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“I- I can’t believe we’re actually up here! Like actually on the surface! No longer in the vaults!” Chet was saying the obvious, but in this instance Norm couldn’t even blame him. “It’s so… big!”
The desert tundra went on for miles upon miles. Unending in every direction. It was nothing like the simulation they’d been exposed to, the farm life nonexistent on a surface covered in radiation. However, there was still plenty to look at. Half dilapidated buildings, old technology that had been scrapped of anything to make it function, radiated skeletons frozen in time of their last moments. Things that vault life had shielded Norm and Chet from.
(Except for what they’d seen with their vault neighbor… the bodies… the ruin. It was eerily similar to what they were seeing now but he put that to the back of his mind.)
They had a mission, not their “life mission” the vault gave them, but one Norm found far more important.
Find his sister, Lucy, and save her from whatever “trouble” she’d mentioned in her barely audible message. He wasn’t sure if she’d found their father, only that she learned something that changed everything.
He’d been on the verge of his own breakthrough but if she reached out he needed to diverge. She’d been an overachiever in every aspect (besides in the gun range- but everyone had their vices) so if she’d tried to get help…
He held back a shudder. He’d never considered himself very motivated but his family was a different story. He was not going to lose another person, especially not his sister who’d always pushed him to be better.
“Holy-Holy crap-” Speaking of family.
“Where… where are we supposed to go? How are we supposed too…do anything? What if we can’t reach her? What if she’s dead-” He couldn’t have Chet continue that line of thinking. That’d only lead them both into an early madness.
“We have an approximation of where she is,” She sent out her coordinates, if she planned on staying around the same place (which made sense in this case) then they could reach her quickly. “So we do know where we’re going.”
Norm knew he would not be able to survive in this harsh environment alone. He was clever but cleverness alone wouldn’t protect him.
(He hid . People he’d grown with all his life had died around him, his father had been kidnapped, his sister injured, and all he could do was hide away. He heard each gunshot, each scream, and it pounded into his chest.)
Chet could ignore the harsh truth for a sweet lie. He would follow directions.
He could throw stones from a glass house but he needed his ally (he also needed someone who he trusted, despite his flaws he knew his heart was in the right place). It came to the other truths about his character. He was strong, he cared greatly for Lucy, and (for some reason) he trusted him as a leader. Or, at the very least, a leader for this journey in front of them.
“But what if she’s d-“ He really wasn’t letting up on that scenario, was he?
“She’s not,” His stomach twisted into knots.
If this world could take out his sister then no one would survive. no matter how much she was accustomed to their way of life he knew she could adapt. She had the mind and capability to go beyond what the vaults had “pre-programmed” them to be.
And Norm, with Chet by his side, had it too.
“Come on, I’m supposed to be the pessimistic one. So let’s get to Lucy. She’s counting on us.”
*
The first problem they had was not the people of the wasteland, the radiation, or even the heat. It was the giant damn bugs.
“Cockroaches” (though they must have evolved to something greater, as they were not like their pre-bomb counterpart in size) pesky disgusting things, now climbing on top of Norm. It was a struggle, the thing was currently biting into his suit but was aiming for his neck. Luckily all it could do was bite into his hand as he shielded himself (Unluckily it hurt like a son of a bitch)
He had no real experience in shooting (his father had made him go to the training ground so many times yet he could count on one hand how many times he actually fired anything). Nor did it help that he was physically small and no matter how many times he wanted to punch the thing he was more concerned it would take advantage of his sudden vulnerability.
In short, he was wriggling around attempting to shake it off. If someone was watching him he’d look like an idiot.
He glanced to his side, his companion seemed to be equally struggling. It seemed as if in the chaos of being attacked, Chet had dropped his gun. It lay uselessly on the ground and all he could do was use his fists.
For a moment, the worst case scenario dawned on him. This brave mission, to save his Sister from whatever danger, was a loss within the first hour due to some radioactive bugs.
But the worst case scenario did not account for his companion’s strength.
He watched as Chet’s fist went through the first one. Its final cry a hiss as it practically exploded from the impact. The second fell to the same fate. The remaining three were kicked, jabbed, and finally with the gun picked up, shot.
“Don’t- don’t waste any more ammunition if you can kill them without!” He did think, to himself, how impressive he was taking these things out so quickly. And how striking he looked in the heat of the moment.
Before he could say anything more, the roach clamped down harder. Revenge for its fallen brethren, he felt it go through his suit. Its teeth, or whatever a roach had, digging into the flesh of his chest.
Chet raced over to him, kicked the roach off the top of him, and smashed his foot reppedtively into it before it ceased to move.
“Holy crap- holy crap those things are nasty!” Chet said, suddenly aware of the mess of bug guts and trying to get it off his clothes and hands (very unsuccessfully).
Norm’s heart beat against his chest, his whole body tensed up refusing to relax, his flight or fight useless in this scenario. He didn’t run. He didn’t attack.
He waited.
He was rescued. And as Chet continued to shake his hands like a dog shaking itself after a bath- he tried not to notice the sweat glistening on his face. Nor the panted breaths escaping his lips.
He was not imagining those lips against his. He was not imagining him grabbing and manhandling him against the vault doors. Whispering into his ear.
He took a deep breath. Steadying his trembling body and his throbbing heart. Reminding himself they couldn’t stay there all day. Reminding himself that he was not the MacLean Chet was infatuated with.
He felt that burning chest pain again. The one that consumed him the nights he realized he may never see his sister or father again. That crept up when he stared out at where the massacre of his vault took place. When he looked into the eyes of the Raider’s who had no regrets over the people they’d killed.
