Bush Trip

"What did Dr. Ingram say?" Gen asked, several weeks later.

The social services woman pursed her lips. "We still haven't been able to reach him," she admitted.

"Still?" Gen frowned. "But I thought…"

"Dr. Ingram is currently working in a very… troubled portion of Sudan," the woman said, smiling. "They don't have regular internet or phone where he is now, I'm afraid. He's not even at an official clinic, I believe, they say he's gone to secluded village to deal with an outbreak there."

"But…. What happens to me then?"

"Oh, nothing disastrous," the woman assured her. "Contacting Dr. Ingram's mostly a formality—Mr. Wren left ample resources to provide for you , but while the school here can give you food and housing, we do need someone to make legal decisions on your behalf—that's why it's essential we reach Dr. Ingram."

"What happens if you can't reach him?"

"I'm sure we'll be able to," the woman insisted again.

"Yeah, but…" Gen really found the optimism of Americans annoying sometimes. "…what if you can't?"

The woman hesitated. Just for a moment, but enough for Gen to know that she wouldn't like the answer. "No point in worrying about that." The woman smiled. "You'd still be provided for. Don't worry!"

Which of course, Gen considered, as the woman ushered her out, was adult-speak for Be very very worried. Presumably this woman knew about Vadim, her former guardian. His name hadn't come up yet, which Gen was thankful for, but if this Will Ingram didn't step up soon, then Vadim would be the next most likely candidate to take "legal guardianship."

Gen could see it happening all too easily. Especially if Vadim found out Harold was dead. The former relative, assailing the justice system to reclaim his lost relative from the rich New Yorkers who'd kidnapped her? The internet would love that. She'd be back in that bath-salts-strewn apartment in under a month, with Vadim in full control of whatever "resources" Harold had left for her.

It was a trap. The whole world she'd been building for herself the last two years was crumbling away, falling to pieces around her. The future she'd been planning to build was winking out like the stars in a night sky.

Unless…

"Dr. Will Ingram" seemed to be real, anyway.

"Here's another photo of him receiving some humanitarian award or other… man, all these awards look the same, I swear." Landon shook his head. "Oh this is interesting. This one mentions he's the son of Nathan Ingram."

"Who?" Gen asked, reading over Landon's shoulder.

Landon looked at her. "He was a tech billionaire here in New York, years ago. Died in a bombing. It was a whole story. His company, IFT, is still really big, though. This guy could be kicking it back on the Riviera instead of treating kids in Africa. Guess your new dad's a real generous type."

That wasn't necessarily a good thing. Several of the kids at the school had "generous parents" who somehow never managed to show up for holidays. Not that Harold had done so, either, or that Gen had minded, but at the moment, showing up was rather important.

Gen shrugged. "Mr. Wren wouldn't have given guardianship to just any friend." She answered. But there was more. Shaw should have been the one to pick her up. She felt certain of that. Even if Shaw wasn't fit—for whatever reason or another—to be her new guardian, Harold's death was too big an event for Shaw not to show up-unless Shaw was dead too.

One way or another, she needed to talk to Will Ingram.

Landon glanced over at her own laptop. "What're you looking at the study abroad programs for?"

"Thinking of applying," said Gen. "It might be cool to visit Sudan."

The service project was a highly-sought after program, and Gen was late submitting her application. She knew her grades were good, but it was still a long shot—it just happened to be the only shot she had.

So it was a surprise when, despite everything against her, she was admitted. The study-abroad progam wasn't quite in the same area as the "Doctors Without Borders" clinic, much less the rural village Will Ingram had vanished to—that was far too dangerous to risk prep-school students in, naturally.

So at the first opportunity, Gen ditched her school group and set off across the grassland.

She'd planned for this. Her backpack was loaded with energy bars, pepper spray, a water-purifying straw, and a satellite phone/GPS. She'd sort of hoped to find an AK-47 just lying around, but it was simple enough to find who the fence in the village was (at least, it was if you knew what signs to look for), and the Rolex was enough to score her a Walther and some ammo.

She should have planned more.

Gen could take care of herself on the streets of New York or Moscow. The open plains of Africa were another matter entirely. She could barely see over the grass in some spots, and nearly fell into a watering hole, scaring off two zebras. The first night, she was eaten alive by mosquitos, and spent the next miserable day with the long grass swishing against her itching spots, hoping fervently she hadn't caught typhoid or sleeping sickness or something. Plastering mud on the spots seemed to help, for a little while. Yet mud was surprisingly hard to find in the dry grasslands—as was water. Gen found herself wishing she'd brought more water bottles. The energy bars quickly went up, too—Gen had foreseen that she needed more food walking than she did living at school, but she hadn't guessed how MUCH more.

It was four days later that Gen, starved, sunburned, mud-crusted, and probably sick with malaria, saw the smoke. She frantically stumbled toward it, and emerged to a clearing full of mud huts and pre-fab housing. Digging into her pack, she produced the satellite phone, then grinned triumphantly.

There were a few cars in the village, but only one of them looked capable of running. A line of emaciated children had formed at the back. Gen stowed the phone again and walked forward. The tan doctor dolling out prescriptions looked up as she approached.

"Hi." Gen said. "I'm Harold's daughter."

A/N: It's a bit odd that Decima / Samaritan never took an interest in Will Ingram, for whatever reason. They had to know he had some link to the Machine. So my in-universe explanation is simply that Will was so far off the grid that even Decima didn't have much intel on him and considered going after him more trouble than it was worth.