Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

This is commissioned work. If you'd like to commission, contact me at [email protected]

My morning started like something out of a dream. I woke up to the smell of freshly-made pancakes, a little of the good ol’ syrup on it to make them a little easier to swallow with the war rations that were being distributed, some Insta-Mash getting prepped for the lunch, and getting off at the local bus stop for my current part-time job was just the wonderful routine that I’d made for myself. 

My mother, Irene Jackson, a lovely lady of around forty busied herself with knowing the local ladies at the factory while the job that I did… well, it wasn’t much to write home about. Labor in the field, something that put some good shine on your skin and paid well, as far as it was done. 

Special Dispensation, they’d said when I’d turned eighteen. Something to do with my mother signing a Vault-Tec waiver for something, and more or less the luck of the draw. Working in the field with a straw hat made me look like some sockhop loser, but it was good work. 

Working with my hands was good enough for little old me, or so I’d thought. 

“Jackie boy! How’s it going, son? Have a Nuka, it’ll put some hair on your chest. You’re going to be working the field until four, before I’ll get the tractor and till it with you. Just get the rocks out and it’ll be fine.”

Mister Morgensonne, a man who’d lived in this neck of the woods for most his life, looked like he’d been through a rough night, what with his baby arriving earlier in the week. It’d been a big thing, the pay good enough for the extra hours I put in, sweeping my blonde hair back and then taking the Nuka-Cola that he offered. He didn’t look like the thirty-eight years that he had already lived on this planet, I knew, as he smiled, eyes twinkling with a spark in those dark brown irises.

Tasting the fizz-pop in my mouth always made me feel like the world was just a bit brighter, as Mister Morgensonne, ‘Big Jonas’ as he was called, laughed. 

“That’s the spirit, Jackie boy! We’ll make a man out of you yet! When I was your age, I was courting Marge, and damn fine a lass she was.”

The man’s wife, having brought the third child into this world a few months ago, had been a brief glimpse to see when I’d come to Mister Morgensonne’s home to apply for the job, her features fine, even if she was a little younger than Big Jonas was. 

“You think there’s some more Commie sympathizers out there?”

A quiet little thoughtful sound came from Mister Morgensonne’s lips, as he pulled out another chilled Nuka-Cola, taking a sip and giving a soft ‘ahh’ at the taste. 

“Dunno, Jackie boy. We just work the field, feeding the people their food. You want to get a burger sometime later tonight? I heard there’s going to be another drill for that Vault thing they got installed in the mountains.”

My name was on the list for that, and I knew that my mother would probably want me to attend. She always had that smile on her face, knowing that there would be someplace for me to be safe, if the bombs were to fall, like the drills always instructed. 

‘Be safe, be aware, be there.’  

I knew that it would be enough to worry about later. The Vault that had been drilled into the mountain a few years ago, when I was just about ten or thereabouts, had already become the lead employer of many of the young men that weren’t shipped off to war, or to do the jobs in the big city. It was the pleasant life of working hard, serving your country by helping the war effort with producing enough food to fill the stomachs of the hungry and to get a cool, chilled Nuka Cola when things were done. 

“Mom probably wants me to attend. I’m a bit worried for her.”

Irene, as she preferred to be called by her friends, was not someone who often let me see her worries, though I could tell that it bothered her a little that I had few contacts with the ladies. There were some pretty birds at the local bar, but I wasn’t twenty-one yet, the dance that was organized once every two weeks definitely didn’t have me attend it, being utterly abominable at the way of moving my feet to a rhythm, and going to the store was my mom’s job, though she hid it well. 

My father, John, had died during the first year of my parents’ marriage, an accident at the place where he worked for the military, something to do with the national guard. It was weird how things had gone, but apparently some sort of large container of goo had fallen on him and there’d been something with the government, and my mother getting a large settlement, she hadn't said much to me about it.

It got us a nice house, at least. Irene Jackson, a widow raising her son, me, a pillar of the community. I’m at least happy to contribute, even if there were Commies around that would try to mooch off the hard work and sweat of true and hard-working Americans.

“She’s a good woman, raising a strong man like you. If those damn socialists come for us good hard-working folks, we’ll give them a thumping. Ahh, if only my kids were old enough to come and help.”

I laughed at the thought. I’d seen the young ones before, and the kid was still getting the education needed to learn how to multiply. Not that I was super at that, but I was pretty good in school classes. Full marks, three times the extra credit and was selected for the local Football team twice, which I had to pass on because of my mother’s circumstances. 

It was more the fact that I was relied upon to help her out. Not that it was hard work, of course, any loving patriotic son would do the work for his mother, but the expectations that we had to rely on. 

Irene was well-loved around the neighborhood we lived in, but never really made any comments about marriage to someone else, even if Mister Trent from down the lane tried really hard. Doing the laundry and making sure that my underwear was well-washed and starched was hard on me, but Irene always let it hang out. Calling her mom was just a bit weird, but I am a filial son. 

“Well, I’m the kid that’s here to help.”

The laugh that he returned at those words was warm and friendly, even with Halloween coming around later. The weather was still nice, but still, there were some forecasts for rain. 

“That you are, Jackie Boy… Ahh, I couldn’t have done it without a good hard-working fella like you. You’ll get your earnings after we go for the burgers… Food’s getting pricier every day, it feels like… But a burger won’t treat you wrong.”

I knew that it wouldn’t treat me wrong, because a good burger from the local burger joint was just what a good hard-working America-loving man needed, giving Mister Morgensonne a thumbs-up, before putting the bottle down. 

“Thanks for the Nuka, I’d best get back to work. Gotta keep the rocks out of the field, after all.”

I’d have to do the manual stuff before the tilling first, so focus was required on the dull part. 

“You do that, Jack. I’ll go and see about the barn first.”

A large barn, I knew, with plenty of storage for the simple things in life and the beetroot that went into making the official hooch that was a nice bonus sold by the local watering hole called ‘The Patriot’s Place’, which was where usually Mister Morgensonne went when I was off duty, according to my mother. 

