Chapter Text

Maxine,

You were born today. Only minutes ago, I held you in my arms for the first time, and only minutes ago, I learned just how intense the love of a father can be towards his baby girl. I'll admit, I wasn't sold on fatherhood at first, but when I looked at you, small and defenseless, depending on your mother and I to take care of you.... I wish I could say I'll never let anything hurt you. I wish I could provide that kind of safety, promise such security. But the frightening truth is, I can't. And I'm so sorry that the miracle of life, the first day of your existence in this world has to fall amidst the worst conflict mankind has seen in decades.

We're at war. China, Russia, everyone just wants to hurt everyone else. And your father is one of the soldiers, a man sent to hurt others, to do bad things to people in the name of the United States of America. I don't always like what I do, but I do it for you. I do it because I hope and pray that it's enough to keep you safe.

But I don't believe that it is.

I don't believe the world will still be there for you when you grow up. And I only hope that I can prepare you for it. Because there will always be those that want what others have and are willing to kill to take it. There will always be those who value themselves above all else. And that will never change.

War will never change.

…...

"I don't want to set the worrrrrld ooooon fiiiirrre.... IIIII just want to staaaaart...a flame in yooouuur heaaaart...."

Ugh, not this song again. Mom couldn't get enough of the Ink Spots and their “classic hit”, often cranking up the volume while she put together breakfast on Saturday mornings. Max much preferred the more Bluesier sounds like Elvis Presley or Johnny Cash, though she had taken to listening to the Beatles at an old friend's behest. Their earlier sound was a little derivative but still fresh, but the later stuff was where they truly shone. She could easily picture her beatnik buddy, Chloe, lounging in her room and listening to Get Back while smoking a cigarette or one of her “giggle-smokes” she'd liked to talk about. Wowser, it had been a while since she'd talked to Chloe. Their last phone call had been...Christmas. Two years ago.

Bad Max.

She sat up and slung her legs over the side of her bed her feet hitting the cool hardwood floor and sending a small shiver up her spine. Hauling herself to feet, she stretched before moving to pull aside the curtains in her room and let in the beautiful morning sun. It was a breezy and rather warm October day. The trees had only just begun to brown, and there were even a few people mowing their yards despite the time of year. Even Dad was outside trimming the hedges near Max's window. His reddish beard glinting in the sunlight, he met Max's eyes and waved, and Max reached to open her window up, letting in the full brunt of the chorus of morning sounds. Birds chirping, distant mowers, the even more distant sounds of vehicles at the Red Rocket station down the road. Dad made his way over and grinned, showing the silver tooth he'd gotten during his Army days.

“Morning, Skipper,” he said, prompting a roll of the eyes from Max. She had earned the name during her youth due to her tendency to skip from place to place when she was particularly excited. Dad was the only one who still called her that, which was just as well, since only he could get away with it.

“Morning,” Max smiled back at him. “You took the day off? I thought you were supposed to go in to the hardware store today.”

“I'm going to the Veteran's Hall tonight,” he said. “Some fancy event for the Gobi Offensive vets. Hope the food's better than the Memorial Day thing.”

“It's always about the food with you,” Max said with a rueful smile, and Dad winked at her.

“It can make or break these things,” he said. “Nick James is giving a speech, you know Nick?”

“Yeah, how's their son been doing?” Max asked. “Little...Shaun?”

“Actually, they were asking me if you'd be okay with babysitting tonight,” Dad told her. “Would you mind? They'll pay you.”

“I'd love to watch Shaun,” Max cooed. “He's such a little sweetie. And money is nice.”

“Atta girl,” Dad winked. “Go get some breakfast. I can hear your tummy rumbling from here.”

“Yeah right,” Max smirked. “See you later, Dad.”

She stepped away from the window, heading toward the bathroom to take a quick shower and get herself ready for the world. The radio in the bathroom held its own against Mom's Ink Spots, blasting Elvis Presley's A Little Less Conversation in defiance of the slow crooning in the kitchen. This faded to Get Rhythm by Johnny Cash, followed by a jazzy number Max couldn't place, though it was trumpet-heavy and had Max tapping her foot as she toweled off and brushed her teeth. Feeling scrubbed and minty fresh, she stepped out and headed down the hallway, running a brush through her mousy brown hair. She needed to get a cut soon; it was nearly to her shoulders.

