I felt my soul once again being sucked to another dimension; a telltale sign I was drifting to another of my dreams. My dreams became rarer, and I was starting to suspect that it only occurs if something significant happened in the real world. I must’ve had dozens of dreams when I enrolled in Boneyard University and created the Frederik process but once my business started to boom and succeed, the dreams became fewer and fewer.

There was only one reason why this was the case. These ‘dreams’ are my visions of my past life. I was a scientist, I think, it’s pretty obvious considering I keep having technical knowledge being bombarded at me when I’m trying to get a good night’s rest. It’s also too obvious I wasn’t an entrepreneur due to my woeful lack of knowledge regarding finance.

The fog of haze started to clear up and the landscape of mud and craters revealed itself to me. Several men, women and children sprawled across the land, desperately gasping for air. I could see from the distance, a lucky few were successfully outrunning a tide of yellow-green gas.

I winced when I saw the majority getting engulfed by it. I willed my ‘soul’ towards the green gas, knowing I wasn’t going to get hurt. I noticed the people inside painfully rubbing their eyes whilst coughing and vomiting blood. One thing that struck me was that I recognised these people.

How could this be? Have I met them in my past life? No. Impossible.

Their faces matched to the bodies found in the basement of that outpost! At least the ones who weren’t shredded by shrapnel.

No. No! No!! I screamed in terror and tried to force myself back into the void, back to the land of living, back to being awake! When that didn’t work, I tried to forcefully close my eyes. Yet I couldn’t. No matter how much I tried to gouge where I thought my eyes were, it was all in vain, as I grabbed nothing but thin air. I even tried to teleport myself away, but it was as if a supernatural barrier trapped me. For the first time in my dreams, I felt suffocated – not from this noxious gas but from limited space. The crushing claustrophobia made me clutch my throat in an attempt to pry air into my lungs. It was all for nought as I felt nothing.

Usually, I would learn something new. A new thesis, a new invention and a new process, but this nightmare was new and very much unwanted.

“Why have you killed us?” A girl gurgled, her face frighteningly clear showing shrapnel embedded into her cheeks, her throat partially open with sinewy flesh sticking out. “Why have you killed mom, too?”

I tried to talk but speaking was not possible. How could a smoke-like essence speak? In fact, how could it see?! It wasn’t making any sense. To soothe my conscience, I rattled off a few excuses, "I'm sorry! I didn’t know!” There wasn’t much point since no sound came out, but I at least had to try!

The nightmare seemed to go on for eternity as people croaked their words as best as they could, with lungs filled with fluid. Many more, scarred and unscarred, pleaded.

I didn’t know what I did to deserve this?! I risked my life to gather information on a slaving scum only to be rewarded with this?! I helped emancipate half a thousand slaves in that fortress!

My anger blinded me to vaporous writing appearing out of nowhere. After ranting, ‘punching’ and ‘raving’ I eventually spotted the writing. Finally! I’m going to learn something! Hopefully, it was going to be useful.

I was flooded with visions of the chloralkali process involving the electrolysis of brine, to – to produce chlorine. Chlorine gas. No. That can’t be. That yellowish green gas was chlorine! Don’t tell me my past life I was a sadistic chemist! I didn’t want to cause mass suffering!

Gunpowder and explosives are different, but a gas that can cause an agonising death, is- is unacceptable.

I won’t invent this! I refuse! I’ll still make chlorine. The industrial use will make me and Frederik Chemicals a lot of money. I could even ask Pappa to use his networks to build a water system. Chlorine could be used to sterilise water! Yes! That could work. I’ll do this to make a better world! More of my fellow citizens will have clean drinking water right into their sinks!

The world collapsed once again, and I returned to the land of the living with a spectacular gasp.

I was somewhere new. The last thing I remembered I saw a poor woman’s face covered with blood – courtesy of the sniper who shot Marshall Slough. I must’ve collapsed from exhaustion. I surveyed where I was and the first thing I noticed was the drab grey walls, with a couple beds wrapped with white satin laid across the room. From the smell of bleach and several stethoscopes hanging around, I assumed I was in a hospital.

I saw a man, the same age as Edward and Captain Buzzcut, wearing a white lab coat approach me. “My name is Bill. Doctor Bill Calhoun. How are you doing, Mr Frederik? Any feelings of discomfort?”

I mouthed a yes then he busied himself inspecting my body. He checked my pulse and breathing rate. I sighed in relief when he gave me a clean bill of health until he frowned.

“That was foolish of you to join the fight. You should’ve stayed with us in the encampment. Edward was so worried about you.”

“Trust me, you aren’t the only one who tried to refuse me. Captain Kimball dissuaded me, but I insisted.”

