Chapter 50 – On The Road (Samson Conrad POV) Pt.5

"This is depressing," Imogen says looking around at the gray concrete walls, "I mean everything in here is just gray." I remain silent holding our bags, but in complete agreement. This place had literally no color besides the gray walls and black furniture.

"I think this place is similar to my house," Fatima says looking around, then down the hall. The black leather furniture faced a television it's length, two more on the side. Lamps on each end were accompanied by natural lighting from the outside. It wasn't homey, but I'm sure someone could call it that. "I mean it's different in that part of the outside has been boxed in as well. And I didn't have the green houses."

"The weedhouses?" Imogen chuckled, but it was forced as she slowly scoped out the place. It was utterly depressing and its expansive size did nothing to help the image inside my mind. A young Fatima, alone, in a place made for a family of at least twenty – how did she not feel like she was living in a maze?

Luca clears his throat, "so uhm, let's just..."

I shake my head. Even he was at a loss for words.

"Why don't we just settle in for the moment? Samson and I will cook dinner, you two go shower, get comfortable – leave dinner to us?" Fatima snorts.

"Samson cannot cook," she shakes her head giggling, "this way to the kitchen," she adds leaving the lone suitcase near the entrance. Walking down the wide hall, the four of us side by side, I do the same thing I had before. I look at all the corners of the place, trying to see if there is just the tiniest hole. There isn't.

Placing our luggage on the counter, Fatima glances around, walking to a table and removing the white sheet on top of it. Before her attention is focused on the door that should lead outside. Instead, it's partially open, just a few inches. Tilting her head, Fatima glances inside before standing straight turning to us with a slight smile on her face.

"It's just the plants for my tea," she beams, pushing the door open. Moving her hand a bit she looks for the light switch.

"Dandelions?" Imogen says before inhaling and shaking her head. "No, it's magic tea," Fatima says walking to the first rectangular flowerpot, searching for something. Looking around once she finds what she was searching for, she goes to the table on the far side and brings back a pair of shears.

"The leaves, you dry them, and then, you can make tea with them," she says knowingly, though I hold doubt. "You drink it so the Loyalists cannot get inside your head," she adds absentmindedly.

For a minute, I nod, but when I look around, searching the greenhouse, the setup Dmitri had; I knew we were missing something.

I leave everyone going back to the suitcase that I know housed the camera I bought. From the entrance, I go back to the garage, taking pictures, as many as I can of the garage.

Starting from outside, I scope the area out. Walking around the secured home Dmitri created. This place was so much bigger, I think as I head towards the back, snapping pictures as I go. I continue the cold doing nothing to hinder my exploration of the area. Listening, the only sounds I hear are ones that truly belong in nature, it's quiet, it's a peaceful calm. Yet, at every picture I take, the heaviness in my heart grows.

I pushed my family away and we lived in the same house. How many times had I left the room when we were all together and I hated that they seemed to move on and forget that Silas was gone?

Swallowing the thickness building in my throat, I continue my exploration stumbling across the air purification setup and solar panels that cover and surround the backside the second green house.

Immediately taking pictures, I get as close as possible to the nearly fifteen lined up rectangular and square structures.

Standing I look towards the gates, the same nearly 20 feet high barriers between the outside world and this house, they even disappear into the surrounding woods. Now I understand this setup as I find the lined up generators as well.

Should power go out, the only way to disarm the barriers that Dmitri has for the home, is to come inside and do so in the spot I'm in.

Amazed I walk closer to the pillars that support the protective measures of the house, shooting photos up close of the ground. The concrete panels that can cover the house are just about twelve inches thick.

"This makes our security look like a child's jigsaw puzzle," I mutter shaking my head and starting back. Fatima said that the air was poisonous, or believed that to be coming. Well, this house looks like it could keep a large amount of people safe and healthy. In terms of producing food that would be safe to eat.

"It had to take months to get this type of setup."

~ 0 ~

Two hundred pictures later, I head back inside.

On the counter sits a basket overflowing with the yellow petals from the greenhouse you accessed from the kitchen. Only Luca stands at the stove, whatever he was making smelling absolutely mouth watering.

"Finally came to help?" he asks startling me. "Where are the girls?"

Using a prod, he flips a nearly two inch thick steak over. "Peel the potatoes."

On impulse I take a few pictures of the basket of leaves before setting the camera down and washing my hands to help Luca.

I grab a knife, and go to sit on the other side of the island. Dipping my head into the box Luca had carried out, I find not just potatoes but candles, and two Welches Sparkling grape juice.

