by G. C. Julien
I close my eyes tight and breathe in the cool, late-summer air. It smells of moist grass, blossomed flowers, and an unidentifiable sweetness, all in combination with the subtle scent of manure. The unusual part is, I don’t mind it at all. I kind of enjoy it. Besides, I love Pearl, Freyda’s horse. Everyone loves her. It’s cute how she actually looks like a Pearl, too, with her shiny white-and-cream coat and gold mane. Freyda told me what she was once, but I can’t remember… A teke-something.
Where is Freyda, anyways? I haven’t seen her today. She’s usually always by Eve’s side. I wonder if this has to do with the man hiding in the basement. Or, is something else going on? I did overhear Mavis and Perula talking about moving to a new Eden. Is that where Freyda is? Looking for new territory? And if so, why didn’t she take Pearl?
Maybe she didn’t want to take her away from Eden because they’re using her manure as organic fertilizer, and Pearl also keeps the grass short. Or, maybe I’m completely paranoid, and Freyda’s still inside Eden somewhere.
I’m about to go back into the Herb Shack when I hear something I haven’t heard in a long time—a crowd laughing. Not just one or two people, but an entire crowd. I turn my head toward the noise and spot dozens of women and children gathered around one of the garden beds.
But in the middle of this group is one person who is impossible to miss. Her bright white overcoat and white pants shine right through, like a highlighter in a pile of black and blue pens. She’s waving her arms animatedly over her head, and her face is glowing so much she doesn’t even look like herself.
From where I’m standing, it looks like she’s telling a joke. I step a bit closer, trying to catch what’s going on.
“And rumor has it…” Eve says. She’s shouting for everyone to hear her, and the crowd is getting bigger. “That the monster turned into a fairy!”
Everyone bursts out laughing again, and some of the kids are so excited they wrap their arms around their mothers’ waists and tug on their clothes. A few years ago, some of these kids were only reaching their mothers’ legs.
I don’t realize how close I’ve gotten until Eve’s bright eyes turn my way and I stop moving entirely.
“Lucy, my love,” she shouts with a grin so wide I can see every single one of her teeth. “Come join us!” She waves excitedly toward herself.
Although part of me is screaming to run the other way, the other part is yearning to stay.
She looks so happy.
Everyone looks so happy, and all I want to do is be happy with them.
“Coming,” I say.
CHAPTER 24 – GABRIEL
“How far is this place, exactly?” Freyda asks.
I look away from my compass and stretch my neck to the side until I hear a soothing crack. “Close to three hundred miles, give or take. I thought Eve caught you up on this whole thing.”
She avoids eye contact, which I’m assuming means something happened between her and Eve.
“Don’t worry,” I say. “We’ll take breaks as often as possible.”
She doesn’t look convinced. I know Freyda’s a strong woman, but realizing we have to walk for over a week is probably sinking in for her at last. And it’s not because she’s lazy or unfit, either. It’s because it fucking hurts. I know the drill. Your feet start to ache, then your heels and ankles start to burn and chafe, but you keep walking. And the more you walk, the more blisters you get. It’s when those nasty things start popping and peeling that the real fun starts.
My feet are so full of callouses it doesn’t faze me anymore, but after the war, I walked more than I did in my entire military career. I can’t even remember how long I walked before finally sleeping. I’m sure I did, otherwise, I’d be dead, but everything is one big blur. There were so many people crying out for help, and all I wanted to do was get away from it all.
I stare straight ahead and wince. The sun is strong and hot, making me sweat like crazy in my heavy boots. The wind is cool though, so it balances things out nicely. If we were in the middle of the summer, we’d be covered from head to toe, making our trip even more uncomfortable. I’ve seen some of the most disgusting sunburns over the last few years. It’s like people think that being unable to find sunscreen means their bodies will adjust to the rays.
It doesn’t work that way.
