Amongst Them.

Assignment.

Monroe arrived at the scene of riled adolescents. All of them smiling, high-fiving, almost ready to take on the venomous outside world, and then there's Monroe, swirling a small glass of Vodka. Eventually, he spoke,

"Alright, alright, calm down, guys. Everyone but these newcomers can disperse as of now, we need to assign," he motioned his hand off to the right,

and the community obeyed his command. Maybe it felt good to have that sort of power, John thought as Monroe took a swig of his drink. John's legs felt like they were about to give out, electrical impulses shot through his veins as his heart pumped blood, recent memories of New York struck his mind. He snapped back to Monroe's somewhat slurred voice.

"John, is that the name, son? Yeah. John and Matt, you two get 4E6," Matt eyed John annoyingly as he realized John was his apocalypse-buddy for the next few however-long-it-lasts, "Richard and Kate, 4B3." Monroe smiled at the two roomies and added, "Don't get too freaky," and laughed to himself as the group awkwardly stood there, Kate blushing.

"Megan, you share a room with Andy in 3A1, and finally David and Jeremiah. 4D1. Now, most of you probably don't understand the numbers, so, the first number determines the sectors, and there's four of 'em. They're labeled, so you'll see 'em on the map.

"Each sector is divided among five rows, A-E and 1-6 just means the fucking trailer in the row. Happy? Happy. Good, go find your safe haven," Monroe downed the little rest of Vodka, grunted with a sour face, and chucked the glass far across the wall. And with that, the group was awkwardly set off on a short, perhaps even a long adventure to their specific place. Matt trailed off as John followed and glanced back at Monroe holding a black handle that strapped into his makeshift holster. His hand was shaking. An odd wave of mystery washed over him as he turned back around and caught up with Matt.

Each newcomer set off with their partner in almost all opposite directions, maybe never having a real reason to meet up again? Maybe the forces of nature will bring them together once more for something.

Oh, but what is he thinking? John doesn't think something like that will ever happen.

-

The boys decided immediately to settle down in the small, rusted toaster-trailer when they arrived. They didn't seem to be fond of each other, but desperation does its wonders. After spending thirty minutes in the blazing sun looking for a damned trailer nearly as hot as the outside, what would you expect from a couple of teenagers? As they got used to the scent of year-old cracked plaster, each of them used a sheet of paper towel to wipe away the sweat that glued their dark hair to their foreheads.

Exhausted, they laid tired about the cabin, waiting for the clumpy AC to settle the room to a cool breeze feeling. But, reluctantly, John decided to pick himself up once more, and look around the place. It definitely was not too roomy, but beggars can't be choosers, as the saying goes. Length-wise, the place wasn't so great, but it was comfortable in a old-vintage fashion. Looking to the right coming into the trailer, was a door leading into a miniature room with two small bunks that looked to fit a toddler and a toddler only. In between the trailer, was the couch and table that could transform into a bed. John had hungry eyes on that beauty. And to the left was cabinets, and a small kitchen with a fridge.

Both of them were surprised any of Oasis was still functional by the looks of their trailer. Perhaps the place ran on some sort of barter system? Monroe surely has a better place to say...

Unfortunately for the boys, a beauty of a sunset right over the Great Wall of Oasis floated slowly down near the end of the sky. Orangish-red ink-like rays from the sun illuminated the sky, dyed the clouds and reflected onto the bristling trees. Too bad Matt was already passed out on kiddy-bunks in the opposing room, and John was busy giving the trailer a thorough search.

All-in-all, he found quiet a lot. Maybe a months supply of food, bathroom supplies, and a huge variety of small medicine boxes and bottles, from ibuprofen to melatonin. The amount of things inside such a small trailer didn't cease to amaze John one bit. Once he decided that he looked long enough, John plopped down, and found a folded piece of copy paper laying on the arm of the couch. John unfolded it and found a coding, which read out as mysterious jumble of letters and numbers. He flipped it over and found a sentence on the back,

"C de to rmory saf

It s und r the s nk du by"

The writing was poorly faded, as well as written, but he held onto it and pushed himself back on his feet, then traveled the short distance to the cabinets under the sink. There, he found an average sized safe behind a dozen faded bottles like Windex and 409. John placed the bottles on the floor besides the cabinets to get a better view on the digital padlock. He decided it was nothing too important, so he left the note on top of the safe to snatch some food.

John found a standing mirror and looked at himself as he peeled off his blood-covered socks, his reddish-black "blue" jeans smelt of mold and rotten cheese, so he threw them in the trash, pushed the mirror back into it's place, and quickly began to fall asleep on the cozy-looking couch. So much for the table transformer. He didn't exactly care to take off his shirt, it was comfortable to him, but bothered his mother.

"Mom...", John said faintly, before he drifted off into his deepest, darkest void of nightmares.

One thing they tell you to never do is to drift off to sleep on a bad memory.

~