A soft rush of air sounded, and she saw Lisa the Miss Nanny bot floating around the corner, supported by a single jet booster. A pristine white sphere with three eyes perched on stalks protruding from it and three legs devoted to various household tasks sprouting from the underside, the Miss Nanny was advertised by General Atomics to be the pinnacle of household maintenance, freeing up hours of time to spend with your family rather than drudging away at chores. At least, that's what the commercials said. Mom and Dad had finally broken down and gotten one on the stipulation that Dad still handled the yard and hedges. He apparently found the work relaxing, a notion that Max just couldn't wrap her head around.

“Good morning, Maxine,” she said, her synthesized voice warm and full of affectionate cheer. “Did you sleep well?”

“Lisa, I keep telling you to call me Max,” Max insisted, and the robot's two outer eyes tucked in while the front one raised up, a gesture Max had learned to interpret as Lisa's version of a smile.

“I know, but Maxine just sounds so regal,” she said. “Like a queen or an empress.”

“I think I'd prefer to be a pirate queen,” Max said with a grin. “Sailing the seas and collecting treasure.”

“Captain Maxine, the Queen of the Pirates,” Lisa said, her exhaust port popping briefly as her legs spun on their axis. “I'd read that comic. Quite quickly, as well. My image processing software just received an upgrade. I can comprehend a visual stimulus faster than the human brain can process the fact that it's there.”

“I can understand the concept of art,” Max shot back with a smirk, earning mechanical chuckle from the robot.

“Touche,” Lisa said. “Bacon and eggs are still warm, if you'd like to help yourself, Captain Maxine.”

“I might just pillage up some breakfast,” Max said with a smile. “Thank you, Lisa.”

“You are most welcome...Max,” Lisa said, floating past her. Max smiled to herself and made her way down the hallway to the kitchen. Here at Sanctuary Hills, a small housing community in Concord where every home was a House of Tomorrow, the residents suffered only the finest luxuries. This included the kitchen, which was equipped with all the bells and whistles Mom needed to whip up the finest meals possible, and with Lisa around to take care of cleanup, she'd been getting quite creative as of late. Max strode into the kitchen and saw Mom leaning against the island counter, sipping her tea and watching some morning talk show while the dishwasher hummed in the background.

According to nearly everyone she had met, Max was the spitting image of her mom. Both had brown hair that fell in nearly the same way, both had a spattering of freckles across their faces, and both tended toward a waifish physique that Max was thankful for. Dad was great, but he was a burly guy; Max was quite thankful that she had inherited most of Mom's looks. Mom looked up when she heard Max enter the spacious lounge area—the House of Tomorrow boasted an open floor plan—and nodded toward the plate of eggs, bacon, and toast on the bar counter.

“Breakfast,” she said with a smile. “Get it while it's still warm.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Max said. “It smells amazing.”

“Thank the Jenn-Air Atomic company,” Mom said with a gesture at the stove. “Nuclear-powered cooking. Can you believe it?”

“That's exactly what you said when you looked at the pamphlet for the house,” Max said, remembering well the moment Dad had told them that the Army had approved his early retirement in light of his commendable service history. The news that they would be living in a high-end house with all of the amenities and a sizable pension had been...amazing. But with it had come the revelation that she would be moving across the country, from Arcadia Bay, Oregon, all the way out to Concord, Massachusetts, and away from her very best friend, the aforementioned beatnik Chloe Price.

She really needed to call Chloe sometime, Max pondered as she ate her breakfast. Well, it was Saturday; maybe she could check in with her, apologize for being so very awkward about making contact. She had been considering asking Mom if she could enroll in Blackwell Academy in Arcadia Bay for her senior year. Their photography program was apparently amazing, and for all the technological advancement that had been happening in recent years, photography was still taking pictures of pretty things that would make people think about life. It wasn't exactly a stable career path, but it was something Max was passionate about.

She finished her breakfast soon enough and slid to her feet, setting her plate in the sink. She had a full Saturday ahead of her and very little to do, at least until tonight, when –

“Honey!” Dad's voice shouted from outside, and he showed up in the doorway with a wide-eyed expression. “Vanessa! Check the news, quickly!”

Max and her mother both hurried for the living area, Dad joining them. They needn't have changed the channel to check the news; the local station had already cut in with an emergency broadcast. There was a news anchor sitting at his desk. There were no papers in front of him, and he kept pressing a finger to his ear, like he was listening in on an earpiece. His voice was quiet, subdued as he spoke.

