Caspian was surrounded by darkness, the sound of rushing water in his ears. The torrent beat down on his head, washing over his back and slapping into the tiles. The odd droplet found its way into his mouth. It had the tang of metal to it, a slight sharpness over the regular taste of water. Looking up, his face became completely engulfed in it, his eyes firmly shut. After a few moments, he tilted his head back, letting go of a breath. Whipping the water from his eyes, he shivered as the cool air bite at his skin.

Without looking, he reached a hand out for the shampoo. With his good arm, he coated his head in it. Massaging it into his scalp, its faint scent filled the room. Floral notes, with something else hidden beneath it. “Fruit?” Unsure, he tried to get to the bottom of it. Holding his hand under his nose, he tried to focus on it. “Melon?” He wasn’t sure.

Scrunching his eyes up, he ducked his head back under the water. Shampoo flowed off his hair, coating his entire body. He could feel it slide down his face, over his eyes. Careful to keep them shut, he scrubbed his head. After a few moments of washing, most of the shampoo had come off so he looked up at the water again. Instantly any soap that had been on his face was obliterated, flowing down the drain.

Letting go of another breath, he slicked his hair back. “Washing with one hand annoying,” he thought, reaching for the conditioner. He didn’t use it normally, but it was there so why not? The cream was cold on his hand like it had been sitting inside a freezer. Sliding it over his hair, he imagined he looked ridiculous right now. The conditioner was a lot softer than the shampoo, his hand sliding through his hair like silk. A bit dripped to the floor. Not noticing, he stepped on it his foot sliding along with it.

Catching himself on the wall, a slight pang of pain flowed through his arm. “That was close.” Unlike the shampoo, the conditioner’s scent was notably more fruity, almost citrus. “They’ll put anything into soap,” he muttered, coughing as some of the water got in his throat. Methodically rubbing his head, he ducked back under scrubbing vigorously. The cream washed away with the water, making his head feel refreshed. “This stuff's not bad,” he thought, tussling his hair. He didn’t think it had ever felt that soft before.

Using some of the shampoo as a body wash, he quickly gave himself a once over. Annoyingly his back was slick with the conditioner, and no matter how many times he tried to rinse it off it felt like there was always more. Giving up after a few rinses, the amount was negligible but still there.

Turning the shower off his hand reached for a towel, dragging one off the rack. Pressing his face into it, he dabbed the water away careful not to rub. From top to bottom, he dried himself, water pooling at his feet. That had been one of the longest showers he had in a long time. Even though it had only lasted a minute or two, if he’d been back at home the water would have shut off after 30 seconds.

“Water’s expensive,” he reminded himself. Even though they recycle where they could, government mandates were in place to limit its use. “I guess this place is exempt from that,” he thought looking around the fancy bathroom. “I wonder what that costs them? I can see why they’d spend extra though,” he said smiling. After that shower his body felt fresh, raring to go.

Examining his bandages, he tried to dry what little moisture was on them. He had been largely successful in keeping them out of the water. Sliding the clothes back on, wet spots started to appear on them. His hair was dripping onto them. “Whoops,” he thought, scrubbing the towel on his head rapidly. Looking in the mirror, he chuckled at what he saw. Sticking out in every direction, his hair was a total mess. Smoothing it down he gave himself a wink in the mirror, before inwardly cringing at himself.

“That was nice,” he thought, tossing the towel in the wash basket. Sliding the lock, he opened the door. Cool air spilled in, the hair on his arms standing up. A shiver passed over him, causing him to rub his hands together. They weren’t supposed to meet up for a while still, 7:30 was a ways off. Trying to decide what to do with himself, his stomach drew his attention as it grumbled. “When did I last eat? Oh yeah the oatmeal” Rubbing his stomach, he wondered where the kitchen was.

Choosing a direction, he decided to just walk around until he found it. “I’ll ask if I see anyone.”

His crutches echoed on the floorboards as he wandered around, his eyes admiring all of the paintings adorning the walls. A bearded man in a tophat sitting in a large velvet chair. A quiet harbour awash with the sunset. A small animal peering out of a tree. Each was a masterpiece in his eyes. His mind went back to what Valorie had said. These were all from a bunker. Just who had stashed them all there, what sort of lifestyle had they led that they were able to hide these beautiful pictures away to collect dust?

His quiet contemplation was interrupted by the scent of something cooked. The tiniest hint of something grilled caught his attention. The alluring scent beckoned him to follow like a seductress, its tendrils drawing him closer towards it. The aroma was joined by the soft sound of a pan sizzling. Through a door, a completely different room revealed itself to him.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Gone were the treated wooden planks, replaced instead with hard concrete. A large metal countertop dominated the room, and an array of stovetops, ovens, and cupboards made up the walls. In front of one of the stoves was Chef, his large back turned to him. The smell of cooked meat drew him closer, his crutches silent on the floor.

