The wind blew dust against your bare skin as you trudged along the open road, your feet blistering as the sun shine above without a cloud in the sky.

You guessed in your head that it had been five miles. Five miles since you woke up outside of the barrier to the underground. Five miles of walking with barely a scrap of clothes on your back. The sun was rising when your eyes first opened, and it looked like high noon when you fell to your knees in exhaustion.

The hills and valleys shaded by trees were far below you on your left, a cliff of at least a hundred feet keeping you under the cruel sun. On your right were tall fields of golden grains, bowing down to the wind that blew as hot as the still air. For a moment you considered rolling your tired body off the cliff and into the dark forest before collapsing where you knelt in the dirt.

The sun had no mercy and continued to burn, until a shadow crept over you and embraced you in its shade.

"You." The voice was feminine but firm. You twitched in response. "Foolish thing, running around stark naked. Why do you lie in the sun this way?"

Her accent was very foreign, and you could barely understand her. She let out a huff and you felt large hands take hold of the gap under your shoulders and lifting you with little effort.

"So scrawny and young. Like a lost hatchling, da? Where are your parents, child?"

You shook your head, but were too weak to say a word.

"Well, I suppose I take you in then, da? A real Babushka, my husband has said. We won't tell him he is right."

Her hearty laughter rocked your body as she carried you over her shoulder through the tall stalks of amber.

You felt something cold and wet press against your forehead. When you turned away in protest, a voice hushed your moans and a hand brushed your shoulder.

"There, there."

You managed to open your eyes, and for a split second, the blur before you resembled Sans. As you gathered your wits, however, you realized it was a human male with bleached hair.

You tried to ask where you were, as the soft cotton sheets wrapped and tucked around you felt unfamiliar, but all you could utter were garbled moans. He hushed you again, touching the cool cloth to your face.

"You're going to feel a little dizzy for a while. You took quite a nasty fall."

You looked around as your vision adjusted, and saw nothing but white surrounding you. You considered it was a hospital, but his voice echoed through the room and you touched the metal wall the bed was up against.

"Where...?" You managed to croak.

"Oh, you can just call it 'base camp'. Some of us call it 'home'. Really, what matters is that you're somewhere safe, while the storm blows over." His voice was a smooth baritone and you could hear his smile through his words.

You watched him as he hummed and wrung out the cloth in a small pan of water. His eyes were a bright mix of brown and green, and his hair was goldenrod and shine under the fluorescent light above. His alabaster skin had goosebumps from handling the cold water, and his nails were immaculately trimmed and clean. You wondered if an angel was treating you in a state of Limbo, but the throbbing in the back of your head confirmed that you were still alive.

"Ow." You muttered, feeling it more as you returned to consciousness.

"Did I hurt you?" He asked.

"No."

"Ah, it's your head, then, right? I can get you more ibuprofen in a while. When you can sit up, I'll give you some water."

You focused your energy on bringing your arms up to either side of your chest, then pushing to bring your torso off of the mattress. The man reached under the bed and once you were in a sitting position he quickly took a second pillow and tucked it behind you to keep you up. The new position made your head spin for a moment before you could open your eyes. He patted you with the cloth again but this time your hand was ready to push it away with a tired snarl.

"Alright, alright." He said with a chuckle. "Gather yourself while I get the water."

You noticed his shirt was a white tee with a large red cross painted on the front. He walked to a rolling metal table and took a pitcher and poured water into a tall glass of ice, then sticking a straw through to the bottom of the drink. He sat back in the bedside chair and brought the drink to your lips and you took a small sip. The water hit your scorching throat with a splash and after a few desperate gulps he took the glass away to let you gasp for air.

"Are you feeling better?" He asked.

"Yes." Your voice was almost free of rasp and the burn was far less severe.

He smiled wide. "That's good. My name is Michael, and I'll be taking care of you while you're here. Can I ask you your name?"

"I'm Kalia."

"I'm glad you're okay, Kalia. You've been asleep for a little while, now."

"For how long? Where's my-" you patted yourself down and realized you were in a similar shirt to his, and your pants were white scrubs.

"Your clothes should be dry now- we had them washed for you." He smiled with his teeth, which were as perfect as his fingernails. "I hope you don't mind; they were soaking wet and the salt from the roads would have ruined them if we didn't hurry."

"No, no... My phone..."

"Phone?" His smile faded. "That's not good... I don't remember them mentioning a phone."

