With a mixing bowl in hand, Vita sauntered over to the frying pans to ladle on globs of berry pancakes. The task of feeding hundreds of people exhausted her daily, but she slept soundly after the hard work. Her feet usually begged for mercy, and her co-worker Deidra only confirmed that it would get worse with each passing month.

She was probably around five or six weeks along now, but still passing unnoticed. She planned to rely on the large women's shirts Mr. M had provided as camouflage as long as possible.  Vita had only chosen to confine in Deidra since she had had her own son at nineteen and didn't seem quick to judge.

"Fresh order's up," Deidra called out to one of the servers as she placed the last of her order on a large serving tray.

"Thanks, Dee," Ricardo said, flashing both women a smile despite the tired look in his eyes.

The pancake recipe had needed a bit of tweaking to accommodate the fact that they had neither eggs nor milk, but the women found a way to make it work along with a bit of fruit from their plants. Each compliment accompanied by an empty plate made Vita gleam.

After a long shift in the kitchen, she noticed a head of dark curls poking out from around the corner. A small smile tugged at her lips. She started to undo her apron as she sneaked toward the corner.

"Winston, is that you again?"

There wasn't an answer, which she found weird since he usually got the giggles when he had been found. She put a clean frying pan on the metal shelf.

"Who is it?"

She kept walking until she found a lanky boy her age wearing a nervous smile. "Sorry, I just, you're just-"

"Did you get something to eat? The grill's still hot if you want me to whip something up quick." She didn't really want to wipe down the kitchen again, but she knew the feeling of going to bed hungry and refused to let others feel the same.

"I already had some, and they were delicious. Thank you, Vita."

"No problem, so what can I help you with?"

The boy smiled, revealing dimples in his freckled cheeks. "I think you're beautiful."

Vita could only blink. She had been called a lot of things these past few months, but beautiful was not one of them. He seemed so sweet and innocent while she knew the child growing inside her was proof enough she had left that trait in a dark room in Rob's basement along with her dignity. Pre-disaster Vita would have jumped at this chance, blushing, giggling, running back to get Mischa's opinion. She couldn't be bothered in her current state.

"Anything else?"

His face fell and she smiled on the inside. He shook his head and shuffled out of the kitchen with his eyes on the floor.

Maybe Gunnar had been right all along; she was a bitch. At times like this, when relationships could only lead to complications, she couldn't see how things could be any different. She had to respect Gunnar's style a bit; he saw Rob for what he was and ran fast. She had been too blind and dependent to bother. Now that the opportunity presented itself once again and she wasn't prepared to bite.

In the sleeping area, Vita sought out her friends right away. Winston fought with some wood project, which had been frustrating him for days, while Cynthia watched, a small smile on her lips.

"Hey little man, how's that project going?"

"It's impossible! I don't know how to make this fit together."

Vita sat down beside him and watched his hands fumble with the pieces that clearly weren't meant to be joined. He frowned down at them and handed them off to her. Vita ran her hand over the uneven groove and the large notch. "You just have to match this part smaller and the other one a bit smoother and you'll get it."

Winston sighed and crossed his hands across his chest. "Hey, don't worry about it," Vita said. "Why don't you go play games with the other boys before the sun goes down? That sounds like much more fun."

His face lit up and he took off, after kissing Cynthia on the cheek. She chuckled as he excitedly approached his friends, arms making gestures as big as his small body.

"You're settling in well, Vita. I've heard nothing but praise about you so far from others and Mr. M."

Vita nodded. She kept trying hard to make sure that the person everyone saw was significantly different than the one she was inside. If they knew what she was really all about, what she had done with Rob and Gunnar, they'd shun her. Probably call her a dirty, rotten slut for the way she acted and a ruthless thief to boot. It was her secret to keep. Cynthia knew pieces from moments when Vita was too weak to try and hide it, but she wouldn't be making that mistake again.

"It helps to have food, security, water and company. I never realized how much I relied on those things before they were gone," Vita said.

"Most of us didn't," Cynthia replied with her eyes fixed on her hands.

"How are you adjusting?" Vita recollection of the strong woman's tears each morning scared her. It didn't make sense that she could fall into this place so well while Cynthia, who was much stronger and smarter than she was, struggled so much.

"It's getting easier. I appreciate everything you've done to help Winston out. Somedays..." Her eyes wandered off behind Vita. Vita took a quick look back, but nothing was there. Cynthia still had the same glazed over look for a moment, but tears began to form in the corners of her eyes. With a  weak smile, Vita reached out for her hand. Although the burns and nicks didn't make for the gentlest grip, she figured it was better than nothing.