“Why on earth did you insist?”

“Because I felt it was the right thing. I couldn’t just sit back and relax whilst people are fighting with intel, Frank and I gathered. Oh, and speaking of Frank, he’s good at fighting. I feel like if I stayed, he would’ve also stayed. It would’ve been a waste of his talents.”

“Thanks for your vote of confidence, kid,” Frank came in and took off his stetson hat. “That was a risky plan you’ve come up with, by the way. How did you know that was our sniper?”

“Only NCR has the capability in the Wasteland to mass produce glass scopes, and the Rangers with the only budget to purchase it.” I hummed as I thought back to that. It may be a little difficult to admit but there was something at the back of my head telling me they weren’t on our side. “Slough’s goons are slavers. Slavers don’t need snipers. Even if they do, they’ll probably spend it on anything more important like bomb collars.”

Edward with a face like thunder barged into the room, sidestepping Frank, and quickly ran and sat next to me. “You idiot! You could’ve killed yourself! What possessed you to join?”

I hated repeating myself, so I loudly groaned then regretted it immediately as Edward was about to whack me in the head, causing me to flinch and flail.

“Reflex looks good,” Dr Calhoun noted this down on his clipboard. “But I must warn you to not threaten my patients, Mr Sallows.” With his job done, he prepared to exit the room. “I hereby discharge you, Leon Frederik. If you please excuse me, I’ve got four critical patients to check up on.”

Waiting for him to calm down I responded, “I wanted to fight, help those slaves and help the Republic root out corruption.” And the firefights were fun, but I didn’t want to say that in front of a pacifist Follower.

“You’ve already done enough! From the evidence you’ve gathered and the maps you drew! That arsehole, Kimball, and his lackeys could’ve easily dealt with them. Without your help.”

But I like to shoot. Was that wise to say? Probably not. “Exactly, you’ve proved my point. They could’ve easily handled it, themselves. I was merely a spectator, viewing from a safe spot.”

Edward rolled his eyes and showed me an attitude, I didn’t expect from him. “Oh, yeah? You were there when that outpost was stormed and there when the slaver’s head was squashed like a tomato.”

Right. He had me there. “We were trained well.”

“Even so, value your life, please!” He paused then sighed, knowing I wouldn’t listen. “We’ll be waiting here for at least two days to replenish our supplies, ammunition and to replace our wounded.”

From my recollection, there weren’t many killed but I grit my teeth as I braced for the answer to my question, “How many from our side died?”

“Five dead. Twelve more too injured to continue with us.” Edward solemnly reported.

“It could’ve been much higher, if it weren’t for our maps, kid. Be proud of yourself. Be proud that you’ve fought alongside real soldiers.”

“Don’t encourage him!”

“Since when were you, his mother?”

Strangely, the bickering between the two people he considered friends was comforting. I got up and stretched, then ran out of the hospital.

“Oy! Leon! Where are you going?”

Wait... That reminds me of something. I ran back and grabbed Edward’s sleeve and dragged him outside. “Training! And you’ll be joining us!” He tried to refuse and slip out from my hold but, unfortunately for him, Frank was there and helped me drag him to the shooting range.

The two days went by quick, helped by my repetitive regime of running, shooting and training in close-quarters combat.

The most interesting to happen was when a procession of Rangers came and transferred Vortis somewhere, hopefully, he couldn’t influence the people running the prison. The two tortured slavers were also taken elsewhere. Good riddance.

A pretty brunette woman came in and introduced herself as ‘Elise Matthews’. I noticed my bodyguard heavily flirting with her, and occasionally I would see them in the same room.

I seem to remember Chief Elise during the interrogation, so I asked. “Are you Chief Elise?”

“Is this your charge, Frank?” Oy! Don’t ignore me. She rustled my hair and said, “Yes, I am. Why are you asking?”

“Why were you friends with Marshall Slough?”

She deflated and shook her head. She moved to wave Frank away as she turned her attention to me. “You’re awfully blunt are you, lad. But he and I go way back. He saved my life a few times back when he was Ranger but then he left but never gave a reason. It was the same time when I chose Hanlon as my mentor instead of him.” She clenched her fist. “I didn’t know, he was involved in this. I-I did this. I should have known.”

Yes, you should have. The bloke obsessed over you, and your rejection led to this. Well, I shouldn’t be too harsh. The fault lies entirely on Slough but come on! She should’ve at least seen the signs! She was that close to becoming a slave!

Frank’s loud cough forced me to direct my gaze to him and I wish I hadn’t. The look of pure murder on his face deterred me from asking any more questions.

“It’s not your fault, babe!” Frank said and hugged her, whilst shooting me a dirty look.

