Eden Box Set

by G. C. Julien

  I close my eyes and lay my head on my mom’s shoulder while wondering if it would ever be possible to live in a place where boys don’t exist. Maybe then, the wars would stop because every time I watch the news or look over my grandma’s shoulder when she’s on the internet, I see men with guns.

  It’s always men.

  I’m about to ask my mom if she thinks a place like this could ever exist, but something makes an explosion-like sound. My eyes go big, and for a second, I think my heart might stop.

  I know that sound. I’ve heard it before.

  It was the sound of a gunshot.

  CHAPTER 28 – EVE

  Eve – Present Day

  Madelaine stands up from the darkness of the basement looking deathly. Her son rushes to her side, his curly brown hair reaching the same height as hers.

  “Why are you keeping us here, Eve?” she asks as I enter the room.

  I cross my fingers over my stomach and raise my chin. “It was only a precaution,” I say. “Bacteria can remain on one’s clothing for several hours. You have to understand, Madelaine…” I force a smile, feigning gentility to the best of my abilities. “I need to ensure my women are safe. And now that you’ve remained isolated for several hours, you are both free to enter Eden, our paradise.”

  She parts her lips and simply stares at me as if she’s unable to comprehend anything I’ve said.

  “Welcome home, Madelaine.”

  She collapses to her knees and slaps her veiny hands over her eyes, tears streaming down her dark-skinned face. Her son places a hand on her back, and his eyes meet mine with a look of anguish. I stare back at him, seeing nothing but a young animal.

  He’s fifteen; it’s only a matter of time before his primal instincts set in—before he begins feeling emotions such as anger, rage, and jealousy, before he experiences sexual desire.

  And when this happens, the women will grovel at my feet like a herd of helpless sheep. Perhaps then they’ll probably let go of the ideology that a man is needed inside of Eden’s walls. What better way to prove them wrong than to bring in a boy—a boy who does not yet possess the strength of a man.

  I grind my teeth and crack my neck before finally stepping forward and brushing the tips of my fingers against her grimy, tearstained face.

  “Come,” I say, and her wet eyes look up. “Let me show you your new home.”

  She wipes the tears from her face and sniffles before reaching for her son’s hand and rising to her feet.

  “There is no war here,” I tell her. “No pain, no misery.”

  She nods, maintaining her balance by holding on to her son.

  I open the door, where Freyda is waiting for us at the top of the stairs, and glance back at Madelaine. “There is one thing you should know.”

  She stares at me, her sunken face barely visible in the darkness.

  “Zack is the only male in all of Eden.”

  She widens her eyes at me and then at Zack, almost as if I’ve just told her that human beings no longer require oxygen to breathe.

  “The women of Eden know about your son,” I say, and I turn my attention to Zack, who is staring at me—almost studying me. “You may be followed a lot or looked at strangely. Some of these young girls have never seen a boy before.”

  I consider telling him to be on his best behavior, but it isn’t up to me to save him from his fate.

  I turn toward Freyda, but a cold hand reaches for my arm. I look back at Madelaine and nearly grimace. She squeezes my arm, and a faint smile appears on her face.

  “Thank you, Eve,” she says.

  I stretch my lips into a warm smile and place a hand over hers. “Anything for a friend, Madelaine.”

  I turn toward Freyda, wipe my hand on the leg of my pant, and lead Madelaine and Zack inside of Eden.

  I’m not surprised to find the main hall full of women and children as we approach—news travels quickly. Little girls are seen hiding behind their mothers’ dresses or pant legs, with only their small heads sticking out into the open.

  Voices carry across the hall as the women and children whisper about Zack, the only male to ever step foot inside of Eden.

  “That’s a boy?”

  “Who’s that, Mommy?”

  “Why is she so tall?”

  “That’s a boy, honey.”

  “I thought boys were bad.”

  “He looks nice.”

  “Who is that?”

  I spot Lucy standing by Nola’s side near Division Five’s entryway. She’s staring at me with small narrowed eyes, not once turning her attention to the boy. What does she want from me?

