Beyond the Vault

The Lead

*TW: Gore, PTSD, Traumatic recall*

It was just Dogmeat and me. Walking through the old and dusty roads, peering at the deserted streets of former Lexington. We've been traveling for about a day, and our supplies were scarce.

Yet again, I didn't have much for food and water to begin with.

I took my backpack off and looked inside, cursing under my breath as it was nearly empty, save for my knife, a beer bottle, a box of Fancy Lads and a can of pork and beans. Dogmeat sensed my anger, and nudged my arm, trying to comfort me. I smiled, gently rubbing his head. "It's okay, buddy. We just have to find some food."

He suddenly started sniffing the ground, and following his nose, as if following a trail. My curiosity peaked and I followed him. At the end of the trail, we stopped at the somehow standing ruins of a Super-Duper mart.

The coloring was more faded on the painted metal and concrete, but looking through the grimy windows, the place looked rather intact, and some things were seen on the shelves. "Well, it's worth a shot."

We walked into the dilapidated building, my gun at the ready in the case of danger. Dust and cobwebs lingered on every shelf, save for a few empty containers and bottles. Though, I did manage to find the occasional box of Dandy boy Apples, or the bottle of Nuka cola.

A constant noise was always heard, which gave me plenty reason to keep my guard up. Dogmeat started growling, and I turned to what he was looking at. My jaw dropped as I saw it. A limping figure, something of a humanoid, its mass of flesh slowly dropping to the floor as it looked at me. Without a second thought, it ran at me. I fumbled for any kind of weapon to throw, but the dog rushed to the being, launching himself at its neck and tackling it to the ground. He killed it within seconds, and looked up at me.

We continued searching through the ruins of the supermarket, running into more of the creatures and taking them down as we went. Reaching the storage units, I stumbled upon a few crates. Some open, with all the containers broken into or moldy, others shut, with a few packaged foods remaining intact. I went to the stashes, but heard a noise.

Dogmeat growled again, and I raised my weapon, on guard as I stepped closer. On the other side of a stack of boxes, a person was there. He wore a stained button-down flannel shirt, aside from a pair of slacks, and he was in his mid to late 80's, but looked healthy for his age. His hair was disheveled, soaked with sweat along with the rest of his face as he stuffed a handful of potato crisps into his mouth. He flinched as I stepped closer.

That's when I noticed something weirdly familiar. The look on his face. It was as if he knew me. Oddly enough, I somehow knew him. He whispered with wide eyes, "You..." At this point, I was confused. "Do I know you?"

"You... You don't know me?"

I shook my head in confusion, wondering why he was so anxious around me. Just as he let out a sigh of relief, it came back to me.

He was in the vault when Nate died. Guy looked way younger when it happened, but I knew he was there.

My temper flared, and I wasted no time raising my gun and shooting his leg. He yelled in pain as his leg combusted after the gunshot. Blood pooled on the floor where his foot used to be, and I walked closer to him, my shotgun raised. He whimpered, looking up at me in fear. Dogmeat stood behind me, growling at the sudden threat.

I glared at the man on the ground and readied myself to shoot again before he raised his arms in defense and yelped, "P-Please, no! I-I-I'm sorry for your husband, I swear! It wasn't supposed to happen, but-" I inched the gun closer to his face, silencing him as I spoke in a threatening tone.