“Followed by...yes, followed by flashes. Blinding flashes. Sounds of explosions.... We're...we're trying to get confirmation...but we seem to have lost contact with our affiliate stations.... We do have...coming in..confirmed reports, I repeat, confirmed reports of nuclear detonations in New York and Pennsylvania. My God.”

“This is it,” Dad muttered. “It's happening. Vanessa, get Max in the car, now!”

“What's happening?” Max asked as Mom took her hand. “Dad, what's – “

“Get in the car!” Dad shouted, hurrying down the hallway. “Vanessa, where are the keys!?”

“On the dresser,” Mom said, her voice shaking. “Ryan....”

Dad paused and turned to stare at Mom for a moment.

“Car,” he breathed. “Get in. Now.”

Mom dragged her along, out into the balmy morning. It was a gorgeous day outside, the lightest of breezes causing the leaves of the surrounding trees to dance gently in the wind. Max had been thinking about going for a walk later, enjoying the nice weekend. There had even been talk of a barbecue tomorrow, of finishing her weekend on a high note before she went back to school on Monday. School...barbecues, walks.... It all felt so far away now. The day that had only been talked about as a near-impossibility was upon them.

The Great War had begun.

All around them, the street was in disarray, families hurrying for their own cars, arguing in front of their houses, or otherwise panicking. Mom yanked open the backseat of Dad's brand new car, all but shoving Max in. She hurried to clamp her seat belt with shaking hands and peering out the window as Mom waited for Dad to emerge from the house. Mom was so tense and nervous she was practically shaking as they waited. The car still smelled new, and Dad often complained that he hadn't really taken it on any long-haul car-rides yet. They had even planned a family trip up to Maine to see the leaves change color.

It looked like that wasn't going to to happen anymore.

Dad bolted from the house, shouting over his shoulder, and Max saw Lisa in the doorway. It was all too surreal. Mere minutes ago, she had been having a simple conversation with Lisa, morning banter. Now it looked like she might never see the robot nanny ever again. She rolled her window down and shouted as Dad started up the car.

“Lisa, be safe!”

“Safe travels, Captain Maxine!” Lisa called back, waving one of her legs. Dad took off in the car, narrowly avoiding running down one of the neighbors as he got onto the road.

“Where are we going?” Max asked. She winced as a siren sprang to life in the distance, whining out a klaxon-like warning of apocalyptic doom. “Dad, what's gonna happen?”

“We're going to be fine, Skipper,” Dad said, though it was obvious he was forcing calm into his voice. “We're going to that vault down the road. Vault 111.”

“We got into a vault?” Max asked, lurching in her seat when Dad turned off of the road and down a dirt path through the trees. The car pitched and bounced beneath them as they traveled along the uneven terrain, passing by families that had given up driving and were simply walking the trip to the vault, clutching at bags of belongings and armfuls of clothes. Max thought of her camera, still back at home on her dresser, of all of the new clothes Mom and Dad had bought her for her new school so she would make a good impression. She'd never even worn some of the outfits they had gotten her.

The trees floated overhead, casting splotch shadows that danced along the car as Dad continued down the path. Max hugged her knees and tried not to look at the beautiful foliage, the sunlight streaming through the trees and hinting at the sea-blue sky beyond it. That the looming threat of nuclear annihilation had finally come to a head on such a picturesque day was almost insulting.

After a tense five minutes trundling along the path, Dad pulled the car to stop, killed the engine, and hurriedly unfastened his seatbelt to get out. Max did the same, ushered along by Mom, who wrapped an arm around her shoulders and led her toward a crowd of people that had clustered near some sort of military checkpoint. A fence surrounded a large flat area that had been cleared of trees, and the only entrance was being guarded by two figures in imposing military power armor suits. Max had never seen one this close before; they were enormous.

“Let us through!” Dad shouted, and Max winced at how loud he could make his voice. Dad had spent some time training new recruits on the use of power armor (and had even run Max through a lecture or two as practice) and was thus quite good at a “get your attention” tone. He bull-rushed the crowd with all the effectiveness of a linebacker, shouldering people apart and leading the way for his wife and daughter.

“Caulfield!” a voice called over the crowd. “Caulfield, get up here, c'mon!”

They made it to the front of the scrum, and Max saw a slight blond man with a clipboard. He was dressed in simple BDUs and body armor as opposed to the metal monsters flanking him. His eyes were wide, and the clipboard was trembling just a bit in his hands, but he stood straight and unflinching at the crowd before him.

“Schumer,” Dad said, and he looked like he was trying to come up with anything to say. But there was nothing left to say.

