Nora opened her eyes, gagging fluid out of her lungs. Her vision was blurry and the cold threatened to send her into shock. I’ve got to see about Nate, she thought. Shaaun was elsewhere, but her husband was just across the narrow corridor from her. Wounded? It had looked like a fatal wound, but she had to know for sure.

 

“Come on, come on,” she cried, pushing at the button that was supposed to open the hatch. Nothing was happening, and she was on the verge of panic thinking about her dying trapped in this metal coffin. She stabbed at the button one more time and the hatch raised up into the air. Stumbling forward, she made to move to her husband’s capsule. To fall flat onto the floor, vomiting fluid.

 

It took some minutes to get enough control of her body to get to her feet, and even then she was on the verge of falling. She looked in on Nate, his eyes staring at eternity, and needed the hatch out of the way. She tried hitting the override, over and over. Finally something clicked, the hatch rose, and she stumbled to her knees in front of the body of her husband.

 

That he was dead there was no doubt. The small hole in his forehead translated into a blown open skull in the back. It had to have been instant death. At least she could take some comfort in that. She leaned her head forward into his lap while her hands ran up and down his arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

 

My God. Why this way? she thought. They had gotten to cover in time before the bomb could take them out. They were safe. So why did someone come down here to kill her husband and kidnap her baby. Shaun. Shaun was what was important now.

 

“I’ll find him,” she told Nate, sliding the wedding ring off his hand, her last memento of what they had had. “I’ll kill that bastard and get Shaun back.”

 

Nora found a terminal at the end of the room, just before the exit, and logged in. Her eyes roamed over the names of the thirty odd people who had occupied this chamber, horror mirrored in the computer screen as she read their status. Dead, all of them. Cause, life support failure. Why? And why did she survive, when the units of everyone else had failed? There were other rooms, and she needed to check them all.

 

The woman became aware of a ravenous hunger, a terrible thirst, her body, long deprived of sustenance, crying out for nutrition and hydration. She wanted to explore, to see if anyone else had survived. From the lightheaded feeling, the blurring of her eyes, she knew that if she didn’t get something in her soon she would pass out. And with no one else around she would probably not wake up. Right outside the chamber were some lockers, and inside some Slocum’s Joe bites and a couple of bottle of Nuka Cola. Not the most balanced of meals, but it would do. The bites were stale, but she forced them down, feeling the sugar and caffeine rush as they hit her stomach. The Nuka Cola was as fresh and carbonated as the day it was bottled, whenever that was. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but figured it must have been at least a couple of decades.

 

Checking chamber after chamber, all with their thirty cryo pods, she felt her heart breaking all over again. Ten chambers, three hundred people, all expired from life support failure. Where in the hell was Vault Tech during this disaster? Why didn’t they have technicians looking after the equipment. And why cryo?

 

Thinking on it cryo made sense. They could preserve a lot of people, getting them through the hard times after the war without the expenditure of a lot of resources. So far she had seen no living quarters, no dining halls, no recreation facilities. Of course, those could be elsewhere, and maybe they were going to wake the inhabitants after a time. Organize a Vault government, plot their future. Only she didn’t get that feel. This was an experiment, and the researchers had left their charges to their fates. So, when had they died? From the frozen state of the bodies it was impossible to say from decay, since there was none. Had they all died when the intruders had killed Nate and taken Shaun? Or had they just died of system failure? A recent occurrence. And why did she survive? It made no fucking sense.

 

She found a security baton in a small hallway connecting several cryo chambers. As a weapon it left a lot to be desired. Better than nothing was the catch phrase that covered that weapon. And she really didn’t know if a weapon was needed down here. If she ran into people armed with guns it was a poor defense.

 

Something hit the window looking out into a reactor room, hard enough to get her attention. The roach was huge, as least a foot long, and slightly glowing. Was this the world she was thrust into? A world where giant insects ruled. Looking around for a way out of this section that didn’t go through that room she came up empty. So, she could sit here until she died of starvation or thirst. Or she could chance the giant insects. The drink she had taken from the water fountain had burned her mouth and made her ill. Radiation? Toxic waste? Did it really matter which?

 

Nora took some practice swings with the baton, getting a feel for the balance of the weapon. It had some weight to it. If only she wasn’t feeling as weak as a kitten. Without substantial food she would remain weak. With that in mind she steeled herself to face the giant bugs.