Elise proved surprisingly strong for a petite woman when she pushed my bodyguard away, “You don’t understand! I testified on a committee, and I vouched for him! Because of me, he had the funds to build this! A correctional facility disguised as a slave pen! I’m going to lose my job on this. Eight years of career down the drain. Hundreds of enslaved all because of me.”

Well, calm down lady! I wouldn’t go that far. I left and let Frank comfort her. It was getting tiresome listening to her rant and cry.

Edward picked up a megaphone and ordered the expedition to resume. It wasn’t long till we crossed the river on a rickety wooden bridge. I nearly had a heart attack when the thing creaked and croaked. Once Flagstaff and our mining operations in the Grand Canyon are finished, this bridge will be rebuilt with reinforced concrete. So many things to do and so little time to do it in.

I was whistling whilst cleaning my rifle trying so hard to forget my dream. Why had my past life invented chlorine gas? Why did I usher into a deadly age of chemical warfare? Wasn’t nuclear armageddon enough? Apparently, not. It seems war does change. It just gets crueller until everyone is either blind or dead. Turn the other cheek. What? Did someone say anything?

“Don’t know why you’re lookin’ at me like that, kid. Turn away, now,” Frank huffed.

Right, he was still in a bad mood and seemed to have blamed me for a slight I’m entirely ignorant of. Annoyingly, no matter how much I pleaded, he stubbornly kept quiet, until now. “Good progress, you’re at least talking to me!”

“Oh, shut it. It’s your fault.”

“What’s my fault?” I said in a high-pitched tone and tilted my head, looking as innocent as possible, in a subtle attempt to lure him for some answers. Just some answers! I hope I’m not too demanding.

“You’re fault for making Elise cry!” Pardon me? What on earth are you on about? “You shouldn’t ‘ave said that to her!”

“I asked her a question. Nothing else.” Honestly, I should’ve said more. For a member of an integrated militia with the sole purpose of abolitionism, she did a poor job.

Frank scowled but calmly said, “Not everything is a scientific analysis. You ought to learn nuance -”

A few screams sounded further up the convoy. Whiish. I ducked in reflex, narrowly dodging an arrow as it landed on the arm of a female soldier, eliciting a tame yelp.

“Sarah!” Frank yelled for her. How many women does this man know? Not the correct time to think about, but how many?

She gritted her teeth and moved to grab the arrow piercing her arm. She moved to yank it out but was stopped by Dr Bill Calhoun.

“Don’t pull it out! It’ll exacerbate the bleeding!” A group of people, wearing lab coats with a red cross strapped around their biceps, fanned out of the Follower’s caravan. “Medics! You know what to do! Triage her. Everyone else, spread across the convoys and heed the lieutenants instructions!” They nodded and ran off with purpose.

More arrows whistled, a few landing on a couple of brahmins.

One of the civilians panicked and shouted, “They’re targeting the brahmins! Unhitch them and put ‘em to safety!” Safety? Where? We’re in a straight line. As far as I know, they may have already surrounded us.

A mob formed and started removing the brahmins from their caravans. A few more were shot causing the freed two-headed cow to frenzy and run off, trampling anything that got in their way.

Most of the civilians were successful and herded the cows to our left where arrows suspiciously didn’t fire from. Unsurprisingly, dozens of arrows ascended then descended in deadly hail fire puncturing many brahmins and people alike.

This was getting too untenable, and the savages looked organised. “I know this tactic!” One of the people cowering in the caravan shouted. I squinted my eyes to see through the dim light and noticed how he wore nothing, but a leather rag shaped into an apron. He must be one of our savage interpreters we hired along the way. “This clan Derrick! Target merchant convoys by shooting down heaven-beasts, then running off. No beasts to carry treasure. They abandon. And Clan Derrick steals.”

Despite speaking in an irritating manner, with terrible grammar, I got what he said. I tried hard not to respect a strategy thought of by tribals, but I felt in solidarity with their ingenuity. I peered over the windows and noticed how this part of I-40 was in a mini-valley, with hills on both sides. Their archers could shoot in an arc whereas, more civilised folks with guns can only cower inside their coach, not able to return fire.

However, we’re not just a normal convoy. We have the very best - NCR has to offer! We have mortar!

Fump. Fump. Fump. I heard distant thuds then explosions echoing from the distance. I knew what to do as I fixed my bayonet on the end of my rifle.

“Troopers! Charge!” One of the lieutenants ordered.

I jumped out of the coach, with Frank behind me, and charged to the left. There were still people there with minor injuries that had to be saved. I know these tribals may retreat but the minds of savages cannot be discerned, so I couldn’t risk these people to their mercy.