"Some days, I don't recognize the woman I've become. I know it's sinful not to cherish life since it was ripped away from so many." Cynthia paused and the hand Vita held trembled.

Vita swallowed hard and closed her eyes. She wouldn't get upset. She wouldn't cry.

"I wonder if we're just delaying the inevitable." 

Vita remained silent. What happened to the stoic woman who fed her water when she was days away from becoming a corpse? Could losing one person really do so much damage? No one in her life meant that much to her. While she was sad her own family had perished, she knew they would have wanted her to continue on in their absence.

Cynthia squeezed Vita's hand in turn, bringing her back to the present. "I apologize. Please, don't let my words offend you. I'm still struggling to accept John's passing. I'm coming to terms with it; I just need time."

"It's okay," Vita said quietly. "I don't think you're the only one."

At least one person woke her up with their screams per night. All of the mental states had been shaken by more than just the storm. The fact she could sleep nearly soundly through the nights troubled her a bit. She should have been more affected, but this hardened shell was so shiny and inviting.

She settled on a hug and Cynthia tentatively placed her arms around her back. Vita could feel her hands trembling slightly as she pulled her closer.

"If you ever need to talk about your family or friends, Vita, please don't feel you'll upset me. I'm sure it was hard to lose them."

Vita bit her lip and shrugged. "It is what it is. Some of us lived and others died."

"It's alright to be upset about. You shouldn't feel pressured to keep those feelings inside."

"Like I said, it happened and getting upset about it won't change anything."

"Bottling it up is a dangerous habit," Cynthia said without breaking eye contact. 

Vita's heartbeat raced as her mind retreated back to the moment Rob's basement had started to take on brown water. They had run up the stairs to find Gunnar and Mischa. The back door had been left open and had rain poured down, quickly making its way into the home.

"Mischa!" a strangled cry echoed from the storm raging outside.

Vita's stomach dropped like a ten-pound brick hearing any kind of emotion come from that grungy kid. He had his own brand of apathy, falling somewhere between a hipster and sociopath. Vita bit her swollen lip. Her friend had to be alright. They were in this together, until the final hour. That's what best friends were supposed to do.

Before she realized what she had done, Vita liberated herself from Rob's comforting grip and her feet propelled her into the torrential rains and raging winds.

"Is she alright?"

Gunnar whipped around with murderous intensity to his glare.

"Where the fuck have you been? It's been ten minutes since she disappeared."

"What do you mean she disappeared?"

"One minute we're talking, the next she's a god-damned ghost."

Her eyes stung with a combination of acidic rain and salty tears. Her heart beat wildly in her chest.

This wasn't real.

This couldn't be happening.

"What..." she choked on her next sob. "What do we do?" She looked from Rob to Gunnar and back again.

"I'll go look inside," Rob said and he took off before either of them could answer.

She looked down at her hands, hands that had been doing plenty of unsavoury things minutes ago. Why had she chosen to let that swallow up the time she could have spent finding Mischa or making sure she never left her friend in the first place? Now the rain washed away any trace of her grievances.

"What have I done? I'm a horrible friend"

"Would ya start doing something?" But Vita's feet refused to move for the moment. "Son of a bitch, can't get anything done when all ya wanna do is cry. Get a grip," he muttered as he ran around to the other side of the house.

Maybe if she had been able to head his advice, they could have found Mischa.     

Days later, Cynthia fought the shaking in her world for another few minutes. She watched the plate of Jambalaya John made every Sunday quiver dangerously close to the end of their dark oak table. Her husband smiled at her from across the table and she felt his foot brush against hers for a moment. His eyes radiated warmth and tenderness she hadn't felt in months. y

Deep down, she knew the image was a facade, just another expired memory with John and Winston, but she needed every last second. Winston's dream and present voice moulded into one until the image of a boy sitting with a glass of milk yelling "Wake up!" could no longer placate her conscious.

"I'm up, sweetie. Give mom a minute."

"You are sleeping," he said in a chastising tone.

"I'm awake; my eyes are just stuck shut."

"Nice try, Mom. Mr. Peyton wants to see you when you're up."

Cynthia sighed and tried to conjure up that family meal memory once more to no avail. The thought of those moments as memories locked in a past she could never access again troubled her. But it was the truth. She couldn't keep praying for John's passing to be a misinformed lie.

