Escape to Eden

by Rachel McClellan

  “I know. It feels like we’ve only slept for an hour. Food’s upstairs.” He leaves me alone in the basement.

  I tilt my face toward the only window in the room, but sunlight, more cold than warm, barely filters through its dirty glass. I stand and stretch, then pump out fifty push-ups to get my blood pumping. Tonight is a big night, perhaps the biggest of my life. Tonight I am going to get my brother back.

  Tell me again what you’re going to do once you’re inside,” Anthony says. Papers are scattered across an oval-shaped kitchen table. It looks like he’s been running various scenarios all day. My father used to do that.

  I swallow the food in my mouth. “Change into the clothes, avoid cameras whenever possible, make our way to the ballroom where we wait for instructions from you.”

  “Correct. And don’t forget to attach the heat sensor on the inside of your sleeve. That’s how I’m going to tell you apart from the others in the building. It’s going to give you a blue aura compared to the reds of everyone else.”

  “I still don’t think that’s a good idea,” Colt says. “What if we get caught with them?”

  “Highly unlikely. Besides, it’s the only way I’ll be able to keep track of you. I won’t have you going in blind.”

  “It’s fine,” I say. “We won’t get caught.”

  I already know that any type of weapons, including heat sensors, are scanned for at the initial entrance. Unless an alarm is set off, no one inside will be checked again.

  “What about Bram’s guy? What’s his role in all this?” Colt asks. His complexion looks paler than usual, and I wonder if he’s feeling well.

  “He’s there only as an observer. If something goes wrong he will be our eyes and ears.”

  “For what? To report back that we were all taken and killed?”

  Anthony meets his gaze, his expression grim. “Yes.”

  “Awesome,” Colt says and leaves the room.

  “Don’t worry,” Anthony says to me. “It’s not going to come to that.”

  “I know it won’t. I’m getting my brother out of there.”

  “Listen to you, Tiger!” Jenna says as she walks into the kitchen wearing only a long t-shirt and underwear. She helps herself to a pastry on the counter, a cup of juice, and turns to face us. “You know there’s like a five-percent chance of this plan actually working, right?”

  I fold my arms. “It’s going to work.”

  She lowers her glass, smiling, but it’s not friendly. “Says the girl who can’t cook a pizza.”

  “Can you just be nice for once?” Anthony asks as he gathers all the papers on the table. “And when you’re done eating, will you help Sage with her hair?”

  “Fine, but I have serious concerns that the dress you got for me won’t fit her.”

  Colt reappears. “If anything it will be too loose.”

  “Stay out of this, Noc,” Jenna says.

  Anthony stuffs the papers into a briefcase. “I’m sure it will be just fine. We only have a few hours left, so let’s get to it. Colt, you come with me.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Back to your place. There are a couple of weapons I should’ve grabbed, the kind that don’t make noise.”

  Over his shoulder, Colt says, “Try not to kill each other, girls.”

  As soon as they’re gone, Jenna says, “We better get started. I only have a few hours with you and, honestly, I don’t think it’s enough time.”

  I resist the urge to comment back, reminding myself that she’s only thirteen years old. My energy shouldn’t be wasted on her anyway. I inhale deeply and stand up. Just let her do her thing so I can focus on what really matters.

  The process of prepping me for the party takes longer than I expect. Jenna bleaches my hair in blond stripes and has me shave my legs and arms twice to be sure I got everything.

  “We need to make you as exotic looking as possible without having you stand out,” she says, after twisting my hair into a design I’ve never seen before. Thin strips are looped in and out of each other into a giant heap on top of my head.

  “Who taught you to do all this?” I ask, trying to hold still while she finishes painting my face.

  “My mother. She used to do it for all the stars.” Jenna brushes something onto my cheeks. “Everyone loved how she could transform a person. She was amazing.”

