"I would have expected more from you, Sykes." Governor Bradford is yelling so loudly his words are easy to make out even behind the closed doors of the sitting area outside his office. "You're damn lucky that they didn't try to escape."

I can't hear Jed's response, but I can only assume that it involves a lot of "Yes, sirs." You can never go wrong with those.

Still, he really doesn't deserve to be scolded because nothing happened. I managed to convince Ellen to give up trying to run away until we figured out where Bradford intended to take the ferries, then we finished loading the second truck and waited for Jed to return. Bradford must have gotten word that we were left behind without his best – and most trustworthy men – so now Jed's getting a stern reprimand for his negligence. I almost feel bad for him, but then I remember that he's always been a jerk to me. When the governor unexpectedly swings the door open, I must still be relishing this thought.

"What are you grinning at?" he snaps at me and I immediately turn serious. Clearing my throat, I watch as Jed leaves, and we're ushered into the office in his place.

Bradford closes the door behind us and we stop in the middle of the room. "Now, I like you kids. I really do, but I'm starting to see why no one has tried to come to your rescue. You're more trouble than you're worth."

My inadvertent snicker doesn't escape his attention. He comes around and stands in front of me, his nose just inches away from mine. "Do you find that funny, son?"

Yes. "No, sir," I say.

He backs away and sits on the edge of his massive wooden desk. Pursing his lips, Bradford crosses his arms before speaking.

"Good because I just can't take a chance with you two making a break for it if the opportunity happens to arise again. What else are you good at? Do you think you can help out in the hospital?" he asks Ellen.

"Absolutely not. I faint at the slightest sight of blood." She winces even at the thought.

"Very well." He nods. "What about maps? How were you with geography?"

"Maps I can do, sir." She smiles, her eyes widening at the prospect.

"Excellent. I'm putting you down in the meteorology lab with Chan. And as for you." He turns to me. "It looks like I have no choice, but to put my best crew member in charge of watching out for you."

He doesn't elaborate any further, so after sleeping in after a long night, I only find out the next day what he had in mind for me.

"So, you're Bradford's kid, huh?" I ask, looking down on the little girl from breakfast the other day. "I have to admit, I did not see that coming."

I'm following Lola between rows and rows of different plants laid out on waist high tables, listening to her describe the types and what they each need in order to grow the best. We've been in this hydroponic lab for almost an hour and we haven't even gotten halfway across the massive room. It's actually a series of rooms with the walls knocked down creating a unified space that occupies one whole floor of the building. And unlike the other rooms that O-town occupies, this one is above ground.

Lola tells me that floors two through six are all devoted to growing fruits and vegetables, and she enthusiastically blabbers on about nutrient solutions and growing media, drippers and pumps. I'm initially more concerned with the fact that the windows are seemingly uncovered.

"Are you really sure it's safe for us to be standing here?" I look out the tinted glass.

"I've told you three times already. They're covered with a special filter that blocks out the bad light. My dad says it's actually more effective than the curtain downstairs by the entrance," she explains, plucking out an extraneous seedling from one of the containers. "That's one of the reasons I like to be up here. I can look outside any time I want."

Since it's a clear day, I can see for miles around us. The flat lands are covered intermittently with grass, trees, or water, but I can understand that even those would be a welcome sight after spending so much time underground. Somehow, living in an underwater base doesn't seem that bad. At least I got to explore the depths of the ocean without fear of being irradiated.

Lola moves on to another row and as I follow her, I pop a round, red vegetable in my mouth.

"Will, no—," she begins, noticing what I did, but it's too late. My eyes are already watering and I begin to cough from the spiciness of whatever I just ate. I quickly run to a nearby bucket and try to spit out as much as possible.

"I told you to stop munching." She laughs. "But at least I hope that now you'll be able to tell the difference between a tomato and a cherry pepper. Now stop goofing around and pay attention."

I like Lola a lot, but I'm not used to being bossed around by a pre-teen. Considering who her father is, I guess I have to accept it. After wiping my eyes again, I crouch next to her to look at what she tells me are corn stalks. She explains that just like the rest of the crops on this floor, the corn needs sixteen hours of light per day, which they provide with the special agricultural lights mounted from the ceiling.

"Do you ever pray, Lola?" I change the subject when she takes a breath during her monologue.

She pauses for a second. "Well, that's a funny question to ask."

I quickly stand. "Sorry. Should I not have asked? Is it too personal?"

"No, it's all right. No one has ever asked me that, that's all." She gets up, as well.

"Well then – in general – what do people pray for? What is it about?" I ask.

