Chapter Twenty-Six: Small Turn

I stirred awake and checked the chronometer; after a few seconds of letting my vision focus, I saw that only ten minutes had passed. This small amount of sleep seemed to have helped. I shuddered when a chill inexplicably ran down my spine; as if egged forth, I found myself unwilling to stay down, and climbed to my feet.

Yet, I felt the same: the same ripe pains and the steadily encroaching soreness throughout my entire being. One step brought a tremble that even a force of will to remain upright couldn't have quashed. Two steps and I felt my knees ready to give way beneath. Three steps were labored.

Miraculously, I had reached the door. I hadn't decided what I'd do or how I'd do it, but something was itching me forward. I had to try. I had to do something, anything.

My fingers curled and my hands balled up. I felt the rhythmic rise and fall of my chest as I panted for air, each breath a struggle but one that came nonetheless as I readied. And then...

Bumpf.

My face twisted up, I clenched my teeth and shut my eyes trying to will it away.

Bumpf.

My mouth opened and closed, as if I were about to bite down upon something. But I only found air and shook my head.

Bumpf.

I bowed my head and huffed.

Bumpf.

The tears began to pool as I fought to hold them back.

Bumpf.

With an excited bounce the first tears began to stream and leapt down my cheeks, like dew drops down a leaf.

Bumpf.

My legs gave up and I fell to my knees, my forehead tapped the floor and I continued to collapse in on myself; curling and minimizing as much as possible. Before long I was nothing but a lump on the otherwise flat floor.

How could I possibly think that that would work?

I was at a loss: nothing I could do would bring me out of this room, yet I couldn't keep myself from wanting to take action. I needed to do something to get out. At least, that's what my gut kept insisting. But was that right; was that the correct choice?

The bed in the corner, the skeleton with its precious diary; the door nestled into the frame, and the light radiating brilliance from the center of the room. I'd reviewed everything in this room, yet nothing so much as illuminated a path forward. Unless there was something along the walls that I missed.

With my right hand I pushed myself up slightly as I came out of my ball, leaving behind a small pool of tears and snot. I huffed. I needed to focus. Sitting around crying wouldn't get me out of here. So I wrangled up all of my thoughts and emotions and pushed them to the back of my mind, wiped my face with a sleeve and ignored the sensation in my hand. I rubbed my right hand knuckles over my eyes to clear the way even more, before looking up...

A cold face stared back at me, almost devoid of expression; yet a certain emotion was plainly written in the eyes. But before I had the chance to read it, the face twisted into a smile. A familiar smile that never matched the eyes, followed by a voice oozing with feigned worry, "You seem to be in quite the bind, Miss."

Anton was standing just on the other side of the empty door frame, he had his pistol in one hand and a grasp on some other object that I couldn't make out. He clearly wasn't expecting a response as I could only look on, dazed. "We don't have all day. If you'd like to stay, then by all means... but it'd be best if we get moving."

His gaze lingered on my form, and after a moment he stepped inside and knelt before me. From his apparent free hand he produced a stimpack and offered it. Before I could decide whether I should take it or not, he thrust it forward, dropping it in my right hand, "No need to be so dismissive. Please, take it. You look like you need it," his vision rested on my left hand as he said that.

Without wasting another second, I jammed the needle and let the liquid work its magic. It wasn't surprising that the pain hadn't lessened with that. It'd be enough to move, or at least enough to force my body to move. I ignored the pangs, just pushed out of mind so it wouldn't affect me.

My body shook despite my best effort, but with a deep breath I was able to stand. It'd felt as if my legs were gelatinous and even just standing took an absurd amount of focus. Yet, my attention didn't leave the man before me.

Anton hadn't stopped kneeling as he watched me rise to my feet. Even with that faux smile plastered across his face, I could tell that he was observing my every move. Has he always been like this, or was it some recent development (even now, I couldn't tell)? I shook my head and perished the thought, and as I did Anton rose.

"Shall we have a look around?" I don't know if it's because of my newfound suspicion of him or anything else, but that didn't sound like a question to me. Either way, I nodded.

He didn't wait any longer and peeked his head out, looked both directions then stepped out. With a wave of the hand, he signaled for me to follow. I took a step and started to lurch forward. A quick hand to the wall and I was able to steady myself once more. Just being upright caused me to tremble at the strain, perhaps I had been hasty with trying to move, but I knew I couldn't stay and that I had to follow Anton.

With the wall for support, I trudged my way out of the room and by the time I could focus on more than just walking I saw that Anton had briskly started down the hall toward the right. Keeping to the wall, I followed after.

The hallway was bare of decoration, dim lights ran the length at even intervals to keep a steady light level throughout, and the dull walls were only broken up by the door frames and a built-in terminal. The door frames were all empty, as if each room had been thoroughly checked and then promptly left alone.