So, I ran along with dozens of desert-coloured troopers braving this hill whilst dodging a few manic brahmins.

We reached the top of the hill and with clockwork efficiency, I pointed my service rifle to a man with blue and red paint smeared across his face then shot. One down. Aim, shoot then repeat.

There was no mercy. We all mowed them down until none were left standing.

“What a massacre.”

“They were used to traders and civvies playin’ mercenaries. They weren’t prepared for disciplined soldiers with mortars.”

I spied a tattered clothed man crawling away from us. I stepped towards him not prepared having sand kicked to my face. “Stay away! Or I’ll kill you!”

“You speak good english for a tribal.” I noticed he was clutching his lower left belly attempting to stem the tide of blood from spurting out. “Hmmm. No signs of organ damage. You’re lucky you were hit in the left. Just a few inches to the right and your liver will be gone – spilling bile and turning your blood a sicky hue of blue and green.”

“Stop torturin’ him. Finish him.”

“I don't want to hear that from you. You’ve taken two nails from someone!”

“That had a clear purpose. What you’re doing doesn’t.”

I was confused by this, “I was trying to diagnose him!”

“Diagnosing him by filling his head with garbage.” He stepped to him and flashed his magnum then spun the cylinders. “Move. I’ll finish him.”

I quickly moved between him and the tribal, “Wait! He can still be saved! He’s been shot in a non-lethal area and no ammonia smell! So, his left kidney is functioning.”

“He looks like he’s bleedin’ heavily to me, kid. Now move.”

“I’ve studied this! I know what I’m doing! Now help me drag him to Doctor Calhoun! We’re civilised men! Civilised people don’t kill prisoners of war.” The pre-war Geneva Convention must be upheld lest we live with savages.

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Frank huffed but, in the end, relented and put his gun back to his holster. “You have your father’s ruthlessness and your mother’s compassion. It feels weird to see both in the span of half an hour.”

“Stop talking and help me lift him!” The man was far too heavy. I tried to carry him from his shoulders, but I gave up and cursed my short legs. “Anyways, what’s your name and why’s your english so good?” He ignored me. How rude. Wait. I pressed my head to his chest and noticed a heartbeat. His breathing was shallow but salvageable if he was treated straight away.

I resorted to dragging him down instead and getting awful looks from several troopers. Hearing Frank grunt, he picked the wounded and hoisted him up. “You looked pathetic. I might as well help him.” My bodyguard ran down the hill with a limp body on his shoulders. One day I’ll be as cool as him.

“Oy, kid! Why’d you help him?” I heard one of the troopers addressing me.

“He was wounded. It was non-lethal and with proper treatment, he could be saved.”

“They’re bloody savages! They all deserve to die!”

“No, they don’t. That’s irrational and illogical. We’re here to pacify and civilise those savages.” Killing was easy, but building people up is much harder and more rewarding.

The trooper grunted and walked away before hearing him say, “I hope you’re right, boy. If not, I have this.” He pointed at his gun prompting me to raise my rifle up in the air in solidarity. That got me a few cheers of approval. “Not as naive as I thought. For someone born with a diamond spoon, you’re okay.”

I was getting sick of disproving people’s stupid prejudices. I wasn’t rich until I made fertilisers from the air! Then turned it into gunpowder and slowly displaced the Gun Runners. My company was going to dominate the military-industrial complex of the NCR! My weapons will defeat the Brotherhood. Pacify our neighbours and unite the descendants of Vault 15! And through all that, peace! No more people dying. My mind was quick to relay my dreams of people being engulfed by green gas.

Shaking my head, I refocused and went down the hill whilst surveying the damage. Too many brahmins were wounded and had to be put down. With this, the expedition will grind to a halt. As a result, our supplies will dwindle before reaching Flagstaff.

That’s a future problem to worry about. Now to focus on the present. I walked over to the makeshift hospital camp, and I was pleasantly surprised there were several wounded tribals lying on poorly made cots being tended by nurses.

“Will he live, doc?” Frank asked Doctor Calhoun.

“Yes, he will. Good job carrying him here and bringing it to my attention. Otherwise, he’ll die from blood loss.”

“Don’t thank me. I would’ve happily killed ‘im.” Calhoun frowned at Frank whilst shaking his head in disgust. “Looks like the Follower’s ethos has bled into my student.”

I’m his student now? I felt pride surging within me yet pretended I heard nothing as I made myself known to the two. “Ah! Leon, good timing. Edward is looking for you.”

Uh oh. I’m going to get telling off. I walked towards the front of the convoy where two men were having a yelling match.

“We need to move on! Leave some of your troopers to defend the brahmin-less coaches. We’ll pick them up later!”