 

The reactor room smelled of ozone, and bolts of electricity crackled through the chamber. There were dead roaches, burned to a crisp by the bolts. As she watched another launched itself into the air to come at her, catching a bolt that blasted it from the air with a crack. She moved around the side of the chamber, trying to keep her eyes on both the discharge points of the reactor and the pair of crawling roaches ahead. And was caught off guard as one of the bugs flew into the air and headed toward her face.

“Shit,” she yelled, bringing the baton down in a hard swing that smashed the roach’s carapace, knocking it dead to the ground. The other crawled swiftly toward her, and another swing smashed it. That wasn’t so bad, she thought. The roaches really weren’t a challenge, as long as they didn’t gang up on her.

 

The next corridor had a half dozen of the insects, and Nora had a fight on her hands. She swung the baton as fast as she could, but missed several. The bugs got in bites that hurt like hell and made her sick to her stomach. With a scream she swung and smashed, until all of the roaches were dead. Her head was spinning, and she knew she needed to rest. She also needed to find food and potable water while she still had the strength to move. That decided her, and she moved ahead, taking out another couple of roaches before she reached the staff quarters.

 

Those quarters weren’t what she was expecting either. Not quarters for the long haul. There were beds, a toilet and a shower, and many lockers. She searched the lockers frantically, looking for a better weapon. And food. There were no weapons, and whoever had been here last had stripped it of food. The lockers were no better, though she did find one with a sturdy lock. She swung the baton into it over and over until the metal bent and the lock sprung. She let out a sigh as she saw that some hoarder had prepared for this day. Not for her, but she was whom it would benefit. Cans of Cram, Fancy Lad Snack Cakes, bottled water.

 

Taking a seat in front of a terminal she wolfed down as much food as she could handle. She wasn’t worried about radiation too much. This food had been down here in this vault, so what was there to irradiate it? Then she remembered the mutant roaches and her stomach churned. Still, she felt much better with a full stomach, and a sense of lethargy came over her. Nora had been through a lot this day, however many years it had been. Watching her husband die and her baby stolen. Then seeing all of her neighbor’s dead from some horrid accident, if accident it was. Then fighting monstrosities. It was a total strain on her mind and body.

 

Shaking her head, trying to stay awake, she activated the terminal. And was disappointed to see that it was a staff terminal, mostly games and directives from the Overseer. Still, she gained enough information to know that this had indeed been an experiment, and that Vault Tech had lost touch with their headquarters and its direction. The Vault hadn’t been stocked for the long haul, not for so many staff, and the Overseer refused to open the hatch to above.

 

Nora stumbled over to one of the beds and fell into it, hoping that a nap would clear her head. The chamber seemed secure enough. Then she would continue on with her search, trying to figure out what had been going on down here, and what she should do when she got out. She tried to think it out, but as soon as her head hit the pillow she was gone.

 

Nora awoke with a start, the images of the nightmares playing through her head. She needed something to dull the pain, distract her from the images. Sex always helped, but unless she wanted to engage in bestiality with mutant roaches there wasn’t much she could do there. And she needed a clear head, so drugs and alcohol were out, which meant those bottles of beer would have to remain augments to her meals, one at a time.

 

With nothing else for it Nora stripped and lay back on the bed, her fingers moving to her labia and stroking. Dipping her fingers into her pussy, she gathered lubricant and started to stroke her clit, letting the feelings grow. She thought of Nate, and being in his arms, of making love to her lover. It took some time, but she finally went over the edge, crying out as her thighs clenched and her pussy flooded with moisture. When it was over she lay there crying, knowing that she would never experience sex with the man she loved again. Maybe with no one other that herself, depending on what was waiting outside of the vault.

 

A complete search of the area revealed a couple of sets of security armor, along with a helmet. Not the best protection, but better than just a Vault Suit. The vest was a little large, and she had to adjust the straps on the helmet. There was also some ammo lying about, 9 and 10mm, but nothing to load them in. She found a shoulder bag, and the ammo and what was left of the food and water went into it.

 

Nora fought her way through a number of roaches, almost overwhelmed at one point. She refused to go down, and the light armor she wore probably saved her more than once. The next office over was the Overseer's, and there she found the information she was looking for. Sitting herself down in front of the terminal she hacked in, then read the story of horror that was Vault One Eleven.

