Chapter One~ In the Beginning

Jerking out of her sleep with a gasp, Miya could feel the cold sweat that covered her body soaking into the sheets beneath her. The fuzzy vestiges of the nightmare lingering at the edges of her memory, fading quickly. For years she'd been having similar dreams. Dreams of a someone. There were always several people in her dreams, but they always changed. Except for one. There was one person that stayed the same. A blond-haired person. She could never see their face, but there was something about them that always felt familiar. Like a long-lost friend.

She sat up in the bed, head in her hands with elbows propped up on her thighs. Recently, the nightmares had been getting worse, and more frequent. The last week they had been almost non-stop. Every time she closed her eyes, flashes of fire, blood, and pain. She rubbed a spot on her belly, a strange feeling in the muscle and fat there. The memory of something she couldn't quite place. Miya picked up her phone, checking the time. 4:28 a.m. She sighed heavily. Knowing she wouldn't be getting anymore sleep, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, hissing when her feet touched the cold tile floor of her tiny apartment.

"Slippers. Donde e-fucking-sta?" she muttered to herself as she felt around with her toes in the dark. She managed to find one and slip her foot into it, but was having trouble finding the other. With an irritated grunt, she flipped the switch on the lamp on her bedside table and fumbled for her green, cat-eye glasses. When she couldn't find them, she growled and held her hand out, willing the wire frames into her hand. She felt the weight of them in her palm and the corner of her mouth turned up. Once she was no longer blind, she got down on her hands and knees to look under her bed. The thing had managed to get pushed further back than she had originally thought. Swiping it up, she lifted herself back to the bed and shoved it onto her foot. Miya sat there for a while, just staring at the wall. She was trying to bring back the images she had just seen, to no avail. Her whole life, she'd wondered about her strange dreams and nightmares. There had been a couple of déjà vu moments over the years. For instance, one of her short-lived relationships had ended when he decided he'd rather be with some blond bimbo he'd met on tinder. She could vaguely remember finding the messages on his phone before it actually happened...which is what prompted her to pick up his phone when it went off in the first place. Her cat had gotten hit by a vehicle going too fast through their neighborhood. To this day, she was convinced the only reason it happened at all was because she had tried so hard to keep it from happening. She had forced her cat to stay inside for nearly a month, even though he was an indoor/outdoor cat and usually could come and go as he pleased. When her mother, one day, didn't close the door all the way, he bolted out with her chasing him, right into the path of the oncoming truck. The person didn't even stop.

She groaned tiredly as she forced herself up off the bed and towards the door. It took a grand total of three steps to cross her room, and she was not exactly a tall person. Standing at about 5' 6", she was usually a little taller than the women around her, but always short compared to most men. The living room was still dark, as the sun had not quite made its way over the horizon yet, so she flipped on the lamp next to the sofa. The rest of the one room apartment was just a bare as her room. With only the necessities of living. She had a loveseat instead of an actual sofa, a folding card table with metal folding chair instead of a dining set. She had a small T.V. that was connected cable, if only for the news. She did have three bookshelves covered in books. Everything from medical texts, to fiction, to random other reference books she had collected over the years. They took up quite a bit of what little room she had in the apartment, but she didn't care. They were her only solace. She never knew what her dad would do. He could decide to burn them in a random fit of rage, she had reasoned with herself. Besides, she didn't have anything else to do in her off time, so she settled for reading.

Miya had just settled down on the couch with a bowl of oatmeal when there came a loud, harsh knocking at her door. It startled her, nearly making her drop her bowl. Checking her phone again, she saw that it was only 5 a.m. Who the hell was knocking on her door at five o'-fucking-clock in the morning? With a sigh, she pushed herself back up and crossed the small room. She had barely had time to unlock the door and turn the knob when it was forced open, pushing her back.

"What the fuck?!" she exclaimed, stumbling to get away from the two people dressed in black suits that were now invading her apartment. "Who the fuck are you?"

"Miya Tora Johnston?"

"Yeah..." her voice was hesitant.

"We need you to come with us."

"What? Why?"

"Because the end of the world is coming."

Miya stood there for a second, then burst out laughing. "Ok, where's the cameras?" she shook her head. "Who put y'all up to this? Was it Marcus? Shareesa?"

The man and woman looked at each other for a moment, confused. "I'm sorry?" The woman finally said.

