Christine wanted to talk back. It wasn't just about the food, of course it wasn't. Having one of the smartest people among them walk into the wreckage with a gun, a programmer and a cannibal not only sounded like the beginning of a bad joke but could also end turn out to be the end of her life. But there was no time and Elmina had obviously already made up her mind. All that was left to do when she walked back inside was to call after her:
"Stay safe!" A hint of a smile curled her lips. [i]Crazy bitch.[/i]

The smile went away in an instant once she took another look at Ristachev. Her own knowledge of all things medical was limited, just enough to give first aid for most wounds, but she knew enough to know that he still had an open wound. The doctor had changed the gauze, nothing else, which meant that he was in for a lot more pain and blood loss. She would have helped him up, except putting the gun down wasn't an option and the overall didn't have a pocket that could hold the gun. [i]And it looks like this gun is mine now... I need to build a makeshift holster. And the old guy's backpack idea isn't bad either.[/i]

"Keep the pressure on it", she said to the ex-president. "We'll take care of it once she's back."

Then she turned to face the rest of them. Christine felt that some things needed to be addressed before they went on their merry way.
"Here's how it is: Apparently, we're free people. That means that all of you are free to leave or to stay. But if you do stay, there is a condition: You act like the good, honest, law-abiding citizens you are - after all, we were screwed by our lawyers and are innocent, right? - and don't go for the guns, don't start a fight, don't try to take the medicine, in short, you act like you're the mayor of fucking Pleasantville. That way, we can get out of here without another incident", she nodded towards the dead inmate.

"So, if you're here to stay, help the injured and get going. Us girls with guns are gonna protect you from the big bad wolf." She grinned, realizing that her hair color fit the analogy. "Red Riding Hood is packing."

With a gesture of her burned finger, she signaled to the black woman that she wanted to talk and moved to the corpse. He didn't stink yet. Maybe he hadn't even emptied his bladder. If so, this would be a lot more pleasant than it had any right to be.
"Listen, I don't know you or why you were on the Apox but you don't strike me as the type that... kills for fun. I don't know if I give that impression but, for what it's worth, I'm not either. What I do know is that there's one more thing I need to do before I leave the clearing but I can't do it because I won't put the gun down. So I'm asking you."

She pointed her blemished index finger at the corpse.
"I'm good with my hands. I might be able to make something from that guy's overall and boots... if you take them off of him. You don't have to, of course. But if you do it, I'll know that you can help out, be friendly, maybe even be trusted. And I look out for the people I trust. Whether the UN shows up or not, the woods and some of our 'companions' might be dangerous, so trust goes a long way until we know what's up, don't you think?"