 

As she thought, the Vault was not prepped to support a large number of people for a long period of time. And the Overseer refused to open the hatch and let anyone out. He started rationing the food, the most going to his favorites, then demanded that security give him all of their weapons lest he cut them off completely. Not being total fools, Vault Tech security mutinied. The Overseer and his loyal staff were gunned down, the Security staff fled the Vault, and nothing was done for however many years had passed. What burned her up was the lack of an indication of how much time had passed since the war. She had the time stamps of the log, but the war could have happened twenty years ago. Fifty. Hell, even a hundred. She couldn’t believe it was longer than that.

 

Gathering up all the ammo and food she could find, and eying the futuristic looking beam weapon in a locked case she couldn’t get into, she opened the access doors and walked out. There were some more roaches, but she was getting good at playing baseball with their bodies. The main Vault hatch was ahead, closed. She walked over to the control panel and hit the button. Nothing happened, and she cursed at the thought that she might still be trapped down here. Then she looked down at one of the bodies, to see the Pip-Boy on the wrist of one of the skeletons.

 

She had used a Pip-Boy while she was in the Navy, and was familiar with its functions. It seemed in good shape, and though she would have preferred to clean it of whatever residues the dead tech might have left on it, that would have to wait. As soon as she clicked it into place on her left wrist the device linked with the implant Uncle Sam had provided her, and she was fully engaged with the powerful portable computer.

 

First she ran a diagnostic on herself. She was suffering from light radiation poisoning, exhaustion, and some hormonal imbalances. It could have been worse, and she felt good enough to make a try for the surface. If it was an irradiated hell up there she could always duck back down. Taking some rad medicine to clear up her poisoning, then some water to combat the thirst, she plugged the Pip Boy into the access port and hit the button. Lights flashed, warning klaxons sounded, and the huge seal rotated in place, then slid to the side while the walkway extended. Walking on shaky legs, afraid of what she might find on the surface, afraid to not look, she moved to the elevator. There was a N99 10mm pistol laying just before the platform, a last gift from a retreating security guard who had carried it. A weapon she was very familiar with from her Fleet pilot days.

 

Nora fed rounds into the magazine until no more would fit, then clicked it into place. While still not heavily armed, she felt better about her chances. She wished that she had more magazines, but the N99 was a very common firearm, and there were sure to be some in the neighborhood. Or at least she hoped. With that she stepped onto the platform and let it carry her upwards, as the heavy hatches above slid aside.

 

*     *     *

 

The light of the sun was blinding, and Nora felt her eyes tearing up as she struggled to see anything. Taking in a lungful of air, waiting for the bad news, she was surprised at how good it tasted. Her vision started to adjust, to clear, and she cried out as she saw all of the trees in full leaf. Enough time must have passed for damaged trees to recover, and for new foliage to grow. The world was alive, though her Pip-Boy was showing that there was more residual radiation around than there had been.

 

While anxious to get to the neighborhood and see what was left, she took the time to do a thorough going over of the construction site. The portable barriers were still there, knocked over, a reminder of that day when her world had ended. Skeletons were scattered about, the poor fools who had died trying to get into the vault, or who had been on duty to keep those fools out. Though the world had recovered somewhat, Nora thought that she would be looking at a huge tragedy wherever she went.

 

More ammo, a couple of combat knives, and a few pieces of mismatched arm and leg armor were her reward for searching the site. She was about to call it quits when she spotted something behind one of the shipping containers on the edge of the site. A large rifle, obviously of military design though nothing she was familiar with, was propped against the side of the container. She checked for booby traps, then picked it up, marveling at the condition.

 

This wasn’t left here from the war, she thought. Even a decade out in the weather would have caused it to rust, and jacking a round into the chamber showed it was well oiled. Someone had left this here, recently. Which brought up more questions than answers. It was in .45 caliber, not the best for a selective fire combat rifle, but it up armed her considerably. And the crate next to it contained fifty round boxes of ammo, twenty of them, for a thousand rounds. There was also some web gear with ammo pouches, each filled with three thirty round magazines. She took a seat and loaded the mags, then donned the web gear. The remaining ammo made quite a load in her shoulder pouch, but she wasn’t about to leave it behind.

 

Do I have a guardian angel? she thought as she walked from the site. It sure seemed that way. And what was their connection to her husband’s murderer, and to her survival. Along the way back to Sanctuary Hills she spotted a rough-hewn shack, with an observation post some fifty yards away. There were some notes at the post, and it was obvious that someone had been watching the Vault. Why? She also found a holo tape that she stowed away to listen to later.

