Andy squinted in the fluorescent light of the tunnel. The bulbs eviscerated even the shadows gathered in the tiny cracks between concave wall panels. A gutter of cables ran beneath the walkway, feeding into door terminals, ventilation fans, and computer systems. People dressed in overalls moved mutely aside, stunned into silence by his and Clara’s presence. Andy let his black fringe drape over his face like a mask, shielding his eyes from the lights as he gazed at the shoes of Clara in front of him. What was with this hangover? It wouldn’t go away, even when he drank.

They stopped at an alcove in the tunnel beside a metal sliding door. Above the door, a sign read: ‘Administration’. Two potted plants sprouted in each corner of the alcove, their bright green leaves stark in contrast to the plain white walls. His sister and the vaulties chatted away. From what Andy could gather, they were taking them to see their boss. Another diplomatic congress. More boring conversations. Maybe Clara could negotiate a job out of it, maybe she couldn’t. Why did everything cool have to already be occupied? Clara had made the vault sound so promising. He’d have loved to have pillaged a pre-cat armoury. But his dreams were dashed by the brightly lit, clean smelling corridors.

The man beside Andy held his assault rifle awkwardly–his strap was too long, plus the safety was still on. The condition of the weapon was immaculate, it might never have been shot before. Andy estimated that it would take him seven seconds to have it raised, cocked and combat-ready if a fight broke out.

The doors slid open. “This way,” the older man with the blue-rimmed cap said. He led them into a wide, flat room. Behind a dark wooden desk, a man sat combing his slick black hair in a mirror. He looked up as they entered, then tidied his desk quickly.

“I said five more minutes, Gary.”

“This couldn’t wait five minutes, sir.”

“I’ll tell you what-” The slick-hair guy bit his tongue, then straightened the gold trim of his black overalls. “Come in,” he waved his hand over the room. The concave outer walls had been fitted with vertical square panels, so that dark wooden furniture could be pushed flush up against them, resembling a normal domicile above ground. A drinks cabinet stood beside benches with red velvet cushions. There were framed paintings on the walls, and a large decorative map behind the desk. Andy felt something soft underfoot–a thick shaggy cream coloured rug, now with a dark spot where Andy had tread mud in. He approached the glass cabinet–a constellation drink might lift his spirits. Inside were a dozen bottles filled with sand. Andy opened the cabinet, searching for one containing liquid. “What kind of cruel joke is this?”

“Our reserves ran out a long time ago,” the man with slick black hair said. “That’s just a little art project my son has made.” He approached Andy and extended a hand. “My name is Nathan. I am the Head Honcho here. I oversee things.”

Andy shook his hand, looking him in the eye, real man-to-man like. “Can you oversee me a stiff drink?”

“Hah hah,” slick-hair imitated laughter, smiling with his teeth. “Lively. Very good. But how did you get in here?”

The office grew quiet. Andy glanced around. The four soldiers from the elevator in white overalls with blue stripes were standing by the doorway, each armed with short-barreled assault rifles. More people were crowded in the tunnel behind, peering inside. Two more soldiers had entered the large office room from an antechamber, dressed in grey jumpsuits with red stripes. They faced Andy, armed with pistols and truncheons. Andy smiled at them as his Augmentation’s power rumbled in his gut, hungry for action. Clara had taken the centre of the room, her submachine gun slung over her back, arms at her side, fingers flexed.

“We had information that this vault was empty,” Clara said. “We came here for salvage, but obviously that’s not our intention now. Who are you people? How long have you been down here?”

The Head Honcho started to tell a story about when the vault was created, and why, and who was chosen to enter it, and how, and Andy completely switched off… He sat down, placing the butt of his shotgun at his feet, leaning on the barrel, rocking side to side as Clara went on about the cataclysm, and the apocalypses, and the fall of civilisation and so on. Their conversation dragged on. What did it matter? And slouched back on the bench, fantasising about the armoury. So the vault was occupied, but perhaps that wasn’t the end of the story.

It felt like an hour had gone by. Finally, Andy interrupted. “I need a piss.”

The Honcho stopped mid-sentence and looked at him. “Okay. O’Niel, show our guest to the administrative restroom.”

Andy winked at Clara as he left the room–she only had time to scowl back at him before he was gone. The tunnel outside was crowded with men, women and children, all wearing different coloured pastel jumpsuits. They gawked at him as his grey-jumpsuit escort cleared a path to the restroom, ordering them to return to their stations and dorms. The onlookers scattered, or pretended to be attending to tasks in the tunnel as he walked by, stealing glances as he strolled by.