You groaned and put your head in your hands. Even though you didn't want to be responsible for something that seemed so expensive, you still felt guilty for losing it.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Michael sounded more distressed than you did. "Jeez, we should've checked the ground near you before getting you off the street. It's probably still there..."

"I'm sure it's either stolen or in pieces." You muttered helplessly. The others would be worried sick if you weren't answering their calls. "Do you have one I can use? To call my friends?"

"Er, well." He raised a hand to the back of his head nervously. "The power went out due to the storm, and our generators only fuel the essentials, like the lights and water system. It shouldn't be too long, though! I'm sure you'll be able to talk to them soon."

The hopefulness in his voice almost encouraged you. You sighed and got a better look around the room. It was all painted white - though crudely, as you could see the streaks of wet paint and some areas of the bare walls - and even the windows were covered with the blinding color. If anything, the windows were the only thing in the room that were thoroughly painted over.

You pulled the blankets off of you and he pulled himself and the chair away as you swung your legs over the side of the bed. He watched intently at your slow movements, sinking your feet to the floor and allowing a little bit of weight on them at a time before attempting to stand. You wobbled for a second, forgetting your balance, but soon you were able to take small steps away from your initial support. Michael breathed a sigh of relief.

"You're recovering already." He stood and moved toward you, offering a hand that you took carefully. "That's good. If you're hungry, I believe they're going to serve breakfast in a little while. I can give you a small tour before then?"

You nodded, and he gently led you to the door and pulled it open, revealing long hallways on either side. He turned right, and you looked at the other doors as he made his way to the double doors at the end that opened to a flight of stairs. You went down one flight before entering another set of doors that opened to the buzz of conversation and light clinking of dishes and the repeated tapping of a knife to a table.

"These doors on the left are the kitchen. It's pretty big, since we have so many people here. This door on the right is the dining hall. Most of our meals are served buffet-style, but sometimes we do special meals for events. This next set of doors is the recreational room - the one on the right, here - and the other one is a library. We keep them separate ever since we got the new television."

He continued down the hall until he reached two sets of doors, one at the end of the hall and one on the right wall, which turned a corner to the next area of that floor. He looked to face you and pointed to the latter. "That hall leads to the showers and bathrooms. This flight of stairs takes you to the first floor, which is just cubicles and the offices for official stuff. Nothing special."

You peeked down the hall and saw a puff of steam leave one of the many doors along that corridor. Though it was alluring, you felt clean enough and decided against a shower at the time. You looked back to your tour guide.

"What about the upper floors? I'm guessing the third floor is for bedrooms?"

"Well, only one flight of stairs leads to the fourth floor, but that's for leaders only. The fifth floor is the sanctuary. That's where we hold sermons and community meetings."

"Oh. Like a church?" Though the attire should have given it away, you weren't expecting this place to be so religious as to have its own church.

"I know the 'church' part probably isn't your style. It isn't for a lot of people who come here."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"Don't be sorry; we're aware of the current state of mind in the city and its anti-religious culture. This place might grow on you though, as it has for everyone here today. We're a family, and that bonds people together better than any holy book."

"I couldn't agree more." The word 'family' that once left you bitter made you feel homesick.

"Listen, I need to help set up the dining hall. You're welcome to the library or the rec room- whichever you prefer- while you wait."

You nodded and headed into the rec room. You opened the door to a room with a large TV on the right wall, with two blue couches facing it from a few feet away. There were a couple other cushioned chairs surrounding a table in the far right corner from the door, and directly to your left were shelves filled with movies, video games, and tabletop games and decks of cards. You spotted some movies you recognized from the library at home. You decided against watching the TV on the empty couch.

You left and stepped quietly into the library. There were two other readers lounging in black bean bag chairs in a space littered with them in the back of the room. All along the white walls were tall shelves filled to the brim with books, most of them with tattered hard covers and worn spines. You grabbed a book of poems and opened to a random page, taking a seat at one of the three tables and skimming through.

Your mind stayed quiet for a while, but near the end of the 'romance' chapter it began to wander. Where were you? The style of building suggested somewhere more industrial than rural. In the silence of the library, you tried to listen for the sounds outside. However, there was only quiet. No cars honking, or people shouting.

As calm as the air felt around you, something stayed uneasy in your mind, and the feeling was insistent.

The comedic poems had an aged sense of humor, and you quietly put the book away. You would get to laugh later, you decided, when you saw him again. As you backed away from the shelf, you saw one of the other readers eyeing you from behind her book.

