August 3, 2274 – Two Years Later
Connie drifted down the hall, her nose apparently buried in a copy of Dean's Electronics. In reality, she was scanning the hall over the book. The classroom was just around the corner, and she hadn't run into Butch yet, maybe she would have a bit of luck today?
"I could show you a real Tunnel Snake, Amata."
"God Butch! Why won't you just leave me alone!" Amata stood a few yards away from the classroom, surrounded by the Tunnel Snakes: Butch DeLoria, Wally Mack, and Paul Hannon. She had her arms crossed defensively, her face impassive, but anger sparked in her eyes.
"What are you going to do Amata? Run and tell your Daddy on us?" Butch sneered – he knew she would do nothing of the kind.
Oh, she was pissed. "What the hell are you doing, Butch?"
The three boys had filled out a lot over the years. They now had a full-grown man's broad shoulders and muscle mass. Connie, on the other hand, seemed to be resisting puberty. Her face was thin and her body remained boyishly slender. It didn't stop her from wanting to punch the bastard in the face. One more black mark on her record, and she might never spend time with Amata again. Would Amata even want to see her if she let this continue?
"What are you? Her girlfriend? Ha!" He propped his left arm against the wall over Amata's head, and traced her face with his other hand. "Com'on Amata. You don't want everyone to think you're Red's girl now do ya?" Amata made a strangled sound.
Connie calmly walked up to the pair and reached out to pull Amata away, noting distantly that her hands were trembling with suppressed rage. Butch slapped her hand away. "Whatta you think you're doin' Red? Did I say she could lea-?"
Connie's fist darted out and struck Butch's face, cracking his head against the wall. He lunged, swinging wildly, blood trickling from his nose and split lip. She dodged the first two strikes; the third caught her upside the head. Amata was shouting, but she couldn't make it out over the ringing in her ears. A fist caught her in the ribs – Mack had circled around behind her. Connie hadn't thought about the other two. She kicked Wally in the gut, keeling him over, then spun back to deliver a swift jab to Butch's throat. She stomped on his foot, then danced away from a clumsy swing.
Thwock! The world exploded into white pain. A pair of work boots in Connie's vision (When did she get on the ground?) faded in and out, along with the voices. "Com'on boys, these bitches ain't worth our time." Butch's speech was unusually slurred; it seemed he had bitten his tongue at some point. A boot to the stomach cut Connie's satisfaction short. She curled in on herself, struggling for air. Panic flooded her chest as black crept into the edges of her vision. Then she knew no more.
Connie's eyes fluttered open. The light sent a bolt of pain through her skull. "Angh." She clenched her eyes shut.
"Serves you right. Idiot." There was no venom in the soft voice, and the light dimmed enough to open her eyes. Connie was in her room, which was nearly identical to Amata's room, minus any kind of decoration. Just a smattering of tools and books stacked on her dresser. Amata returned to her seat beside the bed (Connie supposed she brought it from another room). The young woman ran her hand through her disheveled hair, and Connie noticed how tired she looked. Not that it made her any less beautiful. Her baby fat was melting away; indications were she would be Vault sweetheart if the boys managed to brave her father.
"Are you feeling any better?"
Connie broke out of her thoughts. "I feel like I lost a fight."
Amata smiled weakly. "You broke a rib, your right hand, and had a minor concussion. Yeah, you lost. "
There was something wrong. Amata looked somehow lackluster, helpless… Connie forced herself to sit up, ignoring Amata's protests. "What happened?"
"What do yo-"
"Don't. Something happened after I blacked out. Tell me." Connie looked her friend in the eye, refusing to back down. Amata looked away first.
"My father said you wouldn't be punished. He told me to thank you." She ground out. "Then he said he was going to keep his promise."
"If she puts another toe out of line, I will personally see to it that they never speak again."
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November 8, 2274 – Three months later
Over the last few months, Connie discovered that Amata's absence left a gaping hole in her life. She'd always been independent, even a bit anti-social, so she was unprepared for the sensation of actually missing someone. No, 'missing' was too weak a term. The whole world had gone grey, cool like the steel and lights and whirring of machinery. Day after day after day of sameness and schedule. She pulled her cap down over her eyes as a chattering group of vault teens passed by, pointedly avoiding Connie. She mopped the same spot for the umpteenth time that week, then leaned on her mop and gazed through the diner window. The reason this hall was cleaner than ever before was taking a lunch break with several other supervisory track workers. Amata laughed at something someone said, probably a comment from the preacher's son, Todd Applegate. The young man had thick blond hair, classical features and bright blue eyes. At seventeen, he was the object of lust for over half the vault population. And he was sitting right next to Amata.
