Fallout 4: The Breaking Day
(inspired by the game)
By, M.A.W., aka, OctumFO4
Chpt. 3, pt. 1.
The land for miles around Vault 111 was cast in an orange glow of sunlight. That orange cast caused by a vast dust cloud roiling in the upper atmosphere. An ominous yet fantastical weather phenomenon that flashed with random static discharges of lightning, the whole a result of the tens of millions of tons of earth blown into the sky from the worldwide detonation of nuclear bombs during the great war. When the storms raged lower in the sky they were a deadly menace to be avoided at all cost. But up high as they were, only a minor worry that something worse might be building behind it.
At the hill rise area of Vault 111’s elevated platform, the air was actually quite tranquil, the orange dust filtered light giving the place a sepia tone look. Then, directly over the center of the blast door platform, a blue-ish tinged spark of white light formed. Small at first, like a firefly coming to life, it hung in the air gently pulsating. In the space of a few seconds though the tiny mass expanded to a ten-foot diameter ball or raging white electrical fire. The air buzzed and cracked as plasma tendrils arced out and snaked across the steel of the platform. Then, with a sharp concussive snap, it was gone. In its place, Scarlet.
A still life statue in a dark gray, leather bodysuit with black harness strap fittings. A holstered laser pistol strapped to her right leg with a long knife strapped to the other. On her back, a medium-sized pack with a laser rifle held in a quick-release binding on its right side and an energy sword with a glowing pommel piece sheathed on the left, its handle raised out over her shoulder.
A still life for only a second, for as the buzzing and light faded she suddenly gulped in air, then immediately dropped to her knees, doubling over to retch her lunch out across the platform. That followed by long moments of dry heaving to the point she thought her intestines were going to work their way out her throat. They didn’t, to her relief.
To the bottom of her pack a one-liter filter bottle was strapped, already filled with water she pulled it lose as she sat up and took ginger sips from its cap straw, working to calm her innards, “It might make you sick,” she muttered, repeating the molecular relay operators warning. “Big understatement.”
She didn’t have time to think farther though as a white, meaty, twitching mass flew past her head and hit the platform a few feet ahead of her with a wet smack. Registering a buzzing sound behind her she pulled the laser pistol and pivoted around on her knees. Behind she caught sight of a big black shape in the air and centering her aim, fired. A white-blue line of energy burnt through the air and just before it hit the thing she saw it was a giant fly. And then it vaporized into a cloud of glowing dust. “What the hell is with these giant insects?”
Behind she heard a squishy sound and remembering the meaty mass looked back to see it was a large maggot squirming towards her. Revolted she jumped to her feet and stomped it under the sole of her combat boot. The resulting mess of squashed, meaty slime made her want to puke again. She didn’t, but she wanted to. “I swear, if there are giant spiders around here I am done because fuck that!”
Spooked she looked around, saw nothing alive out of the ordinary. Trees, plant life, a few birds, crows. The Institutes eyes. Though nice to assume there was backup if need be, she was wary of the vigilance. It felt like too much of a big brother situation for her liking. An interesting turn since by working for the US government she had been a part of a big brother complex.
The irony of it was not lost on her but she shrugged it off and went to the edge of the platform to look down the hillside to her former home. Sanctuary Hills. A small, suburban residence of 14 homes built around a cul-de-sac drive at the edge of a mountain lake. A small stream cutting alongside the western edge making it a minor island of sorts. Even from the distance it looked the worse for age and wear. Several of the houses were nothing but rubble on their foundation pads, the rest looking like they were one bad day away from being the same. Not being able to see her own home from the angle she hoped it wasn’t one of the flattened few.
'God, I wonder what happened to Codsworth,' she thought as she made her way off the platform and around to the entrance path that led down to Sanctuary Hills. Codsworth, their family's domestic assistance robot, had been left behind when the call had come to evacuate to the vault. No place for robots after all. With a nuclear cell battery though his service expectancy was in the hundreds of years time frame so she could almost imagine him still flying around with his mobility thruster tending to his pride and joy, the flower beds in front of their home. The thought gave her a smile and she pushed into a little sprint down the hillside path. A little spur of hope in her heart. A bit of brightness against the darker picture she was passing by. The rusted hulks of Vault-Tec machinery and outbuildings above, the skeletal remains of those that died in that first nuclear blast down along the pathway. Outside the Vault’s fenceline.
‘If it’s any comfort, we didn’t fare much better inside,’ she thought to the skeletal pair that lay huddled in the grass beside the western footbridge over the lake fed stream.
Nestled in a small valley amidst the surrounding hills, the little hallmark homestead of Sanctuary Hills actually looked to be in better shape than she had thought from a distance. Somewhat. Spared the brunt of the nuclear winds by the landscape the homes that were still standing seemed to be in fair shape. Which included, much to her joy, her own home. Like the others, the windows were long gone but the walls were mostly intact, not so much the roof. To her disappointment though, Codsworth was nowhere to be seen. “Oh, buddy, I was really hoping.”
With nothing to be done about it she walked up the crumbling concrete front walk to her house, noticing as she did that the geraniums actually did look like they had been recently tended. She had a very specific goal in mind though so didn’t stop to ponder on it much. At the porch steps she stopped, looking through the lens of memory at her house. Despite 210 years and a nuclear holocaust it actually looked to be in decent shape. At least from the front. Parts of the roofline were pulling away from the walls, but considering from what she saw walking up, that the roof itself was a jangled, hole-riddled mess, that was understandable. More importantly, the metal skin sheeting of the walls appeared to be largely intact. Dented, dinged, and in spots pulled loose, but intact. Even the baby blue enameling looked none the worse for wear. Largely faded, but with minor chipping or bubbling. Aside from the climbing vines that had made the wall surface their own, the house looked as if it could still be habitable.
‘The premium package, the house of tomorrow today. If anything, certainly built to last,’ she smiled at the thought then looked at the door and shook her head. The hideous burnt orange door. Forever she had wanted Nate to repaint it some other color. White, eggshell, even tan, just something other than burnt orange. But now, with all the memories attached to it, looking at it made her smile. Made her feel like she was finally home. She tried the knob. Unlocked. Even though there were no windows left and she could have climbed in from any of them, she was glad to find the door unlocked. It removed the breaking-and-entry feel from coming home.
Pushing the door open the hinges squealed in protest and she wondered if there was still a container of oil in the laundry room. But then her thoughts froze and she put a hand on her laser pistol, facing the living room which resembled more than anything else a scene out of a slasher, horror flick.
