“You think she’ll luck out and get one of the nice ones?” I asked.


    “You think any of them are nice?” he asked rhetorically.


    None of the adjudicators were nice per se, but some were more favorable to deal with than others.


    Patrick and I were sitting next to each other some distance away from the woman. Looking at her more closely it was evident that she was hardened to some degree. Maybe not in terms of fighting, but at least in terms of survival.


    You couldn’t tell from her outward appearance. Her hair looked blonde at the roots but had been dirtied in the last few weeks or months, brown and black in spots where mud or soot had come in contact somewhere along her travels. The cuts were easier to make out now, something about them seemed off to me. Some looked to be from thorn bushes, short and not very deep, but others looked more similar to cuts from barbed wire fencing, which wasn’t uncommon for the area but was reasonably easy to avoid. Unless you were inexperienced or in a hurry, interesting.


    Her hair might’ve once been blonde, but mud and soot had buried that. Her clothes were worse—filthy, frayed, her shoes barely held together. Not too uncommon nowadays. But beyond this she was rather thin, not on the brink of starvation, but she looked like she hadn’t had any actual food in quite some time.


    But beyond this outward appearance there was something darker that lurked underneath the surface. There was a level of distrust in her eyes that was heavier than most, the way she stared at Freya, the glances she stole at Patrick and I. I could feel something radiating out from her, not hatred, but something that I couldn’t quite place.


    You can tell a lot about a person from their eyes, at least that’s what I’ve learned. Discerning what you’re actually learning about them though is another story entirely. It’s one thing to know what to look for, it’s another to be able to parse what you see into emotion.


    Something in her eyes was so alluring, something so secretive. What was she hiding? The more I stared at her the less I believed the facade she had put on. There was something different about her. But what was it?


    “Unlucky bitch that one, bad hand today,” Patrick said, drawing me out of my trance.


    I shifted my focus, the scavenging team had arrived armed with large duffel bags, four of them in total. Being one of our scavs wasn’t a luxurious life, but it wasn’t the most looked down on either. They would occasionally scoop trinkets for themselves and hide them away instead of funneling them back to The Castle for redistribution. I was aware of this happening, but I didn’t want to be the one stripping dead bodies all the time.


    The scouts throughout the town that picked through houses would do the same, but the previously living always had finer items to be taken than abandoned houses could provide.


    But behind the group of scavs there stalked a woman with striking blonde hair, a sharp jutting jaw and eyes that were so blue it was like someone had replaced them with the darkest ice you could find. Antandra.


    “A bad hand indeed,” I replied.


    Antandra was arguably the harshest of the adjudicators, technically speaking she was also the first adjudicator before it was even a recognized role. I’d taken a liking to her a few months into our holdup in The Castle, back before it was called The Castle. I’m not sure why she followed me so closely, but she managed to worm her way into the rankings and eventually ended up pretty high.


    I would like to say I was wary of her, but it was hard to be. There was something about her that I just couldn’t get rid of. She was scary for sure, an undeniably harsh woman, but she was just in a way. She seemed incorruptible in her morals, holding the truth at the highest of respects.


    That was what drew me to her, what made me keep her around and look to her for advice so often in those early months. She had a way of seeing things purely logically, using no emotional input in her judgement. Of course I had the presence of mind to realize this wasn’t the best way to make decisions so I took input from others and reflected on my own ideas. However, her logic was always sound, and she always stayed true to her word and morals.


    The more time I spent around her the more I realized she was most likely on the spectrum somewhere, but that made her even more incorruptible.


    Perhaps that was what made her so harsh, so brutally honest in her dissections. She could find the flaws in people, and their insecurities, she used these to make guesses at their past and their own self doubt. She used this to find the truth about them, their intentions, their motivators, what drove them to do what they did.


    I had no doubt in my mind that whatever this woman was hiding Antandra would reveal it. That was her job after all.


    I glanced at Patrick, he was avoiding looking at Antandra. He wasn’t too fond of her, due to her social abilities or rather lack thereof. One night when we were celebrating the victory of securing the entirety of the town he was too close to her. She was a naturally attractive woman, and Patrick was getting a little tipsy. Tried his hand at flirting, which funnily enough she was able to pick up on but she did not take kindly to it.


