. Every few days, after they had finished dinner, listened to their radio, which I learned was taken from the wasteland, they'd go into their room and return soon after with leather armor strapped around their vault suits, ragged rucksacks on their backs, and guns on their waists. With a promise to return and instructions to behave and do my homework, they would sneak out, returning while I slept. Without fail, every time I came out from my room in the morning, there they were at the table eating breakfast as though nothing had happened. For a while I would stay up waiting for them to come home. But when they always did, so I stopped worrying. Eventually, seeing them at the table for breakfast was as certain as the florescent lights coming on in the morning. To me their excursions became as mundane as their game nights with the Huntley's. I would get so excited when my parents brought back some trinket or oddity from the wasteland for me. But after a while I had even grown accustomed to receiving them as well.

It was around that time that there emerged a growing discontent among the lower levels towards the unequal distribution of resources and luxuries. The Vault was initially stocked with ample reserves of the Old World luxury goods and most importantly the facilities to reproduce them. The vault could also sustain itself with plenty of food and water production. But after 200 years, it was getting harder to ignore the fact that the vault systems were beginning to deteriorate. Year by year, our maintenance crews became busier and busier. Our production capacity began to shrink. In addition, our population was getting older and older; the number of new vault dwellers being born decreasing with each new generation. Fewer dwellers meant fewer workers, which meant less production. The response to this issue from the Vault leaders was to establish a priority system and raise the credit cost of certain goods. Priority of course was given to the elderly and those considered to have specialized jobs, who themselves also received more credits as compensation for their assignment. In this inequality my parents saw an opportunity to even the field. Everyone in the lower levels was always looking for a way to get one over on those upper-level snobs hoarding all the small pleasures we had to enjoy in our mundane lives. At the same time there were plenty of people in the vault who had a desire to experience the outside world as well, and what better way to scratch both those itches than to share with them some of the things they had picked up in the wasteland. A seemingly small gesture of little consequence. Passing along bits and pieces of things than could reasonably be called trash and at best an "antique". But these bits and pieces despite their insignificance could stir the soul and ignite passion in those who got their hands on them. A beautiful experience for some but dangerous to others.

It was an exciting idea, but it was an ambitious operation and very risky. My parents knew they couldn't do it alone, so they invited Sarah's parents over. Our families were very close; the Huntley's were the only people my parents trusted with their secret. So, they came to an agreement; my parents would collect the items from the wasteland, and Sarah's parents would do the distributing. Slowly, they expanded their circle by approaching trusted friends and family with an interest in the wasteland. Word would spread gradually from there. A chain of citizens abiding by a code of silence disseminating wasteland contraband like a pyramid scheme. But this underground ring could not stay secret forever. As contraband began to fill the evidence locker at the guard station, a campaign was set to root out the source. Zach's father, who had won the election, pursued this campaign with zeal. To be safe, my parents stashed their gear in the tunnel, and they installed a safe in mine and their room to store our contraband. The Huntley's did the same.

It was all very exciting to me, but of course I couldn't have anything to do with it. The punishment for having contraband alone could be harsh. Running such an operation would have been years in prison. They wanted to distance me from that as much as possible. Despite this, just like their expeditions, it all became so normal to me that I stopped worrying about my parents after a while. But they certainly didn't feel the same. They went to Mr. Huntley and asked him that if anything happened to them, he would take care of me. Mr. Huntley of course said yes, but I didn't pay much mind to it.

As time passed, with each passing exhibition into the wasteland, my parents became noticeably discontent. I could hear them talking about it from time to time. It wasn't that they were unhappy with what they were doing nor were they losing their nerve to continue. They just felt like they could be doing more. Every now and then, they'd tell me sympathetic stories about how hard life is for the people of the wasteland. It became clear to me where their passions were leading them. I started seeing all manner of people come by the apartment. Doctors, chefs, maintenance men, teachers, librarians. They'd come in and have lengthy conversations with my parents and the Huntley's. Soon after, things started going missing: medicine, food and water, tools, books and other educational materials. It was never enough to be a detriment to the vault, and some of the things like books and tools would be returned. But Overseer Denglar and the Isolationists were outraged. A reckoning was coming closer to my parents.

One night when I was 16 I was there in the living room studying while my parents were getting ready to go out again. They had a list of requested items that they would be looking for on their excursion, and were discussing where they might find those items. There was also a list of deliveries they had to make with their vault loot. I grew irritated the more I listened to them. For 6 years I kept my silence better than anybody, watching them step closer to danger with each passing year while remaining a dutiful son and citizen. Watching their passion consume them while mine remained capped. I was left out, and even beginning to feel neglected.

On their way out, I brought it up to them. "How much longer do I have to wait?" I asked. How much longer do I have to keep my promise until you keep yours?"

My dad thought about it for a moment. "Now's not a good time bud. Don't you have to study for the GOAT?" he said evasively.

My brow furrowed. "Please, that test is bullshit! You can't study for it. It's a glorified personality test."

"Language," my mom scolded as she entered the living room.

"It may be bullshit," my dad said, "but that test will determine the rest of your life."

"It's not right, but it is what it is," my mom added. That was a phrase I had grown tired of hearing. Growing up in the Vault, you hear it often. To hear it from the mouths of public enemies number one and two was like a knife through my ear drum.

"That's precious coming from you," I said in a low voice. We stared at each other in silence for a moment. "Look at you two," I began. "You're both on auto-pilot saying dumb bullshit with me… Do you even care about me anymore?"

They could see the anger and frustration growing in my face turn to pain. Their eyes, briefly lit with anger too, began to soften. My Dad stepped towards me with his arms open to embrace me. I stepped away. I could see his heart dropping in his eyes as they looked down at the floor. My mother came up behind him and put her hand on his shoulder. "We haven't been fair to you, have we," she said. I didn't respond. "… We're sorry. We never imagined when we first found that tunnel that things would get to be like this… We never thought that our little trips to the wasteland would become so…important."

"Important to you! But what about me!?" I snapped.

"You are more important to us than you will ever understand!" My dad said, his eyes shooting up to look at me. "No, that's not right either. Someday you will understand. This is bigger than us, Nathan. This matters to people in here and out there. The future depends on it. Those people out there need our help. And believe it or not, so do our people. But we're also doing this for you. For your future."

"I know that's hard to believe right now," my mom chimed in. "I know we've asked a lot of you. And I know we're being unfair. But someday you will understand."

Their tones were so sincere and comforting, but I was too angry. I only felt condescended towards. They were lying to me. Crafting a grandiose narrative to justify their own selfish desire for freedom at the cost of their own son. In that moment, I hated them. As I felt tears welling in my eyes, I quickly turned away and retreated into my room, closing the door behind me.

Not long after, as I laid on my bed in the dark, I could see the light of the living room wipe its away across the wall in front of me as the door opened. Their shadows stood over my bed waiting for me to turn around, but I refused to move a muscle. "Listen," my father began. "We were just talking and… We've been keeping you in the dark for too long without ever asking how you felt about it. We're sorry… And… you're becoming a man—a smart, strong, independent young man. A man deserves to carve their own path in life. After tonight, things are going to be different. You'll decide your fate. On your terms." There was a pang in my heart. An urge to break my posture, but still I was too angry. I refused to take the bait of their sincerity. I stayed there, only moving my eyes to gaze at their shadows on the wall.

"We love you, honey."

"We love you, bud."

Silence. Their shadows hung over me in anticipation. But I was too angry. I could only stare up at them, until the door began to close. Darkness wiped across the lit wall, erasing them forever.

I emerged from my room the next morning to find that my mother and father were not at the table eating breakfast. I didn't believe it at first. There had to be a mistake. Maybe I overslept, and they were at work already. The time on my Pip-Boy proved that wasn't it. I went into their room but they weren't there either. Panic began to push against my certainty that everything was fine. They had to be somewhere. They had to be fine. They always came back. I can't just panic because they're breaking our routine. I was able to calm myself for the moment, but I couldn't stop thinking about them all day. I couldn't focus on anything else in school. During lunch, I walked over to their work stations to see if they were there, but nobody had seen them all day. If they weren't still in the wasteland, then that could only mean that the guards had finally caught them. But I couldn't risk going to the jail to see if they were there. If they weren't, I could give away their entire operation. There was only one person I could go to, so I hurried down to water purification and found Mr. Huntley.

When he saw me with fear in my eyes, he knew right away why I had visited him. He managed to get away from work long enough for us to go back to his apartment and talk this through. "If they were arrested, everyone would be talking about it by now," he said. "There's only one other place they could be."

