Survivor's Guilt (Fallout New Vegas Fanfiction)

Chapter Three

Zack stepped out of the shack, flinching away from the door as it burned his hand; it was made from pieces of wood and rusted metal, and he always momentarily forgot how hot the sun made it. He sucked on the finger that had been burned, then raised his hand to shield his eyes from the blood-red light that bathed the wasteland every evening.

It was a few days later, and twilight was descending on the Mojave. Zack scratched the back of his neck as he watched Deborah jump over a twisting line of obstacles - broken furniture, buckets, piles of tin. Sandra was working the valve on the water tank, blonde hair hanging over her shoulder as she occasionally shouted encouragement to her daughter.

"Did you build her an obstacle course?" Zack commented as he strolled down the bridge to the water tank. The bridge spanned the sharp slope of earth in front of the shack, and was made from wooden slats with a few sheets of rusted metal halfway down. His boots rang and echoed on the metal as he moved.

"Yeah," his mother replied cheerfully, looking up as he approached. She flicked away some strands of blonde hair that had fallen from her ponytail and onto her face. She turned to look at Deborah, who was still jumping the course. "She's really enjoying it."

"Well anyway, are we having dinner soon? It's twilight and -"

"Yeah, yeah, gimme a second," Sandra interrupted. She started turning the valve of the tank again, and water poured into the bucket below. "We're having soup, I'm just getting the water for it."

"What kinda soup?"

"I won't tell you, you'll just whine about it," Sandra said without looking up.

"Come on, I promise I won't whine."

"Oh, okay. It's giant mole rat."

"What? I hate mole rat!" Zack exclaimed jokingly. His mother looked up, eyes narrowed with a smile on her chapped lips.

~

Zack's stomach growled as he retrieved the enamel bowl and spoon from the stove and sat down by the fire bucket on the floor of the shack. The flames were burning bright as always, licking and spitting on the chunks of dry wood, driving the cold air to only the darkest corners of the makeshift building. Deborah and Peter were sitting nearby, talking quetly.

Zack was dipping his spoon in the mole rat soup when his mother walked over. She sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed, her blonde hair untied and spilling around her shoulders.

"So, what have we all done today?" she asked in a tired voice, her bowl set on the floor. The flickering fire illuminated the bags under her eyes and the wrinkles that lined her face.

When no one answered, she looked at her younger son. "Pete, what've you done today?"

The twelve-year-old scratched his nose uncertainly, his thick black fringe falling into the small eyes that always appeared a little lost on his wide, round face.

"Well, uh...I guess I...I guess I read some stuff. Mostly from the Big Book of Science. Physics and stuff." He scratched his freckly nose again, then started eating his soup.

"Nerd," Zack muttered as he slipped a chunk of mole rat into his mouth.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to insult people like that?" Sandra scolded, her blue eyes narrow.

"Oh, so how would you prefer I insult people?" Zack retorted with a cheeky grin. The blonde woman sighed and looked at Deborah. "How about you, Debbie? What did you get up to today?"

"Um..." Deborah blinked uncertainly. "The gardening that I did with you, maybe?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?"