"Y'all have gotta be fucking with me, right? There's gotta be cameras around here somewhere. Someone sent y'all to mess with me and then pop out and say, 'oh, no, just a joke!'"

"Miss Johnston, we assure you, there's no cameras." The man told her sternly. "We are here on behalf of the Cooperative. You have been selected to be taken to a bunker out in California, where you will be safe."

"Safe from what?" she smirked, still convinced this was a prank.

"Nuclear war." He said, a hint of something in his voice. "At some point in the next twelve hours, bombs will begin to drop, and the world as we know it will be destroyed."

Her smile dropped. There was no hint of joking on either of their faces. The man's voice had wavered towards the end, not out of amusement, but out of fear. "Why me?"

"You were chosen specifically by someone in the Cooperative to be taken to the Outpost."

"Ok, I got that. But why?"

They shared another look. "We don't know that, miss. All we know is it's our job to get you there." The woman's eyes were sad.

The man on the other hand, was getting impatient. "In one piece preferably. Which will be less and less likely the longer you stand here arguing with us." She was quiet. "We are permitted to use force if need be."

Miya's eyes widened as she looked back and forth between the two. "What do I need?"

"Technically...nothing. Everything needed for survival will be provided for you at the Outpost. However, if there are anything of sentimental value, somethings to keep you entertained, it would be wise to go get those now. You have thirty minutes to pack, and then we need to get out of here."

"Will there be others?"

"Yes." Was the only answer she got for that.

"Is there a limit to what I can bring?"

"The Cooperative would prefer you to travel light, as well as to not take up a lot of space."

"All I was gonna bring was books and clothes."

The man and woman in her doorway shared some sort of silent communication, then nodded to each other. "Clothes will be provided for you. However, if you have any comfort items, they would be permitted."

A lump had formed in her throat, which she worked to swallow past. "What about my family?"

A sympathetic look came over the woman's face. "You were the only one we were tasked with retrieving."

Nodding, Miya moved to place her bowl down on the counter. "Ok. You said thirty minutes, right?" She was answered only with a nod. "Ok Alright. Give me just a bit."

She hurried back towards her room, yanking out a duffle bag and hard-shelled suitcase from her closet. In the bag when clothing, as well as some other things that she thought she might need. She had gone back to her closet to grab something from the top when her eyes landed on a shirt that was hanging back behind some of the others. She slowly moved the other clothes to be able to see it clearer. It was a black long sleeve shirt. No adornment or picture on the front. It was actually something that was too large on her, so she never really wore it. But, something in the back of her mind kept her from ever throwing it out or donating it. She took it off the hanger, and held it up to her nose. She had had it for so long, but had never had to wash it, considering it was never worn, except in moments of needing comfort. There was a scent there she couldn't place. It was faint now, as it had been in her closet for so long. For whatever reason, this shirt was dear to her. So, she carefully folded it and put it in the duffle bag. Once she had changed into a green t-shirt and ripped jeans with brown boots on that came to her shins, she raced back into the living room where the pair were still standing, waiting none-too patiently for her. At her bookshelves, she started to pick out some things to take. Mostly her reference books, but a few fiction, as well, just to keep her busy. She grabbed a few empty notebooks and a box of pencils also, throwing them on top. She turned back to her shelves, trying to think if there was anything else she needed, when her eyes fell on a picture. She picked it up. It was of her and her family when she was younger. Mom, Dad, and younger brother. They were all smiling. Back before... Shaking her head, she placed the picture frame on top of the books and zipped the suitcase shut. She stood to face the man and woman in her door. "I'm ready."

The man looked at his watch. "Only fifteen minutes. Better than I thought you'd do."

She shrugged. "I don't have much."

They said nothing, but the man went to the door and nodded at something. Three swat team looking men came into the room and grabbed her bags, having no issue hauling out the books, as she would have. She was shuffled out of her apartment, not bothering to lock her door. If what they said was true, there wouldn't be anyone to try to break in anyway. A few of her neighbors poked their heads out to watch to procession as they filed down the hall and stairs, out to a black vehicle that was waiting outside.

)0(

There were several times throughout her life that she wondered how she got into the situation she was in. Wondering how certain decisions had led to certain outcomes. This was one of those times. As she sat in the back of the black vehicle that lurched with every dip of the road, she considered what sort of actions may have led some pompous ass high up in a government to take any kind of notice to her. She thought about what she could have done to make her important enough to be chosen to live when so many would die. They had long since managed to get away from the main cities and roads, currently going down a dirt road that had her bouncing and swaying in her seat. The whole ride had been quiet and tense. At one point, while they were traveling on a major highway, the vehicle had been accosted by people that had managed to escape the blast, those desperate for any chance for survival. Miya had just looked out the darkly tinted window, only to come face to face with the barrel of a shotgun.

