Spectacle Island: A Fallout Story

Do I Hope?

"Shut up!"
"Get off the island, you're not welcome here!"
"Hey!"
"No- no~ stop!"
"Get out!"
I approach the chaos ensuing on our island, Piper and Nick not too far behind me.
I can't believe this.
"Stop it!" I scream at the top of my lungs and bang; I shoot a warning shot into the sky. "What the hell is going on?" My voice sounds hoarse as many eyes find me standing in utter confusion.
MacCready whips his head towards me with angry eyes, his gun drawn on a teenage boy.
I look past him.
The people who sit in the boats look gravely ill, with blue pustules all over their skin, except for the boy. He's got his smooth arms out, defending his people.
He has long black hair, wavy and soft like a river. Our gazes meet and I am greeted with fearful sharp brown eyes.
... his face looks familiar.
A chill runs down my spine.
"MacCready, put your gun down," I throw my hand in his direction, dismissing his merc behaviour.
"Who are you," I ask as though it weren't a question, dropping my gun.
He backs up, his gangly neck bent and his long hands up.
"You don't understand, we~" he turns around to look at his people.
"Help me understand," I interrupt him, stepping forward, absent of aggression. "Despite how you were greeted, we don't wish to hurt you."
"Yea, okay. I was getting to that, Lady," he snarls with a curled lip.
"Continue," I gesture with my hands.
"We've been on the run for weeks. Diamond City is gone; Goodneighbor won't take us; Settlers all over won't take us. We need~"
"Yea, I wonder why," MacCready intervenes with a dirty scowl.
"Grr, shut up," he barks back like the moody teen he is. "Yeah. We're sick. So what? Isn't the whole commonwealth?"
"Not like that," Syd cries, pointing a white finger at the horribly discoloured ghosts crowded on the large canoe.
"I see," I calmly state, crossing my arms.
I start to feel ill myself just in the presence of these people. "So why aren't you sick?"
He hangs his head; almost as if it were in shame or guilt.
"That doesn't matter," he shoots back up with determination in his eyes, "Just please, help us."
"No, Bea- No." MacCready jumps infront of me, holding my arm in a death grip. His eyes tell me of a deep apprehension. "We can't. I~ I know that disease. We- we~" he stutters. "They're hopeless."
I've never seen him like this before.
"Oh god," I hold my face in my palm.
A hard metal hand grasps my shoulder, lending me a little support.
"Bea..." Nick speaks into my ear, "You don't have to do this. That sickness would kill all of us."
"Cept you of course," MacCready laughs in a painful tone, pulling away from me.
"Can it," Nick growls.
"God," MacCready cries with a crack in his voice and anxious expression.
I think I can see him shaking.
"You're gonna do it, I know you will; you're gonna let them stay here. Oh god, no. No. We can't cure them, we can't cure them."
What is going on?
"MacCready...?" I reach out to him, Nick's hand slipping off my shoulder.
"Don't touch me!" He snaps, his eyes as wide as dinner plates and his body tense as a wooden plank.
Then, he storms off, anxiety biting at his heels.
Both groups stand in a painful silence.
"He's right! We can't take them!" The voices of Spectacle Island break the spell.
I look at the boy.
He looks at me.
I feel for him; I really do.
"What's your name?" I ask him, dismissing the wayward voices.
"Cliff."
My heart nearly jumps out of my chest.
Cliff.
Cliff was my son's name.
"... Cliff?" I whisper, tears pricking my eyes.
He looks at me with a deep confusion with a nuisance of disgust.

~

I slowly awoke in the cold crisp air, my body sore and stiff. I didn't even have a moment to emerge from my confusion. My eyes instantly stuck to a burly man standing in front of the cryogenic sleeper across from me.
Ed and Cliff were both inside...
All I could do was watch as my family slowly defrosted, strangers hands waiting outside their cryogenic sleeper, intentions unknown; the white jackets beside him were most certainly allied with his actions.
"...what?" I watched my husband awaken from a dream like state, Cliff tucked away in his arms.
The burly man in brown wasted no time, yanking my tiny little cub out of Ed's arms.
"No, no!" Ed pulled our baby back to his heart; a distressed, frantic look on his face. "Grr! No!"
"Ed!" A white, frosty breath reaches out to the frigid glass, my screech muffled.
He looked up with an expression I had never seen him wear the whole 7 years I had loved him. Our eyes locked for the last time; that instant felt like an entire era.
Bang.
His head fell and his body went limp, surrendering our son to the assailant. I watched a trail of blood drip down his blue vault suit with an all consuming black horror.
"Ed!" I released a scream, a with a hoarse dry voice, my weak hand banging against the glass. 
The dirty man stared at me through the glass, Cliff snug in his arm.
I'll never forget his dirty smile.
I'll never forget Ed's bloodied body... limp in the sleeper.
I'll never forget how helpless I was, drifting back into a frigid dream; my life torn apart before my eyes.  I only heard my sons cry as I was frozen back into a timeless sleep.

~

I twitch.
"Yeah," he backs away. "What's it to you?"
My heart twists.
It can't be him.
Can it?
My heart is split in two; my intuition can't be of any help.
How could I feel clearly in this storm of emotion?
"... I..." I look back at him. "It's nothing," I wipe away my tears, deciding for my confused heart.
There's just no way it's him.
"Bea," Nick reaches out to me, a concerned expression written all over his synthetic face. "We need to decide."
"Yeah, I know, Nick," I snap at him, looking at the boy who could be mistaken for my son. "I'm sorry," I step towards Cliff and his people, "but we can't take you."
"No, no. Please. We're gonna die out there..." he falls to his knees; he's reached the end of the road. His dark brown eyes beg me for mercy and trust. "If we're fated to die, at least give us a peaceful death..."
I sharply exhale, my heart speckled with cold, black spots.
I have no clue what to do.
... wait.
"Cliff... I may be able to make a compromise..." I look up, troubled to my very core. "Come up to the fire."
"No! You can't do this!"
Indistinct voices chatter in disagreement.
"Bea... are you sure?" Nick whispers in my ear.
"...no," I mutter.
I walk up the path with a trauma roosted heavy on my shoulders; the boy close behind me.
I'm surprised the most painful thing is... the hope he might be my son.