“I’ll work here, sir.”

Seven hours later and a quick dunk under the pump at the barn to get the sweat off my skin, I sat next to Big Jonas on the passenger side of the truck, the Nuka-Cola bottle cap that was on the hood more of a replacement for the General Automatics symbol that’d fallen off, the caps worked into a nice ornamental thing that Big Jonas took some pride in. 

“Ahh… A good man earns a good burger. Maybe you’ll even get to chat up on the gals when you’re there, Jackie boy.”

A cool Nuka would go down really nicely as well, as I knew that the waitress at the burger joint was a cutie. Blonde hair that was like the color of freshly harvested grain, nice and golden and a set of beautiful brown eyes, as well as a cute dress that fit right around her butt…

A man could dream about things like that. 

“I’m sure that you’re not supposed to look, Mister Morgensonne.”

Big Jonas laughed. 

“You just call me Jonas, Jackie Boy. You’re a good kid, a good kid. The others have their whole ‘we dun’ fraternize with the boss’ thing going on, but you’re a smart kid. Them Commie scum work like that, trying to be all dishtant and hard ta catch… A real patriot doesn’t spit on the flag of the US of A and go out causing all sorts of trouble.”

I grabbed my wallet in advance, ready to pay for my meal if needed. Irene had always said that a man should be responsible for what he bought and what he ate, so it wasn’t something that would break the bank. A burger was cheap… sort of. 

“Well, I just do my job and go home to my mom. A girl would be nice but I love my Ma.”

I knew that it might make me a sourpuss when it came to the girls, especially since my Ma was someone who wouldn’t be out of place with the neighborhood association of fine ladies, but I loved her with all my heart. 

“And that’s how it should be, Jackie Boy. Come, let’s get you some food! None of em wanted ta come, so you get a burger with extra frills and thrills! My treat, ahhh, when my son’s grown, I want you to help him with school-works. You’re smart, right?”

I could help out a bit if it were needed, of course.

The siren started to blare at that moment in time, and Big Jonas pulled over to the side of the road, looking in the direction of the Vault, where the summons had come from. 

“Must be that drill thing… Aww shucks, I need ta get back home. Jackie Boy, we’re going to my place. It’ll be nothing, like it used ta be, but you know, that them there Vault is going to be a place fer us good God-fearing folk.”

Jonas was right, as he opened the door. 

“I’ve gotta get home, we’ll get that burger tomorrow, sonny boy. Big Jonas doesn't let his workers starve…”

I went to the assembly point, marked by the sign, seeing several guys already looking like they had enough of the sirens, still blaring in their obnoxious ‘wheee-uuwww-wheee-uwww’, most of them around my age, probably a bit older. Black guys and white guys, even the rare Chinese-looking guy were assembled, as I looked them over, a bit odd in comparison to them, since I was still wearing my work outfit, rough coveralls and the sleeves rolled up. 

“Off work from the farm, farm boy?”

A tall Black guy spoke, his curly hair groomed in the slicked-back style that was popular during the dance music halls, spoke up to me and I nodded. 

“Just about to head home, but you know, the sirens.”

I didn’t want to hang around more often than not, as the guys looked around and laughed at my ignorance, or at least, at something I’d said. 

“You keep on working on your farm, farm boy. You’re in the presence of some esteemed individuals. I graduated from Vault-Tec University with glowing marks.”

I’d had to work, Irene had wanted me to go to school out of state to learn robotics or something, but I hadn’t wanted to. There was just my mother in this world to care for, with as few comments about a young man still living with his mother as could be allowed. 

“Great for you. I think the bus arrived.”

It was already pulling up, the cool hum of the engine making me feel more at ease, as the Red Rocket fuel station stood as the backdrop to the east, the bus allowing us to board, a Vault-Tec representative ticking off our names, as we said them. 

“That should be all. It is critical that you appear during these drills, gentlemen.”

The woman’s name tag read ‘Murdock’, her face remarkable, with a beauty mark near her cheek, platinum blonde hair styled in a modernistic fashion, Nuka-Girl had nothing on her if I had to be true to myself. 

“Sure, we’ll be here if there’s a sweetcheeks like you here.”

The woman’s stern face clearly told the tale that such cheek would not be tolerated, as she signalled the bus driver to close, as I settled into the seat, next to some guy with red hair and freckles, wearing a pointdexter outfit, clearly not looking like the fittest specimen. 

“H-Hey. The name’s Arthur Newark.”

I put on a smile, unsure whether it was even worth introducing myself. 

“John Jackson, but you can call me Jack. I was just on my way to the bar for some cool Nuka-Cola and a steak.”

Or something that resembled it, I knew, as Arthur nodded. 

“I was at- at home. I’m- I g-got home, a-and the s-sirens.”

The stutter was definitely something that he should change, I guessed, as I did my best to be charitable. Irene had always taught me to be nice to people, since I’d been her only child and I knew better than to leave a bad impression on the neighborhood for leaving my mother to fend for herself, even if I was still a young man. 

“Yeah, they’re still running the drills. You think the bombs will fall?”

If the drill hadn’t been something that had been instructed, I probably wouldn’t have gone, but mom was strict about it. 

“You’re my only son, John. Your father would want you to have been safe, I’ll be fine. Better to let a strapping young man like you survive than some old woman like me.”

She was only thirty-nine, soon to be forty. Having to call her ‘old’ would be like calling a ripe banana ‘overripe’, since she still looked good for her age, I couldn’t deny that sometimes, it was a little rough when men wanted to flatter her… or we were assumed to be a couple. 

Irene always said that she was too old to be my wife, but she had the skills to be, cleaning, cooking and working in the place she worked at for the money to keep coming in, so when we went out for the grocery shopping, it wasn’t odd for her to hold my arm, since I usually was the one reaching for the high shelves. 

“I don’t know. I-I hope not, Mister Jackson.”

Having heard the stuttering words come out, I looked out of the window, seeing the scenery pass us by, as I could hear the conversation of the others in the bus, hearing the words mingle as my mind drifted away into the clouds, thinking of what I’d tell my mother later. 

