Loving Ashlynn (#Wattys2016)

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

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.