The door was closed, the end of the beginning, as it were. Amata knelt down to check her friend's pulse, and released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Connie's heart was strong against her fingers. She wasn't sure what she would do if Connie died; there would be no point without her. The wound (one on her upper arm, Amata hadn't worked up the nerve to check the one on Connie's thigh yet) actually wasn't that bad, thanks to the guards' crappy aim. But... the damage was not nearly as bad as she'd suspected. They were more large welts with craters in the center.
Connie opened her eyes, caught sight of Amata hovering over her, and a half-sheepish, half-mischievous smile twitched to life. "Déjà vu." She pushed herself up, hissing when she moved her arm. "Why're you out here?" The redhead's voice had taken on an edge that Amata couldn't quite place.
It pissed her off a little; it's not like there was anyone else willing to follow. "You were shot!"
Connie tugged on her bangs, looking ashamed. "Those were rubber bullets... they probably won't kill me. I fainted."
"You... fainted." Amata felt a huge weight lift off her chest and burst out laughing. Her jaw ached, but she just couldn't stop.
"You would too." Connie sulked, which only made her laugh harder, but the very real hurt in Connie's eyes made Amata suppress the dawning hysteria. Amata wiped a tear from her eye.
"I'm sorry. I didn't know how I was going to take care of you out there. It's such a relief..."
Connie sighed, and started digging through her medical kit again. She pulled out a few rolls of gauze and some salve. "You're still stuck out here with me. You should've stayed inside."
Amata took the opportunity to scan the cave. It must be to conceal the exit. The walls, floor, and ceiling were rough hewed stone, the ground was scattered with bits of wood and... bone. A spread-eagled skeleton clutched a faded sign that screamed 'We're dying out here, Assholes!'.
"Um... don't turn around." Connie's voice accompanied the sound of a zipper. Amata tried to ignore the heat that rushed to her cheeks. Surely she isn't... Her thoughts skittered off in another direction. People died out here, which was clear enough. Was she willing to walk away from her responsibilities into an unknown that would probably snuff her out like a wounded radroach? She hadn't had time to think, not really. A knot of guilt in her heart told her she should have stayed behind; It was her job to help and protect the people of the vault. Something her father had clearly forgotten. When the door started to move... she realized that duty might not be enough. She didn't want to become her father, trapped by his role as leader and unable to live his life. Not that she thought it in so many words, but the emotion was there. Maybe it was selfish - no, it was selfish - she wouldn't lie to herself about that. After a few moments her friend slipped into her field of vision, but she didn't escape her whirling thoughts until she felt a gentle hand on her jaw. Connie worked some of the salve into Amata's bruised face; tenderness and anger warred in her expression. Amata didn't want to be reminded why, hoped someday she would be able to forget. She almost did, with that soft touch trailing over her cheek. Abruptly, Connie pulled her hand away and returned the medical supplies to her bag. Connie silently pulled Amata to her feet and they turned to face the door that marked the end of the world they knew; she traced the 101 etched in the metal.
"I could find a way to get you back in, you know. We could make something up."
"We could," Amata took Connie's callused hand. "but we're not." You're my best friend, but dammit, I wish you'd quit babying me. Connie bent to grab her pack, but it whipped from under her hand. She looked up at Amata with a bewildered expression, the cute one that made Amata want to tease her. "Don't give me that look. There's no way you're carrying this with a limp like that." It was pretty obvious she was favoring her left leg, even though she was trying to cover it up. Honestly, she didn't understand Connie sometimes. "Let's go."
Alphonse Almodovar sat on his daughter's bed, a faded photograph cradled in his hands like a fragile bird. His tired eyes looked the room over, picking apart every detail. Maybe it held answers? The room had grown brighter since the day that young Connie observed that it needed some color. There was a bright red quilt folded at the foot of the bed, and arranged beside the pillow was a small, one-eyed bear with a red ribbon around its neck. A storage chest with flaking sunshine yellow paint sat the foot of the bed. Against the opposite wall, the dresser was now dark blue, and on the floor between the bed and dresser was a rope rug braided from scraps of many colors. On the dresser was part of the answer: eight flowers filled a jar, ranging from delicate creations of paper to curlicues of metal, the smallest and most wrinkled placed front and center.
