by G. C. Julien
Like giving Devil’s tea to the women of Eden.
That still doesn’t sit right with me. Mavis blew up at me and said that Eve does everything she does to keep her women happy. The way I see it is if women need drugs to be happy, they’re obviously not that happy.
“Abracadabra, you are healed,” I say, twirling my finger in her face.
She slaps it away and lets out a chuckle but then covers her mouth with the inside of her elbow. Her cheeks balloon.
“Please don’t get sick on my bed,” I say. “The laundry ladies are busy enough as it is. I’d feel pretty bad about bringing them more work.”
The worst part is only three of them work outdoors doing laundry for everyone in Eden. They use well water and the sun, mostly, and it does the trick. But last I heard, there are three hundred and some people living in Eden.
I remember when we first got here. We were a group of about two hundred. We should have been more, but a lot of women didn’t want to leave their homes. They said they’d rather stay in the cities because soon enough, help would be coming.
I don’t think help ever came.
I suspect they all died, though I don’t like to think about that. Even little kids stayed behind. Their moms didn’t want to risk traveling far outside the city. I don’t think that was fair for them to have to stay behind when Eve promised them safety.
She promised us all safety, and that’s exactly what she gave us.
A knot forms in my stomach and I feel guilty about everything that’s happened… the doubts I’ve had about Eve… Aunty Eve. But she’s brought us this far. Why would she be trying to hurt the people she saved?
“Maybe I should go lie down,” Emily says, holding her belly. “Try to get some rest.” She then lets out a loud cough into the elbow of her arm.
“Good idea,” I say.
I have to go see Mavis and Perula anyways. I’ve been avoiding them for a few days, ever since Mavis blew up at me. Maybe I should apologize. Besides, I don’t know what kind of consequences there are if I don’t show up for my lessons. Now that I’ve graduated, I’m supposed to be working. This is supposed to be a job—a way for me to contribute to the little society Eve’s built.
Can they fire me? I’m not technically being paid for this, other than the shelter, the food, and the clean water I’m given here in Eden. Shoot. Maybe I’m being immature. I should probably apologize.
“I’ll see you later,” Emily says, but it comes out all muffled and she scurries away.
I’m shaken from my train of thought when I hear her throw up down the hallway. Then, little kids screech and squeaky footsteps run down the corridor.
Poor Emily.
I’ll ask Mavis and Perula if they have anything I can give her for nausea. They’ll probably say ginger, though.
Ginger!
The thought makes me smile. It means I’ve retained some of the information they’ve shared with me. Maybe my lessons are helping after all.
I hop off my bed and slide my favorite book—Magical Herbs by Fiona Lynch—under my mattress. There’s never been any theft in Eden per se, but some of the kids, especially when they run loose during class, tend to take things that don’t belong to them. They’re not doing it to steal; they’re looking for new shiny toys to play with.
And who can blame them? There isn’t much around here in the way of games or toys. I think of my H-Cap and let out a long breath. Frig, I miss that thing. I had so many games at the tips of my fingers—literally. I smile at the thought of my mom playing it. She used to jab her fingers through the hologram instead of on the hologram. The screen would scramble every time, and she’d slap her knee all frustrated.
I take a peek behind my little dresser to make sure it’s still there, and it is. I haven’t been able to use it since the EMP attack, or whatever it’s called. The battery got fried. I can’t think about that too much, though. Every time I think of my H-Cap, I think of my mom… Though I think of my mom all the time anyways.
Eve still never told me exactly what happened to her. Every time I’ve brought it up, she got all weird and started rambling about how tragic it was. So, I stopped asking.
I miss her so much.
“Heading for your lessons, missy?” comes Nola’s voice.
I swing around in a panic like I’ve been caught doing something wrong. “W-what? Oh. Yeah.”
She scratches her long fingernails through her poufy sandy-brown hair. I don’t know why she bothers trying to look so good all the time with those perfectly manicured nails and clear, shiny skin that’s obviously being washed every day.