  I think of her mother, who’s in the next room over, sleeping. On the way to the bathroom, I’d managed a quick peek in passing, the gentle hum of a ventilator having caught my attention. Mostly all I saw was a bunch of machines with tubes plugged into a pale woman with long dark hair. It made me wonder if it would’ve been harder to lose my mother slowly instead of all at once. I decided it would be. No one should have to watch someone they love suffer.

  I say, “If she could do half of what you can do, then I’m sure she was amazing.”

  Jenna eyes me as if trying to decide how to take my compliment. “Thank you,” she says, but quickly adds, “But there’s only so much I could do for you. You don’t have a lot to work with, so I hope it’s enough.”

  A door downstairs opens and closes.

  “That must be them,” Jenna says and bounds into the hallway after them.

  I stay alone in the bathroom for a moment, staring in the mirror. The reflection doesn’t look like me. I’m someone else, except in the eyes. They are familiar. They have the same fire I often saw in my father’s. I always wondered where the intensity came from, but now I know. The rising heat comes from a burning desire to protect the ones you love.

  Before I go downstairs, I dress into the black pants and shirt Anthony got for me to wear into the underground tunnels. Then, as carefully as I can, I wrap a black bandana around my hair. Anthony’s voice drifts up from downstairs. “Is she ready?”

  “As much as she can be.” Jenna’s voice.

  “Are you sure we’re not making a mistake?” Colt asks.

  “What else can we do?”

  “We can make her go to Eden.”

  “But what about her brother?”

  “We can save him later, but at least we will know that one Original survived.”

  “We’re both going to survive,” I say from the top of the stairs. “And so will you guys. I promise.”

  “You shouldn’t promise anything. Ever,” Jenna says. “It’s a death wish. You look ridiculous, by the way.”

  “And you look scared,” I say and breeze by her, snatching my backpack as I walk out the front door. I probably shouldn’t have promised something so huge. It was a silly thing to say, but I know that if they don’t survive, I won’t either. What good will my promise be then?

  I slide into the backseat of Colt’s vehicle and stare forward as the others climb into the car. Anthony is behind the steering wheel, driving west toward a setting sun; its light glitters against all the metal buildings, making the world around me look like a mirage. He leaves the city and drives into the forest. The windows are partially down, letting in a cool breeze that helps me breathe easy. No one says a word, but halfway there I wonder if they can hear my heart beating, specifically Colt, who I now know has good hearing. A couple of times his eyes flicker my direction, but he doesn’t say anything.

  “Stop here,” I say when I see a large boulder, taller than me, just off the side of the road. It’s exactly where my father said it would be. The Center is maybe a mile from here.

  Anthony slows the car and pulls off onto a road that looks like it hasn’t been driven on for a long time. The pavement is cracked and chunks of it are missing.

  I’m the last one out of the vehicle. My muscles are tight, like they are rebelling against what I’m about to do. Of all the creatures humans have mutated into, Junks are at the top of the list as one of the scariest. My mind quells the mutiny raging inside me, and I walk to the trunk of the vehicle where Anthony is unloading a couple of bags. He hands me my backpack, and I pull it over my shoulders.

  From across the car, Jenna says, �
�You take care of that hair, Patch. It’s one-of-a-kind.”

  “My name is Sage,” I say but know it won’t make a difference.

  “This bag smells terrible,” Colt says, his face puckering like he’s chewing on something rotten. He finishes strapping a smaller, blue backpack to the front of him. “You better be right about meat distracting Junks, because this bag is making me sick.”

  “It will work,” I say.

  Colt swings a long black duffle bag holding several weapons onto his back. “How does your father know so much about Junks?”

  This makes me pause. “I’m not sure.”

  A memory comes to mind. It’s late spring. A thunderstorm has kept Max and me inside our small house for the better part of the day. My father’s late. He was supposed to return the night before, but never showed up. This isn’t like him, and I’m worried. But I don’t let Max know this. Instead we watch television, a travel channel that shows exotic places filled with even more exotic-looking people. It’s really late when I hear a sound coming from outside. I tell Max I’ll be right back, thinking maybe a skunk has found our garbage again, but when I open the door, I discover a much bigger creature lurking beneath the thick canopy of our oak trees. It’s tall and human-like but covered in something . . . the creature speaks. My name. And then asks for help. It’s then that I realize it’s my father.

