Survivor's Guilt (Fallout New Vegas Fanfiction)

Chapter Seven

Debbie ran down the dirt slope to the collapsed radio tower, her blonde hair shining in the twilight.

Zack stopped beside his mom and just gazed at Wolfhorn Ranch for a while. He hated being stuck at this place for months on end, but on return from Novac trips he always felt a twinge of happiness to be home - no matter how small and faint that twinge was.

He glanced at the radio tower, the conjoined metal rods that formed it aglow in the dying sun. Most of the tall structure was still standing, albeit rusty and with pieces missing, but about twenty feet of it had been blasted off the top in the nuclear war and had split into two shorter chunks. Deborah was now climbing on one of them.

"Debbie, don't go on the tower!" Sandra shouted as soon as she noticed. "It'll be burning hot from the sun! How many times do I have to tell you?"

She didn't stop at first, but when her mom threatened her with no dinner she jumped off the metal structure angrily.

Sandra started toward the shack, and all three children followed her. Zack trudged reluctantly along the sand, listening to the chirp of crickets and the call of a bird in the distance. I don't wanna go back in that stupid shack. It's way too small for all of us to live in. Why do we have to live out here in complete isolation? It was so much more fun in Vegas...

~

Zack sat on the floor of the shack, the dilapidated wood scratching his bare legs. The world outside had once again plunged into chilly darkness, but the flames in their metal bucket drove the cold away.

The teenage boy pushed around the remains of cactus salad in his bowl. Sandra had insisted on a "light, healthy salad" as dinner after their day of walking in the heat, and no amount of complaining - mostly Zack's - had deterred her. I'd rather eat mole rat than cactus.

At that moment he got an idea to improve the mood of the evening a little.

"Hey, Mom," he said, "can we do some arm wrestling? We haven't done that in ages."

She looked up, surprised. "Arm wrestling? Haha, all right I guess. Woulda thought you'd be tired out after all that trekking around today. But you have to remember the rule."

Zack rolled his eyes.

"What's the rule?"

He sighed. "If my arm starts hurting, stop immediately."

His mother smiled and put down her empty bowl. "Okay then. Let's wrestle."

Zack climbed to his feet and tried to move the formica-topped white table to the center of the shack, as per usual. Sandra jumped up and helped him, the table's legs scraping along the floor with a painful noise.

They sat on their knees facing each other, the splintery timber floor digging into Zack's skin. Peter and Deborah were watching, their bowls still in their hands.

"Can I go next? Can I go next?" Deborah piped up.

"Okay, Debbie," Sandra replied.

"Yay!"

Sandra and Zack each stretched an arm out, elbow on the small dining table and forearm up. Both of them grinned, half of Sandra's blonde hair illuminated by the fire.

Their hands met, Zack counted down, and the match begun.

It had been a while since he had arm wrestled his mom, and he had forgotten how strong she was. He tried his hardest to push her arm down, his whole body tensing with the effort. He managed to push her arm a bit, but it was his that ended up slamming onto the cold white table.