    She spent an hour talking with him, and he was none the wiser. Until at the end of the night when she laid out all his insecurities and mental self doubt right in front of him, and the way she did it was so matter-of-fact that he didn’t know how to handle it. She wasn’t pitying him, or even being harsh, just stating the facts. This combined with his drunken state led to him crying his eyes out for a solid twenty minutes.


    He hated her for a while after that, something that I finally coached him out of. But he still avoided her, preferring to never speak with her unless it was imperative to helping the group as a whole.


    That’s just fine though, not everyone has to get along or act all buddy-buddy, so long as they’re unified under a leader. That’s where I come into play, not that I’m the best leader, but I can manage these people well enough.


    “She still makes me nervous whenever she’s around,” Patrick half whispered to me.


    “I’m well aware.”


    Antandra stood before the girl, looking down at her. She was sat on a stump off the side of the road, her hands bound with handcuffs behind her back. She glared up at Antandra, her forest green eyes clashing with those of ice that stared back at her. It was odd seeing the comparison, her eyes were alight almost as if they were inviting a challenge, whereas Antandras were calculating, without a single hint of emotion.


    This contrast continued, Antandra was a woman that held herself to a high standard; as such her clothes were in pristine condition, and her hair was tied back in a tight bun with not a single strand loose. Whereas the girl looked closer to feral than she was to the refinement of Antandra.


    “Your name?” Antandra asked.


    The girl remained silent. I could see the gears whirring in Antrandras'' mind as she processed the silence before she spoke again.


    “My name is Antandra, and yours?” she asked, squatting down so her and the girl were on the same level.


    I watched both of them carefully. Studying how they shifted their weight or glanced to the side. Antandra was lowering herself to the other woman’s level, so she would think of them as equals as opposed to opposing sides. She’d tried being assertive, and upon realizing that it wouldn’t work on this woman she shifted tactics.


    I could see the blonde woman shift her weight, left and right, glancing quickly to either side. Looking for escape? Weighing her options? Either way, Antandra didn’t seem too fond of the gestures.


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    “We do not wish to harm you here, but I need to know who you are.”


    This brought a reaction from the girl.


    “Bullshit,” she snarled.


    I can’t blame her for her reaction, we shot her group dead in front of her.


    “Did you know those men?” Antandra asked, it sounded stupid, and it was meant to. It was a question meant to draw out an answer.


    “What do you think?”


    “Did those men travel with you for long?” Asking a question in response to the question that was answered to another question. Too many questions.


    “Long enough to know ‘em.”


    I could see Antandra’s  eyes soften, artificially I believe, but it was hard to say.


    “Did you care for those men?”


    Silence again.


    “I am sorry for what happened to them, but it was not my doing. I am only here to speak with you, to help you. They will not let you go if you do not give me the answers I need.”


    She was separating herself from our group, making the girl feel like she wasn’t alone. I could see the girl''s face soften for the briefest moment, parsing the words. But the silence returned, for a few moments at least.


    Antandra did not leave the girl''s side, she instead waited for the answer to her question, which one was up to the girl.


    “My name is Rhea,” the girl finally said.


    “Rhea, what a nice name.” Antandra replied.


    I had to agree with her assessment.


    “Greek,” Patrick said from beside me.


    He was filling in the name''s origin, he was all about languages, only knowing a few but he studied a lot of them in the times before the flares. He wanted to be a linguist, he had just started taking college classes to work towards a degree when it all went to shit.


    Not that the origins really mattered, people used whatever names they wanted to name their kids, hell nowadays people changed them whenever they felt like it. We only allow for one change for our people, can’t have people changing their names every other week or it gets hard to manage.


    For instance, Freya wasn’t always named Freya, she was known as Francine before. I think her new name fits her though, really goes with the whole enforcer thing.


    Was Rhea her given name then? Or one she chose for herself. Not that it made a difference, but it was a query nonetheless.


    “So tell me Rhea, what was the purpose of your travels?” Antandra asked.


    She specifically didn’t say ‘why’ as this could come off as combative, for instance ‘Why were  you traveling in our direction?’ could elicit distrust and be seen as a challenge. Antandra instead asked her what she was seeking, what she was traveling for rather than take an accusatory stance.


    “To flee.”


    “To flee? Flee from what?”


    I leaned forwards, eager for her answer.


    What could they be fleeing from?


    “Wally.”


