Often, in the mornings when she woke, Cameron would take a few moments to stretch and breathe before enjoying a cup of tea that one of the farmers would sneak through her window. When a member of the village was on house arrest, they were usually deprived of things that were deemed “luxury items.” Any drink other than water, desserts, [i]fun of any sort[/i] – all things that Cameron was eventually decided unworthy of by the elders of the village. Especially since they considered her a threat to the safety of their people. What a load of shit. If anything, she wanted to protect them. To save them from the selfish pricks calling the shots. But, she figured, none of that really mattered anymore and that she would not have another peaceful morning for a while.

The booming voice from the walkie talkie made her nearly fall out of her cot as she awoke abruptly, gripping the blanket as she frantically scanned the room to make sense of the noise. She cocked her head to the side in a concerned manner as Justin finished up his conversation. A state of emergency? What the hell could that mean? One she spotted her jeans on the floor, she reached down and worked to get them on, which was a struggle since they were still slightly damp. Cameron figured now wasn’t the time for politeness, so she resorted to standing up to jump and wiggle them in position. She walked the floor barefoot until she found the long sleeve t shirt and slipped it back on. Also slightly damp, but it was better than being half naked in front of her host, especially if some thugs try to rob them again. 

Once she plopped back down to lace up the combat boots sitting next to the cot, she looked up to Justin. “So,” she started, taking a gulp to coat her throat, “I guess I’m getting that grand Omega tour sooner than I thought.” It was all a joke to Cameron at this point. Like she was getting punished for a crime she didn’t commit. What was new? Even if they were to wait until morning to leave, Cameron realized it was probably best to sleep ready for some sort of action, especially here in the city. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment in some sort of attempt to stop the pity party happening in her head and continued to ready herself.

She worked at her pack, grunting and cursing, trying to shove everything down to the bottom so she could put the stupid box inside. The zipper barely closed, but it fit. Thank God. A sigh of relief escaped her lips as she stared at the misshapen backpack at her feet. The only thing about the box that made her happy now was imagining that she was throwing it off of a bridge. Maybe a cliff. The hostler for her knife returned to her thigh, and she tugged at it to test that it was secure.