Chef still hadn’t noticed him, his attention focused entirely on whatever he was doing. Standing there for a moment he tried to work out what to do. In the end, he went with the simplest option.

“Excuse me, Chef,” he called out. Unexpectedly there was no reaction, as if he hadn’t heard him. “Chef,” he said a little louder. Without turning, the man held up a single finger, before going back to the pan. Silenced, Caspian felt a little confused. Not knowing what else to do, he stood there swaying slightly.

The cooking continued, Chef’s hands moving every so often. The smell of meat grew stronger, camel, he identified. With it were various aromatics, the only one he was able to pick out being garlic. After a few minutes of standing there, the burner switched off and Chef turned around. The large iron pan smacked into the countertop, steam billowing off a chargrilled piece of camel steak. Caspian mouth started to water at the sight of it.

Chef looked at him, not saying a word. “Uh, hey Chef,” he said, giving a little wave. The only response he received was a quick nod, almost too fast for him to see. Seeing that he wasn’t going to say anything, he continued, “I was just feeling kind of hungry, so I came searching for the kitchen. I haven’t eaten since breakfast you see. Is there anything I could grab?”

Upon hearing that, a twinkle appeared in Chef’s eye. Nodding again this time slower, he strode over to one of the cupboards. Grabbing a variety of things, he set them down, before going back for more. In a moment, a large splattering of ingredients was arrayed in front of him.

A loaf of bread appeared in his hands, it crunching audible as he sliced it in half. With a deft hand, he coated one side of it in butter. The other he covered in a dull yellow spread. The scent wafted over to him. Mustard. Next, he placed a block of cheese on a cutting board, slice after slice toppling over. Miraculously, each was uniform in size and shape as if cut by a machine. Covering the bread in the cheese, his hand went for the next ingredient. A jar full of white onions. The strong scent of vinegar filled the room as he sliced the onions thin. He didn’t put them on, however.

Watching Chef do all this, Caspian could only gulp. It already looked so good, each ingredient meticulously prepared. The bread especially caught his eye, the loaf so crunchy it had to of been cooked recently. Trying to work out what was next, he frowned as Chef did nothing. He only stared at the meat in the pan that was slowly cooling. Intensely curious, Caspian tried to hold back his questions not wanting to disturb him.

After a few short minutes, Chef jumped back into action, the camel steak placed on the cutting board. With a new knife, he sliced into it causing steam to pour out. Juice started to pool under it, Caspian salivating at the sight of it. The hot meat was placed above the cheese, onions going on after. Fishing a plate out from under the counter, Chef placed the loaf back together, and with one quick motion sliced it in half. Carefully placing one on the plate, he slid it over.

Looking down, the slightest amount of meat juice pooled out of the sandwich, the aroma sending his stomach into overdrive. Chef looked at him expectantly, nodding at it slightly when he didn’t make a move. Gripping the bread with both hands, he lifted it, careful to avoid anything falling out. The bread crunched under his light touch, the smell of cooked camel mixing with the cheese and mustard inviting him in. Opening his mouth wide, he took a bite.

Instantly the taste of mustard filled his mouth, coating everything. The bread had soaked it in, its slight spiciness eventually giving way to the rich grilled meat. Rich and flavourful, it was cooked to perfection, the garlic and other spices bringing out the full flavour of the camel. The cheese underneath had started to melt due to the heat, giving it an almost gooey texture. In the end, cutting through the rest was the onion, the sharp taste of vinegar cleansing his mouth ready for another bit.

It was the best sandwich he’d ever eaten. Hell, it was probably the best thing he’d ever eaten full stop. Taking another bite, he savoured the taste, his mind and stomach sighing in unison. Looking back up at Chef, he could have sworn there was a slight smile on his face. “This is amazing,” he said, keeping the sandwich out of his mouth just long enough to talk. “I’ve never had anything like this.”

Chef nodded at that, seemingly agreeing with him. Reaching down, he took a bite of his half, before adding another slathering of mustard on it. Caspian sat there savouring every morsel of the meal, feeling satisfied. He’d never thought food could be this good. This place was really opening his eyes.

Whipping the crumbs from his mouth, he looked to see Chef was in the midst of cleaning up. “Do you want a hand?” he asked. A small headshake answered no. “Well thank you for the sandwich. Are you going to the celebration tonight?" A nod to that. “Ok then Chef, I’ll see you later,” Caspian said, waving as he left the spotless kitchen. Chef gave him a quick thumbs up as he clacked away, before returning to his cleaning.

Holy that guy can cook was all he could think as he walked off, his palate still swimming. “I wonder why he didn’t say anything though? Well, it doesn’t matter, to each his own,” he thought. His stomach gurgled, which he took as an agreement.

“What to do now?” he wondered as he wandered the halls.