  “Stop it,” Zack says, pulling his arm back.

  A little girl in a white dress is poking at him, almost as if he were a zoo animal.

  “She’s only curious,” Madelaine says, reassuring her son. “You’ve seen girls before. Some of these girls have never seen a boy.”

  Sahana—a middle-aged Indian woman who resides in Division Six—walks up to Zack with a wide yellow-toothed grin on her face.

  “What’s your name?”

  Her accent is as thick as it was the day I met her—the day our battle was won.

  Zack pulls back and curls his lip up over his front teeth. “Zack.”

  I can’t help but smile. I can already see the hostility. It won’t be long before the women realize they’ve made a grave mistake.

  “Welcome home, Zack,” Sahana says, and she bows her head as a form of respect.

  He doesn’t deserve respect, but it’s up to them to learn from their mistakes. An awkward smile is plastered on his face, and he rubs his arm with his hand—a nervous twitch. “Thanks.”

  There’s a hoarseness to his voice—a deep tone that’s no doubt only recently developed. He has thin facial hair that looks like nothing more than a shadow on his face and dark bushy eyebrows. He’s wearing an old white shirt that now looks transparently brown, and a pair of torn jeans stained with dirt, sweat, and blood.

  “Would you like to put on something new?” Sahana asks him, her orange-brown eyes dancing up and down at his attire.

  “Like, clothes?” he asks.

  “Yes,” she says. “I work well with cotton. I could make you a fresh outfit.”

  I fight the urge to roll my eyes. It’s like watching a group of preteens play dress-up with their Barbie dolls. I can’t recall the last time I saw so much excitement among my women, and truth be told it infuriates me.

  But I can’t let them know how I feel. I step forward and wrap an arm around Zack’s shoulder. He tenses, so I pull him even closer, causing his head to rock from side to side.

  “Don’t be shy, Zack,” I say, digging my fingernails into his arm. “This is your family now.”

  The women and children are all grinning ear to ear, mesmerized by the male presence in Eden’s main hall. Perhaps they’ve forgotten all the monstrosities inflicted by the male species. Or, his youth is blinding them, as would a tiger cub before growing to full size and killing its owner.

  “S-sure,” Zack says, his voice cracking. “I’d like that.”

  Sahana lets out an excited laugh, then reaches for his hand. “Come with me.”

  He looks back at his mom, who nods and smiles as a way of permitting him to go.

  “He’s in good hands,” I tell Madelaine. “You have nothing to worry about here in Eden.”

  She looks pleased. “Thank you, Eve. For everything.”

  I look at her and part my lips, but someone interrupts me.

  “Eve, do you have a minute?”

  I swing around to meet Gretchin’s hazel eyes. She’s one of my carpenters—someone I rely on heavily for almost everything that’s been constructed in the courtyards. I tilt my head and lead her away from the crowd of women who are now circling Zack.

  Freyda follows us but only because I signaled her too.

  “What is it, Gretchin?” I ask.

  “I know we’ve talked about this before, and you refused—”

&
nbsp; “Is this about exploring beyond Eden’s walls?”

  She nods her freckled face, her bright eyes glued to mine. “I’ve done all that I can to recycle old materials, but we’re running out of supplies. We need a new garden house to maintain enough food for our society, and I don’t have enough wood. I know it isn’t safe, Eve, but I thought that since you’ve allowed a boy to enter—”

  I wave a hand lightly back and forth. “It’s fine, Gretchin. So long as you have three other women accompany you, you can step foot outside of Eden for supplies.”

  Although I don’t like the idea, there are a few things other than wood that I need myself. Mavis and Perula have already warned me that some of their most potent of plants have dried up and they are running low on seedlings. Apparently, there’s a forest right outside of Eden’s wall filled with numerous herbs and flowers.

  Her jaw drops open, shocked that I would agree so quickly to such a demand.

