Fredrick Carr's Arc

Chapter 7 of 11

The week was up. Fredrick stood at the level three door, deep in Vault 141. Logan crouched beside the lock, his two lost fingers curled away from the panel. The rest of the crew waited behind, weapons up. Past this door sat a Sentry Bot with a minigun and six rockets. It had guarded the level under lockdown for centuries. Fredrick carried what Brad had promised him for the job: a launcher on his shoulder and a heavy grenade at his belt. "Once I open it, the clock starts," Logan said. He tapped the lock. "The bot needs fourteen seconds to lock on. Toss the grenade first. Fry its brain. Then hit it with the tube while it's blind." He glanced up. "Miss the order and it eats us." Desior moved to Fredrick's right, grenade in hand. The grey tabby had run supplies and raids with Fredrick for weeks now. He no longer waited for orders. "I throw, you shoot," Desior said. "Same as the wreck site. Don't flinch." "I don't flinch," Fredrick said. He set the launcher against his shoulder and put his eye to the sight. "Open it." Logan worked the tool. The screen flashed. The lock clunked. The heavy door slid back, and cold air rolled out. The Sentry Bot stood in the dark beyond, plating scarred, camouflage faded to brown. Its orange eyes flared to life. A servo whined as the minigun barrel began to spin up. "Fourteen," Logan said, backing away. "Go." Desior pulled the pin and threw. The grenade struck the bot's chest and stuck. Blue light pulsed once, then burst. The pulse washed over the machine. Its eyes died. The spinning barrel slowed and stopped. The whole frame went still, arms locked mid-rise. "Now," Logan said. Fredrick squeezed the trigger. The launcher kicked hard against his shoulder. The rocket crossed the gap in a breath and hit the bot dead center. Fire filled the doorway. The blast threw metal against the walls. When the smoke cleared, the Sentry Bot lay in pieces on the floor, one leg still twitching. The crew moved forward through the smoke. Level three was open at last. This was the way to the medical labs, the heart of Brad's whole plan. But Fredrick's boots crunched on something soft. He looked down. Bones. Old bones, in torn Vault-Tec coveralls, scattered across the floor past the door. Not one body. A dozen. They had died on this side of the lock, trapped, clawing at a door that would not open. Desior lowered his rifle. "The bot didn't kill these." Logan crouched by the nearest skull. He studied a long gouge across the bone. "Teeth," he said. He looked up at Fredrick, dead level. "Something in here ate them. And the bot never let it out." Fredrick keyed his radio. "Brad. Bot's down. We're through." He looked into the dark hall ahead. "But we're not alone down here." Brad’s reply came back steady. “Sending backup now, 3 guards and medic Mary Long arriving in five minutes. Stay in place until they arrive.” Fredrick liked working with Brad because he plans ahead.