Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
We walked in silence, both of us not wanting to stop anywhere in the strange, barren hallways full of creepy corners.
“What’s through there?” Bonnie asked when we reached a strange door. Compared to all the thick, reinforced metal doors everywhere else, this was a wide, arched wooden door.
“I have no idea,” I admitted. “But it’s open,” I added when the door handle turned in my hand. “Shall we?” I asked, shooting her a little smirk.
“You already are,” she shot back as I pulled her through the door and into…
An indoor garden.
No, that wasn’t quite right. It was a whole-ass botanical conservatory.
Except, of course, it was in the center of the building. There were no windows. But the roof was made of what seemed like the same thick glass as the room on the roof of the clubhouse, letting in light. But to make up for the lack of windows, full-spectrum lighting lined the walls.
“Wow,” Bonnie exhaled, turning in a circle to try to take in all the plants. “I’m not even a huge plant person, but I could sit here for hours. Wait… is that water?” she asked.
Sure enough, we heard and followed the trickle toward the far wall where, half-hidden by a bunch of tropical trees, was a sunken pond surrounded by a raised wall, giving the koi fish within enough room to swim.
“This is incredible,” Bonnie said, sitting on the pond wall and looking out. “Why would they have something like this here?”
“Best guess, it’s a two-fold thing,” I said, joining her.
“What do you mean?”
“On the one hand, it probably got here because someone around here loves plants or maybe has bad enough agoraphobia that they can’t go out, so they wanted to create an outside… inside.”
“It’s sweet that Chris would let someone build this for a reason like that, even if it’s sad that someone might feel like they can’t even walk outside.”
“This place is mostly made up of former military members. Some who went through some really rough shit. Got both emotional and physical scars. When Lo, Chris’s mom, started this place, it gave all those men and women who otherwise wouldn’t have been able to function in society, a way to cope, use their skills, make a living. And to be around others who would understand them.”
“What kind of jobs do they do?” Bonnie asked.
“Honestly, I’m not even sure. But I do know they make bank. They have experts of every sort here: hackers, weapons experts or builders, sharpshooters, engineers, you name it. So, you can imagine what those skills could be used to do.”
“Yeah. What’s the other thing?”
“Hmm?”
“You said this place could be a pet project, or therapy, for someone. But you said there could be another reason.”
“Right. Well, this place is paramilitary, but it’s also, in case you didn’t notice, a survivalist project. They have solar panels, hand-pump wells, air filtration, gardens, food storage, chickens for eggs, and a whole load of other stuff like that. I think this might also serve, in Chris’s mind, as a taste of the outside world if something ever happened to force them all to lock down in here long-term.”
“That’s both sad and really lovely at the same time. I think most people who prep kind of go about it very practically: food, water, weapons, that sort of thing. But what good is all that if life is nothing but a barren hellscape? This would remind people about the beauty in the world.”
“Exactly,” I agreed. “Hey,” I said, reaching to pull her legs over my lap. “I’m sorry I barked at you earlier.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. I was just… not prepared for that. Still not an excuse. But I won’t speak to you like that again.”
“It’s fine, really. We all have moments where we aren’t careful about our tone. I have a feeling in about… four or five days, you are going to get snapped at if you breathe on me the wrong way.”
“Baby, I don’t think you’re capable of snapping. Not even when you’re chasing the cotton mouse,” I said, getting a choked laugh out of her.
“You’re ridiculous,” she said, but leaned her head on my shoulder.
“Which might be what you like best about me,” I agreed, resting my head on the side of hers. “Next to my Hawaiian shirt collection, of course.”
“Of course,” she agreed. “What happens now?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “That’s gonna be a discussion with Fallon once we have a name. But it’s nothing you have to worry about,” I assured her, running my hand up and down her thigh.
“And after that?” she asked, voice smaller. It always was when she was talking about something that really mattered, but she felt unsure about.
“We sleep at your place for a change.”
“Zima,” she reminded me.
“Right,” I agreed. “Then we leave Zima in the capable hands of my brothers, then we go to your place, fuck on every surface, then come home to our dog.”