You're a man of character. You offer her help.

The girl was sleeping on the back seat of the car, curled up in a fetal position.

It was quite a challenge to earn as little of her trust as you had now. It was even more difficult to find out anything about her at all. The food you offered certainly loosened her tongue, but it still took nearly two hours before she started answering your questions. Her English was fine, even though she spoke with an accent, still she spoke only short sentences – not a word more than necessary to answer the question at hand... if she answered at all, that is.

The first thing you got was her name – Natasha. You liked the sound of that name. It suited her well. She was nineteen years old (she would be in three months, anyway) and, not so long ago, a captive of what sounded like a **** hunting group.

“Should have expected slavery becoming popular again.” Mallory commented before going for a smoke.

You inquired further and found out that Natasha’s brother - Petro, the only family she had, was killed during the slavers’ raid and that she along with other women (as well as children and men strong enough to work) from the settlement were taken prisoner, then herded inside the trucks that were to take them to a place called the Nexus.

She had no idea how far it was or in which direction but it was obvious you’d get there eventually, if you kept following the convoy. Natasha found the idea ridiculous and expressed her opinion in a flurry of surprisingly sharp curses and insults. Those men – as she explained - had firearms and knew well how to use them. It was best to avoid them altogether.

Anyway, the girl... Natasha was lucky enough to escape during the slaver caravan’s last stop. She wasn’t the only one to try but, as far as she could tell, the only one to have succeeded. You figured she would regret that should you and Mallory not pass through the neighborhood. She had no food and knew little of the ways to obtain or it.

You asked about the other prisoners and their fate. The grim visions of human sacrifice and blood sports weaved by your imagination turned out to be quite exaggerated, fortunately enough, but the fact that the slaves were most likely meant for hard labor and prostitution didn’t seem to cheer you up. You felt bad about leaving them like this but Mallory quickly cooled your heroism with cold logic. You simply couldn’t handle all of the raiders.

On the other hand, Natasha was very excited when you told her about your life in the biosphere. In her eyes it was a paradise, where people live with no worries, free of danger.

She went to sleep after the early breakfast you prepared.

You and Mallory are sitting on the porch of a ruined house. The cigarette smoke smells horrible but your friend seems to have gotten used to it by now. He is smoking a Kamel right now while shuffling through the pages of one of those old books.

“That was close wasn’t it?” you ask, referring to what happened in the alley.

You know that for a moment there you were considering **** that girl. It happened once. It may well happen again.

“You felt it too, right?”

Mallory nods in response and you fall silent.

“Do you feel bad about it?” he asks out of a sudden and continues before you find an answer. “I don’t. I had no control over myself then. I know I won’t let it happen again, though, cause now that we now it can happen – we can predict, avoid and fight it.”

You sigh and look up at the sky. The sun is rising on the horizon.

“I don’t know if I will be able to control it next time.” you answer after a while.

How can Mallory be so sure he will?

“I wouldn’t want that, John,” he speaks quietly “but if something happens and you’ll refuse to listen to reason I will do nothing to stop you.”

You look at him, wondering if you heard him well. Your surprised stare meets the cold gaze of his blue eyes.

“This isn’t the biosphere anymore, John. There are no rules here apart from those you can enforce. The rule of the strongest. She knows that. That’s why she tried to run away from us.”

“Yeah, but she trusted us.” you reply in a raised voice.

“So far her trust is well placed. I won’t try to get in her pants against her will and I’m sure you will do your best not to do that as well, am I right?”

You nod.

“If you’d fail, though, know that it won’t affect my judgment of you. We work well as a team. I trust you with my life.”

“You’re saying that we make the rules because we’re the ones with guns, am I right?”

“Basically.”

“And that you’re on my side as long as I watch your back?”

“Yes. Natasha came along for the ride so she has to follow our rules. I’m sure she’s aware of that, even if she doesn’t understand it the way we do.”

“The way you do, you mean.” you answer, trying not to let that logic convince you.

Mallory said that the girl sleeping in your car has no rights apart of those you grant her just because she won’t survive without your aid. She knows it (or feels it, at least) and by agreeing to accompany you she agreed to those conditions. Mallory might be strong enough to resist such a temptation but would you be able not to take what you want when, obviously, there is nothing apart from pre-war ethics to stop you? No. You had to fight that logic if you were to remain... Remain what? A good man? What for? Did anyone care?

Natasha did. She trusted you.

You smile a bit nervously and look at the sky again. Mallory finishes his cigarette and puts the book away.

“I understand you find it difficult to cope with.” He says after a couple of minutes and gets up.

“How can you be so cold, old man?” you ask as he heads towards the driver’s seat.

You’re surprised to hear his laughter.

“I’m just being pragmatic... and honest with myself.” he replies with a smile. “Come on. We’ve got a convoy to catch. You want to help those people, am I right?”