“Cameron,” she replied gruffly as she plopped down on the floor next to the fire and set the pack in front of her. “Cameron Wright. Nice to meet you.” Her hands worked to remove the makeshift bandanna that held her hair somewhat in place, and when she finally removed it, her black hair tumbled down her shoulders and reached to the middle of her back. She used her fingers to shake it free of the mold the fabric had made and winced a bit at the soreness of her scalp from wearing it so long. She rolled it up neatly and stuck it in the backpack in front of her. 

Cameron’s eyes snapped up to look at him after getting settled and watched him for a moment. She wasn’t sure what to make of the man, but she could tell that he did not seem like a threat. So far, anyway. She dug around in the bag to find her water bottle that was nearly empty. After taking a swig, she eyed it and slid it across the floor in his direction. “Not much, but if you need some, go ahead.” She stood up to remove the soaking wet, black jacket she had been wearing, and she laid it out along the floor near the flames. She was left with a black tank top, jeans that were worn and ripped, and combat boots that she now worked to untie. Once she brought both feet out, she groaned as she stretched them and rolled her ankles, then she placed them back inside the boots. She had also taken a large, long sleeve tee shirt out and threw it on, maneuvering the wet tank top off underneath it in an act of modesty.

“So,” she blurted, “are your people from here? New York? Or are you alone?” She then hoped with every ounce of her being that his band was close. She could not bear the thought of living a nomadic lifestyle any longer, though she also knew there was a possibility of them not accepting her to stay with them. Many factions were fickle like that, not wanting to accept any outsiders to live with them, which was incredibly stupid – how can groups expect to grow without adding more people to the mix? As she awaited his answer, she began to scan the dilapidated building they took shelter in. It was damp and dark - a perfect hiding place really. But what were they hiding from? Who else was out there? This was all very different than the village. Then there were the file cabinets, the desks. She imagined the employees, the computers, the phones ringing, and paperwork being shuffled around almost as if she was alive during that time. She wished she could have seen it herself, a time where America didn’t have to fight to stay alive. She audibly sighed at her thoughts and turned her attention back to Justin.