He turned his attention back to the photograph in his hand. A much younger Alphonse gingerly held a tiny bundle next to his smiling wife. Never had he, nor would he again, meet someone so full of love as Evelyn Almodovar. Those who were fallen, she rose up; when she saw those in pain, she soothed their wounds. Not the lowliest garbage burner was below her notice, and the vault dwellers returned her heartfelt kindness with devotion they never directed at him. Anyone would fall in love with her, and only God knew why she'd chosen him. He remembered with heartbreaking clarity the day he lost her. He remembered, even more sharply, the cause.
A shaggy-haired young man in leather armor and the tattered remains of a lab coat stood in front of Vault 101. His precious cargo cradled in his arms, he glanced at the soldier at his back before returning his gaze to the Overseer. "Please, let us in. I... I'm a doctor. A scientist. My skills could be useful to you..." The Overseer's eyes narrowed as he weighed the options. This man was from the wastes, he could be carrying diseases; He could be a thief using a child for pity. He could - His wife's hand smoothed his arm. She leaned over his shoulder and pecked him on the cheek, giving him her most angelic smile. "Why don't you let them in, dear? It's just one man and a child. They won't hurt anything." Alphonse took another good look at the pitiful man, and looked again at his wife. He sighed, and an indulgent smile worked its way onto his face at her pleading expression. Damn. He never could say no to her.
If only he had known what was coming. Decades of pain and loss, erased in an instant if he'd said no!
The young man was wild-eyed beside his only child. The toddler tossed and turned, muttering fragments of words. He tried everything, and still the fever would not break. He didn't seem to notice the woman at his side. "Why don't you take a rest, James? I'll keep an eye on her." Alphonse didn't agree with Evelyn's assertion that it was her duty as lady of the vault to watch over every sick child and straying lamb, but she wouldn't be moved. He lead the distraught doctor out of the room as his wife took her place at the brat's side. "I should have seen the signs," James muttered.
Evelyn died of the same strange disease only a few months later, along with several other vault residents. He was left a widower, Amata without a mother, and he hated James and his child with unreasoning passion. If he'd never let them in, if he'd turned them away, if he'd said no! The cruelest phrase ever uttered by man, he discovered: "If only." James wisely kept his child away from the Overseer, and even the other vault dwellers in the days that followed. Not difficult, since the brat was sickly to begin with, and the illness took a heavy toll. Amata was the spitting image of her mother in so many ways. It should not have surprised him when he came upon her playing with that pallid creature. Like her mother, she couldn't resist her little pet projects - or that was how he chose to see it at the time. It was easy to see the Ward child as less than human in those days. She hardly spoke, hid at the slightest provocation, and crept about the edges of rooms like a disgusting little rat. Today he was forced to question himself.
"Are you going to hurt her?" The Ward brat's eyes bored into his.
When had hatred of the father become loathing for the child? The kid could have begged for mercy or even killed him, but her concern was for his daughter, and rightly so. The shame was suffocating. His only daughter - his little girl - and he'd let that bastard hurt her. No, it was worse than that; He told the bastard to hurt her. He opened his eyes at clunking boots entering the room, and the expression on the guard's face told him the answer before the young man spoke.
"I'm sorry, sir. We've looked everywhere. Your daughter... she doesn't seem to be in the vault."
Alphonse closed his eyes again. So this was his punishment?
"My God."
God has nothing to do with this, Connie thought. She shaded her eyes with one hand, blocking out the sun's blistering glare. The landscape was a cracked, grey wasteland, dotted with the twisted hands of trees and massive piles of boulders like the bones of the earth exposed and scattered by some cataclysmic event. Corroded, warped skeletons of buildings dotted the landscape, still and lifeless as tombstones. The silence was absolute ruler, gave the illusion that if she shouted her voice would simply die away under its weight. A hot wind sent up a swirling cloud of dust and ash. A bent sign read: scenic outlook. "Ready to go back to the vault now?" Connie murmured, her mouth dry. There was so much space! After a lifetime in the clearly defined confines of the vault, the sheer size of the world was terrifying. Her hand tightened on Amata's. Please don't leave me. Connie was immediately ashamed by the thought; it would be better, safer for Amata if she left right now.
"You're trying to get rid of me already? And leave all the adventure to you? Not on your life." Amata's voice trembled a touch, but she didn't waver.
Connie noticed a strip of earth more packed than the rest, like a footpath. It was fading from long disuse, but still there. How... curious. She followed it as it wound down the slope and through a cleft in the cliff, and came to an abrupt stop. To the southeast, a strange arrangement of metal peeked over a mound of debris. The arrangement looked more organized than the surrounding destruction. "Let's go that way." Amata merely nodded. Connie guessed she was still a little off balance. The path wound around mounds of rock and splintered trees, past a rusting water tower and to the foot of what appeared to be no more than a mound of scrap metal.