That drink would have to wait, Big Jonas probably wanted to see me right and early in the morning, so I’d better hit the hay when I got back. 

“It’s so futile… War… It’s all about the war.”

Arthur seemed to understand, nodding his head swiftly. 

“Y-yes. It is the War. I flunked out. T-The t-t-test. For the Se-selective s-s-service.”

I could understand that. Someone like Arthur, who didn’t seem to have the spine needed to go and be a soldier, would be unfit for the duties on the frontline, my ears picking up the chatter from some of the guys up front. 

“She’s got a nice rack on her. You think we’ll get a babe as hot as that Murdock woman?”

“Keep on dreaming, she’s just a rep. They wouldn’t let us get our hands on a beauty like that.”

I hadn’t thought much about it, but the woman was pretty, I had to at least admit that. A little too serious-looking for my tastes, but arguably not ugly by any means. It would not be bad to have to get to know her with the pleasure of a Nuka that had been chilled to perfection, though she probably wouldn’t have much interest in a guy like me. 

There was of course also the fact that I stank of sweat and had dirt on my pants, nothing that some good Abraxo couldn’t fix, especially with some of that new stuff they’d been bringing out lately. 

“Please, exit the bus and present yourself in front of the Vault. Standard protocol, gentlemen.”

I moved with them, lining up, the door to the Vault opening for us, marching into the well-lit interior, spotting that there were already women lined up there. Several of them looked like they’d had their jobs interrupted by the sirens, wearing their dresses and their work outfits. One of them even wore a suit, before the pretty mature lady walked right to the front and then tapped the button, her voice coming through the speakers. 

“Thank you for attending this drill. Vault-Tec wishes to ensure that you adhere to the guidelines in order to make sure that you will survive the possible nuclear holocaust that might befall our proud and glorious nation. I am Kathleen Murdock, one of the people responsible for managing you, the brightest young men and women of the nation. Please, file out in an orderly line, this drill is now over.”

The woman had been new, I guessed, since the one before that had been a man called Kelsey Grammar or something, the name not really sticking with me, as we all filed out, back to the bus. It was already the seventh drill this year, and there would undoubtedly be more later on, since I had no expectation that it would ever work. 

‘I want to go home.’  

I got out of the bus, giving a wave to Arthur, who had sat next to me again. The other guys were busy with talking about some of the hot babes that they’d seen, which I had to agree with, knowing that there had been several women that I’d describe as ‘fanciable’ under the politest of terms, of course. 

Arriving at the place we called home, I rang the doorbell, seeing my mother Irene pull the door open, a bright smile on her face. 

“Johnny! Come in, come in. You need a wash, a good wash, and then we’ll go to the Super Duper Mart for some extra things for dinner. You’re late- it was the drill, wasn’t it?”

Standing at a mere 5’4, her hair braided back with a simple braid that showed her flaxen hair color, eyes sparkling with that boundless life in them, she was my mother, Irene. Always happy to make me smile and to smile for the people, the spark of joy at seeing her was enough, as she hugged me, before pulling back. 

“Stinky sticky Johnny. You should wash up! There’s a washer that we’ll have turning and I’ve put out some fresh underwear for you. Did you help Mister Morgensonne again today?”

I nodded, entering the bathroom and then getting under the spray of the showerhead, the water pressure in the building a little awkward at times, with it being either too much or too little, the boiler on the frizz more often than not, but now, a blast of cold water hitting me, a shriek coming from my lips, my mother poking her head into the bathroom. 

“Are you okay- Johnny, the water is a little chilly, I should have told you.”

Smiling at her, I allowed myself to simply nod a little. It didn’t matter. Cold water could turn hot at a moment’s notice. 

“It’s fine, mom. Let’s get those things from the S-D Mart, okay?”

I knew that mom liked to go bargain-hunting for some things that were on their best-by-date and make dinner out of them. We didn’t have the money for a Mister Handy or anything, that would be too pricy for my mother to afford, but I’d seen them around at times, doing the stuff in the fancier parts of town, not that we’d do much with our place, aside from me working to help out with the gardening and the other stuff on the weekends. 

“You look so much like your father, Johnny. I love you, son.”

I knew that. The picture on the mantle was still in good condition, my father looking fine in his best clothes at the wedding. I wasn’t even in the picture back then, but Irene never complained about the absence of her husband, not to me at least. 

“I love you too, mom. I’ll be out soon.”

There might be a pretty girl here or there at the Super Duper Mart, if I could swing by and get one. 

They wouldn’t be in the bargains aisle, though. 

Pulling on a fresh shirt and some laundered pants, I lightly dusted them to get the starch out, letting out a sigh as I looked at my reflection briefly, before grabbing my father’s Sunday jacket, a souvenir from his time. The hat that came with it was of a good brand, or so mom always said, putting it on and getting out to meet with my mother, who already looked ready to go, taking the shopping bag from her hand, as she cooed at me. 

“Such a handsome boy. You’ll need to get a girl soon, Johnny. Any woman would fall in love with you if they saw you looking so dapper and handsome.”

I knew that Irene was flattering me, giving me confidence, a smile on my lips, as I held out my arm for her to take. It was a bit of a walk to the Super Duper Mart, there being no car for us to really get around in. The house was one thing, but we weren’t rich, after all. 

General Atomics was wonderful with cheapening the prices for the machinery, yet the fuel costs kept on rising because of the War. 

“You’re growing into a fine man, Johnny. I could introduce you to one of the girls I know, if you’d want. She’s a hard worker and pretty to boot.”

I laughed as she tried to make conversation. A pretty girl would be a dream, but making my mother happy was a better one. Not to say that I was inappropriate with my mother, of course not, but she had sacrificed so much for me that I wanted to do something back for her. 

“I don’t know if she’d want someone like me, ma. You know, I work outside a lot, girls don’t like smelly boys, last I heard.”

