Saving Eden

by K R S McEntire

  Surrounding their home was a wooden fence, but a mass of tangled tree limbs blocked Angela’s view of whatever lay beyond. She tried to imagine what wonders could be found inside a fenceless world that never stopped, but all she could see in the distance was vast emptiness, hills with brown grass and rotting trees.

  After all their work was done, she spent her days crafting beautiful music. One night she stayed out later than usual. After playing her piano she decided that, rather than going inside for supper right away, she would stay out and watch the sun set. She was lying in the grass beside the piano with her eyes locked on the sky, when an eerie feeling crept upon her. She couldn't shake the sensation that she was not alone. She looked around and discovered a pair of unfamiliar eyes peering at her from behind a distant bush that failed to hide his form.

  These light brown, astonished eyes belonged to a boy, almost a man, in blue jeans and a black t-shirt. Though he was dirty and skinny, seeing this face was like seeing hope in human form. In his hands was a bundle of berries from her garden, the same kind that she had found smushed in the backpack that was currently hidden under her bed.

  A mix of shock and excitement coursed through Angela’s veins; her visitor was back. Now that she could see him clearly in the daylight, there was no mistaking that he was a human.

  He looked weak, as if he had not eaten for many days. Had he been afraid to come back for food out of fear of seeing her again?

  Angela smiled at him, hoping to learn more about her uninvited guest. Her smile seemed to break him out of his trance and he took off running back the way he came.

  “Wait!” she called after him, but he didn’t stop. His thin legs raced through her garden at an incredible pace for someone who appeared so fatigued.

  Angela didn’t know much about the outside world, but she couldn’t let this opportunity pass. Her father was wrong. There were other people out there. She chased after him, racing through her garden as fast as she could force her legs to go. When he leaped over their wooden fence, she only hesitated a second before doing the same. Angela had so many questions, and this was the perfect time to get them answered.

  It took Angela longer to propel her body over the gate. She was clearly not as practiced as her visitor. He was a good distance ahead of her now, and Angela worried he would disappear into the woods. Despite his agility, his foot hit an exposed root from a tree. She watched as he tripped and fell, hitting his head on a large rock. Angela froze in her tracks before cautiously walking over to where he lay.

  “Are you okay?” Angela said when she finally caught up.

  Having never met anyone besides her father, she hesitated about touching him. Cautiously, she placed her hand on his dirty cotton t-shirt. She could feel his chest rising and falling beneath her hand. There was a small amount of blood on his head. She gently shook him.

  “Wake up,” Angela whispered. She listened to the slow breaths struggling to escape his motionless body. She deliberated going home and asking her father for help but wasn’t sure how he would respond to another human being here. Her father was likely to send him away. The idea of leaving this boy’s side, even for a brief moment, was unbearable. So many questions danced inside of her head about the world beyond the garden. The only thing she knew for certain was that this magnificent stranger could finally give her the answers she craved.

  “Please keep breathing. You can’t die on me now.” Angela’s heart pounded hard against her chest as she hoped for a miracle.

  Chapter Two

  Angela stopped poking and shaking him after she realized that trying to wake him was doing absolutely nothing. Instead she sat with him, full of apprehension, and held his hand.

  Being outside the garden put Angela on edge. Even though she was only a short walk away from her home, she felt as if she had entered a forbidden and dangerous world. Rather than the luscious plants and flowers that grew within their garden, the soil under her bare feet was hard and the brown grass struggled to rise from it. The branches on the trees bore no leaves, and the lack of shade caused the sun to sting her skin.

  Angela inspected the boy. Blood and grime covered both his golden skin and the dark hair that fell halfway down his face. Despite his current state, Angela found the smooth features of his face to be handsome.

  Happiness bubbled up inside Angela when, after what felt like forever, she saw his eyes open weakly and heard him murmur something inaudible. She brimmed with energy, equal parts anticipation and fear.

  “Hey!” she exclaimed. “How are you feeling?”

  His body was still, but his eyes shifted to meet hers. The expression on his face was incredibly calm for someone who had blacked out for so long. Though the mass of tree limbs above him partially eclipsed his view of the setting sun, the exposed light that slithered through the branches caused him to squint. He could not see the worry etched on Angela’s face.

  “Music girl,” he murmured, starting to close his eyes again.

  “Please stay awake,” Angela pleaded as she reached for him and touched his cheek, wiping grime away from his wounds. His eyes blinked open and he looked at Angela expectantly.

  Angela suddenly felt shy. She had never spoken to anyone but her father before. She plucked at a loose string on the bottom of her dress and looked away as she spoke. “My dad says sleeping after you hit your head is a bad idea.”

  The boy sat up straighter now, placing his hand on his wounded head to survey the damage. He inspected his hand and wiped the blood on his jeans. He looked over at Angela.

  “How did you find that place?” he asked with bewilderment in his voice. His voice, smooth and deep, sounded as good as music to Angela.

  “I’m not really sure myself,” Angela admitted. “I grew up here.”

