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They made drugs here.
Now I made drugs here.
“I know this seems bad to you, Row, maybe even criminal,” Dean began.
Maybe criminal? Jesus, he was out of his mind.
“But this is for everyone’s safety. As soon as we make landfall, someone will look for and make drugs. A quarter of the population uses it and needs it. I’m not making anything horrible, just opium. It will help people get through life on this boat and the future hardships we are about to face. We have limited morphine and pain relievers. How are you going to handle a tooth extraction without something to get rid of the pain? What if BeLew gets hurt? We need something to help with physical pain.”
I understood his explanation, but his methods were self-serving. He said it himself, someone would do this. He had to be the first. He had to have control. All I could do was nod in response.
“You will report here from now on. I need your help with the logging and inventory of what’s coming. The poppy plants will be ready in one to two weeks. You don’t have to take part in making anything, just the administrative side of things. This is the right thing, Row. We can’t let anyone else have an operation like this. In the wrong hands, it could be dangerous for everyone — for the boys especially, if someone wants to recruit the next generation.”
There was his manipulation — the last nail in my coffin to push me to his side of things. He threatened the boys’ lives to remind me we needed his protection.
He held my wrist again. “This way,” he said, and we entered a space next to the labs with a desk and file cabinets. “I’ve made a short list of what we need to categorize. Today, I need you to focus on our inventory. I need you to list how many plants we have and what that could produce. Talk to the workers. They will help you with the logs. This binder has everything we have written so far, but it’s clunky and disorganized. I know you can put your touch on it. The last hour of the day we will check on your regular team to keep up appearances.”
Our inventory… how many plants we have. He already spoke as if this was a family operation.
I moved behind the desk and gave him a weak smile. Observing and reporting were all I could do today, and I planned to memorize every inch of this space to tell Sam later. Dean wanted obedience in the bedroom and I refused him, but I could submit here to please him.
Hours later, desperate for a bathroom break, I asked one of the two hundred to lead the way. Her name was Mary, and we had spoken several times. We walked in silence, aware of all the eyes on us.
“You can go,” I said to her, opening the bathroom door. “I can make my way back.”
She turned to leave, and I heard her say a loud and familiar hello before the bathroom door came to a complete close. I opened it back up, peering in the direction she walked. The man beside her looked familiar to me, but I could only see the back of him.
My mind played tricks on me sometimes, but I swore I knew him. I didn’t recognize him as one of the two hundred, but I watched them leave, waiting for a spark of memory.
He moved through the growing room without turning back. When he stepped out of the only door, I silently cursed to myself.
Still baffled but compelled to work it out, I looked back to Mary.
When I saw her face, I froze. She pleaded with her wide eyes, telling me I should recognize him. I tilted my head and questioned the person who came to mind. Could it be him?
I gave a terse wave. She tilted her chin up, and we both turned away.
The confident stride of his walk, the broad shoulders, and the gun holstered at his sides all pointed to one person.
It was Luke.