Irene laughed softly, more of a giggle than a laugh, as she turned her attention to me and gave a light poke against my side. 

“They may not like smelly boys, but my Johnny isn’t a boy, he’s a man. I’m proud of you, John.”

She only used my name when she wanted to make something clear to me, my lips pursing into a smile, knowing that she meant well. 

Entering the Super Duper Mart and going down the aisles, Irene leading the way, listening to the announcements over the speakers in the mart, humming to herself as she put several boxes of Insta-Mash into our cart, which I was pulling. 

“Johnny? Can you get me some snack cakes? I’m too short to- aww, thanks.”

Getting some Fancy Lads for her off the shelf was easy-peasy for me, as I put it in the cart, Irene giving me a wink, letting a small smile slip on her lips. It was clear that she wasn’t going to stick with the ‘no snacks’ rule for the rest of the week, my lips forming a smile at Irene’s almost guilty smile, looking younger than her years, before I heard a polite cough. 

“Monsieur, could you fetch some for me too?”

I did a double-take, looking at the young woman who looked like she’d be a few years older than me, the voice definitely sounding like the French actresses from some of the movies that were being played, older-time movies, like from the thirties and forties. 

“Of course, eh, ma’am? Miss?”

Irene nudged him, smiling at the blonde woman, whose braid looked like one of those French breeche bread things, her expression bright and preppy, as he reached for another box of Fancy Lads, holding it out for her to take. 

“This is my son, miss. He’s a nice boy who helps an old lady like me shop. If you’re still looking for a nice fellow, you can’t go wrong with my Johnny.”

The young woman giggled, and I briefly wondered whether women had a hive mind, like from the Unstoppables comic that I’d read a while ago, back in high school. It had been something that I hadn’t had much time for, though everyone collected the comics back then… only a few years ago. 

“Oh, non, I am- Oh, you were at ze Vault, yes?”

I nodded, the blonde giving a smile, as I sheepishly chuckled a little, nervous energy going through me. 

“I eh, would remember such a pretty lady, ma’am.”

Irene nudged my side. 

“He’s just shy. He’s nearly nineteen, a very hard worker. My Johnny works hard. Are you from Europe?”

The young woman gave a small curtsy, something that was undoubtedly European, as her eyes seemed to twinkle. 

“Oui, I teach French at the local high school, my first year zis year.”

He nodded, sticking out his hand. 

“John Jackson, but you can call me Jack if you want. This is my mother, Irene, the best woman on any scene.”

The rhyme was perhaps a bit cheesy, but it would be catchy enough, as my fingers wrapped around the young woman’s in a handshake. 

“Ahh, monsieur Jackzon, it is un honneur. You are good for your mother, yez?”

He thought he was, as one of the cleaning Mister Handy’s passed them by, humming the Super Duper Jingle, as the unnamed French teacher gave a smile as Irene spoke up. 

“He’s a dear. Always helps me out with the chores, doesn’t complain, handsome… You can’t go wrong with this model, dear. As a woman, I recommend this fancy lad.”

I blushed and groaned a ‘Mom’ at her, as she patted him, the Frenchwoman giggling a little. 

“Ahh, my name is Henriette Duclaire. You are a biet too young for moi, monsieur Jack-son. I am vingt-huilt , oh, twenty and eight. A biet zoo old, non?”

She was a pretty woman, either way. I couldn’t deny that. 

“Well, you’re beautiful anyways. If my Ma approves, I can’t do anything but that.”

Color crept up the woman’s cheeks, as Irene laughed something. 

“He’s got the charm from his father… ahh, we’ll leave you to your shopping, dear. We’re shopping for our dinner. Have a nice day, Miss Duclaire.”

The polite farewells were quick, but Irene was amused regardless, as she seemed to mull over this young woman, checking the prices on some carrots in the greengrocer’s aisle at the discount section. 

“We’ll have something nice for dinner tonight… You met a nice girl, even if she wasn’t interested. My boy is growing up.”

I didn’t think she was all that interested in me. She was, for starters, older than me. She’d also pretty much said that I was younger than her, but she had been a pretty blonde with an interesting accent regardless. 

“Ah, I don’t think-”

I started, but Irene cut me off, laughing softly. 

“Now, don’t go and charm her socks off, Johnny. Save some of that charm for the lady you’ll lose your heart to… You’re a good boy, after all.”

Irene always thought too well of me, I guess, because I didn’t think I was a good boy, or at least, not a sterling example of one. 

I’d masturbated to the thought of Becky, the head cheerleader of the local football team attached to our high school, so often that it’d practically been burned into my mind about that gorgeous butt of hers and that high spirit of hers. 

“Mom…”

Irene clearly didn’t think that it was anything to be ashamed of, as I felt her lightly pat my hand. 

“I know, you’re going to get some extra dessert for being such an obedient boy, Johnny. Your father would be proud of you if he was still around. I’m… I’d be devastated if something happened and you died, John.”

I knew that, Irene was always busy with making sure that I had the best of the best, even if money was tight for us. I could have gone to work in the factories in the other part of town, or even gone to college, but I felt like I owed her.

Perhaps it was my foolishness and my love for her that made me weak, but a man should love his mother, because she gave birth to him. 

“Let’s get the groceries, mom. We’re going to make a nice dinner and some dessert, and I’ve got to get up early again. It’s nearly harvesting season, after all.”

The big Halloween party that was being prepared for was undoubtedly going to be the place to be at for any self-respecting man of my age, with girls, hot-fizz pop floats and Nuka Cola fountains… and of course, the spookiest and scariest ghouls running around. 

Maybe a childish side of mine that hadn’t fully been banished due to being grown up, but it always made me feel a little warmer when I saw the spooky ghoul decorations and other things. Thrilling Tales comics had been a highlight, you just couldn’t top the creative minds of Tragic Comics…

Unless you were a Commie, that was. Them damn socialist commie bastards were just trying to go and upset good and hard-working Americans! I want to have a home with a good, god-fearing wife and maybe three kids or so. A loving wife…

I thought back to the French teacher and definitely felt it settle a little, those sweet features all sorts of beautiful, even if she was just a bit older than me and not into guys like me. 