“Go,” Schumer said. “Go, we've got a bogey two minutes out and closing. We think they're gonna go for Boston proper.”

“Good luck, Schumer,” Dad said, turning back to Mom and Max. “Let's go.”

A wind picked up as he led them along, the steady thudding of a Vertibird growing louder. Max looked up and saw one of the aircraft hovering overhead, a loudspeaker shouting at the assembled crowd to make room for those that were on the list. They crested a small hill, a large metal platform coming into view. Beyond it, the hill swooped back down and offered a stunning view of the Commonwealth of Boston. Years ago, before Vault-Tec had purchased the land, this had probably been a perfect date spot, a quiet place to park and listen to music with a lover and maybe steam up some windows.

They hurried forward to where a crowd was already gathering on the platform. Max recognized a few of their neighbors, notably the James family and their little boy, Shaun. It looked like they wouldn't need a babysitter after all. Nick looked to have just gotten up, not even out of his pajamas yet, and Nora was clutching Shaun with evident terror. Having to go through the apocalypse with a baby couldn't be fun at all.

Max slowed to a stop on the platform, staring out over Boston, over the Commonwealth, over America. She'd never shared the patriotic fervor the radio or TV would have had her embracing, but she did care about her country, about her home, and about her father, who had risked his life on more than one occasion to defend it. How must he feel, knowing that the enemies had found home anyway?

She felt Dad's heavy hands on her shoulders. He was so much bigger than her and mom, a great big teddy bear that had a way of making Max feel...safe.

“What's gonna happen to us?” Max asked, and Dad squeezed gently.

“We're going to be okay,” he said. “We'll stick together and ride this out as a family. Life in a vault will be...different, but it won't - “

CRACK! A sound like a bolt of lightning, though it lasted only a second, and on the horizon, a glow appeared, so bright that it seemed to sap the light from the sky around it. A cloud of dust shot up and bloomed in the sky, a mushroom cloud. Max had never seen one so close, and she knew that the fact that she was seeing one now was a bad sign.

“Go, go, go, take them down!” a voice shouted in the distance over the sound of the Vertibird and the sudden rushing roar that was now sending a shockwave across the trees, toward them. The platform lurched beneath her, starting to sink downward, slowly, agonizingly slowly. As soon as they were below ground level, a set of steel doors closed shut above them, and everything was dark, the kind of dark Max's eyes had trouble adjusting to. She clutched tightly to Dad, who gave her shoulders another squeeze as they traveled downward for a long moment, away from the surface, away from their old life, down into the cold steel of the vault. Tiny lights appeared along the shaft soon enough, and a brighter one grew at their feet, filling the whole platform as it finally landed at the entrance to Vault 111. There was a small entryway where a portly, balding man with a mustache to rival Dad's stood waiting for them. He wore a blue jumpsuit, the trademark of all vault dwellers. This one, of course, was emblazoned with a large yellow number “111” on it.

“Everyone, please remain calm,” he said, sounding quite rehearsed as he greeted them all. “We'll get everyone situated in your new home. Vault 111! A better future. Underground! If you'll please step past me, we'll begin getting you all processed.”

He stepped aside and gestured them all up a metal staircase. Max fell in behind Dad and in front of Mom, her ears ringing in the sudden silence the vault afforded. All around her was metal painted a cool blue color, scaffolding and metal beams criss-crossing the high ceiling above her and casting long shadows in the crisp fluorescent lighting. In front of them, a metal pathway marked off by a railing herded them through what was probably some sort of check-in area. Beyond it, a hallway led further into the vault. A few other doors also presumably led to different sections, though they were shut tight and marked Off-Limits

“Names, please,” a worker in a blue jumpsuit and padded security armor spoke up as they passed along a row of scanning devices, tall, angular, and white, that hummed as they strode through them. Max couldn't begin to guess their function, but she felt no noticeable effect.

“Ryan Caulfield,” Dad said, gesturing behind him. “My daughter, Max, and my wife, Vanessa.”

The man took a moment to consult his clipboard, looking up with a personable smile. “Welcome to Vault 111. Don't you worry, you're quite safe down here. Down to your right, there's an attendant in a white coat there. She'll be passing out your vault suits, and then we'll get you all to orientation. Sound good?”

“Thank you,” Mom said as they passed by him, heading for a woman standing amidst an assortment of white tables stacked with boxes.

“It's cold down here,” Max spoke quietly, and Mom wrapped her in a hug.