"Welcome to Megaton. The bomb is perfectly safe, we promise. Please hold for threat level assessment." The speaker was a awkward, bulky metal man with a glass dome set directly on its shoulders. A red light flickered over both women. "Threat level minimal. Open the gates. Open the gates. Welcome to Megaton."
What was that thing? Connie didn't have time to ponder further, she jumped back when part of the heap started to creak and hiss. With a groan, it unfolded to reveal yet another gate. Connie looked at Amata, who gave her a small smile. "I guess this means we go in, huh?" Connie nodded and stumbled forward (damn unsteady feet) to push open the gate. She stepped through and gaped at the sight. They stood in a bowl of corroding metal, its walls criss-crossed chains, weld marks and pipes. The houses spread out in layers and piles, spilling from the walls to the ground and connecting to each other with catwalks and dirt paths. It was like the nest of some demented spider. Further down the path there was a town square of sorts with a pool of water in the center, and in the center of that...
"An Atomic bomb." Connie whispered, stunned.
"That's right, the Children of Atom helped found Megaton." A tall black man with a long, dusy leather coat and a battered cowboy hat strode up the hill. His broad features broke out into a wary smile, almost hidden under his thick beard. "Welcome to Megaton. Name's Lucas Simms, sheriff - and Mayor now and then. You folks gonna be staying around for long?" The girls shook his offered hand, and Connie decided she liked the man with the firm handshake. She exchanged glances with Amata. After seeing that Connie wasn't planning on saying anything, Amata spoke.
"I'm Amata and this is Connie."
Here Connie nodded shortly, knowing she'd be stumbling over her words like an idiot if she tried to say more. "Sir."
"It's a pleasure to meet you." Amata continued. It really was, Connie reflected. Aside from Amata, his was the first friendly face she'd seen all day. "I... I really can't say how long we'll be staying."
"Well that's fine by me. You seem like nice people, and polite too. Feel free to stay as long as you like. Just don't start causing any trouble, you hear?"
"Yessir." Connie noticed the man's eyes wandering over to her when she replied, and she felt some of her old anxiety come sneaking back. Had she done something wrong?
"Doc Church's place is down by the crater, if you're needing some help." He cast a pointed look at Connie's blood splattered Security Armor. Connie couldn't contain herself at the mention of the bombs resting place.
"W-why is there a bomb here?"
If he was surprised by the question he didn't show it. "The Children of Atom helped found Megaton. Crazy bastards worship the damn thing. Said we had to build the town around the bomb, or we wouldn't get any help. 'sides, most don't seem to realize it's still a threat."
"D'you think I could... take a look at it?" She had the chance to look at the insides of a real atom bomb! ...And save the townspeople. Of course.
"Are you sure you can disarm it? One wrong cut wire and we're all radioactive dust. This isn't Mr. Palmer's jukebox we're talking about." Amata's words brought Connie back from mechanic's dreamland. Both Sheriff Simms and Amata were giving her wary looks.
"You think I'd go digging around without looking first?" Didn't Amata know her at all? She was a bit reckless at times, but that didn't mean she'd risk lives just to get a look at the inside of a bomb!
"Well, if you think you could do it, it's worth caps to me to get that piece of crap disarmed."
"Caps?"
"You know, payment. Caps." Simms held out a bottlecap in the palm of his hand. He pushed his hat back to give them a better view of his suspicious face. "Were did you say you folks were from again?"
There it was. Connie wasn't sure how to explain, or even if she wanted to. After all, who knew how these wastelanders felt about Vault Dwellers?
"We just came out of the vault. Sorry, we don't know much." Amata's voice was sheepish. Sometimes Connie wished Amata was more suspicious. "Oh, have you seen a man coming through here? Middle aged, graying hair, maybe wearing a jumpsuit and lab coat? We're looking for him." Connie felt a faint flash of anger. When had she said she wanted to go looking for that... man? She crushed it best she could; Amata was only trying to help.
"I think I saw a man like that come through town a while back. Had that look in his eye, you know? The kind a man gets when he's got a purpose." The Sheriff chuckled. "Not too often you see looks like that nowdays. Spent some time up at the Saloon. Might want to check with Moriarity. Just watch yourself, the man's trouble."