John's warmth and embrace could only exist in her memories.

His laugh and guidance had dried up with the passing storm. She found traces of its existence through Winston and the hard choices she was sure she'd have to make soon.

As a single mother, she needed to take ownership of her mind and emotions. She hadn't even considered the effect her action had on poor Winston who watched his remaining parent struggle her way toward a bleak future.

Bleakness was all a matter of opinion, a personal one she intended to sway.

The noise in the warehouse became more apparent and the sunlight filtering in wouldn't allow her to lay idly. As the new day began, she freshened up and made sure Winston did the same. Someone had raided a toothpaste pallet pre-disaster to allow them to feel clean for once along with a daily scrub with a bit of water and a washcloth. Nothing would compare to a hot shower, but this would have to do considering the circumstances. She double checked that Winston had done a good job by forcing him to say 'ah' before she sent him off to breakfast with his friends.

Cynthia hadn't been aware that a meeting with Peyton also involved Mr. M, but by now she knew shouldn't have been surprised. The meal had started off amicably enough until most of Peyton's subtle picks at information were shot down by a disinterested Mr. M.

Peyton rose to his feet from the table and placed his hands firmly on the wood surface. He leaned forward, lowering himself just to tower over the head of this establishment. Cynthia's eyes shot from one man to the other as the rest of the room grew silent.

"Tell me where to find her!" The veins on the side of Peyton's neck twitched at a rate that worried the nurse in Cynthia.

Mr. M's face remained straight. "I have told you, again and again, I will not-"

"Cut this pretentious bullshit! You act like you're better than them, but you're just the same. If you wanted to help me, you would tell me. Clearly, your only intention is to keep people here by baiting them with information."

"You brought up this subject, Peyton. I had no knowledge of your wife. You came to me." Mr. M's voice remained as calm as his face.

Peyton shook his head. "No, it started with Cynthia when you told her that her husband had passed away. You had kept her child. Now, you suddenly know exactly where this organization that has my wife lies. You are full of convenient truths," he seethed through his teeth.

No. Cynthia fought Peyton's logic from creeping into her mind. The disaster had been far too random an occurrence for Mr. M to have planned any of this. Finally, she had begun to see her husband's death as a fact and not a possible outcome. She didn't want to take two steps back in the grieving process.

Mr. M had taken care of Winston, fed, clothed and loved him like his own. But the moment she walked in the door, he hadn't hesitated to relinquish the role of caregiver. Still, Peyton needed answers to find his wife. She had no doubts he was days away from walking out the front door, with or without any help.

"If you tell him, he can make an educated choice. You know he will go regardless. He should know what he's facing," Cynthia intervened.

"If I tell him, his fate will be on my hands."

"My fate is my hands. I will make that choice with or without your help. At least help give me an advantage."

Mr. M rolled his shoulders until they cracked. Then, he looked back up at Peyton. "Before I tell you, I want you to consider how much good you could do for these people in our community."

"I made my vows to my wife. If there is the slightest chance she is alive and in danger, I will not stop until she is freed. I have no issues returning once her safety is guaranteed."

"My concern does not depend on your choice to return. It is your ability to do so in their presence for which I fear."

Silence filled the void until small conversations in the hall returned. Peyton's harsh glare maintained its intensity and his arms didn't budge from their crossed position. 

Mr. M sighed and smoothed the skin of his palms. He looked from Cynthia to Peyton and closed his eyes for a moment, as if to pray.

"It will take you at least two weeks of hiking in good weather if you want to follow the rivers and you will for water. It's not an easy journey."

"She's my wife, I could walk for months to find her."

"You'll have to cross into Colorado and head towards Pagosa Springs. Once I find my maps, I can show you the mountain where they've set up their community. You will not need to find a way in, their people will find you first. The facility only has one entrance."

Peyton sat down and took a drink out of his plastic cup. "I doubt that. How do they acquire their water."

"From the nearby reservoir."

"Then there must be pipes leading into the facility to follow."

"That's a gamble that they're large enough to fit through."

"I'm willing to scale the sewage drains if that's what it comes to. There is always another way."

The conversation continued to explore the various technicalities of the building Peyton wanted to infiltrate. It sounded more and more like an impenetrable, live-in cavern and less like a community. Cynthia's muscles clenched at the thought of being stuck indoors and enclosed in a heavily guarded rock structure.

She began to realize Nouveau Depart may just have been a real blessing in disguise.