Why was she so cold?

  The sun was shining outside, its golden rays angling down through the living room’s picture window, prismatic shards dancing across the new area rug they had just purchased. Tess Vanderbilt smiled as she remembered shopping with Nate just before they moved into their new house in the Sanctuary Hills housing development.

  The news was on, the caster droning on about something she couldn’t quite make out. The comforts of home—familiar sounds and aromas. The fiery jet of their Mr. Handy, Codsworth, floating about the kitchen. A newspaper being spread out. The smell of coffee.

  But she was freezing. Her body trembled so hard her teeth were chattering.

  Suddenly the vision of this idyllic landscape started to splinter and crack, like shards of a mirror breaking apart and scattering to the periphery of her awareness. A flash of memory… The sound of a computerized voice, people talking, the loud report of a firearm.

  Nate!

  Her eyes fluttered open and her body ached from the sudden rush of adrenaline as her heart raced. She looked around her. She was in some type of enclosure. Where was she? Looking out of the semi-frosted glass in front of her, she saw a row of other enclosures. And the one directly opposite hers was…

  No. No, that’s not right.

  She banged on the door of what she now remembered as being a decontamination pod and pushed on it, fear gnawing at the edges of her consciousness.

  “Let me out! Let me the hell out of here!”

  She felt the seals give way and leaned into it with all her might until it finally began opening with a hiss, the door moving upward, the pressurized chamber releasing her. Shivers wracked her body and she gasped for breath. Stepping from the pod, her legs gave out and she fell to the once-polished concrete floor. She closed her eyes, her thoughts still clinging to the last remnants of her home, her place of comfort.

  This isn’t real. It’s not real. Wake up Tess, wake the hell up!

  A mechanical voice echoing through unseen speakers broke into her thoughts.

  Critical failure in cryogenic array. All vault residents must vaca…

  It faded away against the loud pounding of her heart as she slowly got to her feet. Taking a few deep breaths, she looked around. No one was there. The bay she stood in housed ten pods, five on each side. There were no sounds save the faint hissing of the cryogenic feeds along the walls and some distant mechanical thrumming, like the heartbeat of a great beast.

  Biting her lip, she took a few more steps until she was finally within a foot of the other pod. Nate was frozen inside, his brown hair almost white with ice crystals. He was slumped over to his side, a bullet hole in his chest.

  A memory flashed into her vision... That voice. That raspy voice. She flinched. It was still not completely intact in her mind. “That man,” she growled, then flinched as another fragment surfaced. The man... the man who had shot her husband. He had come right up to her pod afterward and said “At least we still have the backup.” What the hell did that mean? Who was he, why…

  Swallowing hard she looked for a way to open Nate’s pod. Her nerves were raw, her breathing strained, her throat sore. That looping recorded voice wasn’t helping either. Her hands were shaking as her mind was trying to piece it all together.

  She finally found the lever for the pod, flipped it up and stood back as the door unsealed and slowly ascended. Her body was wracked with cold and horror as she stood transfixed, still not accepting what was before her. More fragments started to coalesce; the news, the Vault-Tec man at the door signing them up for a spot in their shiny new underground fallout shelter—Vault 111. The one she was in.

  The bombs! Oh god, where was Shaun? Where did those bastards take her son?

  Ducking under the door she looked at her husband’s lifeless body for some time until she felt something warm trailing down her cheeks. She absently brushed the tears away as she reached for Nate’s hand. It was so cold. Even more than she was, and a sweeping, dark terror enveloped her. The finality. The abject horror. The soul numbing confusion.

  Looking down, she caught a glint from his ring. A sad smile curled her lips as her wedding day played like a movie in her memory. They were so happy. Their families were there, friends, co-workers—everyone. It had been the perfect day, and the reception was once in a lifetime. She never knew she could be that happy. Until they had Shaun.

  With shaking hands she slid the ring from his finger then gently placed her palm to his face. She began to weep and fell to her knees. She wept until she couldn’t take another breath. Sobbing and choking, her body curled and slumped over. She lay in a fetal position wishing she were dead, tightly grasping Nate’s ring.

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  ***

  The sound of a baby crying jolted her awake. She looked around frantically, but the sound was gone. “Shaun?” she called feebly. On wobbling legs she returned to her husband.

  “I am going to find whoever did this and they are going to pay dearly. I will burn this world down until I find our son! I promise.” She knew Nate would want her to go on, would want her to find their son. But how could she do this without him? How could she go... out there?

  She slid his ring onto her thumb and started looking for the exit. After a few dead ends, she found herself in a room that adjoined what looked like a kitchen on the far end. There wasn’t much around, but she saw a baton on a crate and took it, some instinct telling her to be armed, prepared. But for what?