  The boy looked over her homemade dress and her bare feet. He studied her facial expression for answers that he couldn’t find, but his body relaxed as he realized that Angela wasn’t going to hurt him.

  “Beautiful,” he finally said.

  Angela’s face grew warm. “Excuse me?”

  “Your garden. It’s beautiful, it looks completely unaffected,” he finally said. “The soil is soft, the fruit tastes good. So much food.”

  “I’m not sure why this land is healthy,” she admitted. “Not that I'm complaining.”

  “When I came out into the wilds, I didn't know what to expect. But definitely not this,” he said. “I feel like I stepped into a time machine and entered the world our great-grandparents lived in.”

  Angela tilted her head to the side. Her father had a book about a time machine in his room. She assumed it was fiction, but now she was unsure. “You have a real time machine?”

  Rather than answering Angela’s question, the boy let out a burst of deep, hearty laughter. Angela wondered if he was delusional.

  “If I did, I wouldn’t be here,” he said. “And how the hell did you get a piano out here?”

  This caused Angela to giggle. She found it amusing that out of all things, he was curious about her piano. She did not know why her garden was healthy despite the barren land, and even if she did know, she wouldn’t share that information with a stranger.

  “You ask a lot of questions,” Angela dodged. “But you still haven’t shared what you are doing out here?”

  “That’s fair,” he said. “My name’s Jesse, and I’m out here because, despite their official job descriptions, the Wardens of the Watch seem more interested in keeping the community in the settlements than in hunting down people who get out. I ran away because it was safer for me to be out here.”

  While the majority of what he had said confused Angela, she understood that he had run away from a community of other people. It was hard to contain her excitement at the prospect of other survivors.

  “Who are the Watch?” Angela looked around the forest to see if there were any other strangers around. Jesse watched her face intently, trying to see if she was joking.

  “Have you been living under a rock?�
�� he finally asked.

  Angela eyes grew wide with amazement, “Do people live under rocks where you are from?”

  Jesse paused for a second, trying to pick up hints of sarcasm in Angela's voice.

  “It’s a figure of speech,” Jesse took in Angela's blank expression. “Have you lived here forever?”

  Angela shrugged, then folded her arms over her chest. “Pretty close, I guess.”

  He chuckled, “Well, it looks like you found yourself a pretty nice rock to live under. I don’t understand how it hasn’t been affected. I would apologize for stealing food . . . except if I didn't, I would not be alive to apologize so, sorry, not sorry. Survival of the fittest, you know?”

  Angela giggled again. He seemed to speak in riddles. She had never heard the phrase, ‘survival of the fittest,’ but could guess at his meaning. He stole the food to stay alive.

  “What's your name, and why do you live out here?” Jesse asked, breaking the silence.

  “My name is Angela, and I live here because my father lives here,” Angela said. “I didn’t have much choice in the matter because I was three years old when we first came here. I don’t remember anyplace else.”

  Angela didn’t know what was going on with the outside world, but she had realized long ago that her father was afraid to leave their home. Maybe her father didn’t know about the community that Jesse was from.

  “Where are you planning to go?” Angela asked.

  Jesse shrugged. “No destination, just hiding out and hoping for a miracle,” he said, sitting up and resting his back against a nearby tree trunk. “Had a Warden look up my CitCard credentials, which were fake, so I had to leave the city for a bit. I didn’t really have a destination until I heard music in the distance. I followed the sound, then I stumbled upon your garden. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  Angela's eyes widened, “A real city? Like, with thousands of people all living together?”

  He chuckled. “Not thousands, but there are about five hundred survivors in my city. I guess I should actually call it a settlement. The population is growing, now that more women are having children again. It may reach city status again.”

  Angela wanted to ask more questions about the settlement but decided her curiosity would have to wait. She knew her father's eyes would peek out of the curtains soon and he would not find her inside their gates. She didn’t want him to notice her absence or to see the boy just yet. Now that Jesse was fully conscious, she had to leave him.

  “I have to go check on my father. Will you wait for me here?” Angela asked.

  “If you promise to bring me more food from the garden, I could be persuaded,” Jesse replied.

  Angela chuckled. “Deal. I'll be back as soon as possible.”

  Angela swore to bring him a plate after dinner.

  Angela remained restless once she made it back home. She knew so little about the events that lead to the world's demise. She wanted her questions answered, so she decided to do whatever she had to do to discover the truth.

  “Daddy, I have a question,” Angela walked up to her father that evening after dinner. He was sitting in his room, reading a tattered novel about a bandit in the Wild West that he had read ten times before.

  His room consisted of a window, a small desk, two chairs and a bed, all made of wood and, though ancient, had been cared for over the years. Boxes of his belongings lined the walls. Angela felt most of his things were unimportant here, just leftovers from a former world. Mementos. She had rummaged through most of his items years ago, tried on a pair of sunglasses, opened a birdcage, pressed the buttons of a calculator. To Angela, they were artifacts from an old, forgotten tomb.

  “What is it?” he asked without looking up.