 

The neighborhood was a complete wreck. Of the hundred or so houses that had been brand new before the war, maybe thirty of them were still intact enough to be salvaged. The rest had caved in on themselves under the pressure of the blast wave. If she had been right about the distance she must have been underestimating the yield. There were downed trees everywhere, rusted cars, the flotsam and jetsam of civilization out in the streets. She walked toward her house, rifle at the ready, to stop in her tracks at the sight of Codsworth, outside and working on the hedges in front of the house.

 

Now I know I’ve gotten an overdose of rads, she thought staring at the robot, who, though his paint was scratched off in places, seemed to be in incredibly good condition.

 

“As I live and breathe,” said the robot, looking at her with a pair of oculars, then drifting over. “Miss Nora. I thought you and your family dead. And here you are. Is Sir with you? And what of young Master Shaun?”

 

“They came into the vault and killed Nate, then kidnapped my baby. I have to find them Codsworth.” Nora felt her self-control slipping away toward hysteria, but here was a friend, someone who would listen to her.

 

“These things, these terrible things you’re saying. I think they might be signs of hunger induced delusions. Come with not having a good meal for two hundred years, what.”

 

“Two hundred years. It couldn’t have been that long, Codsworth.”

 

“Closer to two hundred and ten, taking into account the Earth’s rotation and such.”

 

Two hundred and ten years, she thought in shock. That meant everyone she had ever known, or known of, was dead. Except, hopefully, for her baby. Or maybe some people who had survived in another cryo vault.

 

“We need to search the neighborhood,” said Codsworth, clearly hanging on some delusional programing himself. “Sir and young Shaun might be somewhere around here.”

 

“I need you to stay with me buddy,” said Nora, calming herself. “I saw them shoot Nate, then pull Shaun from his dead grasp. They aren’t going to be hanging about here.”

 

“I had so hoped that we could have a family again, seeing you come out of nowhere. I’ve been trying to keep the house, but do you know how hard it is to wax fallout from a floor. Or polish the rust on a car.”

 

“Why are you still functional, Codsworth?”

 

“I thought it my responsibility to continue working, ready for your eventual return. So I hied myself down to the depot at the start of the bridge to service my needs.”

 

Nora blinked back a tear. Of course the Mr. Handy was just a machine, but he acted so much like a loyal friend. “Let’s go ahead and give the neighborhood a once over, Pal. Just for our peace of mind.”

 

The robot hadn’t mentioned seeing anyone with a baby, and she thought he would definitely mention such if it had happened. So they searched, going in to all of the still standing houses, now the figurative tombs of their owners. And she killed some more of the delightful insect life, more roaches and some largish flyers. She hoped more survived in this world than insects.

 

“Well, now we know for sure,” said the robot in a sorrowful tone. “You’re going to need help finding the lad. I may not be a Mister Gutsy, but I can fight, if you want to take me along.”

 

“Are there any people around?” asked Nora, afraid that the answer was going to be no.

 

“There are some in Concord, but they are a bit rough around the edges.”

 

“Why don’t you make me a meal, Pal. While I look around the neighborhood and see what I can find that might be useful.”

 

There was actually quite a bit of use around the neighborhood. She found some robotic workbenches in front of a neighbor’s house, something she hadn’t recalled. Of course the Army might have brought them in to support a unit in the area. The benches, a type of fabber, made constructing new from old junk easy. If she could clear out some of the wreckage she might be able to claim the suburb as a home base. Not something she could do on her own, but thoughts of the robot depot came to mind, with a resolve to check it out in the morning.

 

Among things of interest she found were bunches of manuals, on everything from gunsmithing to making chems. One house had a small fusion generator and a mass of radio equipment, and she recalled that the husband had been a HAM enthusiast. She hauled an old cot over to that house and made it her temporary base. It was a new world out there, and she wanted to learn as much as she could before forging into the wilderness.

 

Setting up the portable light she had found in the Vault, she sat up reading while listening to a number of stations. Two that caught her interest were Diamond City Radio, with a horribly insecure DJ, and one that called itself the voice of the Silver Shroud. She recalled watching that show whenever a new episode was on the air, and was surprised that someone was trying to keep the tradition alive over two hundred years after the war.