In the back of my mind, I knew that was the truth, but I didn't want to accept it. Now that he was saying it, I could no longer deny what was happening. I shook and fell back onto his couch. "They're dead."

"Now hang on," he objected quickly. "You don't know that. Maybe they got wrapped up in something out there. It's not like them to be careless." He tried to put up a calm front for me, but I could see the dread in his eyes and how he put his hands behind his head as he shifted uncomfortably. As much as he wanted to deny it, he knew what I knew.

"They always come back on time. Until now." My voice got lower as I tried to keep my composure. "They wouldn't be out there for this long unless something fatal happened."

"…"

My gaze drifted down to the floor. I closed my eyes as my vision became blurred. We both sat there in silence while I composed myself. Finally, I lifted my head and looked up at Mr. Huntley. His eyes were starting to turn red as well. "I have to go look for them. Just to be sure."

"You know I can't let you do that," he said with his voice nearly cracking. He cleared his throat so he could sound more authoritative. "I promised them that I'd take care of you if something happened. I know they wouldn't want you to go out there for them."

The powerlessness pained me the most. 'A man deserves to carve their own path in life. After tonight, things are going to be different. You'll decide your fate. On your terms.' What my father said rang through my mind. Another promise broken. But that very thought instantly sent a stab of guilt to my heart. Still, I was too angry even as I faced the possibility of never seeing them again. This frustrated me to the point of hysteria. I blew up with rage. I stood up and flipped the coffee table over. "Do you expect me to be okay with that! What the fuck am I supposed to do now!?" The tears I tried to hold back came streaming down my face and my whole body flashed with red hot anger. "I can't stay in this vault, knowing they're out there!"

He stared me down calmly. "You don't have to like it, Nathan. I don't like it either, but it's what we have to do."

I just glared at him, but I couldn't find a response. There wasn't any rational argument I could give to let him let me go. I decided in that moment to go my own way. I left the Huntley's apartment to go across the hall to my own home. On my way out, I bumped into Sarah. She asked me what I was doing there but I didn't answer. When she saw the emotion in my face, she just stood in the hall concerningly until I closed the door of my apartment.

I spent a few minutes after that sitting on my bed. I was shaking, at first from the racing thoughts my mind tried to grasp what was happening, but then from the fear of what I planned to do. In my hand were a few postcards my dad had brought back to me from out there. They were photos and drawings of the New York cityscape. They were faded with watermarks on them, but I cherished them. I was looking at them to calm myself. My legs wouldn't move me off the bed, so I stared at them till I could find enough motivation to move forward with my plan. As I looked at those postcards, fond memories of the times I spent with my parents flashed in my head. Playing games with them when I was little. Helping my mom cook. Sitting on my dad's lap when he read me my SPECIAL book. All those birthdays and holidays we celebrated together. The first time my dad showed me how to shoot my BB gun. Sitting in the living room together and listening to the radio. My legs began to shake as I bounced my toes. Finally, the energy came to me, and I sprung up from the bed. I didn't stop moving until I had a bag full of food, water, and my baseball bat.

I was on my way out when suddenly the door opened. Sarah was there, and I could tell she'd been crying. She came to me and hugged me. "I'm so sorry Nate. I'm so sorry." She didn't say much else. She just held me tight.

Over her shoulder, I could see her dad appear in their apartment's doorway. He looked at me as though he were guilty of something. I let go of Sarah and started walking towards him. "I'm sorry. I had to do it."

"Do what?" Just then, the sound of many footfalls could be heard from down the hall. A squad of guards came hurrying down the stairs with a legion of spectators close behind them. They were heading down to the reactor level. I looked back at Mr. Huntley, "No. Please no. You didn't."

"I'm sorry Nathan. I couldn't let you out there." I threw my gear back into my apartment and took off after them. "They could find your parents Nathan!" he called after me. "Wait! Nathan!"

Sure enough, a crowd had gathered in the generator room where the panel was. I pushed my way through them until I got to the corner. There, the guards were surrounding the loose panel, and watching over them was Overseer Denglar. The guards pulled back the paneling and another one emerged from behind it. "There's an entire tunnel behind there," he said as another guard came out behind him. "It led all the way to the outside. You should see it, there's all kinds of stuff stored back there."

"But no sign of Mr. and Mrs. Peterman?" The Overseer asked.

"No sir."

"I see." He looked at the crowd, rested his gaze on me. "Get them out of here," he ordered the guards. He pointed at me, "except for him." Once the room had been cleared, He came over to me. He was a tall man lording over me speaking with an authoritative voice, but he was not a threatening looking man. "Did you know about this?" I shook my head. "I find that hard to believe," he said coming uncomfortably close to me until I was looking straight up at him. He stared down at me trying to pressure me into speaking, but I said nothing. "I guess we'll see in time," he said finally stepping back. He turned to one of the guards, "go ahead and seal it up."

That guard pulled out a blowtorch and went to work on the panel. "No!" I screamed as I ran towards him. But the others grabbed me. I flailed around desperately trying to escape them but it was no use. They held me down until I gave up. "They're still out there!" I shouted at the Overseer. "They can still come back! Please don't do this! What if they need to get in!? Please, just send some people out there to find them!"

He looked down at me coldly. "I wouldn't even consider risking the lives of perfectly good people all to go looking for two law breakers who are probably dead anyway."

His face was so uncaring, so indifferent. In my mind, there was no doubt that he got some kind of sadistic enjoyment in telling me that. I glared up at him and flashed my teeth. "Fuck you, you heartless tyrant!"

"I hope you don't speak that way around my son." He turned back to the welding and didn't look back at me until it was finished. "I'll leave one officer here. That way, if they are still alive and they come back here, we can arrest them."

He motioned for the guards to let me go. I got back on my feet and stood there for a moment. We stared each other down as I considered going in to try and hit him, but his guards were watching for the slightest twitch. Instead, something occurred to me, and I took off back to my apartment. Once I got back, I moved quickly to clear out my backpack and put my bat away. I ran into my room and put the postcards back into my safe. Then I went around looking for anything that came from the wasteland and put whatever I could in the safe. As soon as I had closed the safe, I heard the front door open. Just as I expected, the guards came running in with the Overseer behind them. They tore through the whole apartment, flipping over the couches and chairs, raiding the cabinets, pulling the mattresses off the beds, and rifling through the drawers. There was nothing I could do to stop them; I could only stand and watch them tear apart my home.

"Came back here in a hurry didn't you," the Overseer said as watched the guards tear through my parent's bedroom. His eyes were fixed on the safe they kept in the corner. Then he walked over to my room, paying no mind to me as he passed me. He looked at my safe as well. "what's in the safes?"

"Private things," I said. "That's why they're in a safe."

"If you're really as naïve about your parents' little racket, you wouldn't mind if we took a look in your safe, would you?"

"You have no business coming in here in the first place."

He looked at me with the same coldness he had before. "Very well then. If you won't cooperate, I'll just have them open the safe themselves." He motioned for the guard with the blowtorch to take the hinges off.

"You stay away!" I shouted, stepping between the guard and the safe. The other guards started piling into the room.

They were about ready to pounce on me when a voice came from the front door. "What the hell are you doing in here!?" It was Mr. Huntley. He went up to the Overseer, "You have no right to do this. Show me a warrant."

"We don't need a warrant when we have probable cause. You really think I don't know the law in my own vault?"

"Go to hell Allen! That doesn't give you the right to harass the kid. What're you gonna do, put him in jail for something his parents did?"

"Actually, I do have the right, and you better watch yourself," the Overseer said stepping closer trying to intimidate him. "You're playing with fire. It wouldn't be too hard for me to go get a warrant from the court for the boy's things and your whole apartment, too. You know, I find it rather odd that you were unaware of their activities until today of all days. Were you not close?"

Mr. Huntley closed the space between them even more. "I'm not afraid of you Allen, and I'm not afraid to take you to court for infringing on civil liberties. Search warrant or not, an overseer has no right to execute them. You're all bluster until you actually have to abide by the law you claim to love so much." For the first time, the Overseer's cold expression was enflamed with anger. He continued to stand over Mr. Huntley, but he remained unfazed. The guards and I were frozen still. They stared each other down for a moment longer before the Overseer finally caved. Recomposing himself, him and the guards promptly left. Mr. Huntley watched them leave before he turned back to me. "Are you okay? Did they hurt you?"

"I'm okay… Thank you."

"There's no need to thank me Nate," he said double checking the front door to see if they'd come back. "I'm sorry I told them. I thought they might help, but all they did was make things worse."