“Are you hearing yourself, Sallows! I’m not splitting my lads into a thousand pieces! They’d get completely swarmed by the savages here!”

“Then, we leave your supplies! We have a mandate from Shady Sands to set an outpost at Flagstaff and a tight deadline to complete it in!”

“You propose leaving our ammunition and weapons to be scavenged by savages, who won’t hesitate to use them against us?!”

Edward’s face reddened and clenched his jaw before saying, “You would prioritise weapons over food?! I’ll not have you starve us.”

Of course. Typical. I looked over to Frank who was busy whistling, obviously trying to distract himself from the two. I sighed and shook my head, feeling sick of mediating whenever they argued. At least they had the decency to do it when no one was near them. Our morale was nearly rock bottom and seeing their top management bicker, would only collapse our cohesion.

“Ed! Captain Kimball! Clan Derrick was responsible for this ambush. We successfully repelled them and killed and captured every single one who attacked us.” I started with good news to defuse the tension a bit.

“Of course! My boys and girls can at least do this much!” He pointed and wagged his finger at Edward, “They wouldn’t be able to do it with guns and mortars! And this fool here, suggests we abandon them.”

“Provisions take priority -!”

I cut off Edward since I didn’t appreciate a conversation going around in circles, “Thank you for your input, Captain Kimball. However, I agree with Edward that provisions are a priority. After all, we can’t eat bullets and mortar shells.

“We have at least a dozen injured assailants from Clan Derrick. They can be questioned where their base is. If we’re lucky they may have brahmins and other beasts of burden.” I was glad when that calmed them down. “Now that I have your attention, perhaps we could use our remaining brahmins to pull the coaches away from this valley. With three hundred people pushing, it won’t take as long.”

With that, they’ve spent two days, at a snail’s pace, to get where they need to be – a flat ground with no hills from any direction. Perfect to spot would-be ambushers.

I realised looking out for internal enemies was just as important as spotting raiders. I received news from Frank and his sleeping buddies that there was a plot against Edward. I needed to do something, and it needed to be done yesterday!

The man I rescued was barely lucid but was regaining consciousness. I was there when he woke up to give him an offer he couldn’t refuse. “Hello, I don’t care about your name, but can you tell me where your base is? Oh! Before you refuse, allow me to offer you anything you want.”

He pretended he couldn’t understand me. “Nice try, but I remember you speaking english. So, what do you want in exchange for guiding us to your base?”

The wounded man’s eyes seemed to grow in shock and confusion. “So that’s the tongue we’re speaking? English?”

“Indeed. As much as it is very interesting to know why you speak this language, this far out from California. But I don’t have much time, tell me what you want.” It was probably a mistake revealing this weakness, but time was of the essence, and I needed results, now, to stop a possible mutiny.

Kimball and his supporters are planning to overthrow Edward. That I couldn’t allow. I needed their attention and their fighting prowess pointed at anything other than my friend.

“I can take you to the base. It’s just north-west of Kingman. All I want is for my freedom and my family.”

I quenched and resisted a scream. Of course, they’re slaves. How many slaves did we kill two days ago? Now was not the time for guilt; I needed to move the military away as fast as possible.

“Great, just so you know, I wasted a stimpak on you. So, come along.” I trudged on ignoring how he celebrated his swift recovery. I turned back to see the savage rubbing his scarred belly and praying to some animist gods. I arrived at Kimball’s coach, guarded by three troopers who saw me and hesitated to allow me entry. Their reticence was quick to disappear when Frank stared them down.

“Captain Kimball. I have a lead. They have a base in Kingman. We have a willing guide to direct us to it.” I beckoned the savage over who hesitated a bit, “This here is... Um. Introduce yourself, please.”

“My name is Winnemucca. Thank you for saving my life from the gods’ wrath.” That wasn’t gods' wrath. That was a bullet.

“How do I know you’re reliable? As far as I know, you’ll be leading us to be ambushed by your friends.”

Winnemucca’s mouth twitched as he tensed his shoulders. “They’re not my friends! They have my family as hostage. Clan Derrick forced us to fight for them. Failure to do so means the death of my family.”

How vile and grim. I couldn’t imagine fighting for Pappa’s and Mamma’s kidnappers. But I do sympathise with him, I'll fight as hard as I can just to see them for a day more.

Winnemucca then narrated how he and his family got captured during a routine trade with another tribe called the Hualapai. This was all good, but I had one question for him that I needed answered, “Do they have brahmins?” He looked confused so I expanded, “Beasts with two heads?”

“Ah, yes. They have dozens of those.”

Perfect. A sharp gleam from Buzzcut means we’ve arrived at the same conclusion. “I think you need to organise your men.”