  “I want you to speak with Mavis or Perula before you go. There are a few herbs they need,” I say.

  Although I considered allowing Mavis to go with Gretchin, it’s too great a risk. If something happens, I would be losing one of my Healers.

  Gretchin bows her head. “Thank you, Eve.” She turns on her heels, but I call out her name and she turns back around, prepared to obey any order I give.

  “Good luck, Gretchin. You can leave tomorrow morning as soon as the sun rises. And remember—once you step foot outside of Eden, the gates will be closed and only reopened to you if you come back unfollowed.”

  She gives me a firm nod and walks away.

  Freyda leans in, her lips brushing against my ear. “Only four women? If you’d have let me train—”

  Impatient, I wave a hand. I don’t need a lecture on how I should be managing Eden—on how I should have allowed her to train women to fight before winter. Right now, I need all of my women focusing on gathering as many resources as possible before winter, not practicing target shooting.

  I turn to her, a ball of anxiety in the pit of my stomach. “It wouldn’t even matter if I sent women trained for battle. If they were to encounter male Rebels—especially Rebels with guns—they’d all be as good as dead, and I can’t afford to lose more women.”

  Eve – Flashback

  For a split second, I convince myself that I’m only dreaming. Because that’s the only explanation for this—a dream. Everything is spinning, my ears are ringing, and my head keeps telling me that this isn’t happening.

  This can’t be happening.

  My hands shake uncontrollably, and I’m staring through the windshield of Bethany’s borrowed car at my little sister’s body. She’s lying in the middle of the road with a pool of dark blood spreading around her head and neck.

  This can’t be real.

  It can’t be.

  Wake up, Eve. This isn’t happening. Wake up.

  Please, wake up. Wake the fuck up.

  The man who shot her steps out of his red truck and kicks her boot. It dances from side to side, but she doesn’t move.

  That’s my little sister.

  That’s my Mila.

  He killed her.

  He killed my fucking sister.

  I jump out of the car’s driver’s seat, and his big eyes roll up at me from underneath his baseball cap like he didn’t even know I was there. I nearly fall flat on my face because my legs are shaking so much, and I point the pistol that was given to me at his slanted figure. I can’t even see him. I can’t look at him. All I see is his shape because my vision is so blurry.

  But I know one thing—that son of a bitch fucking killed my sister.

  My arm is waving from side to side because of all the adrenaline inside of me, and I can’t think straight. Without giving it any thought, I pull the trigger over and over and over as I move toward him, and the sound of multiple gunshots bounces off every house in the neighborhood. I feel the kickback, but it doesn’t stop me.

  He steps back and slaps a scrawny hand over his stomach, and a silky red fluid slips through the cracks of his fingers. He looks confused, and for a split second, I look him in the eyes—black balls that are sitting in the middle of two dark blue bags. He looks like he’s either sick, or he’s a drug user. His gun is dangling beside his waist now, and he takes another step back. But then, it almost looks like clarity kicks in, almost as if he’s now realized he’s been shot. He pulls his upper lip over his crooked front teeth, revealing red bloody gums, and he raises his gun at me.

  I start walking toward him and let out the loudest scream my lungs can create and fire again and again and again until my gun makes a clicking sound.

  His arms fly upward in a dancing motion, and blood spits out into the air before he collapses flat on his back, his gun bouncing several feet away from him.

  I move toward him, still screaming, and bash my boot into this face. The feeling of bones crushing vibrates through my calf and thigh, and his jaw dislocates, but I keep bashing.

  “Eve!”

  I don’t even see a face anymore—it’s a mess of broken bone and bloody flesh—but I can’t stop stomping. There’s cracking and popping and crunching, but all I can think about is how I want to stomp on him until there’s nothing left but a puddle of tissue.

  “Eve!”

  A hand grabs me and I swing back, but Ophelia catches my wrist.

  “Jesus Christ, Eve!”

  She pulls me in and suddenly, the anger dissipates. I collapse into her arms and my chin lands on her shoulder.

  “Eve, what happened?”