It’s sad how so many lives have been lost because people simply don’t know. They don’t have the internet to guide them anymore. Hell, I was guilty of that, too. Mama used to make fun of me for always researching everything online. Didn’t believe something? You’d look it up. When Bill E-02 was passed, though, everyone trusted the internet. Why? It became illegal to post anything that wasn’t true without clearly stating that it was meant to be irony or a joke. The government even designed banners for people to use on their fake news sites, and if they didn’t use them, they’d be shut down within a matter of twenty-four hours. Not only that, but they’d be charged for it.
I’m glad the internet’s gone. It pissed me off that the government stepped in like that, took control over everything. Big sites, the ones generating money, had to pay “rent” to be online. I don’t remember how much it was or how many people were affected. It pissed off a lot of people. The worst part of it, though, was having to use your PI Chip to maintain any kind of online space. That’s short for Personal Identification Chip. We weren’t allowed PI Chips in the military, but most of the population ended up getting one. Why not? It was implanted in your wrist, so no one could see it (aside from the tiny white scar), and you could use it for payments, identification, starting your car, unlocking your house door… Pretty much anything and everything. The only thing people didn’t know was that the chip had a hidden location sensor in it. In other words, it could track anyone at any time. Rumors got out like they always do, but both the manufacturer and the government kept denying it. But we knew… The military, I mean.
So, the idea of restricting online maintenance and page creation to people registered with these Chips was pretty smart if you ask me. Online fraud and crime went down by 98 percent. The only people who were able to bypass this whole Chip thing were the crazy hackers, and let’s face it, hackers are too smart to be wasting their time sending out fake emails from financial institutions. They had better things to do, like trying to hack the White House’s security system.
I turn around when I hear someone breathing loud. It’s Dakota, the short one with blond hair and gray strands. She stretches her neck from side to side until something cracks, then aggressively wipes the sweat from her heavily freckled face. We’ve only been walking for three hours. What’s her problem?
“We’re not all ex-military,” she says, her face barely moving. It’s obvious she takes herself seriously.
I look at her boots, a pair of brown leather ones she must have plucked off someone on her way to Eden. They kind of look like men’s boots, too. They probably aren’t as comfortable as she thought they’d be, and they were probably sitting in some dusty closet for the last five years, up until today.
“You guys do realize I’m not an engineer, right?” she says. She looks like she wants to smack someone across the face. Her neck is blotchy and red, and her round nostrils flare out so wide her nose looks like its twice its usual size.
“I have some background,” Yael says. It’s the first time I hear her voice. It’s deep, but the attractive kind of deep, and she has an accent that rolls off the tip of her tongue. It suits that perfectly symmetrical face of hers.
Dakota cocks a blond, barely visible eyebrow. “Some background?” she sneers.
Obviously, Dakota was voluntold into coming along on this trek. She doesn’t want to be here. She probably thinks this whole thing is a waste of time, or that she’s been asked to sacrifice her life, which is understandable. We’re going into this blind for the most part (well, they are), and she hasn’t left Eden for five years. I can see why she’d be reluctant to follow along.
Yael stares at her but doesn’t answer.
It’s like she doesn’t have to justify herself to anyone, which is pretty admirable.
Dakota shakes her head and whips a hand in the air as if to say, “Whatever, doesn’t matter.”
She starts searching through the pockets in her black vest and cargo pants like a smoker looking for their pack of cigarettes. Now that I think of it, it looks like her entire wardrobe was taken off a dead guy. There’s absolutely nothing feminine about her. Not that I care. Clothes are clothes.
And now that I think of cigarettes. Jesus Christ. How did Eve manage to keep an entire society of women sane after the revolution? I mean, realistically, some of them had to be smokers. Last I heard, smokers in America made up something like 20 percent of the population. And I know what withdrawal does to people, let alone a group of women stuck together. Emotions were probably already high. Then again, I’m sure a bunch of men together wouldn’t be any better. They’d probably fight like a bunch of anxious chimpanzees. Funny how that works… We’re so primitive by nature, which serves a purpose, and women are sensitive and empathetic, which also serves a purpose. Together, we can be pretty great, but all we do is point out each other’s flaws or try to prove which gender is better than the other.