And so, he did and now, just under a hundred desert-cladded soldiers marched out of the encampment, passing by the ruins of Kingman whilst following Winnemucca.

I tried to strike up a conversation with the tribal, “What tribe are you from?”

“The Paiute tribe. We live just north from the Hualapai. Our tribe trades a lot with them since we share the Grand Canyon.”

That was interesting. From reading pre-war maps there were no trails or maps leading to the West of the Grand Canyon, other than going north of the Mojave and braving its harsh desert and intense amount of radiation.

“Do you mine anything?”

“Mine, what’s that?”

“Carving out the rocks from the Grand Canyon to get expensive materials.”

He looked like I struck him with a curse, “Absolutely not! The Grand Canyon is a god! He shall not be harmed!”

Oh, great. How primitive. I probably shouldn’t share what I plan to do east from here.

A distant whip crack signalled the snipers engaging with enemy patrols. I had to stop myself from cringing when Winnemucca started to flail to pray the ‘wrath away’.

That wasn’t good. We were losing our advantage in stealth. “Frank, can you jog my memory on why the snipers have engaged the enemy without direct orders from Buzzcut?”

“Something bad happened.”

“How very useful and insightful,” I said, sighing, then walked to Aaron Kimball for answers. He was very busy with his radio.

“Sir! We’re in a fighting retreat! These savages have control of a vault! They’ve opened it and hundreds of feral ghouls are pouring out of it! They’re currently coming south and should engage with your group in ten minutes.”

I heard everything I needed to know. The question is how they managed to open a vault from the outside? Did they dig towards it and open it from the inside? But how can they operate the terminals? And isn’t it awfully convenient how the ferals decided to group up and attack us instead of Clan Derrick?

“I suggest you brace up for a fight for our lives, Leon. One way of doing that is by stopping zonin’ out. You have a big head on your shoulders, be sure to not paralyse it by thinking too many questions.” I hate how Frank is always right.

We were busy in the past ten minutes forming a V position. Kimball’s plan was to concentrate a majority of his force at the bottom of the V formation. Funnelling the feral zombies into a killing corridor where they’re shot from three sides.

I obliged to be in the top right of the formation, and I could see a horde of rotten humanoids running towards us. Thankfully, they weren’t running towards our position but towards the huge mass of people at the bottom of the formation. The plan was working as intended. I felt dirty complimenting Kimball’s tactical prowess since he was planning to overthrow my friend. But the man was good with war.

With a whistle, I saw my squad mates ready their mortars. I covered my ears when the shell was dropped into the tube. Fump.

Several explosions thundered in the middle of the V, eviscerating flesh and ground alike. Bones, meat and sand coalesced in a huge pile of debris splattering the landscape.

There were still a dangerous number of survivors that were easily picked apart by gunfire. I lost count after the twentieth ghoul I dispatched. I only counted because Frank kept loudly mouthing off his bodies.

Now that one problem was dealt with, now to storm a fortified enemy who knew we were coming. This will be bloody. Edward, with my fierce backing, forbade Kimball from using mortars on their base for fear of killing any slaves inside. Thankfully, he didn’t bother to argue and accepted the order.

“Captain Kimball, are the snipers in position?”

“Not yet. They’re currently skirmishing with a scout force nearly four times their number. My rangers should pull through though.”

We marched on and on until we reached the vault where the ghouls came out of. The number was faded and unreadable.

The inside called out for me, trying to suck my soul in. It felt like I was in my dream. I don’t know why, but I felt like I had to go in. “Sir, if you would lend me some of your men to guard this vault just in case more ferals come out. We cannot afford to be attacked from behind when assaulting clan Derrick.”

I lied since I had no intention of simply ‘guarding’.

Buzzcut beckoned Jeff Simmons over. “I trust both of you are already well acquainted. You have been assigned to guard this vault and to shoot any ferals that come out.”

“Sir, yes, sir!”

Just before he turned to go, I reminded him of his orders, “Captain, there’ll be hundreds of potential NCR citizens to be emancipated. I trust you wouldn’t blow them up with mortar and shells?”

He nodded and ran off. I really wanted to trust him but I needed insurance. “Winnemucca! This is where we part ways. Your family is within walking distance and I’m staying here.”

The man grunted then smiled as he took my hands, “Thank you, for saving my life. Me and my tribe owe you.”

He was strong to my utter dismay. How I hated my weak body! I struggled a bit to shake his grasp though he was thoughtful enough to release me. I shook my hands, causing it to pathetically ragdoll, then faked a smile – after all, what could a primitive- offer me that I already don’t have? It should be the other way round. “Your appreciation is... Um... Accepted. Now escort Captain Kimball and make sure he follows his orders.”