"It's okay…" There wasn't much else to talk about then. Mrs. Huntley and Sarah came over soon after to help clean up. They stayed afterward to have dinner with me. It was mostly silent except for when Mr. Huntley looked up from his food to tell me that I should live with them. I simply nodded, and that was that. They left after dinner. Sarah offered to stay a while with me, but I just wanted to be alone for a while. After they left, I looked around the living room. Right about then, my parents would be sitting on the couch listening to the radio. It was uncanny seeing that room without them being there; not once in my entire life up to that point were they ever not there engaging in their usual routine. Thinking about this, I went to my safe and took their radio out. I stayed up all night listening to it.

At some point, the broadcast was interrupted by a news bulletin about my parents. They had a statement from the Overseer: "It's unfortunate that two of our own have left us so untimely, but we must not forget the crimes they have committed. Their actions have endangered the entire vault. The wasteland is a dangerous place that is taken too lightly by too many people, and this incident ought to show us what happens when we disregard that fact. Who is to say that the hidden tunnel they were using couldn't have been used by the unsavory characters of the wasteland to infiltrate our home? Who knows the potential diseases and radiation that they and their goods could've brought into our homes? This is not to mention the wasteland's effects on morality. Their actions have normalized theft of our much needed resources, putting the lives of wastelanders above their own people. I hope that the people of vault 123—those who partook in their racket especially, will take a close look at what happened to them, and see the danger they brought to themselves and the Vault."

That statement would set the debate for the next few years. This whole incident may have been the very spark that lit the fire, that would engulf the Vault in time. It was with that statement that I was almost glad that my parents never came back. Maybe their fate out there was better than the one that would have awaited them here. Maybe they were the lucky ones, because after that statement, the Vault no longer felt like home. It was a powder keg.

Nothing was ever the same after that day. I lived a near solitary life, untouchable to most as my family name became a lightning rod of controversy. Those who sided with the Overseer looked down on me for what my parents did, and those who did sympathize with me were only that; they expressed their sympathies, but few would get close to me. The only people who truly didn't care were the Huntley's and my teacher, Mr. Church. Zach was told not to associate with me anymore and he obeyed.

Our politics grew toxic in the two years after that incident. The Overseer never came back for me or Mr. Huntley directly, but he did rally enough support to pass legislation that he deemed "necessary to promote the security of the Vault". Anyone who was suspected of harboring contraband could be raided at anytime without a warrant. They came for mine and the Huntley's things, but we managed to stash them well. Whoever was caught with contraband could be fined the credits that we used to buy things, quarantined for disease and radiation, or even jailed if a case could be made that they were distributing contraband. A narrative had been created that painted the people living in the lower levels and anyone that protested these police actions as supporters of these crimes. The Overseer used this narrative to authorize the head of security to place more guards in the lower levels. They were also given more liberties in how they conducted their work. True opposition to the Overseer really began after a man was shot by the guards when they suspected him of having a weapon from the wasteland. That's when the first organized opposing faction appeared in the vault, the Patriotic Front.

The Patriotic Front began as a kind of youth movement that advocated for breaking down the isolationist policies of the Vault. When the Overseer and Head of Security, Captain McCracken, stepped up security, they were the first ones to protest the actions as infringing on our civil liberties. This pulled older adults sympathetic to them and quite a few moderates. Pretty soon it seemed like for the first time in a generation, there would be an actual challenge to Isolationist rule. Leaders started to emerge in the movement, and soon they would start organizing large protests, writing essays, putting up posters, debating Isolationists in the atriums or on the radio, and putting up candidates for election. No leader of the group was looked up to more than Mr. Church. His rise to stardom in the movement came when he started giving lectures to students about old world democratic ideals and the founding beliefs of America, which our vault was obviously based on. As time went on, his lectures revealed a clear anti-isolationism slant, and a disdain for the Overseer's policies. He became so controversial that some parents demanded that their children be removed from his classes. Then they started to argue that he should be removed as a teacher. The Overseer himself tried to build a case against him, but in the end, Mr. Church managed to keep his job when our supreme court barely ruled in his favor.

After losing that lawsuit, the Isolationists started to get nervous about losing power. Once that happened, things began to escalate quickly. It began with a protest in the sports atrium. For the first time, the protesters were met with Isolationist counter-protesters. Things got tense, and the guards were called down. The official report says that the protesters attacked the counter-protesters, so the guards quelled them with their batons. Naturally, nobody could agree on what the truth was, but everyone knows that in the end, there were a lot more protesters harmed than counter-protesters. The Isolationists seized on this, building off their previous narrative of criminality and accusing the Patriots of supporting violence. Soon after, some Patriot leaders were arrested for having contraband and weapons all in the same night. Suspiciously, a few incidents happened where Patriot leaders were attacked by unknown assailants, but nobody was ever arrested. Then the Sedition Acts came, which created a commission that would examine "all" literature, ads, speeches, songs or radio programs to check to see if it promoted crime or anti-vault rhetoric. On top of that, if people wanted to organize a political event, they had to go through a lengthy approval process.

I paid close attention to all of this, but I never got involved in it. I thought it was best to keep to myself. The Patriotic Front came to me a few times asking if I'd like to speak or at least make a comment, but I always declined. I just wanted to be left alone. As time went by, it felt more and more like the Vault and I were in our own separate worlds. It wasn't a home to me anymore, it was a prison. I went about my business every day like a zombie, uncaring of what was going on around me, and uncaring about what was in my future. The only times when I felt reconnected to the world was when I was with the Huntley's and Mr. Church. Sarah and I became practically inseparable, and I would spend a lot of time after class talking to Mr. Church. But everything was racing towards a focal point, a day when my world and the Vault's world would collide. A day that would change my life forever; election day.

I woke up that morning the same way I always did. Every morning after getting ready, Sarah would come into the living room where I slept on a cot to wake me up. I'd go to the shower room down the hall to get ready, then come back to help her make breakfast. Her parents always came out of their room ready to go, right as we were done cooking. We always had breakfast together and we would leave together. On our way to work, Mr. Huntley would leave us first for his job in water purification. Then Mrs. Huntley would leave us to work in clothing. Usually, Sarah and I would walk together for a while until we'd split up so I could go to my job in maintenance and she could go to her assigned classroom for teaching. But on that morning, I decided to walk with her to the classrooms.

The halls leading to the classroom were typically packed and hectic at that time of the day. With it being election day, those halls were worse than normal. Everywhere I looked, the only thing on people's mind was the election. There were posters everywhere with all sorts of slogans on them and pictures of the candidates. The two sides had become much more like parties by then with each group of supporters creating their own symbols too. The Isolationists were simple with a blue background and a yellow vault door in the center. The Patriots were much more complicated and drew heavily from the American Flag. theirs had seven red and white stripes to represent their seven closely held virtues: liberty, equality, justice, charity, fraternity, civility, and enlightenment. Instead of stars in the blue, they had a vault door.

We passed by two people campaigning for their respective parties, each one trying to out-shout the other. "Protect your vault for future generations! Vote Isolationist!" "Fulfill the founding mission! Vote Patriots!"

All around us was chatter about the election:

"Those Patriots are communists in disguise. Don't fall for their honeyed words."

"The fascist Isolationists have been in charge long enough. It's time for a change."

"If you care about the safety of the vault, you'll vote for Denglar."

"If you care about your rights, you'll vote for Church."

"Those Patriots are just a bunch of thugs. They have no right to run for office."

"The Isolationists are trying to brainwash the whole vault."

"Church is crazy if he really thinks we can make it up there."

"We can't live in fear anymore. We have to open the door."

"The wastelanders are not our problem. We've got enough problems down here as it is."

"With great power comes great responsibility. We have the power to make a difference."

We passed by a group of teenagers whose argument over what their parents told them turned into a brawl until a guard separated them.

Then we passed by a guy around our age whose vault suit was disheveled and decorated with all sorts of buttons. He had a patch that was a smaller Patriot flag stitched onto his sleeve. He also wore a red, white and blue bandana. He was sitting on a bucket playing a song on his guitar. "Come gather around people, wherever you roam, and admit that the waters around you have grown. And accept it that soon you'll be drenched to the bone. If your time to you is worth saving, then you better start swimmin' or you'll sink like a stone. For the times, they are a changin'."

A passerby with a yellow vault door painted onto his chest looked down at the guitarist and clicked his tongue. "Damn beatnik."

Then we passed by the vault chaplain who spoke loudly to anyone who came by. "My brothers and sisters, we must not forget that no matter the results, we are all one vault. May we come together in love and peace to build a more unified vault."

Near him was a group of women talking as they dropped their kids off at school. "I'm not sure who I'm voting for yet, all I want to know is that my kids won't have to grow up around anymore violence." One of them said. "I don't think it'll matter who wins. There's violence on both sides, and one of them isn't going to be happy by the end of the day," another said. "Come on ladies, we can't act like both sides are equally bad. One is definitely worse than the other," said a third.