“It's safe,” Dad said with a wan smile back at her. “And I'll take a little chill over how hot it probably is up there right now.”

“Ryan,” Mom said in a chiding tone, but Max couldn't stop a small smile, morbid as the joke had been.

“Hello,” the white-coated woman said as they approached. “Caulfield?”

“Yes, Ma'am,” Dad told her, and she ducked back behind one of the tables to produce three jumpsuits folded into large squares and wrapped in thick plastic. Each of them got one, and Max hastened to take hers when it was handed to her, the thick plastic packaging crackling loudly as she gripped it.

“Here are your jumpsuits,” the woman said, gesturing behind her to where some plastic booths with privacy curtains had been erected. “There's a small changing area back there. Please change quickly so we can get you all to orientation. If you have any personal effects in your pockets, Vault-Tec jumpsuits have very spacious pockets as well.”

“C'mon, Max,” Dad said, ushering her toward the changing booths. Max stepped into one and realized for the first time that she was still in her pajamas and slippers. Everything had happened so fast, she'd never even had a chance to get properly dressed. She slid out of her clothes, shivering as her bare skin was subjected to the full force of how very cold it was down here. Sliding legs dotted with goosebumps into the vault suit, she spent a ponderous moment getting her arms into the sleeves as well. She'd never worn a jumpsuit before, and it was actually a bit of a challenge to get it on. She zipped up the front, taking advantage of the mirror in the dressing booth to see how it looked on her. She wasn't too pleased with how much it clung to her, leaving little to the imagination, but she supposed that was just part of the design. She did one last little turn to find that the clinginess was universal, the tight fabric hugging her butt completely.

Great.

“Max, you alright in there?” Dad called, and Max jumped. Right. This was the apocalypse; no time to be self-conscious. She hurried out of the booth, spotting Mom and Dad nearby, both in their blue suits as well. At least they also seemed not to fond of their jumpsuits' skintight fit.

“All finished?” the woman in the lab coat asked them, having been joined recently by another scientist, this one a male with close-cropped blond hair. “If you'll please follow our scientist, Dr. Hardy here, he'll take you down to Decontamination.”

“Hello there,” Dr. Hardy said, nodding to them as he gestured down the hallway Max had noticed earlier. “Please, down this hallway.”

“What's going to happen to us?” Mom asked as they walked along. “Are there...rooms or places we can live? I never really looked at your pamphlets.”

“We'll explain everything and answer all of your questions after this next little procedure,” Dr. Hardy said as they passed down a long hallway, making a right into a massive room filled with metal pods that looked like oversized hi-tech port-a-potties. Even the inside was a chair, though there was no hole, obviously . “All we need to do is pop you in these decontamination pods so we can remove any bacteria or residual radiation from topside. It's only to ensure a clean environment, you see.”

“Well, that makes sense,” Dad said, peering into one of the pods. “Looks like a port-a-potty, doesn't it?”

“I was just thinking the same thing,” Max said with a quiet giggle. Dad smiled at her and tousled her hair before gesturing at one of the pods.

“Alright, Skipper, let's get sanitized so we can stop bothering the good Doctor here,” he said, climbing into a pod of his own while Mom hopped up next to him. “Ready when you are, Doc.”

“This will only be a moment,” the doctor said as Max climbed into her own pod, settling onto the cushy padded seat. Around her, she could see other residents being directed into pods of their own, ready to move on to a new life, to settle in for a safe and cozy existence underground and safe from the radiation. With a soft hissing sound, the pods closed, and it was quiet for a moment before an electronic voice spoke.

“Resident secure. Occupant vitals: normal.”

There was a short pause, and Max peered out the window to see that most of the scientists were...leaving? She turned to stare across the aisle at Dad's pod. He met her eyes and smiled, placing a hand on the window. While she couldn't hear the words, she saw him mouth something.

“Love you, Skipper.”

The electronic voice spoke again, startling her.

“Procedure complete.”

Well, at least they were almost done.

“In...five...four....”

Max gasped, feeling a jolt in her system as it was suddenly cold, too cold, the chill sending a shiver up her spine. But it didn't stop, just seized her in its grasp and didn't let go.

“Three...two.... One....”

Cold... So very cold. She couldn't think. She couldn't hear, couldn't see. She couldn't feel.

…...

A thunderclap sounded, a bright flash that filled her vision. Max's eyes snapped open to see a world turned sideways, literally and figuratively. She was lying on her side on the ground, and all around her, dust, dirt, and debris swirled in a tumultuous spiral. She climbed to her feet, barely able to see through the storm happening around her. How had she gotten here? And where even was this place?

