The Extinction Series | Book 2 | Primordial Earth

however, she felt weird and out of place. Guess I’ll just have to get used to it.
Dressed in an old t-shirt Olivia had loaned her, she made her way to the toilet. It was a strange affair, one she’d used the night before after a quick tutorial. Unlike the smelly outhouses and bucket systems of Prime city, this was a compost toilet. It looked like a wooden box with a built-in seat, and it automatically separated the urine and solid waste. One rinsed the funnel with a cup of water from the washbasin and sprinkled sawdust over the rest from a nearby bucket after use.
“We pipe water from the river, and a filtration system renders it drinkable, but we don’t like to waste. Therefore, we use compost toilets. Besides, it produces an excellent fertilizer for the crops,” Olivia had explained.
“You use it on your food?” Rogue had asked with a shudder.
“Only after it has been composted properly,” Olivia said. “Don’t you do the same at Prime?”
Rogue thought about it for a while. All that waste had to be disposed of somehow and using it for manure made sense. “Probably. I never worked in the fields, however, so I’m not sure.”
“What did you do?” her mom asked.
“Uh, other…stuff,” Rogue had said, avoiding the subject.
Her mom had accepted the vague answer the night before, but now it was clear she wanted to learn more about her daughter’s past. Could she handle it, though? The idea that her daughter was a thief? Even worse, a murderer? It’s not your fault. You didn’t kill those people in the market on purpose.
Rogue shook her head. Maybe not, but the Quetzalcoatl attacked because of her. In a way, it was her fault. Knowingly or not.
Shaking off the morbid thoughts, Rogue ducked into the bathroom next door. There she halted in shocked surprise. She hadn’t seen such a place in forever. Maybe before the Shift, but definitely not after. It contained a shower, a washbasin, a full-length mirror, a rack of towels, and a wooden bench.
On the bench lay a toothbrush, a hairbrush, a couple of hairbands, and her clothes. For a moment, Rogue forgot about her worries, eager for the chance to freshen up. She reached for the toothbrush but stopped when her mom appeared again.
“Hey, sweetie. There’s no hot water. The past few rainy days drained the battery banks, and the solar panels haven’t had a chance to recharge yet.”
“You mean there’s water in the shower?” Rogue asked. “Actual, running water?”
“Well, yeah, but it’s cold,” Olivia said.
“I don’t care,” Rogue cried. “I’m jumping in.”
“What about your food?” Olivia protested.
“I don’t mind cold food either,” Rogue said with a wide grin.
“Okay,” Olivia said with a shrug. “I’ll wait.”
“Thanks.”
“Oh, before I go. We make our own toothpaste, soap, and shampoo. It’s over there,” Olivia said, pointing at the washbasin.
After a brief but invigorating shower, Rogue brushed her teeth using a dab of powder from a little pot. It was different from what she was used to. In Prime, they used wood ashes or charcoal to clean their teeth, but Olivia’s mixture tasted like salt and peppermint. A decided improvement.
The soap was a lot nicer too. The creamy bar smelled of lemons and left her skin feeling squeaky clean while the shampoo rendered her hair soft to the touch. Dressed in the outfit Seth had given her, black tights, a red shirt, a light canvas jacket, and hiking boots, she secured her belt and machete around her waist.
Refreshed, Rogue made her way to the breakfast table. The air smelled of freshly baked bread and fried onions, a combination that had her stomach rumbling with desperate longing. “Mm, that smells delicious.”
Olivia flashed her a smile. “I hope you’re hungry. I made plenty.”
“Oh, I could eat a T-rex,” Rogue said, pulling out a chair.
She sat down and watched her mother bustle around the kitchen, putting the final touches on the meal. The older woman looked relaxed and happy. Her thick, braided hair was still dark, with only a few silver strands to show her age. Her tanned skin glowed with health against the white cotton shirt and beige slacks she wore.
Olivia’s home reflected that same effortless grace. The place was small but homey: A two-bedroom cottage with a kitchen, living room, and a patio that overlooked a flourishing herb garden. The furnishings were simple, mostly plain wooden furniture covered in homemade cushions.
There was even a bowl filled with fresh fruit in the middle of the table.
Rogue reached for an orange, rolling it between her palms. She pressed it to her nose, inhaling the sharp smell of citrus. It appeared that life in the prehistoric world had been good to Olivia, and Rogue felt the faint sting of envy.
She tucked the orange into her jacket after a furtive look at her mother’s turned back. The gesture was automatic, a habit learned from years of stealing food from the market stalls. While Moran had done her best to provide for Rogue, there were times when it couldn’t be done. Lean times. Hard times.
Even when Rogue was grown, she’d often go her own way for days on end. She’d leave Moran to manage the Rebels while wandering the streets of Prime. Searching. Always searching. She’d never known what she was looking for with such quiet desperation until now. Family. I was looking for my family.
A flash of guilt sent her hand flying back into her pocket. She removed the offending fruit and placed it back in the bowl. You’re not a thief anymore, Rogue. Not here.
At that moment, Olivia turned around with two loaded plates in her hands. “Here you go, sweetie. Eat up, and don’t be afraid to ask for more. There’s plenty to go around.”
Rogue flashed her a guilty smile as she snatched back her hand from the fruit bowl. “Thank you, er…Mom. I appreciate it.”
“Anything for my Lillian,” Olivia said, taking the chair opposite Rogue.
Rogue shifted in her seat, her sense of guilt intensifying in the face of her mother’s