"Get down!" the woman shouted, shoving Miya down into the floor as a shot rang out, causing to her to scream. She had thrown her arms over her head in an attempt to save herself. There was a strange dull sound. When she looked up, she noticed a mark on the window, but the window was still there. With wide eyes, she looked to her handlers. "Bulletproof glass," was all the woman said.

When the bombs had dropped the day before, they had already made their way onto a plane that was waiting in Memphis, the closest major airport. They had only just managed to get in the air and barely away from the city when an explosion rocked the plane sideways. Heart jumping to her throat, which made her unable to even scream, Miya gripped the seat, eyes squeezed shut as she prayed to whatever higher being there was to get them out of there alive. And then in the instant that the plane righted itself, she regretted the prayer. Why should she live when billions of people who didn't have some sort of mysterious benefactor were going to die? She'd studied the effects of Hiroshima and Nagasaki in high school. She knew how the people closest to the blast would end up being nothing more than shadows on the pavement, incinerated before they could even have a second to feel the heat. The ones further away would have it worse, having to suffer chemical burns and cancer from the poisonous air that would surround them. Only this would be all over the world, there would be nowhere on Earth that would be safe from the fallout.

Now, here she was, bouncing in her seat as they went over yet another pothole. They were moving through the nuclear winter fog that was swirling all around them. They didn't tell her exactly where they were going, only that they were in California and would be approaching soon. A thump brought her out of the trance she'd fallen into where she had been thinking about the fate of nearly eight billion people. In the middle of the floor of the vehicle was a pile of yellow rubber. Her gaze lifted to the two that had absconded her from her home.

"Put it on. You'll need it to get into the Outpost." The woman gave her a small smile.

It was difficult to put a full rad suit on inside of a moving vehicle, but somehow, she managed it. As soon as she managed to put the hood on, her breath caught in her throat. She felt confined. But, knowing she'd end up with radiation poisoning and wouldn't be allowed in, she tamped the feeling down. The vehicle began to slow, hitting one last bump as it came to a full stop. The anxiety was building when her door was swung open.

Two figures stood outside the vehicle, dressed in all black rad suits and gas masks that were shaped like the ones old plague doctors wore in the dark ages. Once they saw her, they stepped back, gesturing for her to follow. The structure that stood before them was a large black circular wall that swirled in on itself. They led her to a spot where a small card reader on a blank wall. The smaller of the two guards swiped a black card. Suddenly, a door slid open in the wall. There had been nothing there, not even a seam. Now, a gaping maw was standing open, threatening to swallow her up.

The dark...

She'd never been a fan of the dark. Not that she was afraid to be alone in the dark, but that she was afraid that she wasn't. All her life, she'd always had some sort of light, whether it be a nightlight, a candle, a Himalayan salt lamp, something of that nature. Her father had always called her a baby, trying to snuff out whatever light there was. She always kept a flashlight in her room for that reason, waiting until he'd stumbled out of the room with her light, then flicking it on and placing it on her nightstand.

Someone behind her nudged her forward. Well...more like pushed impatiently, but it got her moving. Taking one step after another, she slowly made her way into the darkness. Once inside, she realized she was inside a box, lit only by a dim light at the top. The other two got in with her and faced front, while she stood in the back. Suddenly, they were moving. An elevator. Letting out a breath, Miya tried to calm herself. They were in there for ages before the contraption finally came to a halt and the door opened. She was shuffled along, coming to a room two doors. One that they came in through, and another that she assumed led into the facility. She didn't have long to look around as she was dragged into the center of the room over a grate. She stood there, confused, when a burst of gas or something spread over her. It was over as quickly as it started, and she was tugged away, only to be replaced by the taller guard, then the shorter, both standing still as the same thing happened to them. Then, moving right along, she was moved to another room and stripped of the rad suit, had some sort of machine ran over her (presumably to make sure she wasn't contaminated), then led into the inner sanctum. The two who had led her in turned out to be women, the shorter one being older, late fifties, early sixties, if she had to guess. The tall one was maybe in her thirties, if that.