  I rush to him just as he collapses to his knees. He’s covered in mud and has a deep cut above his forehead; blood runs into his eyes and down his face. After I help him into the house, he tells me he was in a car accident driving back from the city. He wouldn’t give me any more details, but, as I am cleaning the wound in his head, I find the fractured half of a long and hardened, yellowed nail. My father mumbles something about it being bark, but I know better now. It belonged to a Junk.

  Anthony finishes tightening the duffle bag to the back of Colt. “All set.”

  Colt turns around to face him.

  “You take care of her, do you understand?” Anthony places his hands on Colt’s shoulders, and his lips tighten like he’s struggling to know what more to say.

  “Don’t worry,” Colt says. “I’ve survived worse than this.”

  “Yes. Yes, you have. I’m so sorry.” Anthony lowers his head in reverence.

  I turn away, like Jenna, realizing this is a private conversation. The concerned look in Anthony’s eyes reminds me of the way my father used to look at me right before he’d leave Max and me for several days. Like he wasn’t sure if he’d come back.

  They say a few more words until Jenna interrupts them. “Get going already! My life is short as it is.”

  “See you soon,” Colt says to Anthony. He walks toward me. Each of his steps are confident like he does this all of the time. I wish I felt the same way.

  “Ready?” he asks me.

  I nod and follow him into the shadows of the rising trees, their limbs twisting and turning in and out of each other. Before we disappear entirely, I glance back over my shoulder. Anthony waves, but Jenna’s staring straight ahead.

  The trees are old in this forest, their branches so full of changing leaves that they block sunlight, preventing foliage from growing on the ground. This makes walking easy. Our pace is fast, and I almost have to jog to keep up with Colt’s long strides. The wristpad Anthony gave me displays our GPS position and the time. I can also use it as a phone and to search online, but I won’t be using any of those things for fear of being tracked.

  “The entrance should be close,” I say, remembering how my father had me draw this exact same path multiple times. Actually walking this path, knowing where I’m headed, turns my blood hot. If my father knew something like this was a reality, why didn’t he take us to Eden?

  Colt stops and looks around. “What is it we’re looking for again?”

  “A tree trunk with a black skull painted onto the bark.” I keep walking, my eyes scanning the terrain.

  “There,” I say and point. Not far away is a skull, partially faded, exactly where my father said it would be.

  Colt goes to it first. He kicks at dirt and fallen leaves around the base of the tree until his foot hits metal.

  “I can’t believe you know all of this,” he says, more to himself than to me.

  I drop to my knees to help him unbury the hatch. “Let’s just hurry.”

  Colt sweeps back a stack of fallen twigs and leaves with his forearm. “It looks like it was used recently, maybe in the last several weeks.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “Because all of this has been strategically placed here. If this hadn’t been used in a long time, roots and weeds would’ve grown over it.”

  “But who would deliberately go down here?”

  Colt’s gaze meets mine. “Why don’t you ask the man who led us here?”

  “I will when I find him.” I’m surprised by the hardness in my voice. Maybe I’m angrier with my father than I think.

  I bend next to Colt and grab a handle. I lift upwards, but it’s too heavy. I sigh and let go.

  “It’s probably just stuck,” Colt says, and I appreciate his efforts at trying to make me feel better. He grips the center handle. “Ready?”

  I nod and step back, shoving all nerves and doubt to the shadows of my mind. They sit next to dark thoughts of my father.

  Colt opens the hatch; it creaks and groans, and I worry about the sound it’s making. Before it’s all the way open, a stench punches me in the face, and I turn away before I vomit. The smell reminds me of a dead, bloated seal I’d found once on the beach. It made me throw up then, and it’s all I can do not to throw up now. Colt is not so lucky. He turns his head and wretches next to the tree.

  Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he says, “Sorry, but that’s foul. I didn’t think anything could smell more rotten than this meat I’m carrying.”

  “It’s probably worse inside. Breathe through your mouth.” I press a small button on my watch; a thin stream of light appears, and I point it down into the dark entrance. A rusted ladder leads to the ground.

  “I’ll go first,” I say, but Colt stops me.

  “Nope.” He jumps in before I can protest.

  I join him at the bottom. I was right. The smell is worse, forcing me to cover my nose with the sleeve of my shirt. Colt has the face of his wristpad entirely lit up, more so than the single beam from mine. It acts like a flashlight and illuminates a good portion of the path in front of us.

  The tunnel is wider than I expect, more than the length of my arm span. It’s held up by old wooden beams built into the ceiling every ten feet or so. Some of them are buckling under the weight, but at least it’s tall enough that Colt won’t have to duck.

  Almost two centuries ago, these tunnels held large pipes as a way to deliver water to different parts of the city, but over the years, they were slowly eliminated when more efficient and cost effective ways were invented. For a time, many poor and homeless people lived in them, even improving their structure, but then Junks took over and the tunnels have remained theirs ever since.

  “I don’t hear anything,” Colt says, “but there are vibrations.” He bends down and places his hand on the ground. “We’re definitely not alone.”

  I swallow. “How far away?”

  “Not far.” He straightens and tears off a strip of the inner lining of his jacket. He ties the material around the lower half of his face to cover his nose and says, “Have you ever seen a Junk?”

  “My father had pictures.”

  “Not the same. Whatever you do, don’t stare. Just remember your goal to save your brother. You want to cover your nose too?”

  “I think I can handle it.” I take a deep breath through my mouth and start forward. Colt joins me. He lets me lead the way, but I stop whenever he tells me to so he can listen and touch the ground.

  I consider us lucky as we’ve turned three corners and have yet to see a Junk. “Maybe we’ll go unnoticed.”

  The Center isn’t far now. I’
m about to suggest that we run when Colt grabs my arm hard and jerks me back into him. There’s a faint sound in front of us. It’s low and gargling, like the growl a pit bull might make if it were drowning.

  Colt lowers his light toward our feet.

  Another sound. The scurrying of feet. Many of them coming our direction. Snorts and more growls. My breathing quickens.

  “Should we go back?” Colt asks.

  My mind screams yes. I don’t want to see what’s coming, but I hear myself say, “No. Get the meat.”

  Colt unzips the backpack pressed against his chest.

  “Here,” he says and hands me a large, cold, wet slab of meat. By its texture it feels like beef, but by its scent it smells like road kill. Colt takes his own meat and steps in front of me, raising the light back into the tunnel.

  The scurrying sounds grow louder, like we’re about to be trampled, but then the frenzied noise stops, leaving only a silent terror that pains my ears. There’s a corner up ahead. They are there, waiting. I don’t need Colt’s senses to tell me that. If we turn around and run, they will chase, but I can’t run. I can only go forward, toward my brother.

  I glance at Colt. Even in the dim light I can see the tightness in his neck and shoulders. His Adam’s apple goes up and down as he takes a few steps forward. I stay close against his back. Very slowly, he turns the corner and shines the light, bathing the source of the quiet terror.

  Light shines on three Junks, but there are more breathing sounds, soft, yet raspy, hidden within the shadows. The Junks are small, maybe to my waist, but their arms are long and almost to the ground. Their fingernails, however, do reach the dirt floor. They are thick, broken, and sharp, leaving a scar in the ground wherever they walk.

  Pale, bloodshot eyes stare at me from inside sunken sockets. Noses are missing on all but one of them. Instead there’s only a hole and lines of cartilage, white as bone. Their skin is gray, some of it flaking off, exposing yellowed bone. Two of them have patches of brown hair, the other is bald. One opens his lipless mouth, but no words come out, only the gurgling sound I heard earlier. A greenish, watery substance spills out onto his bloated chest.