We passed by a group of men arguing while they smoked by an air vent. "There's no way I'll vote for that nigger, Church. He wants to let all those wastelanders in and God knows what kinds of things they'll bring with them."

"Don't speak like you know anything about the people out there," someone retorted. "And I thought we were past your kind of ignorance you racist. Shut your mouth."

"I'm just telling it like it is. You'll change your mind if Church gets his paws on that overseer desk and he lets those dirtballs in. Just wait till some irradiated thug knocks up your girls with his diseased mutant children."

We finally reached Mr. Church's classroom where guards both official and unofficial were standing by his door. "Alright, have a good day at work," Sarah said. "You're going to pick me up so we can go vote together right?"

"Of course. Don't forget to bring me some lunch when class gets out."

"Of course." She reached up and tussled my hair. Then she headed off towards her classroom, "bye."

I waved goodbye to her and fixed my hair. Then I tried to get into Mr. Church's room but one of the guards wouldn't let me. Luckily Mr. Church looked up from his papers on his desk. He hollered for the guard to let me through. I went in and saw that none of his students had come in yet; I wondered if any of them would that day. He greeted me with a warm smile as I came over to his desk. He stood up and stuck his hand out for me to shake. "How are you doing today, Mr. Peterman?"

"I'm alright," I said shaking his hand. "Little nervous."

"You're telling me," he said with a chuckle as he sat back down.

"I can't believe you still have to work while you're running for Overseer."

"Yeah well, somebody has to teach the kids. It's alright, I'll get out in time to prepare for tonight. My campaign team's got me covered during the day." He took a sip of his coffee, "so how is maintenance treating you?"

"It's okay. I still keep to myself but I'm getting along alright with everyone. The job's not too hard on me."

"Yeah, I knew you'd be alright with the work. Nothing much's changed socially though, huh?"

"How can it?"

He could only sigh before he took another sip of coffee. "I knew you'd do well based on your final essay. I still wish it could've been about being a lawyer though."

When I took the GOAT, it was recommended that I be a lawyer, a rare result given the personality traits necessary to fulfill such a job. Being a lawyer meant working in some fashion for the vault's court system. They start out as prosecutors, defenders, and clerks. If they do well, they may be appointed by the Overseer to fill one of the judge positions, which could eventually lead to the supreme court if they succeeded in that. A lot of Overseer's and councilmen were lawyers too. But when you get your results at 16, you'll spend much of the next two years in a kind of apprenticeship. Graduation for us, which happened recently, is when you take a test and turn in a final essay about what you've learned in your apprenticeship. If you pass the final, you report to your work the next day. But some jobs require more out of you, and if you can't keep up with the requirements during your apprenticeship, you're reassigned to your second result. I was doing well. Then the Overseer had a meeting with some of the judges and lawyers who were teaching me. Suddenly my work was incompetent and my essays were "insufficient" in their understanding of the vault's legal code. So they moved me to maintenance. Almost nobody believed that the Overseer would actually interfere in someone's occupational placement, but more started to believe it when people found out that Zach had been moved from being a paper pusher in systems administration to be a security officer under the direct tutelage of Captain McCracken.

"It is what it is," I said. "Honestly, I don't care where I end up. I could've been put in waste disposal for all I care. A job's a job you know."

Mr. Church gave a frown. "I know you don't mean that. You couldn't hide your excitement back when you were an apprentice. You know what I think. I think if you would've made it, you would've done a great job. I could see you being an Overseer yourself someday. I think Denglar knew that too. That's why he did it, he was scared of you. That's why I was always pushing you to come to those meetings. I think you could make a big difference."

I was flattered but I didn't quite believe it. I couldn't help but smirk. "I don't know Mr. Church. I'm just one person—and I'm an outcast."

He shrugged his shoulders. "All it takes is one person to make a difference. And sometimes it's the people that come from out of nowhere that cause the biggest change."

Back then I didn't think much about those words. But now… "Well I should probably get going before I'm late," I said. "I just wanted to tell you good luck tonight. I can't wait to see you debate Denglar."

He looked past me as some of his students started coming in. He stood back up again and shook my hand, "I appreciate it. Keep your chin up, and take care of yourself, Nathan." Mr. Church rarely called anyone by their first name. That was the first time he had called me that. It would also be the last.

The work day passed by like any other. To end it, I was in my assigned shop helping to fix one of the large air condition units used for one of the recreation atriums. I sat on the bench tinkering with some smaller parts while my boss was behind me working on the unit. He was a good man, an older scruffy man nearing retirement age. His hair had turned a chalky white and he had a bushy mustache of the same color. Anyone who saw him could tell that he worked in maintenance his whole life given how he remained a rather large muscular man. His name was Joseph Dandre, but he preferred I just call him Joe. We got along well together because we were both sparse with words and preferred to just work diligently by each other. Most of what did come out of his mouth were simple requests.

"Hand me that lug wrench there." I reached across the work bench for the lug wrench and handed it to him. We went back to silence for a bit. He removed a panel from the interior of the unit and felt around. "Well, I think all this needs is a good cleaning on the inside. Good thing we don't have to jerry-rig this one." He got up and walked down the long corridor that was our shop. Soon he came back with some air cannisters and some rags. On his way over, he walked past two other guys who were working on their own project. They were arguing politics and from what I could hear, they were getting heated. Joe didn't say anything to them. Wordlessly, he handed me a rag and a can, then sat back down in front of the air conditioner. "Clean these pieces as I hand em' to you," he said. We worked like that in silence for a bit. But I was mindlessly wiping down a filter when I was startled out of my daydreaming by an unexpected sigh from Joe. "I don't envy you kid…" I didn't respond; I was taken a little off guard by this. Joe paid no mind though, "Terrible first election you're voting in… My father used to tell me stories. He was out there, first time we opened that door. He used to tell me there were creatures out there that'd make the oversized rats and cockroaches we see down here look like lil' puppy dogs. Used to tell me that for every dozen or so raider camps or scum-holes, there was one settlement with good people… I like Church, he's a good man. I liked your mom and pop too. Never thought for a second that they did anything wrong… But ya see kid, this is one vault out of a thousand. There's a whole lot of scorched earth out there, a whole lot of people in need, and a whole lot of people who don't want help. There's only so much weight we can carry, before the world caves in on us… If Church wins, he'll get us killed. But if Denglar wins, he'll kill us."

I don't think Joe ever said so much to me before. I wasn't sure what to make of it, so I kept cleaning without an immediate response. "How do you know?" I finally said. "What makes you so sure of what you're saying?"

"Nobody is ever completely sure- at least nobody that's self-aware. I really hope I'm wrong, kid. But I've lived long enough that I can tell when things change. I just feel it. Things are going to get a lot worse before they get better." We returned to silence, except this time neither of us was working. I sat there contemplating what he said until Joe looked down at his Pip-Boy. "Well, it's quitin' time. Go on everybody," he hollered down the corridor. "Don't forget to vote." I got up to leave and Joe caught me with these strange parting words. "Good luck tonight kid." I just told him to have a goodnight and left.

I found Sarah still in her classroom helping to grade assignments. She still had to be an assistant teacher for another two years before she could get assigned to a class of little kids. She looked up at me from her desk and smiled. She very politely asked the teacher if she could leave and take the rest of her work home. The teacher looked over at me, then back to her, and with a cheeky grin, she allowed her to leave. Sarah and I headed to the main atrium right away. The halls were very different from that morning; almost no one was walking them except for us. Sarah was telling me about some of the children in her class, and I couldn't help but tune her out as I noticed a subtle white noise slowly get louder and louder as we neared the atrium.