They had come to stand in front of a large freestanding fireplace. Miya was looking around, taking in her surroundings, when she heard a strange cadence of clack, clack, clack-clack. Her head spun to face the sound, eyes falling on a woman dressed in all black, walking with a cane that ended in a silver bird's head, her red hair done up in a tight updo. She stopped before her with a final resounding click, candle in her hand burning steadily. The stern look on her face was enough to send a shiver through Miya's body.

"I am Wilhemina Venable. Welcome to Outpost Three."

"Um...Miya Johnston."

"Yes, I know who you are. Your sponsor was explicit in their directions to make every possible allowance for your comfort. I understand you have brought some items with you."

"Yeah, just some books and small things. They won't take up much space, I promise."

Venable hummed, then turned and began to walk away. Miya was quick to follow, not knowing what exactly was going on. "You will be joined in the next few days with the others who have either been chosen or paid for the honor to be here. Until, and after, then, you will be expected in salon at 6:30 sharp every evening for social interaction. Meals are taken together each and every day at precisely the same time." They came to a door, which she pulled out a key and unlocked before pushing it open and stepping back for Miya to step through. "What you do in your spare time is up to you, but there are rules to be followed." Venable continued as the younger woman took a look around the mostly bare room. "The first and foremost of which is that you are not allowed to leave the building. If you do decide to disobey this rule and go outside, you will not be permitted back in. Also, there is to be no form of conjugal visitation of any kind between occupants. Fornication is strictly forbidden."

Miya shrugged. "I mean, I can understand that." Whatever Venable was expecting by way of response, it wasn't that, if her face was anything to go by. "Can't have any new mouths to feed popping up when trying to keep a select few alive. Besides, I vehemently despise rich people, so there's no risk of me trying to get in bed with any of them."

The shocked look on the older woman's face was quickly replaced by the blank mask of indifference she originally had. "You will find your daily attire in the armoire."

Scrunching up her brows, she crossed the room to open the piece of furniture, for some reason expecting her regular clothes to already be hanging there. She was instead greeted by the sight of long gowns in varying shades of purple. Turning back to the red-head, she scoffed. "Are you serious?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?" she said flatly.

"Do you really think I'm gonna dress up like some sort of Victorian lady? I never even went to prom. I don't do dresses. And why the hell are they all purple?!"

"Because you are now part of the elite that will one day repopulate the Earth. Purple has long been associated with the ruling class. You will wear them at all times when outside of this room. You will be permitted to wear the clothing you brought when you are in here, a comfort item, you could say. Be grateful, the others that will be coming won't have the luxury of having time to prepare."

"Why weren't they? If you people knew that the bombs were about to be dropped, then why wasn't everyone gathered beforehand?"

"Because," Venable said sharply, tapping her cane on the stone floor for emphasis. "We did not know exactly where they would be, at what time. Nor did we know exactly when the bombs would drop. It wasn't until we got the notification that they had been launched that we were able to really do anything."

"Then why-"

"Your benefactor has to be someone very high up in the Cooperative. We were given just enough advanced notice of where you would be that we were able to get to you in time. If not for that, you would probably be suffering from the radioactive fallout right this minute."

"But...I don't know anyone in any...Cooperative." Miya ground out. "I'm not rich, I'm not special, I never even finished college."

"Yes, I am well aware." She took in the younger woman's messy brown ponytail and tattoos running down her arms, and she sneered. "Why you are here, I have no idea. You are not among the smartest of our society, nor the most cultured."

"And yet here I am?"

Venable nodded, "And yet here you are," she responded dully. "Now, dinner will be in a few hours. Your things will be brought up shortly and you can set them up however you need, as long as you don't make a mess. I expect you to be dressed and ready by 6:30. Tardiness will not be accepted. There's no reason for it when there is nothing else to do." With that, the stern woman picked up her candle and left the room.

Miya turned back to the armoire, examining the dresses and other articles that were placed in there. She'd done enough reading to know how these stupid things were supposed to be put on, the curse of being a wannabe writer. She took out a corset and a pair of shoes that were sitting in the bottom of the closet and then thought about something. If they had known she was coming, did that mean all of this was fit to her measurements? Surely not. How could they be? She'd never been to a tailor or anything to have something fitted, and she knew there hadn't been anyone in her apartment to take them. Shucking off her boots, she sat down on the bed and slipped the low-heeled shoe onto her foot. Sure enough, it fit perfectly. In her confusion, she didn't hear the knock on the door. At least, not until it came again, more fervently this time.

