Tales from the Wasteland, Vol. 1-1

         Vault 150's alarms blared to life, waking Celeste almost instantly in a sweat. Everything had always been a smooth, event-less process in the Vault, and in the past couple of years Celeste had forgotten there even was an alarm system in place.  So what was going on?  Celeste brushed her brown bangs behind her ears and got up, grabbing her blue Vault jumpsuit and quickly getting dressed.  Honestly, she was surprised at how calm she was.  She pushed the button to open her door to the Dormitory hallways.  It blinked red.

         "What the...?"  she murmured, pressing the button a second time with no different of a result.  She banged on the door, "Hey, can anyone hear me?  What's going on?"

         Silence.

         "Jackson!  Jackson!"  She called out the Overseer's name, hoping to catch anyone's attention.  Maybe the alarms were louder out in the hallway...

         SLAM!

         Celeste shrieked and fell back as the door itself bent inward as someone, or something, slammed into it from the other side.  She tried to regain her footing, but slipped on the smooth metallic floor and scrambled herself against the wall as the same thing happened again, the door easily seconds away from bursting open, and Celeste had nowhere to go.  She held her breath, her heart beating in her throat.  The door burst open with the next slam.

         And Celeste sat straight up in bed, beads of sweat dripping down her forehead and neck as she caught her breath.  Her heavy breathing aside, everything was quiet.  Celeste put her face in her hands, fighting back the tears.  The same dream haunted her time and time again, reminding her of the real nightmare that happened in Vault 150.  It was her last night in the home she was appointed to before the bombs dropped.  She moved in when she was six, and 20 years later she was out in the cruel Wasteland that was one the bustling Washington DC.  The settlement of Megaton had become home to Celeste, a sort of sanctuary in the bleak wilderness that became human society.

         "Damn..."
         
         Celeste got up and looked out through one of the openings in the rusty metal panels that made up one of her walls.  It was still nighttime, and there wasn't much going on outside that she could see.  She thought she could hear one of those, as many called them, "religious cooks" that worshipped the nuke at the center of town.  Celeste sighed and looked down at the Pip Boy on her nightstand.  3:42am.  The dream wasn't as recurring as they used to be, but it was something that ate at her for so long.  Every time the dream came up, it was like the first time all over again.  Every time the dream came up, it ended at the same spot.  Long had she repressed the memories following, and part of her was okay with that.  Celeste took a deep breath, her throat and nose having gotten used to the dusty air years ago.  She sat on her bed, wiping the sweat from her brow.  Doc Church needed her early tomorrow, and she didn't need to be exhausted.  Celeste rested her head on her pillow and slowly closed her eyes, hoping the same thing she hoped every night for years:  that one day she would wake up to the world that existed long before the bombs dropped.