Finally, we had reached that great chamber, to discover that it was completely packed with people all conversing about the debate that was soon to happen. There in the middle of the atrium was a stage where Mr. Church and Overseer Denglar were sitting, preparing for their speeches. At the opposite end of the room from us was the voting booths, being watched closely by McCracken and his men. The looks on every face from the people around me, to the people high up on the walkways above us, to even the guards were of anxious anticipation. I myself even started to feel a pit at the bottom of my stomach growing the more we waited. The only people in the room who seemed calm were the two men on stage. Finally, McCracken stepped up on stage and called for silence. "The debate between the incumbent Overseer, Allen Denglar, and the challenger, Eric Church, will now begin. Mr. Church, you have agreed to speak first, so you may begin." Mr. Church thanked him and stood up. Coolly, he walked to the center of the stage to thunderous applause from his supporters. He took a moment to look at all the people in front and behind the stage, as well as the people up above, in respectful acknowledgment. He cleared his throat, and began.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of vault 123, it is an honor to be up here speaking to you tonight… To begin, I would like to read to you an excerpt from the inaugural address given by this vault's first Overseer, Gregory Gomez: Citizens of the vault, I know that the emotions you feel right now are overwhelming to your senses and to your very understanding of existence. I too feel great distress when I think of the hellfire that rages above us right now. But I must remind you that while the world is cast into the void in this moment, this is not the end. The world that burns above still exists in us. That which our forefathers have built, those beautiful ideals of democracy and the promises made to future generations of liberty, equality and justice for all, goes on in this very vault. It is for those reasons that this facility was created. Not simply so we could survive, but so that we could thrive. So that someday we can return to the surface, and rebuild America. For now we will grieve, but we must not despair, because we have each other to rely on. Come together with your new neighbors so that we may embody the idealism of the nation that was. Let us grow strong together. Let us create a community that will celebrate democracy and the rule of law. Someday, I promise you, when the fires have died, and the fallout has settled, we will emerge to restore civilization, and to return the blessings of America to the battered land."

"Overseer Gomez was not a far-fetched man; he was not a radical. He was a proud American. He believed that the mission of America was to create a nation that embodied the best of human ideals. He knew from history that the story of America was a story of struggling to meet those goals. He knew that that story did not end with the Great War. It was too grand an idea to be extinguished so easily. He knew that that story was still being told right here. The first vault-dwellers knew this as well. For generations, our ancestors worked to rebuild the old government here in the vault, and secure those blessings for their posterity. But we all know what happened when they finally opened that vault door. It has, and should be forever ingrained into our collective conscious. But what should not linger on in us, is the fear. As a student of history, I can tell you that often times, it is our own fear that hurts us more than that which we fear itself. Sadly, our vault has not recovered from the fear of that incident so many years later. We pretend like we're fine, but deep down, we've always known that there is something missing in us, a drive that isn't there anymore. Only now is that drive returning."

"We all feel the instability growing in our vault. We all know that there's a division in how we want to proceed. But that division does not cut as deeply as you might think. I know it's a cliché, but if you'll forgive me: I believe there is more that unites us than that which divides us. The only division I see is between people who believe in the vault, and those who don't. Who believes in the vault? Why you do. In our hearts, no matter our politics, we love this vault. That's why both of those flags there have vault doors on them. We all want the best for our families, we all want the vault to thrive, and I think we all still believe in our founding mission. But we have fallen into the trap of seeing those who disagree with us as other. Just because someone aspires to help the people of the wasteland or takes an interest in what is beyond the vault, doesn't mean that they're naïve, and they are certainly not immoral. Offering a helping hand to those in need does not mean taking away with the other. We can share what we have in excess, without losing everything. We can keep ourselves secure without keeping ourselves locked up. We can open up to the people of the wasteland without giving ourselves over completely. We can be cautious of wastelanders without being distrustful. We can celebrate the blessings this vault has given us, but also recognize that we are meant for something greater than this. There should be room for us to have a civil discussion about our disagreements, and I for one will be listening, because I believe when we share ideas, we find the best solutions and the best actions to take." He gave a brief pause to let his words sink in.

"Now I've told you who believes in the vault, but who doesn't believe in the vault? I am not afraid to say that that group is the party in power right now. The Isolationists do not believe in the vault, they only believe in their power. If they believed in the people that they're supposed to serve, then they wouldn't portray those who disagree with them as criminals and anarchists. If they believed in the rights of vault-dwellers, then they wouldn't try to silence the opposition when they try to speak, and they wouldn't convict people without due process. If they believed in being honest with their own supporters, they wouldn't feed them stories that vilify those who sit across the aisle. They'd let their supporters speak freely to them, and create their opinions on their own. They do not believe that the government is meant to serve the people. They do not believe in the checks and balances of that government. That's why they continue to pack the courts with judges who swear loyalty to them before the constitution. That's why they're praying that they win this election, so that the council can pass new voting laws that will make winning the next election easier. That's why they use the power of the Overseer to strengthen their control of the vault and to receive personal favors. That's why they use security to bully and intimidate people who disagree with them under the guise of law and order."

Church's voice began to rise. "Overseer Denglar and the Isolationists do not believe in the people unless those people support them. They do not believe in the rights guaranteed to all of us unless those rights can be bent for their agenda. They do not believe in a public discourse unless that discourse leads to a conclusion favorable to them. They do not believe in organizing for politics unless it is their politics, otherwise it's a mob. They do not believe in the government unless it is a government that they can control. They do not want to lead you, they do not want to protect you, they do not have your best interests at heart. All they want is to control, all they want is to fulfill their interests, all they want is power. They do not believe in this vault because they do not believe in anything it stands for. Ladies and gentlemen of vault 123, I am not going to tell you that I or the Patriotic Front is perfect. I am not going to tell you to match all your opinions to mine so you can vote for me, because I don't believe all the answers can come from me. I'm not going to tell you that electing me will bring change and happy times immediately, because it takes time for things to get better. But I will tell you that if you believe in this vault, you can let it be known tonight by voting for me and all the other Patriot candidates. Because at the end of the day, you can trust that I believe in vault 123."

Mr. Church had worked himself into a shout that reverberated throughout the atrium. When he was done, he was inhaling hard and a bit of sweat had accumulated on his brow. The room was still, then suddenly there was a thunder of applause, cheering and chanting that shook the room. Seeing the effect on his audience, Mr. Church smiled contently, thanked the audience, and sat down. Then Overseer Denglar stood up. The room continued to buzz, with his supporters adding their applause for him. He gave a glance to the entire atrium with a smile as he waited patiently for them to go silent. When they were finally still once more, he began.

"I see Mr. Church lives up to his reputation as an eloquent speaker. However, just because they are eloquent words does not mean that they stand up to reality and facts. Mr. Church's ideas certainly are ambitious. There's no doubt that they would inspire many a young idealist to take on the world. I can certainly agree with him and the late Overseer Gomez that the noble ideals of pre-war America should be cherished here in the vault. But despite being a student of history, Mr. Church seems to have forgotten the central lesson of history: that it repeats itself. What happened to our vault all those years ago is not a mere hiccup in our execution of open-door policy, but a cruel lesson that we had learned and seemingly are unlearning. The world outside does not care about our principles or our ideals. Those in need out there are not interested in any ideology or form of government. All they want is what we have: food, water, shelter, and security. And as of yet, I have not heard a decisive piece of policy from the Patriotic Front for how we are supposed to avoid the tragedy of our last attempt. Try harder perhaps? Preach about our ideas more? Forgive me for also using a cliché, but it is often said that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, expecting a different outcome. Insanity is exactly what Mr. Church is proposing by laying the vault bare to all manner of hazards from the wasteland. It goes without saying that the wasteland is a violent place. How can we ask our brave men and women in the security force to endanger their lives by trying to bring aid to a people that won't even appreciate it? Especially when we have enough unrest here at home. Can we really believe that the people of the wasteland will be content with the resources we give them when they know that there is more for them to have here? That brings up the question of immigration as well. Caution will not guarantee the safety of the vault. There is no way that we can ensure that killers, drug dealers, and rapists won't get in. Caution cannot prevent the innate intermingling that would occur if we were to live alongside the wastelanders. It's already been proven from confiscated contraband that radiation is still prevalent out there. Which means that if our people were to intermingle, our entire gene pool would be corrupted. And speaking of corruption, we cannot pretend that there isn't a difference in our standard of morals to those of the wasteland. For the safety and harmony of the vault, we cannot allow those people to lower our moral standards."

"But let's speak further of moral standards, as I do believe that a major issue in this election is the issue of law and order. Now unfortunately I wish there was a way for us to speak honestly about the very real problems of crime and civil unrest we have seen as of late without the Patriotic Front accusing us of being fascists. We have seen a clear upswing in violence, theft, rebellious behavior and a complete disrespect for the rule of law. And when such things are on the rise, we have no other choice but to take strong action to quell them. If a desire to have your family live in a vault that is safe is considered a mark of oppression to the Patriots then that is too bad. As much as we'd like to say that all is well with everyone, the facts are just not true. And if I were you, I would feel utterly disrespected that Mr. Church believes that in our attempts to bring peace to the vault, we are secretly conducting a conspiracy to silence and frame anyone who disagrees. It's as if by simply wanting to preserve everything that has allowed for us to live happily, Church thinks that we are out to oppress. But the fact of the matter is that while some people want to heal divides, there are others who only want to provoke by hurling all manner of profanity at innocent people, as well as all of vault society. There are also far too many people who cannot express their grievances without turning into a gang. The so-called silencing that Mr. Church accuses us of for wanting to separate these provocateurs from the public discourse once again ignores facts."