Making her way along a dirt path that wound up through skeletal trees, she watched as the wind tore the leaves from them as fast as she approached each one. Trunks creaked and snapped under the force of the wind, and Max was shocked that she wasn't being whipped away in the maelstrom. The path...this path was familiar. She'd walked it several times during her youth, hand-in-hand with Chloe as they'd gone on pirate adventures. It sure looked like the path Chloe and Max had used a lifetime ago when they had wanted to go visit the cliff-side lighthouse that overlooked the bay that earned Arcadia Bay it's name. There was the rock formation that she and Chloe had once discussed resembling a bunny rabbit (Argoth the Bunny of Stone), and there was the fire pit that had entertained many a teenage visitor to the cliff-top. But how had she gotten to Arcadia Bay? And why was she here?

Reaching the top of the hill, she lifted her hands to shield her eyes from the bulk of the dust, but she still had to blink some of it away; if this was a dream, it was a very vivid one. Through the gloom, she could make out the lighthouse, towering over her, a monolithic silhouette outlined against a dim sun. And at its base was.... No way. This had to be a dream. There was no way she was actually seeing this.

There was no way Chloe was simply standing out in the open, clutching to the bench that overlooked the bay.

“Chloe?” Max spoke, but her words were lost in the din of sounds around her. “Chloe!”

Chloe couldn't hear her, though. She simply stood there, staring out over Arcadia Bay sprawled below and...crying? As Max drew closer, through the clouds of dust and dirt, she could make out tears running down her erstwhile best friend's cheeks.

“Max...” Chloe sobbed, and Max felt like someone had reached out and gripped her heart, twisting it in her chest. The only time she had ever heard Chloe sound so distraught was...well, days before she'd left, when Chloe had found out her father wouldn't be coming back from the Gobi Desert.

“Chloe, I'm here,” Max said. “Chloe?”

Chloe didn't seem to hear her, though, and as she kneeled, hunched over on the cliffside, Max saw the lighthouse give way, the base of it crumbling under the onslaught of rocks and debris. The dirt under it crumpled into nothingness, and the lighthouse began to topple with an earsplitting groan, falling down onto both of them –

…...

It was so cold. Why was it so unbelievably cold? It was supposed to be a mild autumn, not subzero temperatures! She tried to roll over and grab for more blankets, but her limbs felt stiff and sluggish. Was she still dreaming? This was how it felt to move in a dream. She heard Dad's voice, a distant echo that was almost not even there.

“War...war never changes....”

When Max had been only a child, that had been the sentiment often expressed by her father. It was the only explanation she had ever gotten when she had asked why he'd had to go away so often, and the answer she'd received almost every time she'd questioned Dad's nightmares or his hatred of Arcadia Bay's cold weather. “War never changes.”

Dad had been a military man, an army corporal that had gladly put his life on the line for his country during the Battle of Anchorage, and then again during the Gobi Campaign. Both times he had left Max unsure if she would ever see him again, and both times he had come back, looking worn and haunted but still with that same smile on his face as he had greeted Max.

“Hey, Skipper....”

Suddenly, she was awake as briskly as if she were surfacing from underwater, gasping for breath with a rattling wheeze that ended on a choking cough. A crisp pneumatic hiss sounded as the quiet groan of metal on metal filled her ears. It was cold, so very cold, a wracking chill that filled her entire being and shook her as she stumbled forward and fell. She was met by unyielding metal that jarred her wrists, sending twin jolts of pain up her arms. Pushing herself to her feet with trembling limbs, she blinked a few times, her vision taking a moment to focus. Just as cloudy was her mind, her memories. She remembered a normal morning, breakfast in the kitchen with Mom and Lisa...and then the bombs. Dad had come bursting into the house, a rake still in his hand and sweat soaking his shirt.

“It's happening....”

She'd been whisked off to a vault, taken deep underground to live out her life in safety. There had been a decontamination procedure.... She'd been placed in a pod and.... The procedure was supposed to take only a few seconds, but...the pristine metal interior of the vault—once painted various shades of calming blue—were now aged, rusted, and covered in what had to be years of grime. A low, grating alarm was blaring in the background, and there was a constant dripping sound around her, as though it were somehow raining inside the vault.

There was no way it had only taken a few seconds....

“H-hello?” she called into the dim lighting, her voice raspy and choked. She coughed and doubled over in a shivering fit of coughs before she found her breath again. “Hello!?”