"Thank you, Mr. Simms. We'll let you go on your way now." Connie started off down the path, surprised at the feeling of optimism that came with having a job to do. That is, until she felt something catch her by the collar of her shirt. She turned to meet Amata wearing an impish smile. "Ah, Ah, Ah. You aren't going anywhere until we visit Doc Church." Connie made a show of sighing, but secretly she was touched. Their three years apart, plus her father's preoccupation with his mysterious "experiments" had left her unused to people worrying about her. She usually just patched herself up and went back to work.
"Alright."
Amata was half-amused half-horrified by Doc Church. You'd better be draggin' yourself to my doorstep dying before you bother me again. Connie had always said she wasn't cut out for Medical work because of her 'bedside manner', but the girl was practically a socialite compared to the white-haired man who treated her. A glance to her left revealed that Connie was walking without much trouble now, after a couple of stitches and a shot of Med-X. Her friend had been unusually quiet since they arrived in Megaton, but Amata chalked it up to nervousness. They were just outside a building made of sheets of metal held together by odds and ends. A huge sign overhead notified all passerby that it was Moriarty's Saloon. Connie pushed the open the door to reveal a spacious (if not exactly clean) room taken up by a long L-shaped bar lined with barstools.
"I told ya Gob, it ain't the radio! The Enclave station comes in fine; It's Galaxy news. Their signal's been shit lately."
Behind it was a - Amata suppressed shriek. What the hell was that thing? Connie walked up to the bar and tilted her head a bit the way she did when faced with a particularly complicated machine. "Excuse me sir... what are you?"
The man - if indeed it was a man - paused in banging on the radio. "What, you ain't never seen a ghoul before?" His voice had a gravely quality.
"Nope." Amata felt like hitting Connie upside the head. Sometimes she was an idiot.
The ghoul seemed stumped for a moment. When he spoke again, it was with barely restrained bitterness. "Well, not all of us got to hole up in a nice cushy vault when the bombs fell. A bunch of us got stuck out in the world, and got a full on blast of heat and radiation - turned us into a pack of walking corpses. Near as I can tell, we age slower than you. A lot slower. There are even a few ghouls that were alive before the war. Of course, with a face like ground Brahmin meat, you can imagine that folks don't take too kindly to us." Amata felt sorry for him, and not just because he looked like a slab of raw meat. How lonely must it be, to watch generations of people pass away as you stayed the same?
"It's not so bad." Connie's voice had gone small. She shifted from foot-to-foot like a nervous child. Sometimes she was an idiot... and sometimes she was like this.
The man may have been surprised; it was hard to tell with his unusual face. "Nice of you to say so. If you can't be nice, at least pretend, right? Still, it's better than the usual spit in the face I get. You're not half-bad... for a smoothskin."
Amata expected Connie to leave it at there, she wasn't the sort that did 'sensitive chats' if she could help it. Instead she shrugged, "I don't pretend. It was nice meeting you, Mister." She turned and stalked to the other side of the bar, where a man on a starched suit lounged in a corner. Amata sighed, and glanced at the ghoul. He was staring after Connie with an odd expression.
"I'm sorry, Mr..."
"Gob."
"Mr. Gob. Sorry about that. She's not very good with people." Her laugh was uneasy. "If it makes you feel any better, she's like that with everyone." Well, almost everyone... She chose to ignore the thought.
Gob was now wiping down the counter. "Really, now?"
"Yeah, she's a horrible liar."
"Hm. Well, you two are always welcome to stop by. Don't get a lot of friendly faces around here."
"You're pretty nice yourself. Now if you'll excuse me... I've got to go find my 'social butterfly' before she finds trouble." Amata found Connie seated alone in the corner, holding a strange metal object in trembling hands.
Without pramble, she stated "Just agreed to blow up Megaton." She looked up at Amata with a stricken expression. "Why... why would someone want to do that?"
"I don't know." Amata was shaken. Connie just agreed to do what? "Let's find Sheriff Simms."
The sheriff took the news about how you would expect. "So let me get this straight. This Mister Burke offered you a crapload of caps if you would rig the bomb to blow up Megaton? And this," He hefted the metal piece in his large hand. "is the detonator?"
"Yes."