"The conspiracy theories that Mr. Church and the Patriotic Front like to peddle about the Isolationist party are the real threat to the vault, and everything it stands for. What they want to make their supporters believe is that the Isolationist party is a wholly evil entity in order to delegitimize the offices we hold; staging a sort of coup with lies. Again, Mr. Church's words may sound nice, but their nicety masks their true meaning, and their hypocrisy. Why Isolationist supporters should be enraged that Mr. Church would actually suggest that they don't have the ability to think for themselves and that they're being manipulated by the party that has served them well for years. That comes after he espouses to want to unite the vault? Mr. Church is a hypocrite because for as much as he claims that I do not believe in the vault, it appears that he also doesn't believe in anything that does not align with what he already believes. If you disagree with the Patriots then your mind is weak with fear and manipulation. If a Patriot is arrested for breaking the law, then either the law is oppressive or the Patriot was framed. If the government isn't enacting the policies that the Patriots want then it is a corrupt government. And if you don't vote for him and the Patriots, you don't really believe in what this vault stands for."

"What should particularly concern all of you is how Mr. Church is seemingly incapable of admitting when anyone he agrees with is in the wrong, as he has failed to condemn his ardent supporters who have vandalized the vault and even put others' well-being at risk. We all know that he has a tendency to dance around the subject, use false equivalencies, and drum up conspiracies whenever he's pressured about a Patriot who broke the law. Or in the case of those racketeers, the Petermans, he outwardly sympathizes with them. Even though they put the whole vault at risk by recklessly sneaking out, smuggling hazardous materials in, stealing supplies to sell in the wasteland, and then even drawing in other citizens to help them, all for their own selfish gain. We should really question the moral priorities of a candidate who so unabashedly supports those kind of—"

"You're a goddamn liar!" The atrium gasped in surprise and everyone's heads were on a swivel trying to find where that outburst came from. But the Overseer knew exactly who said it. While everyone was wondering, he was staring right at me. Sarah had her hand on my sleeve and was telling me to let it be, but it was too late to take it back. So I forced my way out closer to the stage so that the whole atrium could see me. "My parents were infinitely better people than you'll ever be you vindictive rat. They risked their lives so that the vault could experience something new and the people of the wasteland could receive the help they need. They never put money before people, they never took more than necessary, they never tricked anybody, and they never hurt anyone doing it. The only people who have been hurt are the people you lashed out at when all you could do was make sure they could never come back. Let's not forget the visit you paid to my apartment too, when their bodies were still warm, and I was only 16. Why don't you tell these people about how you forced your way in with guards and ransacked my house? Or how about when you threatened my neighbor and I when we wouldn't convict ourselves for you. You can't speak of morality when you willingly used my family as a talking point to push your agenda, and put me through hell."

The atrium looked back to the Overseer for a response, but he made none. For the first time since that night in my apartment two years ago, that pretentious cold man had revealed his true emotions. His brow was furrowed, his face was turning red, and his teeth bit down hard on his lips. I looked all around the silent atrium at the shock on people's faces. I knew I was done here, so I walked over to the voting booth. People moved aside as I went up and Sarah followed close behind me. Even McCracken stepped aside for me. I picked up the pen and the ballot, and put a mark next to every Patriot. After I put it in the box, Sarah hurried in to fill out hers. While I waited, I turned to look at the atrium which was still staring right back at me. The looks of shock were still there. The Overseer was stiff with anger. Mr. Church was smirking as he gave me a look that said: "good job". I gave the Overseer another look, "Your defeat will be great, and your fall will be greater." Then Sarah and I left.

"I wish you hadn't done that," Sarah said as she stirred a pot of stew.

I was standing next to her cutting up vegetables. "I think I should've done it sooner. Everyone's reaction was perfect—especially his—did you see the look on his face."

"I know it felt good to do, but you have to think about consequences. You always do things without thinking them through. He already had you blacklisted and now if he wins, there's no telling what he'll do."

"Well then I just better hope he loses," I said with a chuckle as I scraped the vegetables into the pot. "Besides, I couldn't let him talk about my parents like that. If taking a stand means death then so be it. What's it matter anyway—"

"Stop it!" she snapped throwing the spoon on the counter. "I hate it when you talk like that. If you really don't care about yourself, you could at least think about the people who do care about you."

Sarah didn't get angry easily. That's how I knew she was really upset, and I always felt terrible making her mad. "I'm sorry."

She grabbed my hands and looked me in the eyes. "You say you're sorry, but do you mean it? You're my best friend and my whole family loves you. If you can't do it for yourself, please at least promise me that you'll lay low for a while. I just don't want to lose you."

Sarah had beautiful big green eyes. All she had to do was lock our eyes together like that and she could hypnotize me to do anything. "Okay. I promise…" Her parents came home just as we had finished cooking. As soon as they came in, we sat down for dinner. They made no mention of what happened in the atrium, so I thought that maybe they weren't there. Sarah and I thought it was best not to bring it up unless they did.

Dinner was my favorite time of the day. There was nothing better to me than coming together at the end of the day to chat and tell funny stories, which Mr. Huntley had a lot of. All over a good dinner. Some nights we wouldn't leave the table until it was time to go to bed. We'd just sit conversing and refilling our plates when we had room for more, or we'd put the food away and go straight to playing games. Mrs. Huntley was very fond of card games, so we played at least one a night. I remember the conversation around the table that night was particularly pleasant. Maybe it was because we had managed not to talk at all about the election. Maybe it's just because I know now that it would be the last conversation of its kind.

We talked about how things were going at our jobs, with all the projects we were working on. Sarah told her parents the same stories about the children in her class that she told me before. Then Mr. Huntley told us all a funny story from when he was a child. That got him onto the subject of Sarah and I being adults now. So we talked about getting apartments for ourselves. Mrs. Huntley suggested that we should just stay with them. But Mr. Huntley argued that he was sure we didn't want to stay with them now that we were adults. He figured I was tired of sleeping on a cot in their living room, and that Sarah probably wanted to have her space too. We went on for a while about whatever topics came to mind until we got tired of eating stew. So Mrs. Huntley cleared the table and came back with cake for desert. She also had a deck of cards. Things seemed to move in slow motion for me in that moment. Seeing their smiling faces, I remember thinking about the election, the vault, and my life, and feeling content; everything was going to be alright. But then time sped up again, and the powder keg blew up.

The front door opened up behind me. Mr. Huntley had a look of terror on his face as he jumped up from his seat. "What're you doing here?" I turned around to see a guard kitted with full protective gear. Naturally, my first thought was that they had come for me. I shot out of my chair and was about to charge him when they removed their helmet and visor.

"Whoa whoa! Take it easy Nate, it's just me! It's Zach."

It was the first time in a while that I had seen him. Why he was even down in the lower levels, I had no clue, but I knew that it was bad. "What are you doing here Zach?"

"You have to get out of here," he said frantically. "There were gunshots—and screaming—and people started fighting—and all of the sudden we were called out—and and and Captain McCracken—he he he—oh God—it's—I don't know—"

"Zach, calm down. What's going on?"

"He's dead, they're dead, they're killing people, I watched them do it, I saw them and I heard the order, and they want you and you have to get out of here—"

I grabbed him by the shoulders, "Zach! What are you talking about!?" I shouted.

He looked at me with absolute terror. "Mr. Church is dead…" I let go of him and stumbled back to my chair. "I don't know what happened, but something went wrong in the atrium. All I heard were gunshots and screaming, and when I came in, Mr. Church was dead, my father was gone, and people were fighting. Everything happened so quickly, next thing I knew we were being ordered to gear up and raid the apartments of Patriot leaders. My father and Captain McCracken—I don't know—they've gone crazy. The whole vault's gone crazy! I watched him—I watched McCracken kill someone. He bashed their head in with his baton. He didn't even try to arrest them. They're coming for you next Nate. I came to help you escape."

After the death of my Parents, I couldn't imagine my world being shattered any worse. But in that moment, I felt what people must have felt like when those bombs dropped. To think that not so long ago I saw Mr. Church up on that stage full of passion; the way he smiled so proudly at me; it was all meaningless in that moment. He'd never get a chance to lead. The hopes and dreams of so many, including me, were now dead with him. "So you've finally realized it," I said to Zach. "It took daddy's boy till this long to see who your father really is."

"He's my dad Nate! What else was I supposed to do!? But I'm trying to make things right. You were my best friend, and I'm not gonna let them do to you what I saw them do to others."