    Wally was the self appointed leader down the road from us, about 5 miles down the road to be specific. He thought of himself as a king, supposedly, I’ve never actually met the guy. But from what I’ve heard from travelers and reports, he’s practically insane. How he’s managed to stay in power down there is a question I ask every time his name is brought up.


    His name, Wally, is something he gave himself. Named after the Walmart that he took over to control the area. We had early plans to siege the Walmart for everything, but after some early scouting we decided against it. The hold Wally had, combined with the turmoil we were still facing in Wellington meant that we didn’t have the resources to spare for the siege. That plan had been cast aside, seeing as we had enough to be self-sufficient for at least the next few years.


    “Why were you fleeing Wally?”


    The girl''s lips twitched at this, turning up into almost a snarl. She glared at Antandra, but I think she was finally starting to understand that Antandra was simply asking questions, not challenging her answers.


    She looked down at the ground, speaking almost to herself, barely audible for Patrick and I.


    “He wanted me, I didn’t want him. I found some people who were looking for adventure and took them with me for protection.”


    She was giving more than she was being asked now, Antandra was slowly opening her up.


    “Wanted you for?”


    “To be his ‘queen’,” she spat.


    And we were harboring her. I could feel my heart drop. This isn''t something we wanted right now.


    “Well shit,” Patrick said, dropping his head.


    We don’t have the manpower to fend off Wally if he wants her that badly. What’s the going rate for morals nowadays? Am I willing to sell mine to spare our settlement here?


    “In theory we could toss her back to him, spare us from him coming out here,” Patrick said, mimicking my own inner thoughts.


    “Could, yes,” I eyed him confusingly.


    “Hell, we could let her keep going, act like she was never here. No one has to know. When he comes asking, just say we haven’t seen her.”


    “It’s going to get out, people will know, word will spread.”


    “Not if we tell them to not spread it.”


    I looked up at him, “Especially if we tell them not to.”


    Word of the estranged blonde woman wouldn’t be spread in a form of malice, but rather as idle gossip. The worst kind of gossip, because you never knew what was safe to say around people.


    More than likely the scavenging crew had already messaged it to someone back at The Castle, either the armoury hand or someone in dispatch. Either way the word would get out.


    “Why does he want you specifically?” Antandra asked Rhea.


    “Hell if I know, but I’ve put up with too much shit to just let that happen. I’ll keep moving, he doesn’t have to know I was here. I can travel on my own.”


    Patrick perked up at this.


    “Word will spread,”I said, assuring him that this plan wouldn’t work.


    He sunk back down in response, knowing in his mind that I was right.


    “I cannot say if that will be permissible or not,” Antandra said, glancing quickly in my direction.


    I gave her a slight shake of my head.


    The girl didn’t see any of it, she was still looking down at the ground.


    “But if it is not we have other options,” Antandra continued, “We are accepting new members here in Sol Sanctum. It is not a bad place to live, order and peace is upheld, everyone is valued for what they can do to help.”


    Rhea bit her lip, “It isn’t far enough, he’ll find me. I know he’ll be after me.”


    “We can protect you, I assure you, Antandra said.” A false promise.


    “I don’t know, I can’t let you risk that. It isn’t right, he’s after me,” Rhea said, I could hear the tears forming.


    “It will be alright, look at me Rhea,” she did as asked, her tears glimmering in the setting sunlight, “We will protect you. Lord Sol will not let you be harmed here.”


    Dammit Antandra.


    “Really?” Rhea asked, letting her girlish nature shine through the front she’d been putting on.


    “Really,” Antandra assured her, opening her arms.


    Rhea fell forward, collapsing onto Antandra as silent tears streamed down her face. I gestured to Freya, who in turn stepped forward and undid the handcuffs that had been binding Rhea.


    She wrapped her arms around Antandra, who met my eyes expectantly. I shivered involuntarily.


    Maybe the adjudicators scared me too. How the hell was this the same woman who’d reduced Patrick to tears, as she was now comforting a lost consort like she was a noble in a fantasy story.


    I just shrugged back at her, she seemed to accept this answer.


    I looked down the road, towards Wally’s domain. What the hell were we going to do about this?


    “Let’s see what the council has to say,” I said aloud.


    I was holding my composure, for now. But the weight of decisions like these never really left you — they just hid in the quiet moments.