Looking into one of the rooms in passing, I saw that it was much the same as the one I'd been in; even the mattress was in the same spot. The light inside poured out into the hall, casting patches of dim and brighter light as it escaped the confines of the rooms.

Going at a snail's pace, I tried to catch up with Anton; however, within the time it took for me to get from my prison to the next door, he'd already covered the hall. It would appear that the hall then split off into two directions as, once again, he checked both directions before going farther. This time, though, he cast a glance back and decidedly stepped back.

He waited as I hobbled my way closer. Around the halfway mark, he headed in my direction. I asked myself what he was planning. But when he reached me, he offered an arm and in a quiet voice stated, "It'll be faster if you have a more stable support. There's no telling when the greenies will be back."

I couldn't argue with him on that matter, so I nodded and took his arm. My reservations were pushed aside until things settled. I'd have to trust him or I – no, all of us – might not make it through this. With his help we sped things along, but only by about a half step - that in itself, though, was quite the increase.

We reached the intersection after a short while, and after checking to see if the coast was clear, we headed down the left. I had to wonder how much of this area he'd already explored, since it was clear he gave no hesitation about the direction to travel. Or had he simply chosen a branch at random?

Regardless of his method I took a look around, and much like the previous hall, this one stretched on for a ways and was stylized in the exact same manner. Still, I wondered why we hadn't run into any super mutants.

As if having read my mind, Anton answered, "The others drew the attention of the super mutants. After a drawn out fight, they had to retreat." Upon seeing my expression, he exclaimed, "Don't be so surprised, Miss. It was written all over your face. You were curious about what was going on."

I had so many questions I wanted answered, but no means of inquiring about anything elaborate. I gave him a curious look, hoping it'd be enough for him to explain more of the situation.

He stared at me for a few moments as we kept down the hall, before sighing, "Those two tried to sneak in, but after all that noise you created in the yard, they took it upon themselves to create a distraction to allow you to flee." His eyes had been focused on scanning ahead, but they turned to me with an expression behind them that I couldn't read, "Not that it did a lot of good, huh?"

Was he watching me from somewhere?

Anton chuckled lightly, "I'm just glad I found somewhere to hide before all the fighting started." He looked like he had something else he wanted to say, but remained silent.

He stayed like that down the rest of the hall. As we drew near the end of this section, there was another bend. With only one direction to choose from, which made it an easy choice.

I stole the occasional glance toward Anton, but he ignored me and just looked on ahead. We passed by more opened doors, yet, curiously, there was one door that was shut. Not just the one at the far end of the hall. No, it was on the right and about at the half mark.

Every other door has been left open after Anton searched through, or so he says (or have I imagined that?), and yet here is a door that's still closed. Or was it shut after the fact? Why?

"There were some issues with that room, I'm afraid," he answered my question as if he had read my mind. Casting a quick glance his way, I saw that he was still looking ahead. Had he just assumed I'd be curious or did he know me well enough to know I'd think about it?

My mind left racing, something broke me out of my stupor of thought: a streak of strange liquid trailing out from beneath the door. A clear mark from when the door had been last opened.

How did–?

"You shouldn't space out, Miss. There's no telling what lies ahead." His tone carried a seriousness to it that I simply couldn't ignore.

I turned my attention back to the front of the hall and listened to our hushed footsteps as we moved along. The remainder of the walk was uneventful, Anton focused purely on moving us along and nothing jumped out to ambush us; I was only a little disappointed, but as I caught my own thoughts, I shook my head.

Anton pulled out a card from somewhere and tapped it against a small interface near the door, and the hydraulics kicked to life as the metal slowly pulled away. Just like that, we were through to the next section. I spent a moment gawking at the sight on the other side.

A small hall with a single door on the left and a big window beside it; I peeked through the window, and saw a squared room with lockers lining the wall all the way around and two large metal tables in the middle, pushed together to create more space atop them. Past those the room was empty; there was no garbage or clutter.

What also wasn't there was my gear. So just like that, my attention snapped forward and we soon arrived at the next door. This time, Anton propped me up next to the door and bent down, retrieving my knife from my boot. Scoffing, he wondered aloud, "How did these fools not find this? The hilt is in plain view."

I took the knife as he passed it over, then watched as he produced the keycard once more and tapped it against another interface. This time, there was a simple click. I would have assumed that was the proper process, had I not immediately heard Anton exclaim, "Huh?"

With an inquisitive brow directed toward him, he explained, "It wasn't like this on the way through..." His explanation trailed off as he pondered the difference. "Perhaps there's a second key."

At that, he began in the opposite direction, back to the door we just passed through. I watched for just a moment, shook my head, and then followed after in a slow trudge. Each step brought about a queer sense of pain and discomfort. Had I felt that particular sensation before? I couldn't recall.

A grimace flashed across my face despite myself, and I tried to shake it off yet it found a strong grip. My body ached and groaned with every step, but I pushed on through and continued after Anton.