"So, what's your plan?" I asked trying to recompose myself. "How am I supposed to escape them?"

"There's only one way… you have to leave."

I looked up at him incredulously. "You mean…"

"Look, we don't have much time." He pulled his 10mm out of its holster and put it on the table next to me. "You need to get to the vault door. I'll do what I can to stall so you can pack your things. Then I'll see about getting the guards away from the door." He handed me all the ammo he had. "Just be careful. Hopefully you won't have to use it." Without another word, he hurried off.

I turned around to see the Huntley's were frozen stiff with shock. "Take Sarah," Mr. Huntley finally said.

"We should all go," Mrs. Huntley replied.

"There's no time," he said as he went into their room. "Get your things together."

I hurried over to my corner of the living room and started packing what little I had into my backpack. The ammo, two books, a hat, PJ's, a multi-tool from work, and a family photo. I hurried over to the kitchen and started stuffing the bag with food and water just as Sarah was coming out of her room. She came over and started doing the same. Then her parents came out of their room arguing back and forth.

"We do not have time for this!" Mr. Huntley shouted. "If you want to go then go, but I need to stay here to stall for them."

"I'm not leaving you."

"Then stay. The choice is yours."

Mrs. Huntley didn't take long to think. When she found her answer, her eyes began to fill with tears. She went to Sarah and handed her a first-aid kit. "You take care of each other okay." She wrapped us both into a hug. "I love both of you. I know you'll be okay out there."

Mr. Huntley came to us next. "I got these from my safe." He handed me my postcards of New York, "I figured you'd want those." Then he gave Sarah a combat knife in a leather sheath, and a small cloth sac. "Those are both from out there. It's not much, but apparently what's in that bag will help you a lot out there… Your father told me of a settlement not far to the south. When you get out, the first thing you should do is go there." He gave us both hugs. "Good luck… Now go."

Once we were out of the apartment, we started down the hall towards the stairs. But before we could get there, we heard voices and the heavy footfalls of combat boots. We ran back and just before the guards could come into view, we ducked into my old apartment. I wanted to move further into the darkness, but Sarah chose to be near the window so she could see across the hall. I joined her there and we watched them barge into the other apartment. Once they were all in, the last man closed the door behind him. I pulled on Sarah's sleeve to tell her that was our chance to go. We left my old apartment and snuck past. We could hear them talking inside. "I don't know what you're talking about. We haven't seen him all day…" The arguing went back and forth. I tried to keep moving but Sarah wouldn't budge, so I had to pull her.

We ran towards the stairs and were stopped again. But this time, it wasn't from guards. We had just gotten to an intersection when the lights went out and the red emergency lights came on. Then the PA system echoed through the halls. "Citizens of vault 123. This is Overseer Denglar speaking. Due to a major outburst of riots all over the vault, I am declaring a state of martial law. Anyone found outside of their homes will be seen as a rioter, and vault security has been instructed to use any means necessary to subdue this insurrection." The PA went out, and an alarm came on. As soon as it did, the sound of many screams could be heard coming from the hall on our right. A few people came running around the corner. They paid no attention to us as they hurried past. The screams grew louder and we could hear gunshots coming from around the corner. Suddenly a crowd of people came stampeding with vault security behind them. We looked to the left where those people from before were coming back. They hurried up the stairs and yelled at everyone not to go the way they came from.

Sarah and I raced up the stairs following them. We got to the top and rounded a corner to face another hallway. At the end were more gunshots. This time, it was the guards we saw first, and they appeared to be running away. They fired off a few shots at an unseen mob. When they turned to face our hallway, I pushed Sarah down and I followed her to the floor. The people in front of us went down from their gunfire. Then the guards ran away as a huge mob chased after them. Sarah and I got up and kept running to the end of the hall. We turned another corner where we saw more people lying on the ground with bullet wounds. In the center of the hallway was a woman sobbing as she held a dead child in her arms. Sarah stopped to look at them but I pulled her by the hand to keep her moving. After that, we came to another stairway.

Just as we were nearing the top of the stairway, an even bigger mob than before passed by us. "Hurry," someone shouted. "They don't have enough guards at the armory." The mob cheered and moved past with quicker speed. On that floor we moved past a number of recreational areas. In all of them, we saw groups of people brawling. A few times, the guards came in to break them up with batons. Sometimes they just started shooting. We moved through, managing to avoid the guards. Then we came to another staircase and ascended up multiple levels. As we neared the top of the staircase, we heard somebody mumbling to themselves. "It wasn't supposed to happen like this. This isn't right. This isn't right. This isn't right. I should've never come in. I should've never—they're killing people. People! I just wanna go home!" We reached the top and found that the person mumbling was a guard; one of our old classmates. He was sitting in the corner with his face drenched in tears and snot. He pulled his gun out. "Stop! Who goes there! I've got a gun!"

I put my hands up. "Take it easy I said. I'm not gonna hurt you. Just let us through okay." We moved slowly towards the door, all while he had his gun pointed at us. He mumbled some more but he never pulled the trigger, so we managed to slip into the next hall and hurried away. It was then that we reached that part of the vault where all the amenities were. First, we reached the doctor's office where we saw the entire hall outside the office lined with wounded people. There were a few with sheets draped over their bodies from head to toe to show that their wounds had been fatal. The doctors and the nurses were moving frantically from patient to patient trying to keep more from fading away. One of the doctors came to us and asked if we were hurt and when we said no they shooed us away. We went up another level and walked the same hall we had walked that morning. A battle must have taken place there because the floor was littered with debris, casings, blood and bodies. We passed by the classrooms where we witnessed a terrible scene. In one of the rooms, a group of citizens had surrounded a guard, while another guard lay still with his face smashed in nearby. "Not so tough without this are ya bitch," one of the people snickered as they pointed a gun at the guard. "Please," she begged. "I haven't done anything. I'm just doing my job. I didn't want to hurt anyone. Please don't! Please! No!" Then they shot her. Sarah and I both let out a gasp but before they could turn around to see us, we bolted. We ran and ran until we neared the diner where we stopped in our tracks when we heard voices around the corner coming from the diner entrance. "Come on John! Stop fucking around and let us in!" There were two guards banging on the window of the diner. "The Patriots could show up and kill us at any second!" There was another guard on the other side of the window. "No. There's no way. Not after what you two did. I've got a lot of people in here and I actually want to keep them safe." We snuck past them.

We were finally nearing the atrium where the main elevator to the vault door was. But as we got closer we discovered a growing number of people all just standing around. We pushed our way through until we were close to the atrium. There we saw an army of people. Some were decked out in red, white and blue with paint across their suits and flags draped over them. Some wore patches, bands, or they had a cloth wrapped around their face. Some were battered from fighting and had blood on them. Many in the front had makeshift weapons. As soon as we got close, a man in the front shouted: "We can't wait any longer for them to capture the armory. Denglar is up in that office right now, and the only way to get to him is through here. So let's push forward; give em' hell! Charge!" The mob cheered and rushed out into the atrium. The sounds that followed were horrendous. As soon as they came out, I could hear the gunshots. Not just of pistols like most guards, but the booms of shotguns and the rat-a-tat-tat of automatics. The screams were deafening and numerous, but the mob charged forward anyway. The guards must have been up in the walkways shooting down on them.

"There's no way we can get through that," I told Sarah

"So what are we supposed to do?"

I thought for a moment before something occurred to me. "There's another way up. Maintenance has other elevators that take us up to those top levels. We can get to the door that way." So with that, we backtracked a bit until we came to another staircase that would bring us to the upper level residential area.

It should've been easy. As soon as we reached the top, all we had to do was cross one long hallway to get to the elevator. But when we got up there, we were met with a gang blocking the hall way. In front of them were two dead guards. They all had weapons, but they didn't attack us with them. "Just keep it moving," one of them said.

"We don't want any trouble," I said. "We just need to get through here."

"Not a chance. There's a lot of elderly in these rooms behind us, and some one needs to protect them. So nobody gets through. Not even security," he said pointing a knife at the guards on the floor.

"Fine, we'll find another way. Come on Sarah, there should be another hallway."

We went further into the residential area looking for another way. Instead we came across a peculiar group of people who were all dressed similarly to some of those people from the mob before, except their flags and attire were of Isolationist colors. Yellow vault doors were painted all over them. They were all gathered in an intersection while someone preached to them. "The lower level trash is trying to take our vault away from us! Right now, the Patriot scourge is down there trying to kill our protectors and our Overseer! So let's get down there and give security a hand!"