No wonder our world’s gone to shit. Men and women have always been at war in some way, and things finally blew up. It was bound to happen.
“What’re you looking for?” Miller asks. She stretches her neck over Dakota’s shoulder, her short shaggy brown hair dancing over her dark eyebrows.
Dakota swings a shoulder away from Miller, who’s so much taller, she towers over her. “None of your business.”
Miller smiles and salutes her. “All right, pilot.”
I take it she’s the patient type. It’s funny how the stereotypes are usually true. Not always, but often. Short and feisty, then there’s your gentle giant. I smirk at this because I like to see myself as a gentle giant. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll tear someone’s throat out if it’s deserved, but for the most part, I’m pretty patient, and I’m a nice guy. Then, I think of my mama. I can’t think of anyone feistier than her, and she was so petite her forehead came up to my chest.
I can’t think of her too long, or I’ll picture her body lying in her living room, underneath a bunch of rubble. That thought destroys me, so I’ve been doing everything I can to pretend it never happened. Maybe if I keep lying to myself, I’ll start to believe that Mama is somewhere safe and her house didn’t crumble on top of her because of this war.
Dakota lets out a sigh, and I look up in time to catch her smudging what looks like lip balm on her lips. I say lip balm, but it looks more like a container of beeswax or something.
“All that panic for lip balm?” Jada chimes in. She purses her thick dark lips and smirks, revealing a sharp canine tooth that looks like something out of a vampire movie. The sun is beaming down hard on her face, casting a smooth warm brown color on her cheeks, and she squints.
Dakota glares at Jada like she’s a complete moron who’s too stupid to understand anything in life. What’s her deal, anyway? I get that she doesn’t want to be here, but why’s she so damn cranky?
“Look,” I cut in, and Freyda seems relieved. It’s like she wanted to take charge, but at the same time, didn’t have the energy to get involved in a petty argument. “I know some of you don’t want to be here—”
“Not with you,” Dakota cuts in.
“Give the man a break,” Miller says. “He’s trying to help.”
Dakota spins around and fastens her stubby hands on her waist. “How the fuck you do you know?”
“Eve told us,” Freyda says, and everyone goes quiet.
Eve’s name seems to be a powerful thing among these women. It’s like whenever she’s mentioned or even thought about, people listen. They follow like a bunch of sheep.
“We’re doing this for Eve, and for Eden,” Freyda continues. “I’m tired too, okay? It’s not like I’ve been running marathons, preparing for some week-long trip. My legs are killing me, and my back is getting sore. We’re human. That’s going to happen.”
“Should’ve brought your horse,” Dakota mutters through a scoff.
Freyda crosses her arms. It’s obvious she’s pretty defensive about her horse. “Pearl wouldn’t have handled this any more than any of you. She’s not built for traveling long distances.”
“All right, all right,” I say, hoping to ease some of the tension. “We’re stuck with each other for the next few days, whether you like it or not. No one said this would be easy or that we’d come out of it in one piece. We’re taking a chance, here. You heard Eve yourself. Eden isn’t going to survive much longer. You’re limited on resources and running out of space.”
No one says anything, so I’m assuming they agree with me.
“Like I said,” I continue, “we’ll stop whenever we can and try to make this as comfortable as possible.”
To my surprise, Dakota doesn’t scoff this time. She nods and wipes a line of sweat from her freckled face. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m just… I’m so tired, you know? Fuck. I’m tired of everything. This is such a nightmare. I try to put a smile on for Eve, for everyone… But I’m fucking miserable. Aren’t you?” She eyes the other women, and although they seem to understand exactly what she’s saying, they don’t respond. “Eve’s not around,” she adds as if this will somehow make them open up. But when they still don’t say anything, she lets out a long breath. “I think we can do better. And I do want to go to this place.” She looks up at me, her head completely tilted back.” But I don’t want to get my hopes up.” She turns her attention back to the women. “Some man appears in Eden, and all of a sudden, we’re going to some new place? Some safe location? It doesn’t add up, I’m sorry.”