Inside, the toilet was immaculately clean. Once he was finished, Andy caught his reflection in the mirror. Black bags clung to his eyes. His teeth had begun to yellow, but at least his hairline hadn’t started to recede yet. His long black hair mantled his shoulders, casting his face in a shadow even the fluorescent bulbs could not penetrate. Suddenly, his neck itched. Pulling his collar back, Andy inspected the bite mark which the vampire had given him. All that remained were two small dots, not much of a trophy scar. He’d hoped for something cooler like a patch of dark purple bruising and bulging black veins. It was a vampire after all. Weren’t their bites meant to have a lasting effect?

“Ah well.” Andy excited the toilet. Outside, the crowd of onlookers had grown, standing in doorways or peering through oval windows set into the walls. The children were more bold, creeping down the tunnel towards him in groups to get a better look. Andy combed his hair out of his face and addressed his fans. “I’m hungry. How’s about a tour?”

The four guards escorting him looked at one another. “That could be arranged,” the blue cap-guy from the elevator said.

“What?” another started. He was short and stocky, with a thick black moustache. His uniform was grey, and his military cap bore a red band. “Are you joking Gary?”

“I don’t see the issue.”

“The issue? It’s obvious. You don’t have the authority to make that decision.”

“Are you forgetting my role, O’Niel?”

“Your role’s decorative. You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“It isn’t decorative anymore.” The soldier in the blue-rimmed cap squared up to red-cap. “External guard. These guests are external.” Beside Blue-Cap, two more of his comrades dressed in white overalls and armed with snubbed rifles stood at his back, staring down the other vaultie.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“Oh, oh okay then, yeah.” Red-cap flung his arms in the air. “You enjoy your power trip, Gary. Your little moment in the spotlight, see how far it gets you.”

Blue-cap ignored him, turning to the other soldiers. “Disarm our guest, Jamerson.”

“Yes sir.” The young man put his hands on Andy’s shotgun. Andy snatched his wrist and looked him dead in the eye.

“Nah-ah-ahh.” Andy waggled a finger in the boy’s face. The boy shrank back, eyes wide, pupils darting over Andy’s face.

“I’m sorry… Andy, right?” Blue-cap said. “We’ll need to take your weapons before I show you around.”

“You’re insane,” Red-cap said. “At least get the Honcho’s permission first.”

Andy considered for a moment, then relinquished his shotgun and 9mm sidearm.

“Your pistol,” the boy said.

“It’s a revolver,” Andy corrected.

“If you don’t mind,” Blue-cap held out his hand.

“I do mind.” Andy looked the man in the eyes unblinking. Blue-cap’s gaze was averted down the long corridor. At the far end, a group of men dressed in the same grey jumpsuits as Red-cap approached them, pushing through the crowd.

Red-cap’s hand drifted to a sidearm with a square yellow barrel, likely a taser. “Relinquish your weapon, sir.” Andy resisted the urge to blow a hole in his chest with Julie.

“It’s okay,” Blue-cap said. “I get it, you don’t trust us. That’s understandable. He can keep the revolver.”

Red-cap gawked at his colleague, chuckled and shook his head. “You’re fucked, Gary.” He stormed off down the corridor to meet with the approaching soldiers.

“Can you promise me not to cause any trouble?” Blue-cap asked.

“Hmm,” Andy said noncommittally.

“Let’s go then. Jamerson, deposit our guests' weapons in the security office.”

“Will do, Gary.”

“Deonte,” Blue-cap said, turning to the final soldier dressed in white. “You’re with me.”

They parted with the main tunnel, travelling into a maze of tight, hexagonal corridors. Each doorway was numbered with a name plate beside a small control panel. An old man walked out of a doorway and jumped at the sight of Andy, dropping a bundle of bed linens. Children pressed their faces against the plastic glass windows lining the walls. Women froze at the sight of him. Men sized him up as he strode by. Andy’s head almost touched the ceiling. A vent blew cold air on him. Looking up, he saw his face reflected in the black glass of a security camera.

Before long, Blue-cap had led them back around into the main tunnel again. Andy peeked over the heads of vault dwellers who had come out of their dorms to see what the fuss was about, and spotted the group of grey clad soldiers at the opposite end of the long tunnel, where he had been standing just minutes ago. Blue-cap had seemingly circumvented them. The officer presented an armband to the door panel and it opened obediently, revealing a second elevator. The three of them stepped inside and Blue-cap closed the door. “Currently, we are on the first floor. Admin level. Second floor is Hydroponics. Third is Habitation. That’s where we’re heading.”