He stopped at the door and waited, card in hand. Once I caught up, he tapped it against the interface and the door slid back open. I hadn't even heard it close when we passed through before. But like the first time, it hissed with life and we stepped through. This time, I noticed it closed about ten seconds after I hobbled through.

We moved through the hall until we were back at the door of my prison and then we went beyond. Anton peeked around the corner before heading down the right. It wasn't long before the end of this path came into view: another closed door. This one, however, was wooden with a simple knob on the left side.

Anton turned the knob and pulled the door open, while simultaneously readying his pistol and stepped inside. In an instant, he scanned the entire room for threats and relaxed when he judged it clear. A moment later I came inside.

The room was clearly used as a kitchen and reminded me of the kitchen within the vault. The overall layout and colors were different, yet for some reason my mind just couldn't get past the similarities; from the close appearances of the fridge and sink, to the style of the counters. However, the most telling detail would be the table resting below a hanging light, as it was exactly the same table I had in my own room.

I had to rub my eyes to try and clear my vision, as I couldn't believe my eyes. But when the view didn't change or disappear, I had to accept what I saw.

By the time I had gathered myself, Anton had moved farther inside and was digging through the cabinets as if it were the most natural thing to do. I could only watch as he grabbed a box of Sugar Bombs and started on the cereal straight out of the box with big handfuls at a time.

When I followed the curves of the counter with my eyes, eventually I was led to a door on the far right corner, like the entrance to the kitchen, it, too, was made of wood. Pulling open the door revealed a truth: a dark room. After I activated the light on the Pip-Boy, I saw a pantry.

Why is this place so meticulously stocked?

I began to close the door when something caught my attention and my gaze lingered for a moment, but that moment was enough to fully capture my mind. I became enthralled, just like that. Sitting on a shelf in plain view was a package; a sticker marked 99¢ sat on the front, and just behind laid two rows of eight round snacks.

Upon closer inspection, each of these... pastries had a hole in the center and were covered in some kind of powder. The top of the sticker called these things donuts, and something within me told me I just had to have them. So I plucked them off the shelf, kicked the door closed, and began back toward the hall to leave Anton to his snack while I struggled with the wrapper on my own.

Plopping down, I picked one up and took a bite. At first the dry powder had been all I could feel against my tongue, then the taste of preservatives and sugary goodness followed immediately after and I knew it had me hooked. By the time Anton came out, I had wolfed them down to the last. With one donut in hand, I looked at him and he looked back.

His mouth hung low until he seemingly processed what he saw standing in front of him, and his mouth closed. It opened once more, yet closed just as quickly as he decided against it.

He brushed past me and headed down the hall, this time going straight. I tossed the wrapper aside, stood, and hastily followed after – or as hastily as I could. Part of the hall had long since collapsed, rubble filling in the empty space. Yet there was still room enough to shuffle past and reach the next leg.

More doors lined the next segment, but we quickly came upon another end and another door. This one had a handle in the front and was made entirely out of metal. Anton looked at the door, stepped up, grabbed the wheel-like handle, and gave it a twist. Only for it not to budge.

Once more he tried, and once more he failed. Without a word, he looked at me. His expression never shifted, only showing that fake smile, but I could tell what he wanted without him needing to explain. So I moved up to the other side and gripped it as tightly as I could.

The metal was unnaturally warm and a few seconds near the door itself started to warm me up as well. A voice brought me back to the situation at hand, "Well, Miss?"

I looked up and saw his faux smile still plastered there and gave a nod in response. He started counting down, and as he reached the end we both put our all into turning the wheel. The pain radiating through my body crashed through me as I exerted myself, every fiber of my being laughed and danced in delightful agony.

At first, nothing. Then, slowly, a low-whine cried out and something gave. Just like that, the wheel started to turn with a shriek. Rotation after rotation, hand over throbbing hand we worked to turn this sucker. Eventually the wheel came to a rough stop and the door shifted slightly inward.

Anton sighed. I huffed slightly, albeit for a different reason: I looked inside and it wasn't pretty. Everything was a mess; papers scattered, furniture broken and scattered, but sitting dead center of the room was a small greenish egg. I'd seen one before, and my Geiger counter was already warning me of the danger the device presented.

A crack had formed across its otherwise smooth, metal surface. That somehow didn't set the explosive off. I swallowed the saliva that had built up, and turned to Anton, then nudged my head as if to say 'you first.'

Once more, he let out a sigh. As he took to step inside I saw that stupid smile fade and a thought-filled expression taking its place. After about four seconds, he glanced down at my wrist – rather, my Pip-Boy – and then back to the room. With that, he made up his mind and stepped inside.

-Transmission in Progress-

This chapter is coming out a few days later than I was hoping... Next chapter should be out before the end of the month, at least that's what I'm aiming for.