She was a frail-looking thins with long, black hair that covered her face almost entirely. You could see only one eye clearly, which drooped and was a dull ice-blue. Her stare was the only thing about her that held vitality- which consisted of what looked like a mix of fear and rage.

"Um," you whispered, while waving, "hi."

She snarled, then rose suddenly and threw the book down on the bean bag she was sitting in. As she passed you, you could hear her muttering under her breath:

"stinks like a monster whore"

She shoved the door open and charged down the hall and up the flight of stairs. You stared at the swinging door, mouth agape. Monster whore. That was a new insult, even for you. The other reader, who was a young boy with short brown hair, paid no mind to the exchange and stayed entranced by the world his book created.

You slowly returned to your seat, thinking about Sans and the others. You wondered what they were thinking, and how long you had been away from them. You realized Michael hadn't told you how long you were asleep for, and considered going into the dining hall to ask before deciding against it. You were technically a guest in the strange place, and didn't want to interrupt his work.

Sans. You tried to take your mind off of him, but it persisted. You pictured him frantically searching the business district, calling your phone over and over.

"Hi, you reached me, leave a message-"

"Hi, you reached me-"

"Hi, you-"

The thought of him thinking you were hurt, or taken against your will, left a pit in your stomach. You thought about teleporting home, but something of that magnitude would leave you in pieces, considering just unscrewing the blades from your ice skates shattered your skin with ease.

You could call them after the storm settled.

What about Sans searching in the tall mounds of snow, as more and more fell onto him and soaked his blue coat? Digging through each one hoping- if he finds someone in there- the body inside is still breathing. Your head sank into your hands and you whined to yourself, thinking about his tired eyes and wavering smile.

Your heart felt as though it twisted, picturing everyone searching for you- dead or alive.

You heard the door click and looked to see Michael peeking in and spotting you.

"Dinner is served, you two. Come on."

You stood up and followed him out, with the boy trailing behind with his face still buried in the book.

You went into the dining hall and saw it was filled with large round tables and over a hundred or so seats. On the wall opposite the door were long tables with serving trays of food, and as you got closer you saw steaming vegetables and grilled chicken. You took a plate of broccoli, chicken, and white rice and made your way to an empty table, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone else as you sat in the seat nearest to the corner. You slowly poked at the food with your fork, hungry but without any appetite. The woman's snarling face was strangely still fresh in your mind.

Monster whore.

Do they have a problem with monsters here?

"Kalia?"

You turned and Michael was standing to the right of the table. He watched with question in his eyes.

"It's... Nothing." You growled, standing up. "Listen, I appreciate everything that you've done for me, and I'll repay whatever medical care you've provided, but I think I'm leaving tonight."

"T-tonight?" Michael stuttered, losing his composure for the first time since you met him. "Why on earth would you leave tonight? It's below freezing and the storm's at its worst right now."

"I just... I don't fit in here. This place is a little too kumbaya for someone like me."

"Kalia, please sit down with me."

He took a seat, and you hesitated for a moment before plopping back down into your own.

"I understand why you feel that way," he started, taking your hands in his, "since you have your own circle of friends.

"I'm not going to exploit your lifestyle to the rest of the group and try to change you, but you should think about talking to some of the people here. In exchange, when it is safe, you can be on your way. Debt-free." He looked at your with a hopeful smile. "Is that a fair deal? Take some time to learn about us, and I'll even kick you out on the first clear day."

His last remark earned a chuckle from the both of you, and he held out his right hand. With a defeated sigh and smile, you took his hand and shook it.

"Deal."

"Great. Hey, we're having a game night in the rec room. Have you ever played a game called Cards Against Humanity? It's really fun!"

"You play Cards?" You blinked in surprise. "That game... Isn't very conservative."

He winked. "We're not that kind of church, Kalia. It starts at seven, so I hope to see you there."

He left you at the table, and a small bubble of excitement lifted your spirits as you chewed on a cut of chicken. What would it hurt, getting to know this place for what it is?

*

At six fifteen, you managed to find your clothes in the laundry room on the third floor. They smelled of crisp linens and lavender, and it was obvious that they used fabric softener on them. You headed down the flight of stairs to the left of the door to your room, which lead straight to the showers on the floor below. Stepping in, you were a little disappointed to find the shower room was as white as the other rooms, and wondered if there was just a shipping error on their part for paint colors.