“The price went up again… but it’s good enough for us, isn’t it?”

Walking home with the grocery bags stuffed full of the foods that Irene and I liked was just the sweet frosting on the snack cake, because it gave us time to talk. Irene was talking more than I did, though I wasn’t really all that talkative most of the times. It had been that side of me that reminded her a lot of my father, according to what she thought. 

“I think it’s good for your hips to get a bit more rounded, Ma.”

Irene laughed softly, shaking her head. 

“I’ll put you over my knee, you naughty boy. They’re good for my sugar intake, that’s what. We’ve got an extra bottle of Rad-X to be sure, you know?”

I hummed softly at my mother’s words, Irene continuing to talk, as she gave a few more tidbits of information that I hadn’t really considered too much. I worked with my hands, not with my mind, so I was surprised by the way that RobCo seemed to have already started to work on mass-producing some more equipment for use in the field. 

“Take a seat, I’ll get dinner ready in a bit.”

I lounged in the chair in front of the television, turning it on to see the patriotic news, a large ship being sent from the harbor towards the Alaskan front, full of supplies and relief aid for the people that were beleaguered by the socialist commies. 

How anyone could sympathize with the mind-virus that was Communism was beyond me. I loved my freedom, my ability to be who I wanted to be and the freedom to love who I wanted to love. 

Commies were morons, in my opinion. Irene came in, putting the plate in my lap and kissing my cheek, making me grumble a little about not being a boy anymore, but she didn’t listen, sitting down on the other chair, giving me that smile. 

“My boy… You’re going to be getting a girlfriend and she’ll be taking you away from me… Ahh, you make me worry for you… but also make me proud.”

Her voice was hopeful and she was proud of me, I knew that. Every great grade that I got was yet another testament to how well she raised me, every new achievement that I had was another mark on my record that she found to be praiseworthy. 

“You know me, mom.”

I hoped that she’d maybe find a man to love her like my father had loved her when I found myself a gal, someone who would be pretty and sweet, willing to help out around the house with cleaning and caring for John Jr., keeping up that tradition. 

“That French teacher girl was nice, don’t you think?”

Henriette’s face came to mind and I groaned, knowing that Mom was trying to get me to think about her. Why, I had an inkling of, and Mom looked like she was definitely not letting up on the thought of me with the Frenchie. 

She might even be a Commie, foreign as she was. 

“Mom…”

I plaintively sighed and my mother’s smile was like any woman who thought I was adorable… which generally counted only Irene and one of her friends. Hoping that my mother wouldn’t meddle with my affairs was like trying to think about two things at once and then a third added with an exploding Mister Handy next to it. 

“Eat your dinner, Johnny. I was just teasing you.”

I slid into my bed a little later, hearing the television in the background. Another day of work was ahead of me, and I knew that there would be a good meal waiting for me, Big Jonas already having said that it would be on his dime. 

‘That gal was hot though…’

The accent aside, but that body… 

It made a man feel things that were manly. The warmth of the covers did nothing for the warmth of my groin as my hand pushed the underwear down just a little and I thought back to that French-accented babe, the sharp eyes and the braid. I’d read some of the more risque magazines that were sold for men of good taste, in the special section. Nobody really bothered with what people read, the War having been in a perpetual continuum for almost ten years or so. 

‘Damn…’  

Stroking myself to those features, that accent begging me to paint that French face of hers with some good ol’ American cream, slathering the cream all over her face like it was the finest French perfume, just imagining it sending tingles through my balls, as I knew that I should stop, groaning softly at the impending orgasm that came to me like a rushing wave, waiting only at that cusp for it to calm down. 

‘That’s all for you, you ooh-la-la trollop.’  

I’d show her that a young buck was still willing to put some good ol’ boy juice all over her, and I groaned softly, perhaps a bit too loudly as Irene came into my bedroom. 

“Are you alright?”

I smiled sheepishly. 

“Just a bit of the insta-mash coming back up, Ma. I guess it’s just the whole drill thing that’s making me a bit razz.”

Irene went out of my bedroom and I could hear the television be switched off, before she came to join me, getting into bed with me and hugging me. 

“Don’t worry, Mama will sleep with you to chase the stomach bugs away. We can’t have my Johnny being unable to go to work, now can we?”

I groaned, knowing that it must never come out that I was babied by my mother. It had been very acceptable when I was six, but right now I was a man already! (According to my ID. Still couldn’t drink, though)

“Mama…”

She tapped my nose. 

“No, we’re not having a talk about this, Johnny. You’re not feeling well.”

I was just horny. The thought of that French bird going and doing something nice and sexy for me was just too enticing, as Irene wrapped her arms around me. Since I didn’t have a habit of wearing more than just some underwear in bed, it was a bit awkward, Irene hugging me from behind. 

“You’re going to be protected by that Vault, Johnny. I’d rather you were safe, if the bombs fall. I know… I know you’ll be safe, so I can go and join your father in the afterlife.”

I wasn’t going to let that happen so quickly. It was a threat, for sure, but the drills had been going on for months now, with nothing happening. We were beating the Commies from China back, so it was at least some steps towards the right order of things: America on top. 

“I don’t plan on dying, mom. I promise you, I’ve got to be letting you bounce some healthy all-American babies around, when I get a gal and we’ll do the whole house, car and robot thing.”

I knew she was concerned for me, with the threat of war being in the distance, but already, I was pretty lucky not to be drafted to face the slant-eyed bastards in the Pacific or something. Irene turned to me and hugged me. 

“I hope that there’ll be a girl that’s lucky to go and take you, John. I’m… You’ve got great grades, and you had a great career waiting for you when you’d go to college and-”

I’d told her before that I wasn’t giving up on her. She was my mom and I loved her. 

“I know, ma. You’re thinking I’m wasting my time… Well, didn’t we meet a hot bird at the super-duper-mart today? There’s pretty gals here too. I don’t need to go to the big city and meet a whole lot of girls that don’t kiss their mama good night every night.”