"Should Fatima and I go foraging in the surrounding forest for our meal tonight," I joke picking up the bag of potatoes and grabbing the knife he set out.

Snorting, Luca shakes his head, "No, this is for all of us, just," he shrugs, "something nice," I pause my peeling, appraising him.

When I get back to peeling, I finish one before Luca just huffs, picking up one while stirring and keeping an eye out on the fire. "I just, I really care about Imogen, and I'm all she has. My parents and family, they were... very fake with her. Speaking one way to her face, but behind her back," he doesn't need to finish.

"Then, she just... and I," I note the frustration in his voice. "You can do a million nice things for someone and if they aren't the right person, it will never be truly appreciated."

"I'm a low key kind of guy, and I love Imogen, but up until now, our relationship has mostly been incredibly selfish on my own part. I couldn't show her off, take her anywhere, even making a simple meal and watching a movie together was off the table. And she put up with it, but that doesn't mean it did not hurt her, especially when it took me a while to – to just stand up to my dad."

Sighing, he fills a pot with water placing it on the stove, lighting the burner and returning to his spot across from me to peel another few potatoes. "So, I'm not going to waste any time," I nod slowly understanding everything Luca was saying. I had never been in his shoes, but that didn't matter.

Helping out where I can, watching closely at everything Luca does, I learning what my mom has probably been trying to show me since I was little. An hour later, the four of us sit at the round table in the kitchen, Imogen and Fatima telling us of what they found in the house.

"And there are all these building plans, well that's what they look like. I think they're for this house," Imogen says catching my attention. "Are you sure?"

Rolling her eyes at me, she frowns, "I mean the layout is the same, that's why I'm assuming that," I nod, planning to take pictures of that as well.

It's nice, nothing fancy, but looking at Fatima and Imogen, they look less stressed, just relaxed. It was as though this could be our normal.

When Fatima is finished, she stands bringing her plate to the sink, "So since you guys cooked, Imogen and I can clean up-" bolting up, I shake my head, "No, you two," I jut my chin out at Imogen and Luca, "you guys can set a movie up, I'll clean up with Fatima."

Everything wiped down; I stand washing our dinnerware, handing them to Fatima to dry as she sits on the counter top. She takes the plates from me at the right time, but the distraction is written all over her face. "What's wrong?"

Almost as though she had forgotten I was with her, she jerks a bit, before meeting my eyes and shaking her head. "Not wrong, just... confused?"

I remain silent waiting for her to elaborate. And when she does, her sentiments are eerily similar to what mine have been. "I explored both greenhouses and they're all up to date with regulated temperature control capabilities. The second green house is sectioned off, so if you needed to facilitate a particular environment for production you could."

I nod, handing her the dish I rinsed.

"If he had all of this... I mean I nearly starved," her bottom lip and chin wobbles, and emotions flicker on her face, anger replaced by sadness, superseded by confusion, then hurt.

Rinsing my hands of the suds, I quickly take the dish and towel from Fatima placing them aside before moving to stand directly in front of her, my hands on her knees, slowly trail over her thighs, moving to her sides. Pulling her forward, instinctual, I sigh, as my arms encase her.

I don't want to defend Dmitri but I also do not know what else to say but what makes sense based on what I've saw. "I think he might have loved you," I whisper as she rests her forehead against mine, her eyes closed and body shaking.

Swallowing, our proximity all too overwhelming, I push on. "He did all of this... and you only do this for someone you care about Fatima. He shouldn't have left you all alone for so long, that was wrong. But I think Dmitri had every intention of coming back to you," I taper off my voice tight as I feel her soft breath against my face.

The warmth as she exhales, luring me to her, I feel as my lips hover right above her own, unsure, ready, wanting, craving, cautious. Each millimeter held for a moment before finally, her lips touched mine. Soft, molding to one another, my hands, arms double their effort, pulling Fatima to me, our chests pressed together, as my lips part, taking her bottom lip before both of mine. Her fingers thread through the hair at the bottom of my neck, holding me tightly to her as our lips dance against one another.

When she pulls away slightly, I nearly weep, wanting more, but breathless to enough to stop, panting breathlessly. Sighing, happily so, the smile on my face blooms, impossible to hide. Inside my heart is pounding as my legs even go weak; I'm nervous, happy and content.

"I'd like to do that again," Fatima whispers and I pull my face away from hers, opening my eyes, only to find her gaze filled with wonderment. "We can do that as many times as you wish," I respond as something inside me shifts, settle and take root.

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