"Come in!" she called, pulling the shoe off and placing it beside its counterpart on the floor.

The two women that had guided her through the decontamination process came through the door as it opened, carrying her bags. The older of the two grunted as she tossed the duffle bag on to her bed. "The hell you got in that suitcase, missy? Bricks?"

Miya grinned a little, pushing her glasses up her nose as she shook her head. "Books. I was given enough time to pack some things, I figured it was better to bring something to occupy myself than just random things that had no real use."

"Huh..." the older woman nodded. "Miriam Mead, I'm head of security around here." She held out her hand for Miya to take.

She did, shaking it once before letting go. "Miya Johnston. Nice to meet you."

"Do you need anything?" Ms. Mead's voice was soft, much softer than Venable's had been. Like she mothering the younger woman. "Help setting up? Getting ready?"

"I might need some help getting into these ridiculous clothes. I've never actually worn a corset before." To emphasize her point, she lifted a hand that held said article of clothing in it. "I know how to get into it, but I'm probably gonna need help tightening it. I also don't know how Ms. Venable is expecting me to do my hair. I usually just put it in a bun or ponytail."

"Well...I can't do much for your hair. As you can see, I keep mine low maintenance." She gestured to the short cut she sported. "Most I can do is braid it for you. As for the corset, I've never worn one either, but I can at least tie a knot." Miya smiled softly, which was returned by the elder. Ms. Mead turned to the other woman in the room and said, "Why don't you go make sure those guards are settled in." The tall woman nodded once, silently, then turned and left, closing the door behind her. When Ms. Mead saw Miya's confused expression, she explained. "That's the Fist. She's my right hand, the muscle to my mind, if you will."

"She's certainly intimidating enough to be."

Mead chuckled. "That she is. Now, why don't we see about getting your things out of these bags. Then we can get you into these stupid things." The two of them went about unpacking her belongings, Miya organizing her books and other items, while Mead put her clothes away. Miya was looking over a book on anatomy when she heard the older woman hum. "What's this?" Looking up, Miya was greeted with the sight of Mead holding up the black shirt she'd squirreled away. Surging to her feet, Miya crossed the room as Mead held it to her nose, a strange look coming over her face. "It's too big for you. And...it smells...familiar. Where did you get this?"

Miya shrugged, taking the shirt from her. "I don't know. I've just had it for a long time. It's got sentimental value to me."

"Who's is it?"

"Hmm?"

"Well, it's obviously a man's shirt, and it doesn't smell like you. If it's got such value to you, but it's not yours, then, who's is it?"

Miya's brow furrowed. Her mind went back to the foggy dream from two nights ago. God, had it really only been two days? Blue eyes under golden hair flashed in her mind's eye. "I...don't know. I think it was given to me by someone...a long time ago."

Mead could see the far-away look in her eye. With a short nod, she took the shirt and hung it up beside the others in the armoire. Then, she looked at her watch. Seeing the time, she sighed. "It's almost time for dinner. Why don't we get you dressed?" Picking out a darker purple dress, Mead held it out to her body, looking it over. "This one would do nicely. Purple is definitely your color. It works nicely with your skin tone."

"Native American heritage mixed with a bunch of European and Mediterranean blood. Gives me great coloring for richer tones."

"I'll say." The older woman scoffed as she pulled out a few other bits of cloth, which turned out to be undergarments.

Miya's face scrunched up in disgust. "Do I really have to? Can't I just wear my stuff?"

"Unfortunately, they wouldn't look right with the dress. And something tells me trying to wear a bra under a corset wouldn't be very comfortable."

With a roll of the eyes, Miya turned her back to the woman and began to undress. Pulling her shirt over her head, she heard a gasp. She turned, meeting Mead's stunned gaze that was fixed on her back. She suddenly realized what she was staring at, remembering the lines that marred her back. She gulped. "My mom died when I was eight. Dad went off the rails, blamed me and my brother for it."

"Oh..." Mead breathed. "How did she die?"

A hard look came over her, body rigid and jaw set. "She was murdered."