Any woman who wanted to get in between me and my mother was going to be up for a rude awakening. It wasn’t just the fact that m mother raised me, it was also the fact that the Bible said that you should respect your parents, and my mother Irene was the only parent I’d ever known and she’d done a damn good job at raising me. 

“Silly, you’re going to fall in love with a girl and then I’ll just be a lonely spinster waiting for you to come and bring the kids to visit old grandma.”

I wouldn’t do something like that. She could live with us, if I got a good-paying job or got a fixer-upper… or we’d live with her. 

That involved getting a gal first, I knew that it wouldn’t be too easy, what with some of the local gals being involved with stuff that I had no time for. Who cared about a knitting circle or a novel reading club when work had to be done? Useless stuff for someone like me, who liked working with my hands to make my mother happy. 

“You’re a good man, Johnny. I love you.”

I couldn’t stop smiling, settling in comfortably to go and get some of that sleep that had been evading me, taking the time to get a bit more settled in bed, as Irene held me a little tighter. 

‘Maybe I should go and look for a nice gal…’  

I wondered about that, but was drifting off into sleep immediately, knowing that I’d have to be up in the morning early. 

My alarm started to beep when it was time to wake up, opening my eyes to find that Irene was still in bed with me, my mother’s face twisted in a look of discomfort, and I had managed to roll over on her arm, letting her arm be free, and seeing her face in the early morning’s light, more at ease now, her features definitely lovely, I had to admit. 

She was my mother though, even if I had no designs on doing anything about it. 

‘But if it was the French girl…’  

I couldn’t help but get stiff like a board down between my legs, warm feelings bursting in my groin as my underwear tented immediately, imagining that hot broad with her body nude, Irene not bad looking, and I definitely wasn’t going to do anything with my mother, that was for sickos and Commies, but still…

‘A shame she didn’t get accepted to that Vault thing due to age or something…’  

It wouldn’t be a good thing for me to worry about that, but the feeling of my cock sliding against my mother’s rather soft skin was enough to make it harden up, before I got out of the warm covers of the bed, making my way to the bathroom to prep for the morning’s labor, washing my face and then gelling my hair back, letting it all slick back, before the siren came again, another drill once more starting to rustle my daily life into something that could be called abnormal.

‘Again?’  

It wasn’t fair that they did it at six in the morning, expecting us to be awake, but I got my shirt on and my pants, Irene getting out of the bed and giving me that look that told me that I should adhere to her rules, a small smile on her lips as I nodded at her. 

Obedience to one’s parents was taught, but I didn’t squander it, kissing my mother’s cheek farewell before I made my way to the pick-up point for me, getting there in time to see the bus pull up, my stretch of town being apparently one of the middle sections. It had been a quick trip there, as several sleepy-looking fellas sat there in the bus, clothed in some clothing, not bringing much more than their morning finest and one half-shaven too, with stubble on one side being shorn away, still drowsy looking. 

I didn’t see Arthur there, as I watched Miss Murdock, who seemed to be the one responsible for overseeing us all getting to the place properly, count the heads and make a few notes on her clipboard, letting me feel a tingle in my lower body as I wondered whether I’d see the French gal. 

‘They’ve been running the drills more often.’  

The song and dance continued again, with the introduction to the Vault, the woman speaking briefly about the importance of the drills, and that there were about 20 people who hadn’t shown up. 

Seeing the women that stood lined up, I found it somewhat heartening to see that Henriette was there too, a scandalously thin nightgown working its best efforts to keep that body from sight, getting back into the bus and later on being put out at the spot where I’d have to wait for Big Jonas to come and pick me up in thirty minutes, the man obviously late, a similar bus to the one that I’d ridden on pulling up, allowing the women on it to get off. 

Spotting several pretty ladies getting off, Henriette looked a bit uncomfortable but spared me a mild smile before she hurried down the street, aware of her improper dress but being a member of the people selected to be in the Vault, making sure that she was present for the drills at least. 

A petite woman with dark ebon hair and a very impressive bust wandered over to me, a smile on her lips, hair groomed with a curl to the left side, clearly using some sort of spray to keep it. 

“Can you believe that they’ve been having us get up so early, darlin’? I mean, my husband’s a fine man, but he’s at work.”

I tried my best to not pay too much attention to the woman’s constant talking, as she certainly seemed to be willing to vent her frustrations, my gaze dismissing her from mind, as she continued to ramble on. 

“How ‘bout you come and see us at the lounge, darlin’? Just a few of us people that’ve gotten a bit of concern about how the War’s going and what we can do for us to help out. The name’s Brenda, by the way. Brenda Howard. My husband Todd works with me at the university in the city, but we keep a house here because it’s rustic.”

I must’ve shown something on my face because Brenda seemed to immediately place her hand on my hand, pushing out those prodigious breasts of hers, my eyes marveling briefly at those large mounds. 

“It ain’t nothing bad, darlin’. Just a few guys and gals, all having a nice time. You work in anything special?”

I was a laborer, someone hired to do the work that was now being replaced by machines. I was someone who liked to work with my hands, build things that would last and make others happy. 

“I work on the fields for a while. Helping one of the local farmers.”

It was a good excuse to use, as she definitely seemed to deflate a little, the smile looking a bit more forced than it had been. 

“Oh? More of a farm man than an athlete?”

Brenda’s voice was more dismissive, though she definitely looked like she might have had an interest in getting to know me better. 

“I’m good with my hands, ma’am. I like doing a job that allows me to focus on improving things around me.”

Brenda looked like she didn’t like that answer. 

“What’s your name again, mister?”

I could tell that the ‘darlin’ had been dropped, clearly because I didn’t adhere to that fancy lifestyle of hers. Pretty though she might be, she seemed superficial and perhaps a bit stupid to me, thinking lower of me because I worked with my hands. 

I wasn’t going to be a lame and give her my name. 

“Jack. The name’s Jack, Mrs. Howard.”