  Angela walked over to where he was seated and quietly pulled up a chair, hoping he would realize that they were about to have a serious conversation.

  “Why did you leave your home, wherever we lived before, and come here?” Angela asked. She waited for answers or anger.

  He put the book on his desk. “And what inspired your sudden burst of curiosity?”

  Angela wondered how much she should reveal about her guest. Maybe if her father knew that there were other people out there, he would want to venture beyond the garden with her. At the same time, she didn’t want to alarm her father or get Jesse into trouble.

  “That night, when I heard a noise and went outside, I found a backpack in the garden with our food in it. It wasn't one of our backpacks.” Angela took a moment to gauge her father's reaction. His rosy face turned a ghostly white.

  “That is concerning. Why didn’t you tell me this until now?” he asked.

  “I didn’t want to bring up sneaking out again,” Angela said. “But I want to be informed on what could be out there, for safety. I was wondering who, or what, brought us here?”

  “It was because that is what’s best for you and your future,” he said. “You can see that everything else is dead. Everything I have done has been for you.”

  “What future?” Angela asked with more passion in her voice than she meant to let out. “If there are other people out there—”

  “Our life is perfect. You could not have had it better living anywhere else,” he said, “We have food, shelter, peace—”

  “But what if they don’t?” Angela asked. “What if there are others out there, whoever had the backpack, and what if the others need our help?”

  Nathan’s lips formed a tight line, “I have read you too many fairy tales, and now you dream of being a hero and saving this world. But the real world has teeth, and its sickness reaches far beyond the aftermath of war. If there are other survivors, I know nothing about them. I have been here with you, trying to give you a better life.”

  “I think you are right about one thing,” Angela said. “You have read me too many fairy tales. So maybe it’s time you tell me a true story.”

  Angela knew her next question was likely to trigger the anger she was preparing herself for. “I want to know more about what happened to my mom.”

  Angela saw her father's lips press together again. The tone of his voice darkened, “Your mother was a great woman, Angela. Kind hearted, free spirited, and trusting, but everybody was getting sick and your mother wasn't immune. The doctor said she had three months to live. Two days later, we found out she was pregnant with you.”

  “But . . . how—” Angela was confused. Angela had inquired about the process of bringing new life into the world years ago, and she knew it took more than three months to carry a child.

  Nathan cupped his hands together and looked at Angela intently. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully.

  “The biological warfare was making people sick, and every self-appointed scientist or sage had a miracle cure-all for desperate people to try. And we were desperate people. She tried so many experimental drugs while she was pregnant with you . . . stuff said to heal the body and mind. Most of those “cures” only caused addictions or sped up the process of death. Some causes genetic mutations, or made the user to go mad. But for your mother, it seemed to be working. For a while, at least. She started to gain her strength back and carried you to term. I allowed myself to gain hope that we could be a family. But a week after you were born, she died.”

  Angela didn’t know what to say, so she looked down at her feet and waited for him to continue.

  “Angela, the way the world was at that time, everyone was getting sick in many ways. I’m not just talking about the physical illnesses. I think people's souls were sick as well. People became violent, especially towards those with mutations. All of the happy endings have been played up. They only exist in books, that is why I teach you better stories.”

  “I think sometimes you have to create a happy ending yourself,” Angela stated.

  Nathan exhaled noisily as a hopeless expression filled his face, “Angela, don’t you understand? I loved your mother and I could not keep her safe, I will not make the same mistake with you.
We are healthy, and food is growing here. This place is our happy ending, Angela. We are free from all of that now.”

  “Maybe this place is your ending, but it’s not mine,” Angela said. “If you knew someone else was alive, wouldn't you want to help them?”

  “No,” Nathan said. “If there is one thing I have learned over the years, it’s that people can’t be trusted.” His eyes did not look up from the closed book on his desk. His body was tense, his voice agitated.

  “Angela, go outside and play your music. Doesn’t that make you happy?” He spoke quickly, “You should be thankful for all that you have here.”

  “Okay.” Angela realized this was as far as this conversation was going to go. He did not want to help Jesse. She had her answer. “And I am thankful, really. I just wanted to know if there were people who need our help. I just want to do what is best for the world.”

  Her father reached out and put his hand on her shoulder. “The world is dead. What’s best for you is that you stay here. Trust me.”

  Angela was too fatigued to argue. She felt as if she had been lied to her entire life, now that she had proof the world was alive. She could not stay here forever, but she knew Nathan would never leave or let her go—not unless she could prove to him that there was someplace worth going. She knew what she had to do next.

  Chapter Three

  Late that night, after Nathan fell asleep, Angela crept down to the kitchen and poured leftover soup from dinner into a bowl. Then, to avoid opening the front door, she went back upstairs and escaped through her window as swiftly as the breeze blew in. Soup splashed onto her arm as she climbed down the tree, and she felt guilty for not bringing him food while it was still hot. She crept through the garden and ventured into the forest.

  “Hey!” Angela called while trampling through the woodlands. “You can stop hiding now.”