I stare unflinching at the injured girl on the cot. "Who's she?" I ask in the calmest voice I can manage.

"Funny. I may have actually believed you if you hadn't just told my girl about your sister's nickname. It was also really great of you to confirm having the ferries, too. So, how about that deal?" Jed asks from behind me.

I can hear the condescension in his voice – along with his totally unnecessary claim regarding Nelly – and I turn to punch him in the face. At the last second, I think better of it and I put my hand through the wall, instead. Luckily, the material is relatively soft enough, crumbling beneath the pressure as my fist punches a hole into the void. Although my knuckles are bleeding, I don't feel any pain. The fury I'm projecting at myself for exposing my sister and the entire population of Vanguard to risk is far greater.

"I'll take that as a yes." He smirks before grabbing my elbow and leading me back to the other room. "Better make yourself comfortable. You'll be here for a while."

I knew that we couldn't leave until sundown, but I was hoping we'd get to hang out with some of the other survivors. I guess I was wrong.

"Can we at least get something to eat?" I yell after him, but he's closed the door and I'm not sure if he heard me.

Although he was wide awake just minutes earlier, Ray's not good company because he's out cold on one of the couches lining the back wall. They must have given him some sort of sedative for his injuries ,and I'm finally starting to regret refusing treatment for my own. I was hoping to use the opportunity of being alone with Nelly to get some information from her, but she cleverly turned my ploy against me. I really need to learn to keep my big mouth shut.

Because of my stupidity, I now need to focus on how to get Ellen out of here safely. The more I think about it, the bleaker things seem. Injured and unarmed, we don't have a shot against even two opponents. However, it's pretty apparent there must be more of them anyway. They wouldn't have asked for vessels that can carry up to a thousand people if they were alone. Plus, they wouldn't be providing electricity to an entire building as they are doing now.

I nervously pace the room, finally getting a better look at the rest of its contents. It was probably used as a lounge a while back because apart from several tables and a couch, there's also an ancient machine in the corner. The glass is broken, but besides a few torn wrappers, it's completely empty.

One thing that's definitely not empty is my bladder. A building like this must have some restrooms, but they won't do me any good if I can't get to them. I try the door anyway and I'm shocked that it's actually unlocked.

Peeking into the hallway, I see that it's deserted so I venture out. I quickly spot a 'men's room' sign a few doors down, and I take care of business first. In the process, I discover that the building has running water, too. That makes this set-up even more sophisticated, and I'm now very curious as to who all exactly call this place home.

The doors to the interior rooms are all unlocked, except of course the one with my sister and another leading to the stairwell. The elevator is also out of commission, meaning that I'm stuck here on the ground level.

The light stone floors and off-white walls give the space an almost clinical appearance, but the pragmatic furniture and occasional signage indicate an administrative purpose. In spite of me having virtually free roam of the place, I don't find anything interesting except confirmation that this facility used to be one of the centers for the US space program. Everything seems to be labeled with NASA and a cute little red and blue logo.

For something so banal, the building still gives me the creeps. Although it's supposed to hold hundreds – if not thousands – of people, the place is deathly silent. Where the hell are they?

I examine every area I can access, but before returning to the lounge, I head toward the entrance where we came in. The glass doors are covered from the inside by thick drapery and I carefully push aside an edge. A harsh light immediately strikes me in the eye and I jump back, momentarily blinded. The incredible strength of the sun apparently wasn't exaggerated.

I blink a few times and the colorful circles blocking my vision slowly disappear. Hearing a thud of footsteps from the stairwell, I quickly slip back inside the lounge. I pretend to be examining a stack of yellowed newspapers in the corner as Jed enters with two steaming bowls.

He sets them on the table and the smell hits my nose. I can't even guess what the colorful mixture could be, but it makes my mouth water.

"Vegetable stew. There's some cornbread, too," he answers my unspoken question, taking a folded napkin from his pocket.

I dig in and just like with the juice earlier, it's the best thing I've ever tasted. Knowing that he'd potentially be a better ally than an adversary, I try to lighten the mood. "You know, when I come back with that ferry, I might not leave again. You guys have it way better than we do!"