“I don’t think I’ve seen you leave your room in a while,” she says.
She walks right into my cell, brushing her fingertips against the iron bars as she comes in, and plops herself down on my bed. Why is everyone always sitting on my bed? Maybe sometimes, I want my space. Is it too much to ask?
“Are you okay?” she asks.
Her thin eyebrows move up, and her forehead forms little rolls that look like tire tracks left in the sand.
“I’m okay,” I say. I don’t know why Nola’s always asking me if I’m okay. Even if I weren’t, and most of the time lately, I’m not, I wouldn’t tell her. I don’t want to worry her. Besides, she’d think I was crazy if I told her I’d been having doubts about Eve’s rulership.
She claps two hands together. “Well, chop chop—go on, then.”
I force a smile and hurry out of my cell. When I glance back briefly, she’s smiling back, a motherly tenderness in her eyes.
“Hi, Lucy!”
“Hey, Lucy!”
They run past me like they have springs for legs, and I barely have time to see them. Their little ponytailed heads bop up and down in the distance and they run around the corner, entering the main hall. But I know who it was—Alexa and Sabrina. Two six-year-old twin sisters who say hi to me every chance they get, even if that means multiple times in one day.
I wonder if they’ve escaped class again. That’ll be three times this week that Mrs. Pottery chases after them, and she’s getting too old to chase the younger kids around Eden. The last time I saw her chasing them, she got Ruby, Eden’s golden retriever, all excited. The playful dog started chasing Mrs. Pottery, and then other kids joined in until they formed a long train that snaked around every Division.
I enter the main hall, the sound of my footsteps bouncing off every piece of furniture in sight. It’s pretty quiet here today, which means it’s sunny outside. The main hall is only full when it’s yucky out there or when Eve calls everyone in to give some big announcement.
I also hate winter for that. When we get cooped up in here for a few months, people start to become irritable. We’ve been lucky over the last few years. In total, we had snow maybe three or four times. It doesn’t snow here often, but it gets chilly. It’s never stopped the kids from going out to play, but in general, the moms and the women stay inside.
I cross the hall then turn down Division Three’s corridor and make my way to the back exit. This is where most of the garden work is done and where Mavis and Perula’s garden shed, or Herb Shack, is. I only recently found out they call it that. I blast the door open and the sun’s afternoon glow lands on my face. It’s hot against my skin, which is nice since the air around me is mild.
I have a homemade calendar in my cell. Well, it isn’t a real calendar. It’s an old sketchbook that I’ve been using to keep track. I write in it every day as small as possible to keep track of the date and the day of the week. Unless I miscounted a month somewhere, we’re now October 24 of 2069. Soon, Mavis and Perula will start bringing in a few plants. They say that some of them can’t survive the cool weather.
I cross Division Three’s courtyard, past a small group of little girls sitting in the grass. Their tiny pigtailed heads are tilted back, and they’re listening to Mrs. Greensmith like she’s the smartest person in the world. Mrs. Greensmith’s holding signs that have alphabet letters on them, and she looks up at
me from behind the small circular-rimmed glasses on her nose.
I can’t help but smile. I love Mrs. Greensmith and the kids love her, too.
When I reach Mavis and Perula’s Herb Shack, I squeeze the wooden handle and twist it open. It always seems like I’m intruding when I enter their space—like I’m about to walk in on them brewing something up—something bad I shouldn’t know about.
“Oh, there she is!” Perula exclaims.
She gets up but starts limping as soon as she does. She rolls her shoulder to move her long salt-and-pepper hair out of the way and extends an arm in my direction, her pointed nails tickling the air.
Is she trying to grab me?
“There she is,” Mavis repeats, and she couldn’t sound more unexcited to see me.
I wish I knew what her problem was. Perula is the one with chronic pain—the one who got shot during the revolution and now has to deal with permanent nerve damage. On top of it, she has hip problems, too. What’s Mavis got to be so damn cranky about?