)0(

Two weeks later

She had known there were new people coming in. There had been a difference in the air as she had wandered around the Outpost. It was almost like a scent, but so faint she couldn't place it. In the time she'd been there, six other Purples had joined them, as well as a whole host of Greys. One of the Greys, Mallory, had come with a group of the rich folks. Apparently, since she wasn't technically supposed to be there, and wasn't of any sort of high class, she was reduced to a literal servant. Although, to be fair, she had basically been a servant to one of the Purples before this all started. Coco St. Pierre Vanderbilt. God, she couldn't stand that woman. She was simply insufferable. Complaining about any and everything, forcing Mallory to do degrading things. Miya and Mallory had become fast friends, even though the former was living in relative luxury compared to the other. Often, after everyone had wandered off to their rooms and her services were no longer required, the two of them would sit in the library beside a roaring fireplace and just reminisce about their former lives.

On the fifteenth day or so of being underground, the survivors were all milling about the salon, waiting on dinner to be served, not that it would be much of a dinner. Miya had taken to a corner seat, book in hand, reading Kushiel's Dart as close to the firelight as possible without getting close enough to get burned. She had just gotten to an interesting part when someone entered the salon. Out of habit, she looked up. It was, in fact, two someones. A young white guy and dark-skinned woman. They looked extremely out of place and uncomfortable when all eyes turned to them. She watched them for a moment, then went back to her book while everyone introduced themselves.

"You're awful quiet over there, Scholarship Girl. What? Too good to come mingle with the rest of us?" Coco sneered at her from across the room.

She didn't even look up from her book. "No, Coco, I am not too good for it. I simply don't care to get another headache from dealing with anymore annoying rich people. Unfortunately, they don't have a large stock of Tylenol, and what they do have, I'd prefer to save for when we actually need it."

"Like what?" the harsh voice of the spoiled trust-fund brat was grating on her brain.

"Like for when all of us women inevitably sync up on our fucking menstrual cycle. Those of us that still have menstrual cycles anyway." Her sharp eyes landed on Evie. "I don't know about you, but my periods are fucking horrendous and I will actually need painkillers when the time comes." All the males in the room suddenly looked embarrassed and were looking anywhere but her. "Or maybe in the case that someone gets sick, and we need to get the fever down. Close proximity is a breeding ground for illness. Unless you'd like to end up with everyone dying of the flu before someone can even get to us to get us out of this shithole."

"This shithole is keeping you safe from radiation and vagabonds." Dinah Stevens told her, a slight hint of venom in her voice.

"And I am eternally grateful for that. What I'm not grateful for is being stuck in some underground bunker with the most useless, boring, entitled people on the goddamn planet!" With that, she turned the seat back towards the fire and stuck her nose in the book.

The newcomers, who she now knew were named Timothy and Emily, stood in shock. Galant rolled his eyes, turning to them and smiled. "Ignore her. She's just a general sourpuss."

"Why is she even here?" Coco scoffed. "Just because some old rich guy had the hots for her, doesn't mean she deserves to survive the end of the world."

A loud sigh escaped the young woman by the fire, setting the book down in her lap. "And just because daddy had a shit ton of money, doesn't mean you deserve it either, Coco. At least I actually have some semblance of common sense, you can't even wipe your own ass."

Coco gasped, turning to the Grey girl who was knelt beside her. "That was one time! And it was only because I had just painted my nails!"

A ringing at the doorway stopped any further argument between the two. Venable was stood there, small bell in hand, looking as stern as the first day she'd gotten there. "Dinner is served."

They made their way into the dining hall, Miya making a point of ignoring everyone. She was desperately bored of these insufferable people. They had done nothing but annoy her the entire time they'd been there. For the millionth time since she'd first been told about it, she began to wonder about the mysterious benefactor that had saved her from the fires of hell raining down on the world and blasting everything to shit. Who could she have possibly gotten the attention of? She'd never really done anything extraordinary in her life. Granted, she knew she had power, but she never used it for anything serious. At least, not intentionally. Mostly just grabbing things she couldn't reach, or fixing things she had broken. But to her knowledge, she had never done anything to get noticed. Even after Cordelia Goode, the Supreme witch of the world, had brought light on the fact that witches were actually real and walking among the regular populace, she never told anyone. Her magic wasn't grand enough for anyone to notice if she actually made an effort for them not to. Granted, her father was an exception, and the stripes on her back were evidence enough of that.

"This is bullshit! For $100 million a ticket, I expect goddamn Gordon Ramsay in the kitchen cooking real food!"

Coco's tantrum pulled her from her reverie, drawing her eyes from the gelatinous cube on her plate. Seeing the woman standing behind the spoiled heiress, Miya tried to get her attention to get her to stop. But she was ignored, as per usual, and she could see Coco freeze when the sound of a single cane strike against the concrete floor. She slowly turned to face their warden, only for the crack of Venable's hand on her cheek to send her flying into the new guy beside her. He caught her, helping her to stand.

