I had been so excited, I couldn’t fall asleep last night. And when I finally did, I was passed out until everyone else had left. But it hardly matters, because it is finally here. Reclamation Day!

I’ve been dreaming about this day for the last decade. I was just a kid when the bombs dropped, and I barely understood what was going on. But my parents had made it out like a grand adventure and, for a long time, that was what it had felt like. As I got older, though, I started to crave the sunlight. I still held tight to my last memory of the skies – blue, but in the distance was the roiling clouds of the bombs, quickly coming to overtake our homes.

There weren’t a lot of other children in the vault, at first. Only a handful of the couples had children before the bombs fell, and of those a few hadn’t made it in time. I had my best friend though, a girl a year younger than me, and we terrorized the halls of the vault. As we got older, the adults started putting us to work around the vault – cleaning up the bathrooms and the like, even though there was several perfectly good Mr. Handy’s around to do it instead. Something about building character.

Enough reminiscing, though. Today is Reclamation Day! For the first time in 25 years, the first time since I was barely 6 years old, I get to see the sunshine, the beautiful, hopefully blue, skies. I don’t think anything has ever excited me this much, not even when my best friend got married two years ago. She and her husband already left the vault together, leaving me to sleep. I found her farewell letter tucked into my door on the way out, and I’m going to do my best to meet up with her at Flatwoods. Fingers crossed.

I’ve got my trusty PipBoy on my wrist, already double checked to make sure it’s working properly. I would have spent longer picking out what to wear on this monumental occasion, but a Vault 76 jumpsuit is the only gear issued here.

This is it, I think to myself as I press the code in to open up the Vault door. There is no going back. Once those doors shut behind me, I can’t return.

I steel myself, holding up a hand to lessen the sting of the sunlight on my eyes. It isn’t as bad as I thought it would be, so those UV lights they have here must really work well to acclimatize eyes to sunlight. Impressed, nervous and excited, I start walking forward once the walkway clicks into place, my mind already racing through the interesting things I might end up finding out there, in what is no doubt a changed world. Not that I really remember what it was before, but I do remember safety. I don’t think I will feel that out there, not today.

As I step out of the huge door I am completely overwhelmed by everything in front of me. A few of my fellow vault dwellers linger around the entrance, looking as overwhelmed as I am feeling. I see Mr. Frances, my old survival teacher clinging to a railing like it is the only thing keeping him safe. His knuckles are white and his eyes are wide and wild as he looks over the landscape. Chewing my lip, I give him a wide berth – the changes must seem dramatic to him, although it doesn’t feel that way to me.

Nearby, I spot the body of someone I don’t recognize, wearing what appears to be a make-shift collection of armor and ratty clothing. Her hair is a knotted mess and the grime on her face suggests she had been living outside for a long time. Curious, I stride over and kneel next to the body, noting the seared laser holes in her chest that likely killed her. Next to her fallen hand is a crude pistol that appears to have been constructed from pipes, tape and wishes. I hesitate, my hand stretched to grab the pistol.

Is this really something I’m going to need? Is it that dangerous out here? I look again at the laser wounds in the woman’s chest and nod slightly to myself, my mind made up. If whatever did that to her is still out there, I need to be able to defend myself.

I grab the gun and slip it through my belt before rifling through her pockets to find some ammo. I only find a small handful, but it will have to do. Beggars can’t be choosers, and I don’t want to end up like her.

I stand, looking around again. All of the lingering vault dwellers have moved on, leaving only myself and Mr. Frances outside the vault entrance. I give Mr. Frances a brief wave, although he doesn’t seem to even notice I’m there, before I start to walk away. I hear a small noise behind me, the sound of a shoe on metal, and I turn back just in time to see Mr. Frances standing a top the fence. He turns his head to the skies and whispers something I can’t hear before stepping forward, off the railing.

My breath catches, “No!” I shout, sprinting back to the railing in time to see Mr. Frances hit the ground below. It wasn’t a far drop, but he had twisted himself to land on his neck and, from the awkward angle his head lay at, it looked as though he had broken it.

I stood there for a long time, looking down at Mr. Frances’ body. Numb, shocked. He had been so vibrant, so eager to teach us how to survive in the wilderness. If he couldn’t handle the thought of what was out here, would I be able to? Was I stronger than he was, or was it even a question of strength? I didn’t know what was lost, but he did.

The sun was starting to set before I finally shook off my fugue. Jenna and her husband would be wondering where I was by now, probably worrying about my safety. I double checked my new pistol, recounted my ammunition, and headed out to Flatwoods.

 

~Fin~
-Arcia