Her expression definitely had changed, as I extended my hand for a handshake, those large breasts of hers wobbling a touch as she shook mine. 

“If you’ve got a good spot in that lounge, I’d love to come and visit after I’m done with my work, ma’am.”

I tried to make myself look dumber than I was. A tactic that worked, if someone already thought I was lesser than. My history teacher in high school had spoken about some fella named Sun Tzoo or something, about ‘pretending to be weak where you are strong’, and a snobby woman like this definitely meant that I wouldn’t be giving her that much time. 

“Ah, maybe you may not be the right sort. I remember a bright young lad who should be around nineteen or so, someone who graduated with honors. Not someone that squanders their giftedness on mere menial labor.”

‘Yeah, I don’t want to go and go to that lounge thing.’  

I’d like to keep far from the nosy little bastards that got us all into the war, the boffins that thought that good hard-working Americans would want to have some more war, to die for the Communist's lust for war.

“I’m sure that you’ve mistaken me for someone else then, ma’am.”

I definitely didn’t like the woman’s line of thought, as if working with your hands was something that wasn’t a good thing, which showed to me that some people were just more interested in the ‘smart’ fellows, rather than the good and honest hard-working men. 

A shame that those breasts of hers had filled her with such nonsense, but I wasn’t someone who would be drawn from my job by being some sort of coward who hob-nobbed with people, eating their vegan caviar instead of good steak. 

“Maybe, but it was nice meeting you, Jack.”

A pleasantry, her dark hair bobbing again as she moved, my eyes meeting hers for a moment and smiling at her as a man should, my eyes briefly looking at those features that definitely was of the ‘fancy’ class. 

Not the type that’d want to patriotically serve their country, but damn… that body was fine though. A shame that I’d have to be the better and more patriotic one compared to this woman. 

‘They would judge me for my decisions. This is still America, the land of the free, the brave and the bold.’

“Yeah, that’s nice. See you around, Mrs. Howard.”

Politeness was something that I’d always been pressed on, as I knew that this woman would be trouble. Gossips and spies were of the same ilk, or so the posters had said during the socialist studies classes that I’d attended in high school. 

“Of course, of course. You have to get to work, don’t you?”

I hummed, going to the nearest phone booth and dialing Big Jonas’ landline number. 

An hour later and I was back on the acre, getting myself into the flow, hearing the sounds of nature again, the sound of birds chirping and the creak of the woods, as I plucked the stones from the field before it would be prepped for the next sowing. 

‘We’ll probably have snow later in the year…’  

It was getting a bit cold already, the air growing chillier, before I could hear Big Jonas approaching, carrying with him something wrapped in cloth, nice patchwork cloth that looked like it’d been made with love. 

“Jackie boy, the wife’s made you some breakfast! Come on, let’s eat up. Them there drills just go and sour a man’s day, y’know?”

Having breakfast brought to me, I could hardly refuse, taking a seat on the heap of rocks, some great-smelling sandwiches procured from the wrapped-up lunchbox, the Vault-Tec logo on top of it. 

“One of them boxes from your wife’s job, boss?”

Big Jonas laughed at that, a full belly laugh. 

“Nah, my brother-in-law works for Vault-Tec in Utah. He said that the Vault here’s got a purpose or something, but it’s all baloney. So, what was your morning like, Jackie Boy? We need to go and get you some Joe’s donuts and some nice coffee later on, I owe you for a burger.”

A good man, I knew, was someone who thought about something like that, as I knew that Big Jonas was a good man, offering me a meal for my time and work. Factory work wasn’t something that I really was suited for, but working as a laborer wasn’t too bad. Food needed to be grown too, so it was worth spending time on. 

A gal would be nice too, but I wasn’t holding out hope for that yet. They would be like that Brenda woman, thinking that there was no need for men to do the hard work, men who’d want to be like lazy Commies, not even working for the day’s wages. 

“You’ve got a nice wife there, Big Jonas.”

The man laughed again, clearly letting me know that he was proud of his wife, as a man should be. 

“You’ll be getting a wifey yourself, Jackie Boy. That mother of yours is still too young to be a grandmother, though… Ahh, you get a wife and then hear her nag, that the babies are too much hassle, to bring home some Insta-Mash for dinner… A lot of bother, a lot of wife… but she’s sweet when it comes to that.”

It wasn’t a thing I was familiar with but I knew that a woman could light up your life, knowing the pleasure of a body close by. 

Irene was my mom, so there was just the bodily warmth, but I couldn’t help smiling at the thought of it. 

“She’s a great Ma, always makes sure that I’ve got my breakfast prepared for me.”

It wasn’t too bad a thought of having a sweet gal like Irene as my wife. She’d know how to cook and groom a man (the shaving kit was very well-stocked and she kept me clean-shaven, because she’d always done it for her own Pa), and it was just nice knowing that there was nothing to worry about.

“Jackie, you should find a gal like Irene. You can’t go wrong with a good gal like that. Smoke?”

The cigarette was held out, but I shook my head. Every time I’d tried smoking, it just ended up with me coughing up half a lung and whoever watched me shaking their head at me. 

“Your loss, but hey, it’s a habit I can’t kick. When the world’s on fire, best you can do is smoke, right?”

Having the attitude like that was a good thing, I guessed, because optimism was better than pessimism. Irene had always been optimistic. 

“Well, let’s get back to work. The wife was all concerned about you not getting breakfast. She qualified for that Vault thingy, we got the news in the mailbox today. I’ll bring you over tomorrow, she’s doing some ‘phee-sical tests’ or something. My old lady’s taking care of the kids, while she’s off to do them whole tests and things, at least until I get home. Gotta love the kids, y'know?”

It was the work that was hardly a problem for me, as Big Jonas and I went into the burger place downtown, sitting down at one of the tables, a waitress making her way to us the moment we got in, Big Jonas nudging my side, as he lit up a cigarette. 

“Pretty girl, Jackie boy… Come and order up, it’s on me.”