“Excellent,” Andy said.

The elevator hummed softly as Andy felt his gut rise and fall with the acceleration. Something was up with Blue-cap and his subordinate. In the tight space, Andy could smell their fear over the malaise of disinfectant. Blue-cap was sweating, his pupils dilated. He swallowed audibly, then scanned his armband over the elevator panel. It slowed and the doors slid open on a small room lined with shelves full of boxes and tools. A woman wearing a pastel green jumpsuit looked up as the elevator doors opened. She was standing beside a trolley containing grid-like containers full of identical plants. Her jaw dropped upon seeing Andy. A man entered the room through strands of opaque plastic sheeting behind her and started stacking plants on the trolley, oblivious of Andy’s presence.

“Deonte,” Blue-cap said to his colleague. “Fetch Ricky and Carlos. Meet us in the canteen.”

“Got it.” The elevator doors closed behind the young man, leaving Andy and Blue-cap in the elevator alone.

“Be honest with me,” the officer said as the elevator descended. “What is the outside world like? Is there anything left?”

“Erm, yeah. Plenty.”

“Is it dangerous?”

“Yeah.”

“But you survive, you’re free. You came here of your own will? Explorers, right?”

“That’s right.”

“I want you to tell the people that,” Blue-cap said. “When we reach habitation, tell them everything. They need to hear it.”

As the elevator door opened on the third level, a symphony of sounds rushed in. A wash of conversational murmur echoed off the two-story ceiling like rainfall. There was laughter, and the thud of a ball being kicked inside a small sports court outside the elevator’s entrance. On either side of Andy were a row of uniform doorways and windows with a balcony separating the two floors. Teenagers lounged on the balcony, shouting and pointing at their friends below. A door hissed as they slid open, briefly unleashing the sounds of a baby crying from within. The occupants were all wearing pastel jumpsuits, although the teenagers had unbuttoned theirs and tied them around their wastes, or torn them at the sleeves.

“Follow me,” Blue-cap said. They travelled around the sports court between two habitation blocks and into a canteen at level three’s centre. A wave of silence swept over Andy as he passed through the vault, quieting the storm. At the crossroads was an open courtyard with tables and chairs. A kitchen with a long counter stood beside an elevator shaft which jutted up like a massive column into the ceiling. Standing in the canteen, Andy could see down all four corridors, each about one-hundred metres, which divided the floorplan into four habitation blocks. Blue-cap was behind him, observing him. “Booze?” Andy said.

Blue-cap shook his head, but someone brought Andy a meal of steamed vegetables, green leaves and a pink squidgy paste. It tasted of salt. Vault dwellers gathered around him as he ate, crowding on all four corners of the balconies overlooking the canteen. Andy tried to ignore them, letting his fringe fall in front of his face. He could hear the buzzing of machinery and whirring of fans from over the crowd’s quiet murmuring. Blue-cap sat down opposite him, two new friends at his back. Neither of them had weapons, so Andy didn’t pay them much attention. “Andy,” Blue-cap started. “Tell us about the outside world.”

“Are there many others like you?” one man with a crooked nose asked.

“What happened to the government?” a woman with braided black hair said.

“Is the war over?” someone else asked.

“Did the world end?”

“Has the sun gone out?”

“My husband, Vincent Vondave. Do you know him? He was a politician in-”

“Are the military still active?”

“Did the Bulwark Project work?”

“Did humanity survive?”

“Are there monsters?”

“Are we still in communication with the orbital stations and satellite arrays?”

“What’s the most dangerous thing you’ve killed?”

Andy looked at the teenage girl who had asked the question. “A vampire,” he said.

“What’s that?” she said. Suddenly, the other vault dwellers went silent.

“Powerful demon guy with magic powers. Weak to garlic, silver and heavy machine guns. My sister killed it, technically. I helped though.”

“What about the government?” a woman with long blonde hair asked. “Who is running the world now?”

“How many people survived?” a man in glasses asked. “What percent?”

“What currency do you use?” someone shouted from the back.

“What’s the second most dangerous thing you’ve killed?” the girl asked.

“Stone golem,” Andy said. “Or, hmm. Let me think. That thing was strong, but slow. Dynamite blew it up. In terms of dangerous, a horde of zombies is pretty hard.”

“Zombies?” she asked.

Andy burped and leant back in his chair. “Wow, you people really don’t know shit.”