She shrugs. "I guess some do it to ask God for things – things they wished they had or things that they want in their lives to be better."

I sense she's holding back. "You don't do that?"

"No. I used to, but it never really helped." She looks at the floor. "Things were still bad. Now, I usually just pray to give thanks for what I do have."

I'm at a loss for the right response to such a profound statement, but luckily I'm saved when the door opens. When she sees who it is, Lola runs and jumps into her arms. "Nelly!"

"Hey there, chipmunk." The newcomer twirls the girl around before placing her feet back on the ground. "Is he giving you any trouble?" She nods in my direction.

"No. We're having lots of fun." Lola smiles at me.

"Really? Is that why he's crying?" Nelly points before I wipe my eyes again with the back of my hand.

"Uhm, peppers." I try to clear my throat of the pungent taste that still hasn't dissipated.

"Is it still that bad? I'll get you some soy milk," Lola offers. "I'll be right back. Don't leave." She runs out of the room, leaving me alone with Nelly.

"You really don't grow any produce down there?" The girl looks at me with a cocked brow.

She's not going to trick me again. I plan on keeping as much about my home secret as I can, so I pretend to be preoccupied with adjusting one of the containers. "Not that I know of."

"That's so strange. I wonder why. I know Vanguard was built with hydro-labs. This stuff was left over from when they retrofitted some other things on it before it was submerged. Maybe you had some crap gardeners and they destroyed the seed stock." She's still standing in front of me and although I'm avoiding her gaze, I see from the corner of my eye that she's twirling a dry vine between her fingers. "Or . . . hey, do you take supplements? They're a more potent way of—"

"Stop it." I'm getting tired of her hypothesizing, plus my legs are falling asleep from crouching, so I stand and look her in the eyes. "What are you doing here? Are you following me, Nelly or what?" I cross my arms. "First the mission into the city and now here."

She tilts her head slightly and takes a small step toward me. "Would that be such a bad thing?"

"Yes. Obviously!" I retreat from her advance.

She stops and raises her hands in protest. "Why are you being so nasty with me, Will? What did I do to piss you off?"

I give her one of my patented Will Scott are you shitting me looks. "Apart from kidnapping me and my sister?"

She frowns. "You know that I had nothing to do with that. Not directly, anyway."

"All right. How about that woman you shot in the head? Do you remember having something to do with her death?" I extend my hands – palms up – and shrug.

She looks at the floor, unable to meet my accusatory gaze. "You have no idea—"

"Of course I do!" I interrupt. "I was right there. I saw you kill her when all she did was ask for help. What was that all about? Why couldn't you help them?"

She slowly lifts her head. "You're right. We could have helped, but if any of the rest of them out there found out what we did, then tomorrow we'd have ten more at the door downstairs. Next week, we'd have twenty. The week after that, fifty. We can't help all of them, Will. They're too far gone. They've been too far gone for many, many years. Our resources are limited. If we tried helping everyone out there, they'd eat up our food and use up our medicine quicker than we can replenish them. We'd be dooming those in here to be in the same position as those on the outside are now. It's sad, but this is the world we live in now. This is just what we all have to do."

I think about this for a moment and eventually, I find myself agreeing with her logic. However, I still don't agree with it. "So tell me this, then. If you're so remorseful about all of this, why did you boast to me about being so tough?"

She scoffs. "What? When did I say that?"

"Right before you shot her. You told me your age, remember?"

Her eyes widen. "Oh, yes. But you're such an idiot, Will. That's not what I meant at all. The reason I wanted you to know that I'm just nineteen is for you to realize that even though I'm this young, I've had to deal with a lot of things that you've been sheltered from. I wanted you to have sympathy for not just that couple, but also for me and my feelings. I wanted you to be aware of my pain, not to judge me on it."

"Oh," I mutter sheepishly. "All right, I guess I screwed up. How can I make up for being so thick?" I ask half-heartedly. Although I do feel a bit in the wrong, I'm afraid of her answer.

"Tell me about Vanguard. What is it like to live there?" She appears genuinely interested, but I'm still wary of her intentions.

"Not you too," I huff. "The guys in the dorm keep me up every night with their incessant questions. Why don't you just ask your roomie?"

She grimaces. "I would, but I don't think Ellen likes me very much."

I suddenly remember that all my sister probably knows about Nelly is what I told her: that she's a cold blooded killer. "Oh, yeah. I think that's my fault, too. I'll talk to her; don't worry."

"But you still owe me, Will." She wags her finger at me, slowly backing toward the door.

I make a face at her before turning back toward the corn. "Lucky me."