The big man's face tightened. "You're about to get an education in Wasteland justice. Follow me!" He drew his gun and rushed around the catwalk to Moriority's saloon. Connie raced after him, and Amata stumbled trying to keep up. The ominous creaking from the walkways set her heart racing. She sure hoped they were sturdier than they looked. She came into the Saloon just in time to see the confrontation. A man was sitting in the chair she'd found Connie in earlier. He was dressed in a sharp silver suit, sunglasses and a brown felt fedora and seemed unmoved by Sheriff Simms threatening stance.
"I'm afraid there's been a...heh, heh... misunderstanding. Surely someone has been spreading... rumors." His voice was slimy, the sort that brought to mind things that lived under rocks. "I'll be sure to... address the situation." Judging by his expression, 'addressing the situation' wasn't anywhere near as benign as it sounded.
The Sheriff drew himself up to his full height. "I'm placin' you under arrest Burke - At least until I figure out what the hell's going on 'round here."
"I'm afraid I won't be able to oblige your request Sheriff. I have pressing matters to attend to... now, step aside." Burke rested his elbows on his knees and propped his chin on his folded hands, an glint in his eyes that made Amata shiver.
"This isn't up for discussion - you're coming with me."
"Very well sheriff... lead the way." Amata almost relaxed, then felt alarm bells started going off when she saw him reach into his jacket. He pulled out a 10mm pistol and aimed it at the Sheriff's back...
Thwock!
Burke dropped to the ground like a stone, Connie standing over him with an impassive expression. The sheriff looked down at the man, who had the gun still locked in his grip, and chuckled. "I think I must be gettin' old."
"Can I go look at the bomb now?" Amata blinked. Connie sounded for all the world like a kid pleading with her mom.
"Um... yeah. Go ahead." Amata sighed, and followed at a more tranquil pace. Had she really woken up this morning in the vault? Connie... that change from brutal fighter to playful teen... it was so sudden it scared her. She hadn't said a word when the Sheriff thanked her for her help, or as Burke was dragged off to who-knows-where. When she finally reached the crater Connie had already pried a panel off the bomb and started rooting around in the tangles of wire. Amata waited as minutes ticked by, somehow reluctant to leave her friend alone. She was half-afraid that if she looked away for too long Connie would disappear, and she would be left to wander these wastes alone.
"Got it!" Connie screwed the panel back into place and stuck the screwdriver in her pocket. She grinned at Amata.
Amata sighed. So she's managed not to kill us all."Let's go tell him, then."
They found the sheriff sitting on a barstool in front of a rickety stall belonging to a shack with a sign proudly proclaiming it to be 'The Brass Lantern'. He was gnawing on a greasy red something skewered on a stick, which gave off a meaty odor that reminded Amata she hadn't eaten since yesterday. Connie plunked a hunk of metal (for which Amata could only guess the purpose) on the counter. "The bomb is disarmed."
The sheriff turned the part over in one oily hand. "Seems genuine. Alright, here's your caps: a hundred all told." He tossed a small sack, and Amata caught it. He then extended his hand, tangling a small key from a chain. "And here's the rest of your reward. It's the key to Burkes' house. The bastard won't be needing it anymore."
"Thank you." That was all Amata could get out. This was an amazing piece of luck. He pointed the house out to the girls - a two story number right next to the town gates. Amata had to practically drag her friend into the house, Connie seemed intent on exploring the whole waste in one day. The first floor was largely just open space, with some lockers on the opposite wall, a long, low bookshelf against the side of the staircase, and sink and fridge in an small alcove behind the stairs. Directly at the top of the stairs was an empty 'room' (more like a closet) with a chair and a table in it, and to the left of that a marginally larger room with a dilapidated desk, filing cabinet, and bed crammed in. A rickety catwalk lead to what Amata could only describe as a shelf, which had a worktable wedged into the far end.
Amata heard several loud thunks and turned to see that Connie hard removed her armor, leaving her only in her Vault 101 Jumpsuit. She plopped down on the mattress and crossed her arms behind her head. One leg dangled over the edge of the bed; she swung it back and forth lazily. "Man, I'm -" A jaw-popping yawn cut off her sentence. "tired."
Amata bent to pick up the armor and put it in a neat pile on the desk. It offended her sense of order to leave it laying around on the floor. "You should probably try to stay awake until we get something to eat..." Connie was already asleep. Amata noticed the dark circles under her eyes. Rumor was that the maintenance crew was overworked, but now she suspected that it might be worse than she thought. She settled on the edge of the bed and smoothed the other girl's hair, a faint smile forming on her lips. "What am I going to do with you?"