“Where in heaven’s name have you been, child?” Perula asks me. Her eyes look like apple-flavored candies—bright and shiny underneath the shack’s glass ceiling. Most days, especially when she’s hurting, they look brownish yellow.
“I was sick,” I lie.
I can’t tell them I’ve been avoiding them. It’ll only worsen Mavis’s thoughts of me. She already thinks I’m “just a kid.” If she finds out I’ve basically been sulking in my cell, she’ll never stop calling me that.
“Silly girl,” Perula says, flicking her wrist. “We’re Healers. You’re a Healer now. Why didn’t you come to us?”
I shrug. “Just need rest, that’s all.”
Mavis lets out a scoff but doesn’t say anything.
“Well, come on then.” Perula keeps wiggling her fingers in the air.
I wipe my feet on the doormat, not that it makes any difference. The whole shack is made of wood and it’s rarely ever cleaned.
When I step inside, Perula wraps her delicate fingers around my wrist and guides me toward Mavis’s cauldron—well, her soup pot, but I like to think she’s a witch. Why’s Perula so excited, anyway? She’s pulling at me like she’s trying to show me the world’s next best invention, or better yet, the return of electricity.
“What is it?” I ask.
But she doesn’t answer me. Instead, her sunken cheeks rise and a goofy smile forms under her crooked nose. She looks at me and then down at the table by Mavis’s cauldron. I step closer and follow her gaze.
Beside the cauldron is a small pot with soil, and at the very surface of the soil, a small bud is coming through.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“The offspring of this poor little thing here,” Perula says, throwing her thumb toward the back of the cabin. I know what she’s pointing at—their dying nightshade plant. It’s what they use to create something called scopolamine… what they’ve been using to create their Devil’s tea—the brew they give to the women of Eden without their consent. Apparently, it makes them happier and more willing to listen to what Eve has to say.
“And ’ere we thought it was gone-a-gone-dong for good,” Mavis says.
I raise an eyebrow. Why does she always have to talk so funny?
She smacks the wooden table and I flinch. “Look at that beauty! If two leprechauns fornicated and birthed a plant, it wouldn’t even be as fine lookin’ as this little guy.”
She wiggles her long-nailed finger over the bud like she’s trying to tickle it.
What’s wrong with her?
Her eyes shoot up at me. What does she want? A compliment?
“Looks great,” I say through clenched teeth, but what I want to say is, You guys are horrible people.
CHAPTER 3 – GABRIEL
Everything feels like a dream.
I keep going through this never-ending cycle of waking up and falling back asleep. I can’t tell if I’m actually waking up anymore or only dreaming about it.
“Come on, get up,” a voice says.
It’s tender but authoritative at the same time. I crack my eyes open to find her standing a few feet away from me, arms crossed over her chest. She has a stiff posture, straight as a piece of plywood, and I wonder if she’s ex-military or ex-police.
Her long dark brown hair is pulled up into a high ponytail, showing off her high cheekbones and piercing eyes—one green, one blue. It’s mesmerizing. I’ve never seen anything like it. Her jaw is squared off and small bulges pop out on either side of her face as though she’s biting down repeatedly.
My vision’s a bit fuzzy, but from what I can see, this woman’s beautiful. She’s slender but still has an hourglass shape, and she’s wearing military cargo pants, a gun belt, and a padded vest over a long-sleeved shirt. Without uncrossing her arms, she makes her eyes go big like she’s trying to say, What’re you looking at?
I rub my face and sit up, but then the pain kicks in. It’s a sharp, hot pain that spreads from my ribs to my chest and even into my stomach. Even my fists hurt, but that could be from punching Adam and his dogs in the face more times than necessary.
“Drink up,” she says. “It’ll help.”
Her face barely moves when she talks. It’s like she has no emotion. I follow her stare and find a cup of steaming liquid on the concrete floor. It’s a small ceramic cup, probably over twenty years old, with a chip on its brim.
What’s in it? More drugs? Because that’s what they’ve been giving me.
