[StLee]

13 March 2287, Vault 114

The floor was slightly damp with a hint of tato juice and Abraxo. Flash walked to his bedside locker looking for something to do. His mother must have gone out to the common area to pick up a few supplies, maybe wash clothes, so Flash had the room to himself in the vault.

His family had been in the vault since before he was born. In a challenging world, the vault was a luxury for his family. It did not function as they heard some of the other vaults had, but it was a place that sheltered Flash and his family from the elements. And the predators.

Twenty total families had settled in the vault over the years. The men regularly made trips out into the wastes to seek supplies either through trade or scavenging. Flash’s dad, Monty, was one of those men. He did not speak much of his trips out of the vault but mentioned that there was nothing but death and danger above.

“Stay here forever,” he would say to Flash and his mother, Edna. “There’s nothing for us out there.”

The vault was incomplete. Though it had power, it was not exactly a bastion of perfection. Lights flickered in certain areas, and there were drafts blowing through open sections that had never been sealed. It was obvious to the residents that this vault had not been completed before the bombs dropped.

One thing the vault did have was an open recreation area. Though Flash was only seven, he would often venture with his basketball to the gym area. When other kids were available, he would carry a bat, his glove, and a collection of baseballs. But, when it came to what he most wanted to do, Flash was drawn to his basketball. He could barely reach the rim in the gym, but he would shoot over and over and over. Basketball offered him comfort.

When Flash looked in his locker, he saw his basketball and decided it was what he wanted to do. He grabbed it and started toward the gym. Opening his family’s room to head down the hallway, Flash was suddenly confused. People were running around in a panic. Mr. Hardwater, the elderly next-door neighbor was running, too. “Flash,” he shouted. “Get the **** out of here. Fast!”

Flash was frozen in place from Mr. Hardwater’s harsh words. He watched as the older men and multiple women and children were fleeing toward the secret exit above ground. Finally, he saw his mother. Blood streamed down her face as she ran toward Flash. She picked him up and continued running with Flash in her arms, swiping at her bleeding brow with the back of her arm. Flash watched as his mother ran and ran and ran. It was not until they reached the ladder up to the culvert that Flash first heard the gunshots. Submachine gun gunshots. The silence was followed by screams.

“I need you to climb,” Flash’s mother said, her voice whispering but quick. “Please. Go now. We are in terrible danger.”

“Where’s dad?” Flash questioned. He was looking back down the hallway and saw two men carrying submachine guns turn the corner. They were dressed in suits and fedoras. It was like some of the old-time gangsters Flash saw in some of his father’s magazines.

“He and the other men are out on a scavenging trip. Please, Flash, hurry. Climb fast like you do.”

Flash turned toward the ladder and started scaling it. He realized he had his basketball in his left arm as he placed his elbow on a rung and then launched his right arm up to pull him up to the next one. He heard the men shouting behind him and felt his mother close enough to keep him going without looking. She kept hissing at Flash to hurry as his little arms and legs. She said to drop the basketball, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. It was the one thing making him feel safe.

As he reached the top of the ladder, Flash saw Mrs.Hingle, the teacher. She pulled Flash through the hole, exposing him for the first time in his life to the brightness of the Commonwealth. Flash blinked as he tried to adjust to natural sunlight. He waited for his mother to come up behind him, but she never came. Mrs. Hingle wrapped her arm around Flash and led him away. He looked back and saw teenage boys securing the culvert cover. He knew his mother would never emerge.

Flash held tight to the basketball. He thought of his mother. He thought of his father. He held tight to the basketball and cried.