"Why, hello there, Constance. I was hoping you could come work on the heater in my room. The poor thing seems to have died again. I told young Freddie to take a look, but he seems to have forgotten."
Connie, plastered a smile on her face and face Old Lady Palmer, the woman had grown greyer over the years, but she was still prone to rambling. "Of course." Mrs. Palmer took it upon herself to escort Connie to her room, with a long one-sided "conversation" that consisted of Connie nodding at the appropriate moments. The old woman's room was quite different from any of the other residents'. It looked like someone had taken a grandmother's house from an old storybook and crammed it into Mrs. Palmer's tiny rooms. There was old hardwood furniture, lace and calico, porcelain figurines, and the like. The old woman seated herself on a maroon velvet couch with a cup of tea and watched Connie delve into the heaters works.
"You've seemed unhappy lately, Constance. Would you like to talk about it with an old woman?" Old Lady Palmer had been growing more and more rambling for years now, everyone knew it. She had her bad days and her good ones, but today she seemed unusually focused. Connie didn't look up from her work.
"There's nothing wrong ma'am. Just getting used to the work schedule."
"I'm getting old dear, but I'm not blind yet."
Connie sighed. What could she say? "When Amata is off, I'm working. When I'm off…" Actually, I'm always working.
Mrs. Palmer laughed. "Ahh, I remember when my Joe was alive… he was on the maintenance crew too you know. I worked in the hydroponic gardens, and we hardly saw each other for the first year after the Goat. We found ways to spend time together – you will too." Connie continued rooting around in the hater, but her face had taken on a thoughtful cast. Mrs. Palmer's face crinkled into a smile. "Ah, I have something for you. Wait here for a moment." Connie reattached the errant wire that kept Mrs. Palmer's heater from starting, but took her time screwing the cover back on. Even with her efforts, she found herself standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room with nothing to do but watch her host dig through piles of knick-knacks.
"I'm sure I put it around here somewhere… I must be getting old. No, I lost things like this when I was young too, why I remember the time…" The old woman continued chattering. "Here it is." Mrs. Palmer dangled the object before Connie's eyes. It was a heart-shaped locket, about as big as a silver dollar. The outside was silver, covered with intricate etching of flowers and vines. An ornate little key dangled from the chain next to it, and Connie belatedly realized that the key fit into a notch on the back. "My Joe gave this to me when we were young – it belonged to his mother. I want you to have it."
Connie couldn't remember being this touched in her life. "I… I can't take something like this Mrs. Palmer. Shouldn't Jonas-?"
"Jonas? He doesn't care about things like this... It's been broken for a long time, dear, and I don't have the skill to fix it. It would be a favor to me if you took care of it for me." Connie felt her will crumbling; she never could resist a good challenge.
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August 17, 2277- Three years later
"Wake up! Come on, wake up!"
Amata's face hovered a few inched over hers. Her hair was out of its usual bun, instead falling haphazardly around her face and shoulders. Three years had stripped away Amata's little remaining baby fat, revealing a facial structure that Connie bet came from her mother. Still fuzzy from sleep, she didn't notice the redness around Amata's eyes or the desperation underlying forced calm in her voice. Connie yawned and arched her back, stretching the night's stiffness from her muscles. "Come on, get up!"
Connie opened one bleary eye. "How strange… I was just dreaming about you." Amata's dumbstruck expression was completely lost on the sleepy girl. It really was nice to see her again after so lo- Wait. Connie bolted upright. "Holy- What are you doing here?" Weren't we going to meet on your birthday? And… sirens. Why are the sirens blaring? Amata's face crumpled, though Connie only caught a brief glimpse before the other girl buried her face in her hands. When she pulled them away, she was every inch the Overseer's daughter.
"Your dad… he left the vault! My father thinks Jonas helped him escape, so he had his men…" Her voice broke, but she continued. "My God… They just beat him, and beat him, and they wouldn't stop…" For a moment, Connie could do nothing but stare. She had never seen her friend this… fragile. She placed a hesitant hand on her friend's shoulder, rubbing her thumb in slow circles.
"You alright?"
"Yeah, I'm fine."Amata crossed her arms, an action that Connie remembered from their childhood together. She was not fine. The mask of the Overseer settled into place, and Amata continued speaking."I'm just sorry you had to find out like this. I know Jonas was your friend. But we've got to go now. My father's men will be here any minute!" Was. Strange how it took words like that to make the truth hit home. Connie's eyes burned.
"You're right. But… where can I go?" There is nowhere else.
