The path to Colony House was just as quick as Daniel's run to the clinic had been. In From, everything felt strangely close, as if the place had been folded in on itself to save space.
They had spotted the structure from a distance, but seeing it up close was something else entirely.
The house was imposing.
Three stories of wood painted a faded yellow, worn down by time. The black-shingled roof formed a heavy contrast against the clear sky. A wide porch wrapped around most of the first floor, supported by white columns bearing the weight of decades.
It was the kind of house that showed up in horror movies. Too big. Too old. With windows that looked like empty eyes watching anyone who approached.
Nearby, a few people worked the soil. They planted in silence, hands dirty, movements far too calm for a place like that. Life happening despite everything.
Daniel parked the motorhome beside Donna's van. The engine died with a low rumble.
Everyone got out.
Julie leaned forward, eyes wide as she took in the façade.
"Wow. It's... big."
Jade crossed her arms. "Big is an understatement. That's a mansion."
"A haunted mansion," Ethan added. The boy didn't seem scared. If anything, there was a spark of fascination in his eyes. "Like the ones in the movies!"
"Ethan," Tabitha warned, her tone too gentle to be convincing as she placed a hand on her son's shoulder. Her own eyes scanned the dark windows with unmistakable unease.
Jim observed everything with an analytical gaze, already calculating structure, age, and required maintenance.
"Must be over a hundred years old. Late Victorian style, probably built between 1890 and 1910."
Daniel tilted his head slightly toward Julie, his voice low enough for only her to hear.
"Thanks, Wikipedia."
She raised a hand to her mouth, stifling a short, almost guilty laugh. The sound was soft, but her eyes met his for a second, shining with gratitude for the brief lightness.
Donna stepped out of the van with that practical energy that allowed no hesitation. She clapped her hands once, calling attention.
"Let me show you around. You're gonna like it."
"Or not," Daniel thought, watching the peeling paint.
They climbed the wooden porch steps. The structure groaned loudly under their combined weight. The boards were worn from constant use, some slightly warped, creating a subtle sense of instability beneath their boots. Not dangerous enough to collapse. Just... uncomfortable.
Donna shoved the front door open with force. It swung inward with a dramatic groan from the rusted hinges.
The interior was a shock. A violent contrast to the decay outside.
The main hallway was wide, with polished wooden floors that still gleamed under the light filtering through tall windows. An old chandelier hung from the ceiling, its crystals refracting light into small rainbows along the walls.
The living room was enormous. An organized chaos. Crammed with couches and armchairs of different styles and eras, scattered almost randomly but strangely inviting. Vintage décor built up through decades of accumulation.
To the right, a bookshelf crammed with dusty books that probably no one read anymore.
A wide staircase led up to the second floor, splitting into two directions at the top.
But what really stood out was the density of people. The place was full.
Some chatted in groups, playing cards or simply existing. Others smoked near open windows. Some drank from glass cups, others from chipped mugs. They laughed. They argued. They lived.
When the group of newcomers entered, the murmur gradually faded into curious silence.
Eyes turned. Evaluating.
Donna didn't hesitate, walking straight through the room as if she owned every plank of the floor.
"Everyone, these are the newcomers. Say hi."
There was a general response from the crowd. Nods, murmured greetings, a smile or two.
[Warm. I really felt the love.]
Daniel felt that familiar weight. Being the outsider. His body relaxed, but his mind stayed alert.
Jim leaned toward Tabitha, lowering his voice.
"How many people do you think live here?"
"A lot," she replied, clearly uncomfortable with the attention.
"I'll show you the kitchen," Donna continued, ignoring the audience and guiding them left.
The kitchen was surprisingly functional. Large. Two metal sinks, a sturdy stove, an old but apparently working refrigerator. At the center, a long table with space for at least fifteen people.
A middle-aged woman chopped vegetables, the rhythmic sound of the knife echoing in the room. She glanced up briefly, nodded, and went back to work.
"This is where we prepare all meals," Donna explained, slapping her palm against the table. "Everyone contributes. Cooking, cleaning, gathering supplies. It's a collective system. No one eats for free."
"Like a kibbutz," Daniel commented, neutral and observational.
Donna raised an eyebrow.
"If you want to call it that."
Jim studied the organization of the utensils.
"Seems efficient."
"And the food?" Tabitha asked, maternal concern impossible to hide. "How does that work? Where does it come from?"
"We grow some here," Donna replied, pointing out the window. "We split part of it with the town folks. They take care of the animals. Chickens, goats, cows. They share milk and eggs with us. Fair trade."
"And security?" Jim asked, his voice hardening. His eyes went to the wide kitchen windows. Simple glass. Fragile.
Donna followed his gaze, understanding the unspoken concern.
"We rotate nightly. Three people check doors and windows, but..."
She paused, rubbing the back of her neck in a tired gesture.
"After what I heard at this morning's meeting and what happened last night... the rules are changing. I'm going to call everyone together to board up the windows."
Jade cleared his throat, raising a hand like he was in school.
"And the rooms? Presidential suites? Room service?"
Donna let out a short, dry laugh.
"All rooms are occupied. The people who've been here longer get the better spots. You guys... well, we'll make it work. Couches, mattresses on the floor. That's what we've got for today."