  I fall to my knees, and she follows me to the ground. A few feet away, Mila is lying on her back with a small hole in the front of her throat. Blood oozes out like water from a fountain, and her black-rimmed glasses rest several feet away from her, one of the lenses shattered.

  “Mila,” I moan.

  That’s my sister.

  My little sister.

  Rapid footsteps sound in the distance, and Ophelia turns her head. “Lucy, get back inside, right now!”

  Why did she step out of the car? Why did she go after him like that without thinking?

  I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to remember what happened.

  The moment we pulled up, she saw him sitting in his truck, and she stepped out… Walked right up and pointed a gun at him through his truck’s side window.

  Oh, God.

  Why did she have to be so impulsive? Why did I even bring her along? This is all my fault.

  “Eve, what happened?” Ophelia presses, but her voice sounds like it’s being carried through a long tunnel.

  I crawl out of her arms and drag myself to Mila’s body, my knees scraping against the asphalt.

  “Mila, please,” I say, shaking her. “Mila, wake up.”

  This can’t be happening. Any second now, I’m going to wake up in my bed with Mila’s face floating inches away from mine, and then she’ll start venting about President Price—about how he’s a complete jackass who deserves to die.

  Because this isn’t real.

  She can’t be dead.

  “Mila!” I scream, drool dangling from my lips.

  I shake her again, and a thick stream of blood squirts out of her throat.

  “No, no, no,” is all I can say, but it sounds like the words are coming out of someone else’s mouth, and everything goes black.

  CHAPTER 29 – GABRIEL

  Gabriel – Present Day

  “Stay low,” I warn Castor, and he sinks farther down into the forest’s damp earth.

  “The fuck is Adam doing here?” he whispers. His moonlit face is aimed at the small campfire up ahead.

  “What do you think?” I say, and I look toward the prison.

  His mouth goes loose. “You think they’ll try to go inside? You think they know about Alpa?”

  I smile even though all I want to do is laugh. “They probably do. That’s fine. Let them try. They’ll be strung up by their balls if they do.”

  Castor looks at me. �
�What makes you so sure there are women inside?”

  “If you heard rumors about Alpa,” I say, “it’s because there’s truth to it. There’s no way that place is empty.”

  Castor doesn’t say anything and breathes heavily through his nostrils. Farther up, I hear Adam laugh, and a familiar rage builds inside me. Someone opens, then closes the truck door. What are they doing, anyway? And why haven’t they slept? The sun went down hours ago, and they’re still moving around the fire.

  Could they be carving weapons, preparing to invade the prison?

  I shift my position a few times, trying to get comfortable. I’m exhausted, but I can’t take my eyes off them. I need to know what they’re doing. I’d ask Castor to keep watch, but he’s such a lug, he’d probably fall asleep or sneeze and give us away.

  If they find us, we’re as good as dead. I know how Adam operates. Any time a man tried to leave his crew, he shot them point-blank. I can only imagine what he’d try to do to us for having actually left.

  “If you don’t follow me, you’re against me,” he’d say every time he aimed his rifle at a man’s face. They’d plead and plead on their knees with their hands tied behind their backs, but Adam wouldn’t care. Two of the times, he even laughed at them, before firing his gun and blowing off half their faces.

  It took three kills like this for the men in his crew to realize he wasn’t dicking around.

  I watch the orange-haloed figures walk around their camp for what feels like hours. My eyes are heavy and my muscles are sore from dragging long branches all day to build us a shelter. I’d do almost anything to go back to Area 82 to sleep on my shitty, paper-thin mattress.

  Better yet, if I could go back, I’d take my mom someplace far away from here. I’d try our chances with Canada or Mexico.

  I’m pulled back to reality the moment my vision changes. The trees become more defined, and a dark blue sky replaces the black one. Nautical twilight’s set in. How long have I been sitting here watching them?

  I shove Castor in the ribs, and he lets out a grunt, smacks his lips together, then mumbles, “W-what?”