The crowd cheered, but they quickly stopped when one of them pointed at us and shouted: "Hey! There's some Patriots right there. Let's get em'!" We took off running back the way we came. They chased after us yelling profanity. They chased us through a maze of hallways and forced us to take some different stairways down a few levels. But then we came out into a hallway and heard a squad of guards to our left shout at us to freeze. We did, long enough for the mob behind us to catch up. And just as they got close, we took off to the right. Just as the guards started firing at us, the mob came into the hall and was torn apart. Ironically, even when the guards realized that they were shooting people who wanted to help them, they kept firing. Sarah and I hurried down another set of stairs. We raced down a hall and stopped at another set of stairs halfway through. We turned back to see if they were close behind. They weren't, but just as we breathed a sigh of relief, we heard someone behind us.

"Don't move!" a guard shouted from the end of the hall. He moved towards us quickly and kept a shotgun trained on us. Another guard followed close behind. "Drop the gun!" he barked when he reached us. "Don't make me kill you! Drop the gun!"

"We don't want trouble officer," I said as I started lowering the gun to the floor. "We're just trying to get somewhere is all."

"We don't want any trouble either. So just drop the—" There were echoes of a mob coming from behind them. The other officer slapped his partner on the shoulder frantically and told him they had to go. Then the echoes of the other mob cried out from behind us. "Ah Shit. Yeah, let's get out of here," he said gesturing for us to follow them down the stairs. We hurried down with them. When the officers reached the bottom, they immediately turned left and kept running until we got to another stairway. We followed them down that as well, but this time I tripped coming down and tumbled to the bottom.

My vision went black for a moment. When I opened my eyes, the intersection we were in was tinged blue from one of the officer's Pip-Boy lights. I was staring up at a sparking stub on the ceiling where a light must have been. I groaned in pain and everyone asked if I was alright. "Yeah," I said rolling onto my side. "I just…" When I rolled over, my eyes fell on a familiar face. There was Joe Dandre lying next to me on the floor. His eyes rolled back into their sockets, leaving only the white to stare back at me. I stared in horror until Sarah and a guard helped me up. I finally got a chance to see the whole intersection. The entire room was filled with bodies. Pools of blood slowly covered the entire floor.

"Jesus Christ," the officer with the shotgun muttered. "How did it ever come to this. Just like that," he said with a snap of the finger, "everything falls apart."

"These people were shot," said the other. He braced himself against the wall as his knees shook. "I didn't sign up for this. I never thought they'd make us do this… What have we become?" He tore off his helmet and threw it at the wall.

His partner went to him as he started crying. "It's not us. This isn't who we are. You and I never agreed to this…"

Pro-isolationist chants and shouts echoed from around the nearest corner.

The shotgun officer listened closely to the chant. "Shit, it's those nutjobs again." He looked at us, "They won't touch us, but they'll tear you two to shreds. You better get out of here. We'll make sure they don't follow you."

"Th-thanks," I said still shaken up. I looked down the hallway to our left, then back to Sarah. "We can get to the elevator through here. Come on."

We made it to the elevator. The ride up was silent. After everything we had seen, we took that moment of peace to withdraw into ourselves, trying to process what our home had become. There were no tears shed; only our minds quivered and ached as we tried to come to terms with everything, and prepared ourselves for the outside. The elevator door opened on its highest floor. We hurried through the maintenance halls and past the systems administration rooms until we finally reached it; the door. Despite its important symbolism to the vault, not many people had actually seen the door before. It was bigger than I thought; a tall, wide, imposing steel beast.

We waited to see if Zach would ever come to meet us, but eventually we ran out of patience. Sarah went to the control station to open the door. After a few minutes of examining the switches and buttons, she figured out how to open it. She pressed a sequence of buttons and a plastic cover popped open, exposing an outlet. Sarah took the plug from her Pip-Boy and inserted it into the outlet. A big red button next to the outlet started to glow. She pressed it. An alarm went off that startled us. My first thought was that it would alert any guards nearby so anxiously we waited for the door to open. A massive drill like machine came down from the ceiling and inserted itself into the door like a big key. It made a quick spin to lock into the door then began to pull. A gasp of air released from the door on the initial pull. There was a terrible screeching sound as the steel of the door scraped against the floor. Finally, the door had been pulled all the way back. The huge key did another spin which wheeled the door to the side.

We felt that old familiar chill from our childhood as a rush of air came from the other side of that steel beast. I inhaled that fresh air deeply, amazed at how different it felt compared to the conditioned air of the vault. Beyond the door was darkness. Our eyes started to adjust so that we could see the rocky walls and ground of the hill that the vault was built into. Beyond that, was more darkness, dotted with little lights. It took me a moment, but I realized that those were stars, and that darkness was the sky. We stood there in amazement, just as we had when we were kids. Suddenly we heard a sound coming from the computer room to our left. One of the walls in there slid to the side and someone emerged. It was Overseer Denglar.

He stepped out of the room and was startled upon seeing us. "Well well, I saw someone in here on my camera, and sure enough, who else do I find but you." He looked at the open door with disgust. "What do you think you're doing?"

"We're leaving Denglar. I know all about your plan for me. So Sarah and I are just gonna go."

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that," he said stepping between us and the way to the door. "It's not safe out there. I can't afford to risk you letting people out there know that this vault is going through a delicate moment."
"Delicate moment? Is that what you call all of this? Is anything happening right now what you had in mind when you say security? You're killing your own people!"

"I'm doing what is necessary to ensure the existence of the vault," he said losing control of his voice. "If bad apples have to be thrown away so that we can return to normal then so be it."

"Is that really the vault you want?" Sarah finally spoke up. "You're a monster. Please, just let us go. We don't want any part of your vault anymore."

"I already told you young lady that that is not an option." He started moving towards us, "Just come with me and we can forget any of this ever happened—" I pulled my gun out and threatened him to stay back. His eyes widened and a lump formed in his throat as he stared at the gun. "Now boy, don't do anything rash," he said inching towards me. "I know you don't want to do that, so just give me the gun." I warned him again with a shaky voice. "Don't be silly, Nathan. Just give me the gun and I'll let you go." I warned him again. "Give me the gun, Peterman! Give me the gun!" He lunged at it, trying to snatch it from me. He grabbed hold of the barrel but I held tight to the grip. We pulled back and forth. Sarah came over and wrapped her arms around his neck, trying to pull him away. But he wouldn't let go. We pulled back and forth and back and forth until—a shot rang out. He stopped pulling. His grip loosened. Denglar stumbled backwards and put his hand to his chest. A dot of red began to envelope his blue vault suit. He collapsed to the floor, and soon, he breathed his last breath. His eyes rolled back.

"Oh my God," Sarah gasped. She looked at me to see if I was alright. My eyes were sunken and wide, my mouth was agape, and my whole body was shaking. She looked back and forth from the body, to me, to the door. This time she reached out to me to pull me along.

"I… I killed him. He's really dead…"

"What have you done," a voice said. We turned to the hallway leading to the rest of the vault. There was Zach. He walked slowly to his dad's corpse stupefied. He dropped to his knees next to the body. "What have you done… What have you done!"

I gently pushed Sarah's hand to the side and moved towards him. "Zach, I… I'm sorry. I didn't have any other choice. He was—"

"You always hated him," he snapped with tears forming in his eyes. "You always despised him because he knew you and your parents were trouble." He grit his teeth. "I never wanted to believe him, but now I see. I should've never given you that gun. If I would've known…"

I stepped closer. "Zach, I didn't—"

He swiped at me and I jumped back. "Just go! Just get out of here before I change my mind! GO!" I never saw Zach so angry, so forceful before. In that moment, I could see a change in him. There was something sinister brewing in his hateful eyes. He had a much more imposing aura about him. Sarah and I didn't hesitate. We ran for the door. I turned around as we were running to get one last glimpse at the vault. Zach had gotten up and gone over to the door control panel. Soon the door started to close. Just as it was about to cover that last open crack, I could hear him. "DON'T EVER COME BACK!" The door shut itself tight. Just like that, we were alone, in a dark, cold, wasteland.

Author's Note:

Hello and thank you for reading the first installment of Wasteland Odyssey, Volume 1. This project has been a long time coming and is in fact a revival of my first attempt from 5 years ago! To those who first read and enjoyed this chapter then, I hope that you will rediscover it now. Also I hope that you will appreciate some of the edits I've made to this first chapter. I felt it was necessary based on the amount of time between the original post and now, as I've grown much more mature, wiser and stronger in my writing. So I felt it was necessary to update the chapter according to my current standards. Lastly, I sincerely apologize for abandoning the work just as it enticed some of you to become invested. I promise from here on that I will stick to it and finish what I've started. Please, look forward to new chapters released every month.

-Gazelly