Fair, Daniel thought. Brutal, but fair.
After that, Donna led them outside to the greenhouse. The smell of damp earth and living plants clashed violently with the world beyond.
Jade stopped short, sniffing the air. His eyes locked onto a specific patch, pupils dilating in recognition.
"That's...?"
"It is," Donna confirmed without hesitation.
"You grow weed." He blinked twice, processing. A slow smile spread across his face.
Donna brushed a leaf with a tenderness that clashed with her rough posture, fingers stroking the vibrant green.
"We believe in the present. Since we're stuck in this cursed place, we might as well live instead of just surviving."
"So you live like hippies," Jade said.
[Armed hippie commune. Because nothing says peace and love like smiling nocturnal entities.]
"You never miss a beat, do you?"
Donna turned slowly, fixing the city boy with a steady stare.
"If hippies means not dying inside before dying for real... then yes."
Tabitha watched everything in silence. Through the greenhouse glass, she saw a group on the side porch passing a joint hand to hand. The sweet smell, the loud laughter, the lack of structure...
No, she decided, the thought ringing with crystal clarity. This is not a place to raise my children. It's a college dorm at the end of the world.
"Is that weed?" Ethan asked, pointing at the plants Jade was staring at, genuinely confused.
"Ethan!" Tabitha grabbed his arm.
Daniel crouched to the boy's level, his tone instructional.
"They're... special tomatoes. Very special. That you are NOT going to try before you're twenty."
"Or ever," Jim added sharply.
Donna, watching the family dynamic with experienced eyes, noticed the shift.
"None of you have to decide right now. The choosing ceremony isn't until late afternoon. Have lunch here. Get something to eat. Spend the afternoon with us. See how things work around here. Then you can decide where you'll sleep."
They agreed.
Daniel glanced at Jim and Tabitha. Jim's rigid posture and Tabitha's tight mouth screamed rejection. They wouldn't stay. The decision was already made. They just hadn't said it yet.
Jade looked like he was calculating hygiene versus comfort versus drug access. Julie... Julie looked undecided, eyes scanning the place for something solid. Something that would tell her what to choose.
When they stepped back into the main hall, a young woman stood out from the crowd. Loose curly hair, Asian features sharpened by a smile that didn't ask for permission. She cut in front of Daniel with the ease of someone who had never heard of personal space.
"Wow..." she said, tilting her head and looking him up and down like he was dessert in a display case. "You're really handsome. Like, really handsome."
Daniel blinked, surprised by the boldness, then recovered in a second. He inclined his head slightly, expression serious.
"That's a widely known and well-documented fact."
The girl laughed, amused by the narcissism.
"I like confident guys," she said, stepping closer.
"Trudy," Donna warned, her voice cutting through the air. Not loud, but heavy with authority.
Trudy pouted dramatically, rolling her eyes. She cast Daniel one last assessing look, winked with obvious intent, then walked away reluctantly, hips swaying with calculated emphasis.
Julie watched everything in silence. She crossed her arms, her nails digging lightly into her own skin, and started studying a crack in the wall as if it were the most interesting thing in the room.
Daniel noticed. For a moment, the urge to tease her rose up, automatic, almost instinctive. He held it back. Not now.
At that moment, Donna called out to a young man passing through the hallway.
"Ellis!"
He approached. Dark-skinned, tall, broad-shouldered from hard work. He carried the relaxed posture of someone who bore weight but had learned to balance it.
"Everyone, this is Ellis," Donna introduced casually.
He greeted them with a quick nod, but his gaze lingered on Daniel. There was recognition there, and a hint of distrust.
Donna got straight to the point.
"You heard what was said at the meeting?"
Ellis nodded, his expression turning serious.
"I did. Things are going to change, right?"
"They are," Donna confirmed. "Get some people together. I need wood, nails, hammers. We're boarding up the ground-floor windows this afternoon. I want this house sealed."
Ellis nodded again. Before leaving, he glanced once more at Daniel. A deliberate look before turning away to gather others.
Daniel noticed it. The guy had checked his waist. Quick. Professional. Checking if he was armed.
Interesting, he thought. Sheriff's son or not, he's got security instincts.
Jim and Tabitha continued talking with Donna about logistics, likely looking for more reasons to formalize the refusal they'd already decided on.
Jade quietly drifted away from the group.
He found an empty, worn red velvet armchair near a group smoking by an open window. He collapsed into the cushion with a long sigh.
Jade pulled a crumpled zip-lock bag and a pack of rolling papers from his designer pants.
"My last paper," he muttered to no one in particular, his voice sounding like a funeral lament. He sealed it with his tongue, fingers moving with the precision of someone who'd done it a thousand times.
"Hey, man, can I borrow a lighter?"
A gray-bearded man nodded and tossed it to him in a lazy arc.
He lit the joint, the flame illuminating his tired face for a moment. He inhaled deeply, held the smoke like vital oxygen, then closed his eyes as he exhaled, trying to shut out the absurd reality for a few seconds.
As the smoke curled upward, a young woman with brown skin and voluminous curly hair separated from the crowd. She wore colorful clothes, layered fabrics that gave her a bohemian, welcoming appearance. There was a lightness to her that was missing in almost everyone else.
She approached Daniel and Julie with a calm smile.
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