The mask threatened to shatter again, but Amata kept herself under control. It hurt Connie to see the younger girl suppressing her emotions so fiercely – Amata should never have to do such a thing – but calm was what they needed. "I'm sorry, but I think you'll have to follow your dad. You have to escape the vault. Listen, maybe it isn't any of my business," Connie felt a sickening lurch in her chest. Of course it was her business. Weren't they friends? "but didn't your dad tell you that he was leaving? Where he was going?"
Of course he did! He tells me everything, Connie thought sarcastically. No, Amata didn't need to hear the kind of bitterness. Not from her, not now. "No."
"Oh." That one word, 'oh', and the sickening realization that Connie had nowhere to go and no one waiting for her outside. The fact was that Dad had left her there alone. With the crazy Overseer who hated her guts. "It doesn't matter, I can help you escape. I have my own plan!" Amata spoke with the old confidence, that… spark… that made Connie follow her where she would follow no one else. The corners of her mouth quirked up a bit. Even with all this happening, it was somehow calming…
"More of your 'plans', Amata?" Amata shot her a look, but her expression lightened a touch. Maybe.
"Listen, there's a secret tunnel that leads from my father's office to the exit. You'll have to hack the computer to open it. You're good at that." The strained smile made Connie wonder exactly how much Amata knew about her activities the last three years. "Use these to get into his office. That's how I always get in." She passed Connie a handful of bobby pins. "Here's D- Father's gun. I hope you won't need it, but you'd better take it… just in case."
"So I was a bad influence after all." Connie couldn't help herself, Amata was just asking to be teased, however inappropriate the time. She closed Amata's hand around the gun. "If he opened the door, there could be radroaches. You'll need it more than I do." She released the hand – not without reluctance - started moving around the room, stripping it of any useful items. Her baseball bat was a familiar weight in her hands. She rooted through her dresser for a pack and started shoving a mix of clothing, tools, and the contents of her medicine chest into the bag. "You should go… I don't want you to get caught." She whispered without looking up. After a moment's thought. She stuck the baseball, and glove into her pack, along with the crystal and knife she found on that ill-fated adventure so long ago.
There was a long silence. "I'll try to meet you at the door." The door's hiss told Connie of Amata's departure. Connie slipped the BB gun into a jury-rigged holster on her back, a necessity when trying to do repairs deep in the lower levels and fend off radroaches at the same time. She exited her room and slunk through the living room, keeping a white-knuckled grip on her baseball bat. The hall to her left was cut off, to her right was another branch one direction lead to the diner and atrium Officer Kendall was coming from the direction of the diner, a new swagger to his walk. Was he enjoying this? A trio of radroaches scuttled out of a burst-open air vent (Connie shuddered at the size of radroach needed to do that.) and pounced him. While his back was turned Connie darted into the girl's restroom across the hall. A low moan from the Mens' bathroom on in the next hall drew her forward. Paul Hannon Jr. was slumped on a toilet, his clothes ripped and torn, a metal pipe gripped in one hand. The fragmented corpses of radroaches surrounded him.
"You dumbshit." Paul's eyes drifted open, and the boy started at the sight of his former victim with a bat in one hand. "No! Stay down." Connie rummaged through her pack, looking for- ah, there it was – radroach antivenom. A necessity included in all maintenance crew kits. Preparing the injection was a familiar process, since her Dad once had ambitions for her to be a doctor like him. It was doomed to fail from the start; her bedside manner was nonexistent. Still, it helped her treat minor injuries, including radroach mauling. She gripped Paul's forearm and injected him before he could react. He grimaced as the burning sensation made it's way through his veins. "What the hell was that?" Connie was relived he didn't end the sentence with 'tunnel snakes rule'.
"It'll keep those bites from killing you." She gathered the object back into her bag and walked away before she could change her mind. Paul caught her arm. His earnest eyes caught hers, and Connie felt her face soften at the memory of the stuttering boy at her birthday.
"Thanks."
Connie gently pulled her sleeve out of his grip. "I've got escaping to do." She peeked around the corner and saw that Offer Kendall was gone, the radroaches dead. Where was –
"Thank God! Red!" Connie spun and would have brained Butch if he hadn't ducked. "Wait! Wait! I need your help!" His expression was agonized, so far separated from his 'gang leader' persona that Connie would have stared if she'd had the time. "My mom's trapped in our house with radroaches."
Ever heard of irony Butch? "I'll go take care of it. Paul's in there." She gestured in the direction of the bathroom with her bat. "Go get him."
Connie made short work of the roaches and tucked Butch's sauced mother into bed. Butch dragged Paul into the Deloria living room and and laid him out on the couch, after which Connie wrote out a few instructions on the contents on the infirmary medicine closet. Butch's sniveling thanks were enough to make Connie sick. She almost missed the old Butch. Still she took the jacket he offered her, seeing that the heavy leather offered at least a bit more protection than her jumpsuit alone. "You three stay here."