Bile rose to his throat. He swallowed it down with all the other emotions he kept in the deep pit of his stomach.
“Hey,” It was softly spoken, it was much different then the almost comical tone when the reality that the roaches ‘goo’ had covered him “Norm? Norm, you okay? How bad did it get you?”
He had to focus elsewhere. Not the burning, not Chet’s handsome face, and not even how his physical body had been affected.
“… There’s something sticking out of the one that attacked me. In its abdomen,” He scooted over, ignoring the continued look of concern.
With a sigh, and a thought of “wow, he was right this is gross”, he plucked a small bag out of it. As the bag was halfway digested its contents fell as he picked it up.
Bottlecaps.
Must’ve thought it was food. Or the person it belonged to was food.
“How the hell do you notice this stuff?”
They’d always assumed in class his disinterest meant he never paid attention. Really it was the opposite, he knew much more than he should just simply because he was bored enough to notice the little things.
This talent also helped him when just post-attack, noticing something was off with the literal mutant creature he’d just learned existed five minutes ago.
He didn’t answer his question. He picked up the caps, shoved them in his suit pocket, and motioned for him to keep moving. There was a pange of guilt as he watched his distraught gaze following him…
But a good Vaultie Follows orders.
*
It was freezing.
When the sun had set they’d settled down, shared a can of cram, and were huddled side by side. Despite their close proximity they’d hardly talked.
The day had been exhausting. While they’d, luckily, hadn’t been attacked again they’d trudged through without stopping. The vault was cushy. It didn’t have harsh beating down sun that burned into their pale skin.
It didn’t have an unforgiving breeze that sliced through his suit, leaving them too cold to sleep.
“You know, we should make a fire,” Chet finally said, an hour of just sitting had gone by.
“It’ll attract attention. We don’t need that right now,” He didn’t mean to snap as harshly as he did, but he noticed the other man wince as if he’d gone ahead and slapped him.
“Even a little fire? Just to warm up? How about to see the wound you have? If it gets infected-“
“It’s barely a scratch,” He insisted.
There was a beat of silence before he heard him mutter something under his breath.
“What?”
“I said, for being so smart you're acting so stupid right now.”
Now that was unexpected. His face flushed, his ears turning red in his embarrassment.
“Chet, a fire will attract people here. As simple as that…” His voice trailed off “But, we could huddle for warmth? I mean, actually huddled not just sitting side by side.”
They awkwardly laid on the ground together, chest to chest. Of all the things Norm had thought of bringing, for some reason a blanket hadn’t crossed his mind. They had sleeping “bags” (they were the most uncomfortable material known to man and could barely fit Chet due to his height) but they’d hardly be effective with their positioning, instead they were draped over as if they were blankets.
“When I said you were acting stupid,” He whispered, their faces close enough it was as if he was talking on him “I didn’t mean the fire. I’m just… worried. About you.
Why? Why? Why?
Why did he have to say such almost romantic things? Because they couldn’t be romantic, not really. The man was head over heels for Lucy (and if not her then he’d wind up with Steph). He wouldn’t deny himself that at one point he’d had a crush, it was something that happened when you spend your whole life looking at the same people.
At least this person was closer to his age then others.
But he’d shoved that crush down, buried, burned, and pretended it didn’t exist. There was no way it would be requited… no…
“Don’t be. It was a bug,” If they got stopped by roaches, then the people they’d find would only be worse “We’ll face bigger problems, then we can both start worrying.”
He didn’t look satisfied. He just looked at him with those sad eyes of his. The ones he got when he’d failed a test in school. When Lucy first started talking about “practicality” and how she wanted to see about getting a husband from the other vault. The eyes of the man who no longer was able to be in control of the gate.
Puppy dog eyes. A very tall puppy but he could see the resemblance.
“Do you think we’re cut out for this kind of thing?”
There it was.
“We have to be.”
“You’re very brave, Norm.”
He tried to keep his face neutral. To not let his lips betray him. Though he could not stop them as they trembled.
He’d been called a trouble maker (not accurate, he rarely stirred up a commotion), a slacker (more accurate), a shut in (weren’t they all?), and a “displeasure to be in class” (he shrugged that one off, his father did not).
One of his earliest memories was during one of the vault drills. He had no idea what was happening- all he knew was it was loud, his sister had a weapon strapped to her belt, and his Father had looked stressed.
He did not follow drill protocol, apparently, as tears welled up in his eyes and he grabbed at his Father’s hand. He didn’t know where else to turn to.
He’d made the wrong choice.
He remembers the scolding then. The way he shrunk down and felt even smaller then he was (which was a measly 35 inches) He remembered the apology a day later but it was layered with a lesson on how he was wrong.
“Think about a machine, Norman, if one cog doesn’t turn the whole thing ceases to work. Don’t be the cog that breaks the machine.”
It did not inspire him, his Father never had.
An apathetic boy. An apathetic teen. An apathetic adult.
Brave
Chet was supposed to be a sheep. He’d turn his head and look the other way when they started uncovering the truth about the vaults. Even if deep down the horror of the situation dawned on him.
But he threw that away to let Lucy out of the Vault. He further buried himself leaving with him. Would they let them back in, knowing they disobeyed?
There was no way of knowing.
“You’re…” He found himself burying his face into his chest, it was so much easier to say when he couldn’t see his face “You're being very brave, too.”
Arms wrapped themselves around him, no more words came but there was a comforting heartbeats that lulled them both to sleep. A well deserved rest.