Grabbing a towel from a large stack by the door, you picked the stall to the far end of the room and shut the curtain- also annoyingly white. You were pleased with the roominess of the stall, that had a small shelf for your clean clothes and towel, and that there were dispensers for shampoo, conditioner, and body wash on the wall. You turned the faucet and let the shower run with your hand checking the temperature underneath. When it was hot enough, you stepped in and let the water run over you, breathing in the hot steam with a content sigh. As you adjusted to the water, you lathered the shampoo in your hair, which smelled similar to your clothes. Rinsing it out, you decided to add the conditioner, then peeked at the clock after washing it away. Six thirty-five. You leaned against the cold shower wall with a huff. You reached to pump body wash into your hand, and considered how much time you had before the party downstairs.

After your shower, you dried your body off and tucked the towel around your hair before putting on your clothes. They were soft, and warm from the temperature of the room, and you walked back up the stairs and over to your bedroom. Setting the towel and the strange uniform at the foot of the bed, you plopped onto the bed on your back and stared up at the white ceiling.

You closed you eyes and could almost feel smooth porcelain fingers reach for yours. You exhaled roughly and threw an arm over your face. Why am I feeling like this? Like I'll never see him again, and it's only been a day?

Love

You took in the strange silence around you, hearing nothing of the commotion you assumed would be going on downstairs, nor any footsteps above.

"The fourth floor is leaders only."

You wondered if Michael was a leader, which would explain his attitude and his tour guide persona. You checked the clock, and realized you didn't have one in your room. Damn. You hopped out of bed and headed out into the hallway-

But the door stopped you.

The door to your room was locked.

"What?" You whispered to yourself, jiggling the doorknob with more force. It didn't budge. You shouldered the edge, thinking it was jammed, but after you looked between the door and he frame you saw the bolt that kept you trapped. You banged on the door with your fists, hoping someone could open the door from the outside.

"Hello?!? Someone let me out of here!!"

You heard footsteps, then the door opened and Michael was on the other side with one other girl with blonde hair.

"Jesus!" You gasped, stepping out and checking the lock on the other side. "Michael, you know this door was locked?"

"Well, this building was a hospital at one point." He explained, his voice surprisingly calm despite your panicked episode. "We haven't had the time nor finances to change the door locks, so we keep someone outside to listen for people wishing to leave their rooms."

"Why not just shove something in the door? To keep it from locking?"

"Oh, we don't want to risk damaging them; these doors are old and for now, they're all we have. You're not too troubled by it, are you?"

"I guess not." You told yourself that, when you had the means, you were going to jam the door anyways.

"That's good. So, are you ready for a game of unholy debauchery?"

"Yeah," you smiled, "let's do it."

*

The game lasted for about three hours, and you found yourself struggling to match the other players' immorality as it progressed. You couldn't remember the last time you laughed so hard at a 'dead baby' joke, but that player- who was the blonde that was with Michael earlier- took the winning hard with a smile from ear to ear.

"I'm just getting warmed up!" She sang, her cheeks rosy from an earlier bout of laughter.

They didn't have booze available, but their was plenty of water and after the first few rounds Michael was refilling the pitcher every hour. While it had a strange, sour aftertaste, you barely noticed by the third glass.

You barely even noticed the time when everything was settling down.

"Holy crap! Is it really almost eleven?" One of the guys, Bradley, stared at the clock with wide eyes. "I gotta get to bed- I'm preparing for the sermon in the morning!"

"Shit, I'm on breakfast duty." Another girl said and glowered as she put her cards on the table. "Knew I should've used that card while I had the chance."

"Which one was it?"

"'Pooping back and forth. Forever.'"

Michael snorted and two others as well as yourself burst into laughter. You helped Michael grab the glasses and empty pitcher and bring them to the kitchen. As you walked back to the rec room, he looked to you with a smile.

"I hope you had fun." He said.

"Yeah!" You exclaimed, smiling back. "I had a great time! Thanks for inviting me; I met a lot of great people in there."

"I'm really glad you met them. Actually, I may need some help doing laundry tomorrow, after the sermon. Would you mind joining me?"

"No, not at all. I should be helping you guys out while I'm here, anyways."

"Thank you."

You both returned to the room to reorganize the chairs and table, as well as put the game box back on the shelf, before saying good night to the others and going your separate ways. You felt a sudden wave of fatigue hit you as you drew nearer to your room and with a yawn you stepped through the door and let it swing shut behind you.

You forgot

Wait what-

*click*

Shit. You turned and pulled on the door and groaned, realizing you'd forgotten to jam the lock. Shrugging it off, you crashed into bed on your stomach and let the darkness take over your mind, blanketing your thoughts in silence.

don't forget