"I am going to be perfectly clear, so there is no misunderstanding." Her hawk-like gaze drifted over them one by one. "We have enough nutrition for the next eighteen months. And if our situation does not improve, you can count on less and less." Her words were punctuated by the loud tap of her cane.

"Our situation? What is out situation?" Coco asked, voice harsh despite having just been slapped silly.

Venable and Mead shared a look. "This morning we had a perimeter breach. Something penetrated the grounds." Miya's inner thirteen-year-old boy snickered. Penetrated. Forcing herself to keep a straight face, she listened intently. "It was a carrier pigeon, delivering a message from our benefactors."

"A pigeon?! Can we eat it?!" Coco suddenly sounded desperate.

"It was contaminated by the fallout." Mead explained.

"Can we boil it?" Evie asked, either not knowing or not caring how radiation worked.

Venable took a strip of paper from her pocket. Her face was grim as she read the message aloud. "There are no more governments. Only rotting mounds of corpses, too many to bury. Starving people kill each other for a piece of bread. Three Outposts have been overrun. We are the last vestiges of civilized life on the planet. Be vigilant."

Miya could feel her heart drop out her ass as a lump formed in her throat. Her ears were ringing. It had only taken two weeks. Two weeks for people to turn on each other, for the end of the world as we know it. Tears gathered in her eyes as she thought of her little brother, even though he was only two years younger than her. She hadn't even had a chance to say goodbye to him. Her phone had been confiscated on the way to the airport. Suddenly unable to breathe, Miya closed her eyes to try to focus on forcing air into her uncooperative lungs. A movement behind her made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end and brought her out of her panic attack.

The Fist leaned down to speak into Mead's ear. As she straightened up, Mead's face turned hard. "We've got a problem. We've detected a spike in the background radiation, centered in this room."

"It was them!" Gallant pointed towards the newcomers. "They just came in from outside."

"No, no, no! We were checked when we got here, we were clean!"

"We went through decontamination! We were cleared!"

"Everyone put your hands on the table, and don't move." Mead and the Fist began running Geiger counters over each of them in turn. Miya's breath caught again, her chest constricted painfully, but she did as she was told. "Radioactive contamination is a grave risk to our community. The clean rule is there to protect us all. One stray gamma particle can cause skin lesions. Your DNA breaks down, your body disintegrates. You'll wish you had died in the blast. But someone here thought their individual needs were more important...someone went outside and touched something dirty." As she said this, Mead was standing behind her, hovering the sensor over her hands, up her arms, across her shoulders and down the other side. Nothing, just like everyone else. She moved on. "It makes me sick that this person would be selfish enough to-" the Geiger counter suddenly began clicking rapidly. Miya's head shot up to see her dinner neighbor, Gallant, sputtering.

"No, that machine is wrong. Because the only thing I've touched is Coco's hair!"

Everyone turned to the woman in question, who was being checked by the Fist, who shook her head. "She's clean, you're dirty. Take him." There was an uproar as Gallant was snatched from his seat and dragged backwards. Mead continued on in her examination, going over Andre, who came back clean. Then she got to Stu... the machine began to click faster and faster as she ran up his arm. "Him, too." Andre began wailing, begging them not to take his boyfriend, while Stu cried as he and Gallant were dragged away.

Miya watched on with wide eyes, knowing if she interfered, she ran the risk of being taken as well and punished. Venable had a thing for rules, and took great pleasure in dispensing punishment to those who didn't follow them. She met the eyes of Ms. Mead, who looked at her in sympathy, but then turned to Venable to nod once and then jump into action. The young woman's eyes drifted to their warden, and she sneered in disgust when she saw a smirk of satisfaction, like a cat in the cream.

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Gallant had come back shivering and stiff, eyes distant as he wandered the halls back to his room. Miya had just come out of the library, where she tended to stray every night after dinner, if only just to get away from everyone. When she closed the door, she turned and saw him trudging his way past her. She saw the haunted look in his eyes. Gathering her skirts, Miya hurried after him.

"Gallant?" No answer. "Gallant!"

He was pulled out of whatever deep dark hole him mind had been traveling down and he turned to her. "What do you want?" his tone was miserable.

"Are you ok?"