Her continued travels down the tunnels lead her past the Diner – she averted her gaze from the corpse being gnawed on by roaches, the scent of piss and blood making her stomach heave. She rushed past Stanley, Gomez and Andy battling even more roaches, but refrained from joining in when Andy broke out the flamethrower. Stanley caught sight of her. "You go for it little lady! We've got it under control here!" A swing from his crowbar snuffed out another roach.
Guards were posted at the door in the Atrium, Connie saw as she rushed past Tom Holden and his wife. She didn't know what stupid plan they had cooked up, but she doubted running away like a pair of frightened children when the first shots were fired was it. She was almost to the Overseer's office, when she heard the big man's voice echoing from the security room.
"Just cooperate Amata… I don't want to let Officer Mack have what he wants. He'll enjoy it far more than I will."
"Dammit, I already told you I don't know anything! Why won't you ever listen to me!" Amata's voice was more tearful than angry.
There was a smashing sound, metal against metal. "Because I know you're lying!" The overseer roared. "You would betray everything for that little bitch, wouldn't you?" Connie broke into a run, and reached the window in time to see the Overseer reach the peak of his insanity.
"Where is she?" He asked calmly, dangerously. Connie half expected him to be frothing at the mouth, but he looked so calm after his outburst that it was unsettling.
"I told yo-" CRACK!
Officer Mack left an imprint of his baton across Amata's left cheek. Connie was lost. There was no time for thought, she didn't even remember how she got into the room with Officer Mack laid out on the ground before her. He lay on the ground moaning and clutching his left leg. Connie slowly pieced the moment together. She'd cracked him so hard across his leg that she felt the bone shatter under the blow. She snatched up his gun and slipped his baton into her belt. Amata stood quivering, the gun clasped in her hand still trained on the man.
"Amata." She didn't reply. "AMATA!" The Overseer's daughter jumped, and the eyes that met Connie's were just a little wild. "You should go." Amata's eyes drifted to her father, who was watching them impassively with his arms crossed. Connie forced herself to relax and slipped the 10mm pistol into a free loop on her tool belt. Amata caught the silent implication, and left without a word. Connie watched her go, a sickening feeling in her stomach dousing her anger as she realized that Amata had seen a part of her she'd taken great pains to hide.
"I don't suppose you are here to turn yourself in?" Connie jerked her gaze back to the Overseer, she had almost forgotten he was there. Her lips curled into a cool smile.
"Yeah, right Overseer. That's exactly why I'm here." Every inch of her was trembling. It was taking sheer force of will not to crush his smug face in after what he did to Amata. Connie was abandoned, Amata tortured by the people they were supposed to trust most. "Guess they don't make dads like they used to." The Overseer flinched, she hadn't meant to say it, but the words clearly hit a mark. The Overseer – that was the only way she could think of him now – met her eyes, with a defiant gaze so familiar on another face.
She had to ask the question. "Are you going to hurt her?"
"She is a traitor to the vault." He forced the words out. Connie could almost see the duty strangling him.
"She's also the only one in this shithole who can take over after you." Connie coughed softy, what she was about to do made bile well up in her throat. "It was my fault. I made her tell me how to get out of here... with force and... stuff. Ya know, like a Security baton." Understanding dawned in the Overseer's eyes. They both knew perfectly well it was a lie, but it was the sort of lie that let him get out of punishing his own daughter. So he seized the chance with both hands.
The Overseer's smirk made her blood boil, even though she could see shame there as well. Dear god, she wished Amata would let her kill him. "She won't suffer further for your actions."
Connie walked out the door, but threw some last words over her shoulder. "You can wait here." The automatic door slid shut and she used her bat to smash the control box.
She smelled his body before she found it, the smell of excrement and blood. He lay sprawled on the floor in front of a desk, papers scattered around him. Jonas' white coat was soaked with blood and other fluids. Connie closed her eyes against the image. Something on the floor rattled against her foot. A holodisk. She shoved it into her pocket and moved on, because if she stopped she wasn't sure she could start going again.
A flash of movement caught her eye through an open door. Amata was sitting at her kitchen table, head in her hands, staring at the gun resting between her elbows. She only glanced up briefly. "I think… I think I would have shot him." She whispered in a hollow voice. A livid bruise was forming on her cheek and jaw. Heat welled inside Connie; a fraction less self control and two men would die that night. Amata looked up again, but wouldn't meet Connie's eyes for more than a few seconds. "Dad?"
"He's trapped in that room."