 

Codsworth delivered a steaming bowl of food to her. She didn’t bother asking what was in it. It was hot and tasty, as expected from something the robotic servant had prepared. A couple of bottles of water and a Nuka Cola and she was set. She fell asleep as soon as her head hit the cot, the persistent nightmares keeping her company through the night and sapping the sleep of much of its restorative powers.

 

*     *     *

 

The next day dawned rainy and clouded over. Nora checked the rads with her Pip-Boy, finding that while indeed there were some in the water from the sky, it was not much. She had found some antiradiation drugs the day before, to go along with what she had brought out of the Vault, and felt that she would be okay for some time. She wondered why the drugs were in the neighborhood, and determined that someone had been living here, probably soon after the bombs had dropped.

 

The robot depot was in serviceable shape. Its own Mr. Handy had maintained the solar panels and the batteries, while the four construction robots stood in their cradles and waited. They were big sturdy machines without a bit of grace. They didn’t need to be graceful. They did what humans had long since given up in Nora’s time, building and demolishing buildings as needed. She jacked into them with her Pip-Boy and set them to go out and tear down four of the fallen houses, piling up the raw materials for use in rebuilding. On another day she would set a couple of them to clear downed trees and cut them up into lumber. That set, she continued her exploration, hoping she could pick the locks on some of the safes that had locked her out the day before.

 

The locks with keyholes could be probed with bobby pins and a screwdriver, and with patience most would eventually click open.  The ones with combination locks were more of a problem, and Nora resolved to learn how to open them as well, since they were sure to contain things considered treasures in this world. The old military chest that Nate had kept in their house proved to be a largess of ammunition, along with a few guns and swords. Another house contained a pharmacy worth of Chems. And then she found the bomb shelter behind a neighbor’s house near the bridge.

 

She wasn’t sure what she was going to find. And as soon as she was inside and swinging her Pip-Boy light around she thought she had made a grave error. Three visages of terror looked back at her, showing sharp metallic fangs. She was about to panic, when she realized that they were sitting on their haunches much like living dogs. Two were even wagging their mechanical tails. They were smiling at her, much like real dogs would on meeting a friendly human.

 

“Can you guys understand me?” she asked, smiling as all the tails began to wag. “On your feet,” she commanded, and all the robots stood up, watching her attentively. “Sit.” And they moved onto their haunches. “Lie down.”

 

She tried a number of commands, and the robots seemed to understand most of them. Now this was something she could work with. A Robodog for the road, another couple guarding her base. She tried them outside the bunker, noting that whoever had built and programed them had been a genius. They moved and acted like real dogs. They were fast and agile, and those teeth would let them tear into anything that threatened their master. Her.

 

The bunker was filled with goodies. A couple of hundred cans of water, canned food, books, batteries, ammunition. Whoever had stocked it had known what they were about, and she had to wonder what happened to them. Obviously, they hadn’t been around to consume all of their largess. Had they gone out exploring and not made it back? Then why hadn’t they taken their mechanical canines with them?

 

She spent the next week listening, learning, and setting her mechanical minions to working for her. She had a good idea of what was out there, and frankly it was terrifying. There were some enclaves of semi-civilization, but much of the world had reverted to barbarism. She heard one term continuously over the radio stations her Pip-Boy was pulling in. Raiders. Barbaric warriors that attacked anyone at any time for any reason. She made it a point to avoid them whenever possible. She learned to make simple modifications to her weapons, and even fabbed a new barrel and bolt for her rifle, converting it to 5.56mm. She took some old armor the had found, mostly leather, and riveted armor plate to it. She did the same to one of Nate’s old combat helmets. It may not have looked elegant, but she thought it would protect her from most low powered weapons.

 

She spent some hours in the woods to either side of Sanctuary, catching sight of her first people. She thought them Raiders, and made a point to stay low and slow when moving around them. The woodcraft her granddad had taught her, reinforced by her escape and evasion courses with the Fleet, served her in good stead. At one point she thought about sneaking into one of their camps, then decided that was foolish. The dogbot she had taken as a companion might fight its hardest to defend her, but against a group of armed bandits she thought it would fail.

 

“I’m going to Concord tomorrow,” she told Codsworth that night. “If there are people there who can help me I need to contact them.”

 

“Be careful, mum. This is not the world you left behind.”

 

“I was a warrior at one time, Pal. I’m sure I’ll be okay.” Though to her way of thinking she would be more secure with some good people around her.