She shakes her head and raises a stiff hand in the air like she’s getting ready to slap away any argument we might have.
“And to be honest,” she cuts in before anyone can say something, “I don’t fucking trust you.” Now, she points at my face. “For all I know, you’re taking us to some group of men, and we’re going to spend the rest of our lives being fucking beaten and raped. I’d rather suffer in Eden.”
I part my lips, but Freyda steps in. “Dakota, it isn’t like that. You have my word.”
“Your word?” Dakota spits. “How’s your word”—she makes air quotes—“going to protect us?”
“Freyda’s always protected us,” Jada says. Her soft-eyed look is gone now, and her eyebrows almost touch over that black button nose of hers.
I can tell she and Freyda are good friends. Two seconds ago, she looked like the most gentle out of the bunch, but now she’s ready to kick some ass. There’s that police side. She must’ve made a good cop.
Dakota throws her arms in the air, obviously too flustered to deal with any of this. She storms off past me like she knows where she’s going and mutters, “Nightmare… A fucking nightmare.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
What a fucking nightmare.
I squeeze my way through the crowd, wincing as elbows and shoulders hit me in the chest and back. I need to get the hell out of here. I push through one final wave of people and rush into an old cobblestone alleyway. The stones are shiny, almost black, due to the downpour.
People are shouting over one another, trying to get an answer, while others are trying to maintain order. There’s no order, and there won’t be. Not anymore. People (men, women, and children) are crowded around a group of female police officers who are standing in front of their cruisers.
“Please, everyone, return to your homes and wait for help to arrive!” one of them shouts, but the officer’s voice barely carries through the shouts and rainfall.
Doesn’t she know what’s going on? Wasn’t she informed about the EMP attack? That power isn’t coming back at all? I get that radio communication is off the table now, but you’d think as a woman, she’d have known about… Well, now that I think of it, the women… The ones I saw in the White House,
were probably part of some underground resistance. It’s not like they communicated their plan to the whole nation. If they had, maybe some sense would’ve been knocked into them. Maybe the women of America (like this police officer who’s doing all she can to keep everyone calm) would have put a stop to it. There’s no way that all women wanted this to happen. No one wants to go back to the dark ages.
On the other hand, groups of enraged individuals can cause a lot of damage. Especially big groups that operate on such an advanced level. I wonder how many people were involved in the resistance.
“We’re working on getting the power grid back up,” the police officer says. Poor woman. She looks like she’s ready for retirement with her short gray hair and pudgy belly. She’s trying as hard as she can to make things right, but there’s no way she’ll be able to.
Not now. Things are too far gone.
The other cop, a younger woman with a nose ring and tattoos on her fingers, raises an arm in the air to try to silence everyone. It works, for the most part, and the rain sounds louder. It’s splashing on stalled cars and slipping into the city sewers.
Why aren’t the cars working, anyway? Anyone who’s done research on EMP (I did after we learned about them during training) knows that tests were run and proved that this whole idea of everything shutting down might be a myth. But who knows the real answer? I mean, tests can’t replicate the real thing. At least not perfectly. How powerful was this damn thing?
I watch the water trickle down into the sewer drain.
Shit.
The drains.
It’s only a matter of time before garbage and debris pile up against them and blocks all water from going in. With no garbage collection, people are going to start tossing their junk outside. Nothing’s going to be maintained and the more rain the city gets, the faster it’ll start flooding.
“We need to stay strong together,” the police officer says with her arm still straight above her head.
For a second, it looks like everyone’s considering her words, until someone shouts, “People are dying all around us, and you want us to fucking stay strong? Why aren’t the ambulances coming? Why isn’t there any help? What the fuck are you—”