  Just as she flicked her wrist to open it, she heard a squeaking, scurrying sound and to her horror, what started to come toward her was a cockroach the size of a dog! Shock and disbelief froze her in place as she watched it begin running at her. Just as it jumped forward she swung the baton, cracking its exoskeleton, ooze spraying from its ruined body, and sent it flying across the floor.

  “What the fuck!” She felt nausea threaten to overwhelm her and almost dropped her weapon.

  How? Why was that thing... How was this possible?

  The biggest she’d ever seen was a couple of inches long and she almost demanded Codsworth use his fire stream on it until Nate had come to the rescue. God, she hated those things! But this one? She could have saddled it! Fear was a cold finger slithering down her spine.

  What happened here? Where was everyone?

  She moved forward slowly and more carefully, the baton raised in readiness, all the while fighting the urge to run back to her pod and sleep forever. But people had come and stolen her baby. Had murdered her husband. She must get out and find Shaun.

  There wasn’t much in the kitchen. Some empty beer bottles, an old coffee pot. The bunk room next to the kitchen was empty. The place was as quiet as a tomb, except for a deep humming sound like something electrical coming from the next room.

  Cautiously, she approached the door and it whooshed open. In the center of the room was a large utility unit of some sort. A transformer? It appeared to be malfunctioning as there were bolts of electricity, like a Jacob’s Ladder, hitting the floor in random intervals. Each zap caused her to flinch. She took a tentative step inside the door and watched as the next series of bolts hit something with a sizzle. It was another damn roach.

  Good, she thought. Fry the fucker! She shuddered again. Revolting.

  Making her way around a safety railing that enclosed the transformer, she saw another door on the far side. But right in front of it she spotted yet another one of the abominations. She looked at the roach, then the door. The only exit. Like some raving banshee she raised the baton and let out a curdling warrior scream, running at the thing for all she was worth. Her blow nearly tore it in half which made her stomach lurch, threatening to empty its contents.

  Closing her eyes she took some calming breaths until her pulse no longer felt like a jackhammer in her temples. Her eyes moved to a skeleton on the floor in a degraded vault suit and white lab coat. She knelt and read the name on the badge still clipped to the breast pocket. It belonged to the doctor who had led her family to the pods. She recoiled in disbelief, shaking her head in wonder and shock. Bodies did not decay to bone in days. It took a hell of a lot longer. It took years, she thought.

  Slipping through the next door, she heard the sound again. After more calming breaths she found her resolve.

  Fuck this place. And fuck these roaches!

  This time the roaches were easier as her determination overcame her phobia. In the following room was another of the staff, also tattered and bone.

  How many damn rooms were in this place!

  The room seemed to be an office of some sort with a large, U-shaped desk. It was mostly open space with a few filing cabinets and an adjoining room that had some dressers, a bed and a bathroom. There was a duffle bag on the bed which she took and stuffed with a 10mm pistol, some ammo, and some stimpaks that had been on the desk in the previous room. It took a minute to figure out the next door she had to pass through needed to be opened via the terminal on the desk.

  The next hallway was just fabulous.

  After dispatching the herd of roaches there, she went through a final door and discovered the exit chamber—hallelujah. More skeletons littered the floor, the furthest just ahead under what looked like a control panel of some sort. She spotted a Pip-boy on the grating under it. She had seen Nate’s but never really looked at it in detail. She clamped it onto her arm. It was surprisingly light for as hefty as it was.

  Glancing to her right, she saw the final barrier between her and the complete unknown. The large steel door to the exit, with its faded and peeling yellow paint, exposed metal, and the number 111 stenciled in a dull, dark grey, stood sentinel to an uncertain destiny.

  Should she open it? Would she die within hours from radiation sickness? How long did it have to be before it was safe? Had enough time passed?

  She closed her eyes, the questions swirling and crashing like a tidal wave. Then a memory reel played in her mind—Nate, the terrible man who had shot him, Shaun crying as a stranger ripped him from her husband's hands. Her eyes narrowed with anger. What choice did she have?

  Reading the instructions on the panel, she found the connector on the Pip-boy and slid it into the receptacle then hit the activation button. Klaxons started turning, shredding the darkened room with rotating orange light. An automated announcement commenced, warning against nearing the door. Machinery came to life with clunks and hisses as the multi-ton door began to move inward, then roll to the right. She squinted against the bright white light that began flooding the room.

  A grated gangway slid forward toward the opened passageway. She stepped onto it and slowly walked across. She saw the stairs down to a lift and remembered this was the way they had come in. Tears began to slide down her face again as fear and pain and grief battled for control. Gritting her teeth, she made for the lift. She would do whatever she had to to find answers—and mete out justice.

  Death be damned.