Amata closed her eyes. "Thank you. He wasn't himself, I'm not sure… Thank you."
"Come on." Connie took her shell-shocked friend's hand. I don't want to leave you here alone.
It only took Connie a few moments to pick the lock to the Overseer's office. It was a few more minutes to loot the lockers for ammo, weapons – even a few sets of armor. And the terminal password. 'Amata'. Crazy bastard.
She managed to get herself and Amata into a set of armor and down the tunnel with minimal fuss. Amata had retreated into herself, trailing after the redhead like a ghost.
Amata drifted after Connie, her thoughts swirling in unrecognizable mass. Amata didn't see what she did, but the door groaned and hissed open. Amata couldn't take her eyes off of it. She never thought she would see this door, much less see it open. "You opened it." She turned to face the older girl, and realized with a shock that Connie was watching her. A thought brushed the back of her mind: Connie's eyes had little flecks of green in them. She had never noticed before.
"Yeah." Suddenly Amata was caught up in a hug. "I - I'm gonna miss you." Connie whimpered. Everything came rushing home. Connie was leaving, going out into a world that all the stories said was certain death. This was their last goodbye. I don't want to let go. The pang of pain was almost more than she could bear.
"I'll miss you too." She managed to choke out, her vision blurring. Amata could hear shouts and pounding feet over the sirens. Connie let go first, and undid something around her neck. Something warm and metallic settled in her hands, and Connie managed a crooked half-smile.
"…It's gonna have to be early this year." Another quick hug, and Connie backed out the door, gaze trained on Amata alone as the door to their past life creaked and began to move. Connie hadn't asked her to come, wouldn't ask. She knew as well as Amata did that it was her duty to stay. To try and talk some sense into her father, to bring the vault back to order and protect it's inhabitants from the Overseer's wrath. Almost without thinking, Amata opened the locket in her hand, and to her immense surprise, it started to play. The song stopped her thoughts cold.
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… time goes by so slowly, and time can do so much…
Joe Palmer's beloved jukebox was playing his favorite song as he polished its silver trim to a mirror shine. The box stuttered to a stop mid-song. "Dangit." He grumbled. He scarcely noticed the young child who watched him open up the Juke, he was used to her sudden appearances by now. "Don't need to hover 'round the door like that lil'un - you can come and help, hm?"She did, of course. She'd yet to refuse an invitation.
Amata Almodovar was supposed to be playing hide and seek with the other Vault children, but she was a six-year-old on a mission. She kept seeing a pale figure out of the corner of her eye, but when she looked, there was nothing. The older kids said it must be a ghost, but Amata wasn't so sure. After about fifteen minutes of searching she had given up and was looking for a hiding place when a furtive movement drew her into the Diner. Mr. Palmer was working on his jukebox, and at his side was a little girl about the same age as Amata with a worn, one-eyed bear clutched to her side.. The girl watched raptly while Joe explained how a part from the guts of the machine worked. She was paler than anyone Amata had ever seen, with twig-like build and a cloud a fine copper hair. (In later years, it would darken to auburn. As if tarnished, Amata's adult mind would whisper, though she ignored it.) When the girl noticed her, she squeaked and darted behind Joe. One brown eye peeked around the mechanic's bulk. Mr. Palmer chuckled. "Aw, there isn't any reason to be afraid o' her lil'un."
Amata's curiosity was piqued. "How come I haven't met you before?"
The girl tightened her grip on Mr. Palmer's sleeve and mumbled something. Amata only caught a few words. "…was… sick."
She couldn't shake the feeling that she'd met the girl somewhere before. "What's your name?"
"Connie," came the tiny voice.
Amata grinned, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "I'm Amata. Nice to meecha. Wanna go play?"
Connie gave the other girl a wary glance, then looked up at Joe Palmer. "She's a nice kid lil'un. I can finish up here without your help, just this once."
With that, Connie nodded vigorously.
"Well com'mon then!" Amata grabbed her new friend's hand and lead her away, chattering about the fun things they were going to do together.
Joe Palmer cast a wry glance at the little bear that leaned forlorn against the jukebox. "Guess it's just you and me now lil' buddy."
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Schpink! Schpink! Schpink!
Amata had all forgotten about the rushing footsteps, but the gunshots brought them back to her attention with frightening clarity. She looked out the door and realized that COnnie hadn't left. She was just standing there... Connie jerked, struck once in her left leg, again on her right arm. For a split second she remained unchanged. Then she crumpled to the ground. "Connie!" The scream cut through the air like nails on a chalk board.
The door slammed shut; Vault 101 was sealed once more. Minus two former residents.
...I'll be coming home, wait for me…