"You have no idea what it's like up here, so stop saying anything foolish," he grumbles and leaves again.

His words are similar to what Nelly said earlier and I'm puzzled by what they mean, but they don't seem to want to let us in on their way of life. There's no use in me guessing, so after I finish the food, I let exhaustion overtake me. Plopping down on another couch, I fall asleep before I know it.

I awake some time later to the sounds of clinking metal. Ray's up, and he's scarfing down his food. While he eats, I fill him in about Ellen. He's also done his own exploring while I was out, so we basically now have the same amount of information. We quickly concur that it barely adds up to anything.

"I was blindfolded when they fixed me up," he explains, pulling up his mangled pant leg to show me his bandaged calf. "I think I counted thirteen stitches."

"Were you on the ground floor or did you take the stairs?" I ask, going into full recon mode.

"Stairs. Sixty steps down," he says between slurps.

So they're at least two stories below. Good to know.

"How many of them were there?"

He looks up. "Just the big dude and a doctor. But I heard some others talking in the halls. Couldn't tell how many."

We're silent for a few seconds – immersed in our thoughts – when he jumps up. "Did you see these? I've been going through them and it's nothing like we were told." He picks up some of the papers I saw earlier and brings them to the table.

All of them have large, bold headlines proclaiming various levels of alarm: "CROPS FAILED AGAIN", "SCIENTISTS URGE SHELTERING", "THOUSANDS DEAD IN LATEST SUPERSTORM", "MASS LOOTINGS NATIONWIDE", "DOOMSAYERS WERE CORRECT", "MARTIAL LAW DECLARED", "THE END OF HUMANITY?".

"What do you mean?" I ask as while scanning the articles. "We already knew things up here got bad."

"Look at the dates." He taps on the corner of a page before flipping to another. "They cover more than ten years. These people suffered for at least a decade, while our families were safe and sound below the ocean."

I'm all-too familiar with the concept of survivor's guilt. From his words, I can tell that Ray's starting to experience something of the sort. As I read more, I can't say that I blame him.

Reports of mass destruction from typhoons and earthquakes can be found in earlier issues. It also seems that after the better-known changes to weather patterns, came the mass extinction of microorganism from increased ultra-violet exposure. The amount of ocean plankton also decreased, throwing off the precarious balance of the marine ecosystem. But staple food grains were affected the hardest. The valuable cyanobacteria that rice needed to flourish couldn't survive the elevated levels of radiation. This quickly resulted in the disappearance of the world's second most popular grain, and with it, the food source for almost a quarter of the planet. Droughts and monsoon-like conditions eventually made agriculture unsustainable in nearly every region of the Earth, rapidly contributing to a global food shortage.

I continue to read for hours.

My stomach is already in knots, but the more I learn, the more I realize that even if people had enough to eat, their health was independently compromised by the chronic radiation poisoning they received by conducting their lives above ground. Since most governmental representatives and senior executives had fled to what could only be assumed was some sort of safe zone including Vanguard, there remained a definite lack of leadership. This resulted in immediate and general chaos. According to the newspapers, while almost all businesses and factories eventually shifted to nighttime operations, it was – in most cases – too late.

By then, the prolonged exposure of most people to low doses of UV light had begun to show. Hair loss, nausea, and sunburn came first, followed by cataracts, autoimmune diseases, and almost always, cancer. As hospitals began to run out of staff and medication, rioting started. Soon, anarchy was rampant. And while we had always been taught that all of this happened in just a matter of months, the horrible reality is that it dragged out for more than a decade.

At this point, I'm ready to puke, just not necessarily thanks to what I've just read. I've experienced death before, but the lack of support and sympathy from those who were evacuated is unfathomable. Even though I had no choice, I'm ashamed to have been sheltered on Vanguard while most of humanity died a slow, torturous death above ground. And worst of all, all of this was kept hidden from us since – for some reason – I strongly believe someone amongst us definitely knew what was going on.

I feel like the whole day has passed by, but it's impossible to tell in the windowless room. "I need some air," I tell Ray as I get up, although I don't know where I can find it since we're still confined to the ground floor.

"Me, too." He follows, but as we enter the hallway, we run into a group of men coming out of the previously locked stairwell.