There was no response except for the jarring noise of the alarm. Hers was the only pod open as well. Why weren't –

“Mom,” she gasped. “Dad!”

They'd been ushered into the pods right across from her when they'd first arrived at the vault. Max had met her father's eyes and seen his reassuring smile after the doors had closed. Then everything had gotten so cold....

“Dad!” she gasped, reaching the pod and rubbing away condensation from the window. She saw him sitting limply in the pod, slumped to one side in his seat. “No!”

Quickly glancing around, she found a manual release for the pod, a large red lever, and yanked it. It clicked into place, and with another hissing sound, the pod's lid sprang free and nearly smacked her in the head on the way up. Max fought back a sobbing sound as a foul smell wafted out of the pod, causing her to gag. Still, she pressed forward, stepping up and reaching out to gently take hold of her father's shoulder. It was cold under her touch, and his muscles felt stiff. Likewise, his normally round face was drawn and bony.

“Oh, no...” she sighed. “No, Dad....”

She stumbled back and hurried over to her mom's pod right next to Dad's, yanking the lever and stepping back to let it open as well. Mom's pod was in little better shape, with the same odor that Max knew now was decay. The pods were air-tight and hermetically sealed, but that hadn't stopped at least a small amount of breakdown. She saw her mother's face, a hideous mask pulled tight over her skull, and she fell to her knees.

“Oh, God...” she sobbed. “Mom.... Dad.... Who did this?”

It hadn't been meant to be this way. The vault was supposed to be a safe place for them to ride out the war, a place they could hide and live out their lives in relative comfort. Instead, they'd been stuffed into some sort of...cryogenic containment pods. But to what end? Why had they been here long enough for the vault to fall into disrepair? Why had the vault even been allowed to fall into disrepair? Where were the scientists, the doctors, the overseer? Where were all the people that had been here when Max and her parents had arrived? Why had they just been...left here to die!?

She didn't know how long she was there, kneeling in front of her parents' lifeless bodies, but the soft hiss of an opening door alerted her to at least one other person still alive an in the vault with her. But...were they friendly? Or were they with whoever was responsible for whatever had happened to the vault? Max still wasn't entirely sure what had happened, but it was definitely something awful. She crept back toward her pod and tucked herself away behind it, listening carefully. Quiet footsteps sounded along the metal floor, splashing softly in the water pooling across the warped surface. Then she heard a voice, a voice familiar to her but so far removed from where her mind was that it was jarring at first to hear.

“Nothing in here, either. Should we even check the terminal?”

“Hm, maybe,” another voice said. It was unfamiliar, but the first speaker was someone Max knew only too well. What was Chloe Price was doing here, all the way across the country from where Max had last parted ways with her? How had she even gotten here? Was it really her or just a soundalike? Max chanced a peek from behind her cover and saw two females around her age standing at the terminal near the entrance to the long room. The taller of the two certainly matched Max's last memory of Chloe, a goodbye that currently seemed a lifetime ago. The other had sandy blonde hair pulled into a loose bun, the only feature Max could make out from here. Both were wearing Vault-Tec blue jumpsuits like the one Max herself wore, with bright yellow numbers signifying Vault 111 emblazoned across the back. They were speaking to each other in low voices that Max couldn't make out, but after a few moments, Chloe spun and had a gun out, aimed down the row of pods.

“Alright, who the fuck's there?” she asked in a raised voice that echoed off the metal walls around them. “Come out, hands where I can see them!”

“Chloe...” Max sighed, keeping her hands up, trembling though they were. She stood and made her way out into the aisle, her eyes swimming with tears. Chloe shimmered and warped before her as she blinked back warm wetness that spilled down her cheeks, sniffling. “It's...it's me....”

“Max?” Chloe gasped out, and through the haze of her tears, Max saw Chloe lower the gun back to her side. “Max, what's...oh.... Oh, holy shit, Max....”

And then Max was swept up in a hug, pulled into an embrace that had her sighing in relief, arms falling limply to her sides for a moment before she reached up and hugged Chloe as tightly as she could, with everything she had. Because Chloe was all she had right now. Something had happened, something had gone wrong with the vault, and whatever it was had taken her parents from her. But Chloe was here, and that meant that everything was at least okay. It wasn't perfect, but it was okay.

