Catch up with Scarlet.

You dodge some of the slower kids to catch up with Scarlet as she shuffles back to where you found the guitar. “I liked your song—“

She spins. “It’s not mine. I stole it,” she swallowed and blinks, failing to hide the emotion she’d put herself through. She places the guitar down and sits on an empty cot, offering you a spot beside her.

You sit so close to her that your knees are touching. You know to hold your tongue— you give her emotional space, letting her pick the pace at which this conversation should go. She inhales. “We should stop having sex. There’s no relief in it. It’s only making me want you more, and for you, it’s taking you away from Flora.”

“Scarlet. I’m— this isn’t…” you pause, then construct. “I will help you out of this lifestyle. You might think there’s an end to this job, but I think it might be foolish not to try to get out of it. I can’t be your significant other, but someone better than me can guide you to a place where you can be someone…be someone your parents could have been proud of.”

“There’s no future for me,” she mutters.

“If there’s one for me, there’s definitely one for you.”

“Warren, you don’t know—“

“Because you won’t tell me! You’re more likely to wrap yourself around me than explain what’s eating you. I can’t be your partner, then let me be your friend!”

“After all this!” She hisses. “Let me—!?! Flora’s right for you. She’s not sadistic. Bloodthirsty or animalistic in her desires. So, let me help you get you there before you try helping me, OK? There’s more hope for you than for me because I can’t live with myself, you hear? The night you chose Flora over me, I realized… there's no winning...This is it, Warren."

"What else is eating you?"

"This whole fucking place is a sham. I don't know why the fuck Amara tasked me to do this," she looks at you hard. "I'm done trying to convince myself this isn't some perverted con being played here. This is a human-trafficking gig, and I can't let this go through my fingers. If you want to help me so badly, let's kill Angel and get these stupid kids out of here."

“What’s your—“

“Angel!” Angelica shouts. You and Scarlet look up where the entrance is and see a man with a half-shaved head and a patchy beard. He wore all-black clothes and had an M16 rifle slung around him. The man was handsome despite his patchy and sloppily shaved appearance. He grinned when he saw you and Scarlet. He patted the kids and spoke to them each after mentioning their names before approaching you. He ordered Angelica to bring the three of you bowls.

Angel makes sure to break away from all the other children. He offers you a place to sit down. In just one second, Scarlet’s demeanor has changed drastically. She’s stiff-backed, and all the emotion you saw has been pushed into the back of her stern face. The man stretches, looking cleaner up close than he did from a distance. He smiles at Scarlet, but then smiles wider when he sees you. He uses his spoon to point at you. “You’re the new guy. Warren, Visser. Your whole family must be dead, or you’re just foolish.”

You can’t tell where his accent is, but you know he isn’t from these parts. Perhaps Russian-Canadian. Or maybe just some place overseas in general. You squint at him. “All you need to know is that I’m with the ARS. A contractor under Amara.”

Angel nods, darting his gaze at Scarlet. “This is more vocal than that Japanese guy you had with you before. Is he still around or…?”

“Cut the shit,” Scarlet spits, maybe hoping her predictions are wrong. “What do you need us for?”

Angel looks baffled and leans in. "Did Amara not tell you what I'm doing here for these kids? I'm so sorry."

Scarlet's expression doesn't shift in the slightest. You remember her calling Angel a liar right now, and wondering that, despite him sounding honest, is actually using a silver tongue to confuse you.

“I am so sorry,” he says again. “I found these children while operating closer to California. Many of them were found in raider camps or in the scrapes of outlier towns, sacked by faction forces and other types of misfortune caused by man.”

“I guess I did hear some of that,” Scarlet mumbles, looking at you before scooting away.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes,” Angel says, eating from his bowl. “These fuckin’ people are always trying to get away from these little mouths. Kids are borderline worthless in many places. They cannot work, defend for themselves, or offer any kind of services that aren’t hindered by their underdeveloped muscles and stupid little minds. Raiders have no use for them, so, of course, they’re left behind. The women are much more desired for obvious reasons, and the men merits plenty of use. Labor, mostly.”

“Despite that, I am still out here looking for homes for them where they can grow up and be useful,” he continued, looking at the kids around you. “Famers are always in need of extra hands, and despite their downfalls, kids who learn to work on a ranch early may find themselves the backbone of raising upstart places.”

You’ve seen countless places using children as workers– Billings even had a few that you recall that looked hardly above old enough to know how twisted the world was. You shifted uneasily as you waited for Scarlet to say something, which she did.

“So, you need us to take Jack and Jill up Bumfuck nowhere because you’re trying to get workers out in the field?”

Angel laughs hard, slapping his knee. “Of course! Who do you take me for? A creep? You can insult me, Scarlet, but please don’t paint me as something I’m not in front of the new face here,” he looks at you hungrily, and your skin crawls. You recalled Scarlet's original comment about Angel and realized he probably fancied you. “I do like the look of you, Warren. I heard Amara make off-hand comments about you, but now that I’m seeing you, I must admit I am more intrigued with you than I thought possible. I can’t wait to start working with you.”

The conversations spiral to pieces of the original subject. And before you know it, you’re finding yourself actually somewhat comfortable around Angel, despite you taking everything he’s saying with a grain of salt. You’d have to rely on Scarlet and find out what she thinks before coming to self-contained conclusions. All that you’re aware of by the time you’re outside the stuffy chamber full of little lives.

You’re restless as you’re lying in bed. The room's warmth still lingered, but a chill seemed into your covers. What surprised you the most was how dark the room became after the barrels were put out. You couldn’t see an inch in front of you, which might’ve been the reason why you felt so on edge. A new place surrounded by new people (regardless of age) was a recipe for a horrible night.

Suddenly, you felt a presence near you. You tensed while straining your eyes at the pitched blackness next to you. You fidgeted, almost tempted to reach for your pistol only a few feet away from you. After inhaling sharply through your nose, you whispered. “Scarlet?”

The presence folded into your bed. You jolted as you felt your groin get an unexpected amount of weight put on it. You struck out, hitting something soft: skin.

“Ouch!” A feminine voice howled.

“Scarlet??” You figured, despite it sounding higher than you’re used to. “What are you doing?”

There’s a pause, but then a hiss. “SHH!”

Scarlet crawls under the covers with you and snuggles close. You feel her body pressing against yours. Despite this being a familiar action, you feel awkward after recalling her last comment about stopping being intimate with each other. Your cock starts growing through. A boyish desire to be called “warm” spills into your mind, and you’re disappointed when she only proceeds to rub her hands all over you. You more or less start doing the same thing but stop shortly after beginning.

“You said we should stop doing this,” you protest, freezing your hands before they could cup her breasts.

“Shh,” she said again, getting closer to your member.

You swallow awkwardly, feeling the heat of your body’s exchange under the covers.