Gallant's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why do you care?" With that, he turned and continued on his way.

Miya sighed heavily and caught up to him. "Because," she said, "we are in this hellhole together. The least we can do is try to get along."

He snorted. "That's rich coming from the chick who's been ignoring everyone."

"A mistake I am eager to rectify." The look on his face was disbelieving. "Venable was far too happy for people to be taken away. People she's supposed to be keeping alive. I'm just saying that things are not what they seem here and we need to stick together and be careful. I've got a feeling Venable would just as soon slit all our throats in our sleep if she didn't have direct orders to keep us alive."

Mulling over her words for a moment, he seemed to nod slightly. "You're right. Something's not right here."

Nodding, she let out a breath. "Where's Stu?"

A dark look came over Gallant's pale face. "He's dead." He said plainly.

"What?!"

"Apparently, even after the scrubbing, he still had some radiation on him. They killed him, shot through the back of the head." It was then that she noticed the fine splattering of something on his face. It was dark, not red, more of a brownish color. She reached up to touch it, only to find whatever it was dried to his cheek. Gallant seemed to understand what was going on in her mind. "I was laying on the floor next to him when they shot him."

Horror came over her. She put an arm around him and began leading him away. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up."

They managed to move through the Outpost without meeting anyone in the halls. Not that it was that surprising, considering the time. Or, at least, the time it was supposed to be. They had no way of verifying, since there was no daylight. Miya unlocked the door to her room and let him in. Once the door was closed, she steered him to the chair at her desk. She went about the room, gathering a few things while he sat there, eyes roaming over the space. Realizing something, she stopped for a moment. Miya was staring at him when he turned to her. Seeing the younger woman standing there with a bowl in her hands, Gallant raised an eyebrow.

"What?" he asked.

"You're the first person to ever come in my room...besides Mead and the Fist, anyway." Her eyes drifted down to the bowl of water in her hand. "Don't know if you've noticed, I don't exactly get along with the others."

"I mean...it's not like you're making much of an effort."

"I know..." she shook herself, pulling a stool over so she could sit in front of him, placing the bowl and a cloth on the desk. "I was never great at making friends. I was always the weird kid in school." Dipping the rag into water, she rung it out and started rubbing it against his face gently. "The one that read too much, who was never allowed to have people over or go anywhere. My clothes were always hand-me-downs, or stuff from Goodwill. Old, outdated stuff, y'know." She stopped for a moment to look him in the eye. "No...probably not. You grew up with Evie for a grandmother. Your whole family was rich, just like Coco's." Gallant quickly dropped his eyes. She continued her ministrations. "Then, when my mom died, dad went crazy. We bounced from place to place because we kept getting kicked out from not paying rent. At least, until I was old enough to work, then I was the one making sure bills got paid. Just added to my weirdness, apparently. I never went anywhere, never had dates." Finishing with a last swipe, she sat back. "I don't know why I'm telling you this. You probably don't really care."

As she started to turn away, Gallant grabbed her wrist. "Maybe...maybe it's good that you're finally talking to someone. You've been basically holed up in your own head for the last couple weeks. You don't talk to anyone except to ridicule them. You stay away from everyone when you can, and when you can't, you keep your nose buried in a book. What the hell are you reading, anyway?" He snatched up the one she had been reading before dinner and flipped it over to read the back.

"You might enjoy that one...if the things your grandmother said are anything to go by. It's very...interesting." She waited while he looked over the synopsis, eyebrows raising as he finished. His eyes flicked up to look at her. "You're welcome to borrow it. I've read it a couple of times, and I was almost done anyway. And if you like it, I brought the whole series." Her hand moving a hand over to the small bookshelf that had been brought to house her treasures.

"Hmm," Gallant grunted, making a gesture of salute with the book before he stood up. "It's pretty late... I should get back to my room." Miya nodded, waving in goodbye from her spot by the desk. He made his way towards the door. As he opened it, he stopped and turned back to the young woman sitting there, looking so small in her voluminous skirts. "Hey," her head snapped back to him. "I'm glad you walked out of that library when you did tonight. Thanks."

A small smile graced her lips as she nodded mutely. With that, Gallant stepped from her room and closed the door with a quiet thud.

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A/N: Here you are, lovelies. I've been fighting with this one since I posted the original chapter. I was going to add more, but I figure it's probably better that I end it here and continue. Anywho, read and review, my dears, let me know what you think so far.

AcaciaDawn