“Max, what happened?” Chloe asked, slowly extricating herself from the embrace and peering down at Max, who took a moment to drink in the sight of her estranged friend. Chloe had grown taller, had developed into a young woman in the few years she and Max had spent apart, but she still had the same beautiful features, those amazingly blue eyes, and her trademark blonde hair (though shorn up to her chin instead of draped over her shoulders). Next to Max, with her mousy brown locks and general average appearance, Chloe was like a model, tall and lean.

“Chloe...we should get out of here,” Chloe's new friend pointed out with a concerned look at Max. “I don't think there's anyone else...we can bring with us.”

“Oh, God,” Max gasped. “My parents.”

“Max...let's just get out of here, okay?” Chloe told her, gently dragging her toward the door. “C'mon, the entrance is back this way.”

“What happened?” Max asked, stumbling along behind her friend. “Why did this happen?”

“I don't know, Max,” Chloe said with a shake of her head. “I really.... I don't know. But we'll be okay, understand? We're gonna be okay. We just have to get out of here.”

Max allowed herself to be led back out of the room full of cryo pods, the hi-tech port-a-potties. Had it really only been minutes ago that she and her father had been laughing about the comparison? It felt like it.... It sure didn't look like it, though. Where had this layer of grime and rust to everything come from? Following Chloe back along the hallway to the main entrance area where she and her parents had been given their vault suits only minutes ago, she found only skeletons and a fine layer of dust floating in the air.

“Oh...oh, no,” Max said, stumbling forward and staring out over the entryway she'd come in through less then half an hour ago. It had to have only been half an hour, and even then...it only barely felt that long to her. Why, then, was everything so...old-looking? What had happened?

“The door is sealed shut,” Chloe's friend said as they paused on the metal scaffolding leading up to the staircase at the entrance to the vault. The staircase itself was now on the other side of a large metal door that had been sealed in place since the last time Max had been here. It looked like a bank vault door, though massively bigger and thus much harder to move. “We'd need a Pip-Boy to get out.”

“What, are we just gonna find one laying on the ground or something?” Chloe snorted, and Max spotted something on the metal pathway she'd followed into this place. A skeleton was sprawled along the width of the path, and lying on the floor with a bony wrist through it was a Pip-Boy.

“Um...I think I just did,” Max said, picking up the Pip-Boy. She'd only heard of them before. RobCo had developed Pip-Boys as a personal computing device, with nearly all of the functionality of a home terminal device, along with a geosynchronous positioning device, vitals-scanning functions, and even a personal radio. As Max picked it up, a back-lit green screen flickered to life, showing the device's various functions as tabs up at the top. It flopped open as she moved it in her grip, peering over at Chloe and the stranger. “Um....”

“Put it on,” Chloe insisted. “There's a plug you can use to open the door, I think.”

Max shook loose a few random small bones, trying not to think about the fact that she was attaching this thing to her wrist after finding it on a literal skeleton. Fastening the Pip-Boy around her left forearm, she took a moment and watched as the device read her vitals, showing things like heartbeats per minute, blood toxicity levels, and...limb integrity? That didn't seem promising. In any case, there were more important matters to attend to.

Reaching for the back of the device, she located a retractable cord and drew it out with a muted whirring sound, plugging it into a small console near the staircase. A new option appeared on the Pip-Boy, appropriately titled Vault-Tec Door Interface, and on the console, a singular red button, larger than others, lit up brightly. Taking the cue, Max pressed it, and a deep, grating alarm sounded, yellow lights flashing and filling up the small entryway. A massive metal arm unfolded from the ceiling, fitting into the very center of the vault door. As the metal arm rose back upward, it pulled the vault door with it with an earsplitting grating sound, and the huge round thing rolled to the side, allowing the metal bridge Max had passed over before to unfold and form anew, leading them toward the lift that had brought them down here in the first place.

“C'mon,” Chloe said. “Let's just get out of here.”

“Agreed,” her new friend spoke, and Max could only nod, too afraid to attempt to speak after the emotional day she'd just had. Chloe took the initiative and grabbed Max's hand, leading her toward the lift, which like everything else in this vault, was fit to rust into pieces. Max wasn't so sure about trusting the elevator after such a...a long time had obviously passed, but she needed to get out of this place. Whatever was happening above ground had to at least be better than this place. Hopefully.

The made their way down the stairs leading to the vault and stepped onto the lift. Chloe found another lighted red button and nearly punched the thing in an effort to press it. There was yet another klaxon-like alarm noise as the vault prepared to take three of her clients topside, and the metal platform lurched under Max, taking her and her two new companions up with it.

It was time to find out what had happened, both to the world and to Max's world.