Vanguard | Post-Apocalyptic YA

Part 14: Testing, Testing

The next morning, Ellen and I meet up in the cafeteria for breakfast. We must have gotten a late start because the place is almost empty and unlike the night before, we get a table all to ourselves.

I don't think I've ever seen my sister so disheveled. Her usually perfectly styled hair is escaping from her haphazard pony tail, dark circles line her eyes, and she's wearing clothing that looks to be two sizes too big.

"Don't say a damn word, Will," she warns, seeing the grin on my face as I sit across from her.

But I can't help myself. "Sleep well?"

"I honestly don't know how these people can stand this place," she says, poking at the gray paste-like substance in her bowl. "Between the snoring, coughing, shuffling, and other noises that continued all through the night, I don't think I got two hours of rest. And then these were the only civilian clothes they were able to find me," she tugs at her checker patterned button down shirt. "I look like a lumberjack from one of those nature movies you used to watch when you were little."

I laugh and clap my hands together. "I thought you looked familiar."

"You don't look too hot yourself," she grimaces.

I turn my attention to my own plate and begin slathering a thick, red spread onto my toasted bread. "I've been up since midnight. I'm still on our schedule from back home, so my body thinks I should be getting ready for bed right about now."

"Yeah, that sucks. It'll take a couple of days to adjust. By the way, do you know a Nelly?" she asks.

I snap my head up. "Why do you ask?"

"She's in my dorm and she asked about you," Ellen says, dropping her spoon and giving up on her gray paste.

I bite into my toast and answer with a muffled mumble. "Really? What did you think of her?"

"I don't know." She shrugs, reaching for her glass. "She seemed nice."

Nice. That's what I thought too. I finish chewing and swallow. "Right. Remember that story I told you last night about those outsiders getting shot?"

She nods.

"Well, your new friend is the one who pulled the trigger," I say.

"Oh." Ellen exhales the syllable before covering her true reaction behind the glass of juice.

We spend the rest of breakfast in silence. After eating, Juanita finds us and we start our quest to find the perfect jobs. We're initially assigned to laundry duty. When I'm specifically instructed not run dark colors in hot water, I know exactly what I'll be doing. After shrinking about a dozen sweaters to kid size, our supervisor promptly kicks us out of the facility.

One menial task down, who knows how many to go. But we need to persevere – by which I mean fail miserably – until we get something that can be useful for us.

The following day, we visit a classroom during school hours to see if we can share some of our marine science knowledge with the children. We have a great time illustrating some of the lesser-known aquatic species to the eager nine year olds and we get invited back the next day. Teaching them is kind of fun and I'd actually like to try to see how long we can legitimately last in this job; however, Ellen insists we stick to our plan. She then tells a very vivid story about the horrors of decompression sickness that obviously isn't what the teachers had in mind. We leave this job – and a room full of gagging or crying kids – behind, as well.