Vanguard | Post-Apocalyptic YA

Part 4: No Place to Bargain

It's just the two of us in the windowless room. The floor is concrete and the walls are painted an off-gray. The long tubes of light emit a bright, white glow onto the metal table in the center. The big black guy who was also in the lobby when Ray and I literally fell into the building took my friend to the infirmary. Ray's wounds weren't life threatening, but he got hurt more by the mutant feral cats than I did. I wanted to stay with him while he got patched up, but this girl with the amber eyes and frizzy blonde hair offered to keep me company until he was done. Naturally, I couldn't resist.

She hands me a glass of opaque, yellow liquid. "I bet you're thirsty. Drink this."

I can still barely contain my excitement at finding normal-looking human beings topside, but her offering intrigues me. I smell it, but there's no discernible odor. "What is it?"

She furrows her brows. "Orange juice."

"But that's for breakfast, isn't it?" I remember what I've only seen in movies as I pick up the glass and gently swirl its contents.

She tilts her head to the side and now I can tell that she thinks I'm a total idiot. "It's six thirty in the morning. You've never had any, have you?"

I shake my head. "Where did you get it?"

She pauses as if trying to decide whether I deserve to know. "There's a grove about five miles south of here."

"So you can go outside?" I ask, looking at the warm glow of her skin. There's no way she got that complexion from being confined indoors.

"Only when the sun's not out." She stands from her chair and turns away, and I get the impression she regrets even telling me this much.

I look at the glass again. Maybe it's what she says it is; maybe it's not. I don't know why she'd lie to me, but she's got some type of weapon strapped across her back and I still don't know what's her angle. "And it's safe for consumption?"

She glances over her shoulder. "Do you think I'd poison you?"

Well, I'm not quite sure how to answer without causing offense. However, she seems to understand my concern because she reaches over and takes a drink. "Happy?"

No nonsense and to the point. I like this girl already. Not only is she cute, but if I can act harmless enough, she may also be willing to continue to talk. This will give me the perfect opportunity to get some information from her to take back to Commander Lamer. He's bound to reinstate my rank after that.

She's still watching me intently, so it's my turn to take a sip. The juice is slightly sweet, with a tangy aftertaste and there are bits of stuff floating in it. But it's damn good.

"Maybe you should slow down," she warns, but by then, I've gulped down almost the entire glass.

I put on my best smile and work my magic. "Thanks for the drink, uhm—"

"My name's Nelly." She takes the bait.

"Nelly," I repeat slowly, accentuating each syllable. "You look like a Nelly. How old are you, anyway?"

She raises one brow and crosses her arms.

"Oh, sorry. I guess I'm not supposed to ask a chick, I mean girl, uhm, lady her age, right?" I stutter.

In response, she just stares at me.

"Right. Let's try something else. Do you come here often? What's your sign? Heard any good jokes lately?" I try anything to break her stoic facade, but she remains silent. Unfazed, I lean my chair back and put my feet up on the table. Strangely enough, she now starts talking again.