Winnemucca scratched his head prompting me to explain further, “You know those ‘god’s wrath’ we used against those ghouls? Those mortars? Make sure he doesn’t use them against the base. That’s where your family is.” The severity of the situation struck him like a multi-tonne truck as his face drained of all colours. He nodded.

There we go, he should keep Kimball accountable to Edward’s orders. I’m sure nothing will go wrong.

With that sorted I hailed Lieutenant Jeff Simmons, “Right, anyone of your men fancy vault diving?”

“We were ordered to guard this vault.”

“Exactly. How better to guard a vault by going inside? Pre-emptive attack, I say.” I managed to hear a snicker from behind me. I resisted the urge to look back and kick Frank’s shins.

“Boy, even your bodyguard doesn’t agree with you.”

“Fine not a pre-emptive attack! But to explore! To satiate curiosity! And to seek treasure!” That got the attention of the majority of Simmon’s squad. “You lot! What are you waiting for?! Did Captain Kimball order you to NOT enter the vault?”

All of them grinned and that was when I knew I had them. “What do you say, Lieutenant? Will you starve your troops of valuable experience? Remember, scavengers retire early!” Because they tend to die a little too young. I didn’t bother telling them that, obviously.

“There’s a high chance there’ll be enemies inside!”

“So? Do you not trust your soldiers?”

Jeff hesitated when people under his command looked at him with pure greed in their eyes. He sighed and hand signalled to enter the vault.

The first thing I noticed was the sand and bones piled on top of each other, nearly engulfing my height. Walls caked with dried blood and occasional skeletons with wooden stakes going through them. Some wearing the blue jumpsuit synonymous with vault dwellers.

Whatever happened here, the vault dwellers were destroyed by the Wastelanders or anything capable of cruelly impaling people into stakes. I had no time to grieve them now since every instinct within me was making me step forward. Just one more step. I felt something was tugging at me. I kept walking and walking, whilst ignoring the cries and yells going around me.

Walking in a daze until I wasn’t. I was violently thrown to the floor, as I heard, “Watch out!”. I felt my head ringing then I realised we were surrounded by dozens of ghouls. Their rotten flesh spewing out sulphur and decay.

Shaking my head, I hurriedly grabbed the strap and hoisted my rifle over my head. I fumbled a bit, briefly forgetting how to hold a gun. I couldn’t help it! My life just flashed between my eyes then I was distracted by a soldier having a chunk of their left leg bitten off.

I saw one move to jump towards me, but I was quick enough to dodge. I pointed my rifle and forced him to eat bullets. That’s what you get for trying to eat me! Stupid ghoul.

Three more ghouls were downed by my own hand. I felt my back hitting something causing me to turn, ready to shoot the offending ghoul, only to feel relieved when I noticed Frank blowing smoke away from his revolver, standing on top of six carcasses. “Stop trying to look cool. And that’s very unhygienic by the way! We need to find a clean river to wash you off.”

Frank had the decency to grimace, regret pasting across his face. “Perhaps. The ladies will not appreciate this.”

Him and his lady friends, again? What was the appeal? He keeps boasting about sleeping with them but what was the point? Just sleep by yourself, less chance of people waking you up with their god-awful snoring.

Simmon’s squadron moved against the horde like a knife through butter, clearing corridors with mechanical efficiency. Until we couldn’t. The further we went in the more ghouls blocked the entrance. We desperately moved to a room and shut the blast doors down.

Jeff Simmons was carrying the body of the unfortunate trooper who had their leg bitten off. “Happy now, Mr Frederik? One of my lads is wounded because of you.”

“It is a great testament to the Republic and her soldiers, that only one was wounded during that altercation. Fear not,” I took out a stimpak and injected the wounded trooper. I watched in full astonishment as his flesh moved to cover the wound, in a coordinated bubble of cells. Then scabs weaved across, quickly building a protective layer across the wound. Finally, the scabs peeled off revealing fresh skin.

I watched it all with keen eyes. No one knows how stimpaks work. Except for some weird isolationists who trap themselves underground, but no one of importance knows. I may have some inkling of possible mechanisms like stimulating the mitosis of pluripotent stem cells and engineering the differentiation of stem cells into muscles, fibres and skin.

“Oy! Kid! This is twice you’ve zoned off now. The first time, you’d have died, if it weren’t for me tacklin’ you to the ground.”

That was him? “You could’ve been more gentle! I may have a concussion!”

“Don’t zone out of then.”

“As much as I like listening to you both, but we’re trapped.”

“Are we? Sure. But we’ve locked ourselves in a room with a blast door. That must mean something. Perhaps, you could have your lads fan out and explore.” I gave Simmons a suggestion.