The waitress, a girl maybe around my own age, put on a cool business-like smile. 

“What’d you like to order, sirs?”

The dark hair that was swept back and styled like a pretty girl should be, a darker than ebon color and sharp, cool eyes that were hazel-colored, something that looked like fine, melted chocolate, the waitress outfit pressing up her bust to look like it was finely sculpted, the pointed nose not detracting one bit from her beauty. 

“Well, I’d like to order the Honey Beef Special with a fresh-chilled beer, and Jackie boy here seems to want to order a cute waitress to sit on his lap, heh heh heh. Don’t go gawking at a pretty gal, Jackie boy, the birds don’t like it when you gawk… But you’re a pretty gal either way, don’t let my wife hear that.”

Jack was sure that it would probably be less embarrassing if Freedom Eagle came falling out of the sky with Stars and Stripes Man about to die from lack of Patriotism, Big Jonas laughing. 

“Please don’t order waitresses for your meal, I am sure that we don’t taste very nicely. What will it be, sir ?”

‘Frosty.’  

She was definitely a cool beauty, he’d have to say, glancing at the menu and giving his best smile. 

“Not the waitress, though he’s got a point there about you being pretty. I’ll take the Patriot Burger with a Nuka-Cherry.”

The waitress nodded, Big Jonas nudging his side. 

“She likes ya. Look at her, she’s smiling slightly. You’ve got a bird interested in you, Jackie boy.”

The coolly raised eyebrow and the rather fashionable manner in which her hands placed themselves on her hips, pushing that bust outward to show it off unintentionally, was enough to cement this place as one for coming back at another day. 

“Fraternizing with the customers is prohibited, sir. I’ll go and inform the cook about your orders, sir. Enjoy your stay.”

I watched as that fine butt wiggled in the little skirt that was just about knee-length, showing off that fine derriere as she made her way towards the kitchen area. 

“Damn, you’re just about gobbling her down with your gaze, Jackie. You’re going to be making her your girlfriend if you show you’re a hard-working lad with a bit of spirit, my boy. Ahh… if my kids would grow up to be like you, the world would be a damn better place, with the Commies dying in their filth-darned socialist hellhole.”

I couldn’t help but agree, on the ‘good-looking’ and the Commie part. The waitress looked like a damn fine gal, especially with those well-formed calves and that pert butt that was sticking out. 

‘I’d have the guts to ask her out…’  

It would be nice, but I didn’t want to rock the boat that much. Seeing her strutting that fine butt around definitely made me feel self-conscious, as Big Jonas once more lit up another cigarette. 

“Ahh… This is the life. I’ll be seeing you tomorrow at nine, right? We’re going to be letting the machine do the hard work and then kick back… the wife’ll be back from the city after her whole ‘testing spree’ and my kiddos are the best. Ahh, send the grandma back to her home, and we’ll have some time for an early bed.”

I nodded, before the cute waitress returned and put our orders down, the large glass of beer definitely going over well with Big Jonas, before my own patriot burger, adorned with one of those skewers with an American flag on it and a nice thick patty that looked seared to perfection. 

“Ahh, you’re a godsend, you know that, right? We’ll pay, how much is it?”

The cool expression on the waitress’ face was definitely charming, I had to admit, as I watched how Big Jonas counted out the dollar bills and then handed them over to her, getting his change in return, a little smile tugging on her lips, before she turned around, Big Jonas smacking her rump, a swift turning around and a look that was pure irritation on her face, though cool and unruffled as it was. 

“Please do not harm the workers here, sir.”

Big Jonas gave a little laugh, before I got nudged again.

“See? That’s a girl you should go for. Damn fine butt, even if I do have a wife and kids… Ahh, girl, you should go with Jackie boy here. He’ll make that frosty look of yours thaw like spring arrived.”

The ‘hnn’ sound and dismissal from the young lady was enough for our ‘entertainment’, and I was delivered to my mother’s home by Big Jonas, who waved at me as he lit up another cigarette.

“Remember, at nine! Don’t be late, Jackie Boy!”

I came inside to see my mother half-naked, busy scrubbing the stains out of her dress, humming softly as she was only in her undergarments, looking up at me and smiling. 

“That was Mister Morgensonne, wasn’t it? I hope he’ll have a good night with his new baby… Ahh, what good joy it is to have my son back with me again.”

At ten, I hadn’t heard anything from Big Jonas, and I had a bad feeling about it.

I donned my best clothes and went to check it out, with Irene already out and about at work. She had her things to do, while I had my own. Checking out my employer’s place was the first order of business.

A smouldering building, clearly burned from someplace, and firemen were still busy spreading water to extinguish any smouldering embers, their faces serious, policemen spreading tape around as I walked up to them. 

“What happened here? I was supposed to meet with Big Jon- Mister Morgensonne this morning.”

The officer looked at me as if he pitied me, coughing a little. 

“Investigation is still underway, but it looks like a cigarette fell into a stack of laundry left out next to the couch and the building went up. The children- Tragic, very tragic.”

The sound of a car stopping and a woman coming out, her face ashen-white as she looked at the still-smouldering building’s ruins, her voice shriller than I’d ever heard a woman’s voice. 

“My- My husband? Oh my God, is my husband- My babies! Where are my babies?!”

‘That’s Mrs. Morgensonne…’  

Two police officers went to intercept the woman and I felt bad for her, the young woman’s dark auburn hair hung in a loose worker’s ponytail, her expression shattered, as she started to weep. 

‘That poor, poor woman.’  

I wanted to help, but I didn’t know what to do. 

What could I do to help?

I didn’t know, but I was out of work right now, it seemed. 

‘I’ll have to find a job or something again…’  

The poor woman, though.

I felt bad for her, but it wasn’t my place to interrupt her during her grief. 

There would be a funeral, undoubtedly. 

‘Poor woman.’  

She’d lost her family, surviving only because she’d been out of the home.

I’d have to look in the yellow papers again for a job or go to the job centre down in the city.

This was commissioned work. If you'd like to commission, contact me at [email protected]