(Fallout Novel) Chapter 11: Way Back Home

Chapter 10: Out of the Park & Under the Wire

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There were a million questions running through my mind, none of which I had any answers to. How on earth were we supposed to find this thing? And what were we going to find at her father’s place that the Institute hadn’t found already? I wished there was another way out of this, but If the Institute was after this vault, then it just might be everything Ilya said it was, and in the hands of someone like the Director… 

I shuddered to think. 

Just remembering the mad glint in his eyes was enough to send shivers down my spine. All my years in the Brotherhood of Steel had told me stories of Old World scientists and their wicked experiments, but nothing could have prepared me for that kind of evil face to face. 

“So,” I said as we walked along the empty boardwalk, “What’s your plan? Once we get to your father’s house, that is.”

“Hmm? Oh, well we find whatever message he left for me and follow that to the Conduit, and then to the vault! Easy enough, right?”

“Ugh… and you made fun of my plans,” I groaned. 

“Hey, I didn’t know anything about this vault until yesterday, so I have an excuse, what’s yours?” She smirked as she climbed atop the river wall and balanced along the edge. 

“Can you at least tell me who else knows about it?” 

“No idea, it was a top-secret project so no one should have known. That’s why this has to be the work of the Order. I’ll bet the Institute is working with them, or for them, or something. I mean, if they approached my father for help, why wouldn’t they enlist the aid of others?”

“Great, so anybody then. Just like a madman to send his only daughter after the most dangerous and valuable vault in all the Wasteland, and without a clue no less.” But before I knew it, Ilya was inches from my face, stopping me in my tracks.

“My father is NOT a madman! He was a kind and brilliant soul who sacrificed everything for me and I will not have you insulting his memory,” she said with an indignant huff. 

“Hey, whatever you say. I just wouldn’t be so sure about that if my dad worked for Vault-Tec…”

“What’s that supposed to mean? I’ll have you know my father was one of the heads for the Societal Preservation Program, thank you very much! Why, I bet there are thousands, if not tens of thousands of people that have my father to thank for being alive today!” She finished with an air of pride, but it was all I could do not to roll my eyes. She really was the most naive girl in all the Wasteland.

“C’mon, take a look around. Do you really think this is what the world would look like if Vault-Tec was legit? They were all the same Ilya, the Institute, Vault-Tec… they’re nothing but power hungry monsters, willing to do anything to get ahead.”

“Not. My. Father.” The girl said stubbornly as she poked me in the chest. 

“Believe what you want, kid. I’m just telling you the truth,” I said as I shrugged her off and marched my way forward, leaving her fuming behind me.

We walked in silence for hours after that, which suited me just fine. I was able to concentrate on our surroundings and getting us to this place in one piece. Ilya had told me where the old house was, a riverside mansion overlooking the city. Girl must have had one sweet ride as a kid, that’s for sure, but I was more concerned with what might be living there now. Nice places like that rarely stayed empty for long.

It was then I decided to examine the gun I’d stolen from the Director. It felt bulky and unnatural in my hands, never having been partial to anything other than good old-fashioned steel, but at least it had ammo. I happened to have a few spare energy cells in my pocket and decided to reload just in case, but the releasing mechanism was stuck. I was so preoccupied, that I barely heard Ilya’s excited cry.

“There it is!” She yelled as I looked up. 

The home was immaculate. It was as if the war had barely touched it. Built in the early 1800’s, it’s sturdy stone foundation had stood the test of time, but it was clear from the boarded up windows that it hadn’t gone unnoticed.

I turned to speak to Ilya, when I realized she was no longer at my side. I looked and saw her running into the house and I felt a panic rise into my chest. What was she doing?! She had no idea what might be hiding in there! I quickly finished reloading and raced after her.