“What good will that do against dozens of ghouls?”

“We may find a weapon.” I explored the room where I noticed how uneven the wall was. It seems flat except a part of it that conveniently could fit a human being. Fiddling with the wall got me strange looks from the soldiers nearby, but I ignored them. My ever-loyal bodyguard helped me with my folly until I touched a vault-tec bobhead.

Gears ground and churned as the wall parted ways.

I felt alive! This was the thrill of exploring! I ran first, despite Frank’s warning, and approached a table with a sign that said -’The Overseer’s Office’. Sweet! I planted my arse down on the chair and started to type into the terminal. I didn’t know what I was doing, but it felt fun.

I grew bored and opened a few drawers and found a well-preserved leather book. The absence of bookworms made it easier to read. A few instructions on how to operate the terminal with commands and passwords were written. I copied the password and I read something that made my stomach boil.

‘Methodology: Vault 36 – Applicants selected were made sure to be gullible. People with no critical thinking. Always trusting.

‘Subjects will be halved. One half eats with plenty. The other half eats with nothing but gruel and water.

‘The gruel will be supplemented with radioactive plutonium powder. Radiation dosage will incrementally increase.

‘They will be separated with an unbreakable glass barrier. And after a hundred-sixty years, this unbreakable barrier will lift. This will be made a secret to the subjects.’

I scrolled down further in growing anger.

‘Results: Envy and jealousy erupt from subjects eating with gruel. Generations experiencing this. Generations slowly turn into unthinking husks of humanity. Civil wars erupted, mass cannibalisations were observed.

‘The other half, their children, and children’s children watched them with entertainment. Often guffawing, laughing and jeering whilst eating in luxury.

‘When the barrier lifted, the ‘ghouls’ acted in a coordinated manner and stopped cannibalising themselves. They threw themselves at the other half and destroyed them.

‘War ensued. Thousands died within a day. The ghouls started to impale the survivors into wooden stakes and proceeded to cook them,

In a fit of desperation, one of the survivors ended the simulation by opening the doors.’

The sheer amount of cruelty involved in this experiment was astounding. It was sad. It was disgusting. It was sickening.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing, Frank.” Just learnt there are a hundred more ghouls inside the vault. My curiosity got the better of me. We are effectively trapped. That won’t stop me though.

There were better things to do rather than mope about. I scrolled down, filing away useful information into my head. Twenty minutes later I got what I wanted. A password to a safe with a pipboy.

I looked around for the safe and grew frustrated when I couldn’t find it. I was about to give up until I saw a latch in the ground.

Why did you allow us to die!

I collapsed to the ground, breathing heavily. Images of women and children with mangled faces gasping. Unable to breathe as the chlorine attacked their lungs. Congealed blood frothing out of their mouth.

Breath! There’s no time to waste on irrational trauma! Come on, Leon! Pull yourself up, damn it!

With a clenched jaw, I pulled the latch and noticed a keypad at the top. I punched in the password then it bleeped, and a green light washed over me. I stepped back as the safe ascended and automatically opened revealing the pipboy.

I marvelled at the blue, Mark VI 3000 pip-boy. I followed every instruction the terminal said, and successfully fit my left arm through the pipboy.

I turned the pipboy on and was sorely disappointed when nothing happened. Where was my boost? Where were gifts of strength promised by this pipboy? I wanted to be strong enough to at least resist Winnemucca’s handshake!

The terminal lied! It said it’ll accelerate the growth of a ten-year-old! I just turned ten! Where was my power up?!

I regretted wishing for a power-up as a strong surge of electricity burst from the pipboy and travelled across my body. Likely, burning my nerves in the process. I was proud of myself that I didn’t pass out. Though it was close.

The pain thankfully went away in the longest five seconds of my life. I squinted and looked at the user interface where a table presented itself.

Strength 1

Perception 2

Endurance 2

Charisma 8

Intelligence 10

Agility 6

Luck 3

I knew the numbers were a load of nonsense when it calculated my luck. So, I skipped and exited out of the table and turned on Vault-Tec assisted targeting system or, VATS for short.

And the VATS did exactly as promised. I felt the world slowing down to a crawl. I jerked my fingers, hands and arms and realised they were moving in real-time. Perfect. Now I tested it by moving forward. Sadly, I moved at a snail’s pace. Actually, much slower than a snail. Oh, well. Super speed would’ve been a useful power up.

On the other hand, I was able to discern the advantages and weaknesses of VATS. I could move my arms, hands and fingers in real time whilst the world around me ground to a halt, however I must be standing still.

No problem, I just need a few bullets then there’s work to do. Hundreds of ‘people’ who are victims of an unethical experiment that needed to be put to rest. Permanently.