“Mavis made it for you,” she says.
“Who’s Mavis?” I ask, and my voice comes out sounding like I have a toad stuck in it. I’m exhausted and dehydrated. How long have I been down here, anyway? That’s where I am, isn’t it? In a prison’s basement?
“Someone who’s trying to help,” she says.
Again, she doesn’t move. Her legs are shoulder-width apart, and she reminds me of a drill sergeant with that cocky look on her face. The only difference is her face doesn’t piss me off.
I reach down and scoop up the tea. It looks like a kid’s teacup in my fist. It’s so small that if I closed my fist, I’d probably hide it completely. “This for pain?”
She nods.
I sniff it. It smells like earth, kind of, with a hint of perfume. Like a bunch of plants were thrown into a blender and then a flower was dipped in it to add a scent. Can’t be any worse than some of the stuff I ate when I was traveling with Adam and the gang.
I take a sip.
Jesus Christ.
It takes like shit, but that probably means it’s strong.
“Let’s go, buddy, I don’t have all day.”
I look up at her with the cup pressed against my lips. What’s the big hurry? She makes her eyes go big again, so I hold my breath and dump the rest of the fluid into my mouth. I almost cough it out trying to swallow, but I manage to bring it down.
“There you go,” she says.
She moves toward me, her heavy combat boots clapping against the solid floor, and scoops the cup right out of my hand. I wipe my mouth with the back of my forearm and lick the air a few times. Maybe a bit of oxygen will get the taste of shit out of my mouth.
“Who are you?” I ask. “How long am I staying down here? Eve said—”
“Until Eve says otherwise,” she cuts me off.
“What about Eve’s plan?” I ask. “We can’t waste any—”
“Look,” she cuts me off again. This time she drops the weight of her body on one leg like an annoyed mom who has to keep repeating herself. “All I know is that you’re supposed to help us, and you can’t do that until you’re all healed up. So shut up, tough it out, and keep taking your medicine when someone brings it to you.”
Why’s she being so cold? I haven’t done anything to her. She’s acting like I’m some ex-boyfriend who broke her heart long before the revolution started.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
She lets out a laugh and shakes her head.
It wasn’t genuine, but
it was pleasant to hear. There’s something different about her. She’s not like Eve. I don’t know what it is, but I can see it in her eyes.
“What’s so funny?” I ask.
She looks me in the eye for the first time and I feel like I’m staring at an Egyptian goddess. Her skin is fair but tanned, and her eyes look like emeralds. Her lips look bright red, but not red like lipstick red. It’s her natural lip color.
I have to keep my mouth closed although it keeps wanting to open on its own.
“You are,” she says, and her lips curve into a crooked smile. I can’t tell if she’s amused or annoyed. “I’m not here for conversation.”
“No, you’re here to babysit me.”
Her glare narrows and a knot forms in my stomach.
“Do you work for Eve?” I ask.
She raises her chin and her perfectly arched brows draw together. “What’s it to you?”
“I’m curious. I don’t know anything about this place. All I know is I’m basically being held a prisoner in the basement of some prison. That’s more insulting than being an actual prisoner if you ask me.” I know I’m ranting, but I can’t stop talking. “But I know you don’t like me because I’m a man. I honestly don’t want any trouble. I was only trying to help those women. I know you hate me. Everyone here’s gonna hate me—”
“You’re not hated,” she says, and I shut my mouth. “But keep in mind that the women here haven’t seen a man in over five years, and the last time they did, they were being shot at by them.”
A big, nasty ball of guilt sits in my throat and I look away. If this woman knew I used to be in the Black Marines, she’d probably chop my head off right here. I still don’t understand why Eve didn’t question me about Area 82. It’s like she knew I was military but wanted to ignore it to get what she wants. This woman though… She seems more levelheaded. I can’t tell her… Even if I didn’t kill any women during the gender war, I still can’t tell her. That’s like telling someone you belong to the KKK, but you don’t attend the meetings. I was still a part of what these women were fighting against.