The foyer was empty save for a few old relics strewn about the floor, the place having been looted a hundred times over by now. I heard a thump coming from upstairs and I raced after it, too afraid to call out for fear of waking something up from the shadows. I blew past room after room of ruined elegance, a crystal chandelier shattered on the floor, a piano smashed to pieces, and even an old grandfather clock gutted for parts. At last, I spotted a light at the end of the hall. I tore open the heavy wooden doors and stood stunned at the scene in front of me.

Ancient blood stains covered the walls, the rancid smell of death permeating every inch of the room. Whatever happened here had been gruesome to say the least. Bloody scratch marks gouged the wood in a desperate attempt to get away, a futile effort by the looks of the bones that littered the ground.

This was the scene of a murder.

 I covered my mouth as my eyes watered from the stench. The entire study had been torn apart, but unlike the rest of the house, this didn’t look like some random looting. Every table had been turned, every book ripped out of place, and every drawer emptied out onto the floor. Someone had been looking for something. 

Ilya stood in the middle of the room, her eyes open wide and a hand over her mouth. I didn’t know what she was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this.

I walked up closer to her, worried how she would take it all, when I noticed she had something in her hand. It was a faded article, the Early Morning Edition dated the day the bombs dropped. I caught sight of the headline and grabbed it from her as fast as I could.

CULT KILLER STRIKES AGAIN!

Fear grips the city as the fifth member of the elite found dead in his home.

Corporate espionage. International infiltration. Ritual murder. 

These are just a few of the theories experts are speculating after the city of Boston has been rocked by the fifth death in five nights. Esteemed scientist and scholar Dr. Isaac Astor was discovered in his study at his riverside mansion by a concerned colleague when he failed to show up for work this morning. The police still have no leads on these heinous crimes, but assure the Boston Bugle that the public at large has nothing to fear. 

This reporter has his doubts.

Investigators have been evasive as to the manner of death, but have confirmed that all of the victims were high-ranking members of their respective organizations, and each had been found with “unusual markings” all over their bodies. Perhaps the most mysterious question is how the killer has managed to circumvent all security systems within the premises, leaving no trace of evidence behind. When asked for more information, officials stated that they couldn’t comment as the investigation was still ongoing, but asked all citizens to remain vigilant in reporting any suspicious or communist activity.

Looking at the faded picture of Dr. Astor, it occurred to me how serious this all was. Not that it wasn’t serious already, but Ilya’s father hadn’t just died in the blast, he’d been murdered… mere hours before the end of the world. I turned to Ilya to find tears streaming down her face, her body trembling as she pointed down lower in the article.

“These names… do you recognize any of them?” She asked, and I thought back to my squire days in the Brotherhood when we had studied Old World history, but nothing came to mind. I shook my head.

“West-Tek, Poseidon Energy, Big MT Company…” she went down the list. “These weren’t just any men, these were the men that ran the country. This was huge.”

“So the Order must have been cleaning house, huh? Tying up the loose ends before the bombs dropped. But why waste your time killing off doomed men?”

“Well maybe that’s just it, they weren’t doomed at all. They were all rich and powerful enough to have their own contingency plans for the end of the world. Maybe they were just preparing for the real war much later on…”

And that’s when it hit me. The Order had been planning for this all along… for the apocalypse. They meant for it to happen. This wasn’t some Old World plot rotting away in the dustbin of history, but a very present threat that had prepared for this exact situation, perhaps for this very moment…

“We shouldn’t be here,” I said as I spun around, ready to make a dash for the door, but just then I spotted something I hadn’t before. A tall glass of brandy sat on the table in the corner, fresh condensation streaming down the side. 

Suddenly, a door slammed somewhere down below. Slow, steady steps echoed down the ancient hallway as Ilya and I stood horrified. I drew my gun and held it tight, every creak of the house like needles on my nerves as the steps drew closer and closer…

At last, the doors opened. A figure entered the room, his long trench coat ghosting along the floor and a fedora hiding his face.

A shot fired out, followed by a scream.

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