Eden Box Set

by G. C. Julien

  “He has a heart,” I say, pointing to my chest. “It beats same as yours—” I point at little Scarlet’s chest. “And yours and yours.” The children giggle when my finger nearly tickles their stomachs. “He breathes the same air as us, doesn’t he?” They nod. “And he’s also been nice to all of you, hasn’t he?” They nod again. “So, it’s important that we be nice back, okay?”

  “Okay,” says a soft voice.

  A few others join in, and I notice several of the older kids—those older than eight years old—move toward the crowd, followed by Mrs. Lewenburg. Her dark hair is pulled back into a tight, greasy ponytail, and her bright eyes look flat over that big veiny nose of hers. She always looks like she’s in a bad mood. I wonder if that’s why the older kids and teenagers call her Mrs. Lewenturd.

  I suppose even in a paradise like Eden, children will be children.

  “Hey, Zack,” says one of the girls.

  He scratches his thick-haired head and smirks up at her uncomfortably. “Hey, Sophia.”

  “Now, everyone,” I say, breaking the awkward atmosphere. “I have a task for all of you.” Their eyes are fixated on me as if I’m about to announce the winner of some lottery draw. “I want you to draw your version of Octopula.”

  Their delicate faces light up and everyone starts bouncing around on the grass. The children love to draw, and it isn’t often that they’re allowed to do so. Although we have several dozen packets of printing paper here in Eden, we reserve it for important matters such as note-taking for the Medical Unit or important notices Freyda sometimes hangs in the main hall.

  Only last month, I asked Freyda to leave a note reminding the mothers to supervise their children at all times—especially after curfew. The moment nighttime is declared—which is when the sun sets entirely—everyone is to return to their rooms where they are to remain for the night unless, of course, they require the bathroom.

  This rule was set in place to ensure everyone obtains adequate sleep. Poor sleep weakens the immune system, which in turn increases one’s odds of developing certain illnesses. Only several weeks after arriving in Eden, women complained of being kept up all night by children wandering the halls.

  But today, I am deciding to allow each child one piece of paper.

  “Can we use color?” Scarlet asks, jumping to her feet.

  I brush the tips of my fingers along her fuzzy cheek. “Of course you can, sweetheart.”

  CHAPTER 26 – LUCY

  “Inside, inside, inside!” Mrs. Greensmith shouts.

  Children come rushing inside their Division with clothing drenched and water dripping from hair, noses, and fingertips. It isn’t the enjoyable kind of rain, either. Not the kind that makes you want to tilt your head back and stick your tongue out. It’s the opposite of that. Like little knives are poking you in the back because the water’s so cold. The kind of rain that makes people sick.

  It came pouring down without warning, too. First, it was cloudy, but then out of nowhere, the clouds turned a dark gray, almost black, and it dumped on us. I have to admit, watching Eve run inside with her heels was funny. I honestly don’t know why she wears those, but they seem to make her feel important.

  My wet shoes squeak against the tiled floor as I make my way toward my cell for a change of clothes. I stare at my own feet as I walk. They’re so wet they look dark, but they’ll dry. I feel worse for whoever’s responsible for cleaning this week. Every week, it changes. It’s some kind of rotation among the adults of each Division.

  I leave Division Three and cross the main hall, trying to step down on muddy footprints. I’d rather not create new prints if I can help it. Maybe Nola’s responsible for cleaning our Division this week. I can’t remember the last time she did it, so it must be her turn.

  Good.

  I glare at nothing just thinking about her. I still can’t believe how quickly she believed whatever Eve told her. But then I think of Eve, and my anger starts to disappear. I want to believe so badly that she’s here to stay… That she’s changing her ways and she’ll be the same old Aunty Eve she was before we came to Eden. Before my mom died.

  But then I wonder: why would Nola get all weird with me unless Eve told her something bad? Or something that isn’t true? Does that mean I still can’t trust Eve? I’m so sick of having to try to understand everyone. Why can’t it be simple? Why are there always lies and secrets and mind games?

  I wish people were more transparent.

  How hard is it to be open and honest about things?

  Yet then again, I guess Mom kept things from me, too. She wasn’t doing it to be mean, or to be secretive. She was trying to protect me. Is Eve trying to protect me? What about Nola? The difference is I trusted Mom more than anyone in the world. I knew that in the end, she’d do whatever she had to protect me.

  But Eve isn’t my mom, and neither is Nola. As much as I want to trust them, I can’t.

  There is someone I can trust, though. Someone who’s trusted me to keep her secrets, too.

  Emily.

  Oh God… How is she doing now? I know it’s only been a few hours, but I can’t stop worrying. I feel sick to my stomach. What if she dies? What if seeing her in that bed… Her lips blue and sweat sliding down her hairline… What if that’s the last image of her I have in my head? What if I wake up tomorrow and she’s… gone?

  “Eve!” someone calls out and I turn around. I hadn’t even realized she was behind me.

  A young woman rushes to Eve, who’s laughing and squeezing rain from her overcoat. Why is she laughing? She’s acting like getting caught in the rain is the most fun she’s had in years. It’s not a fake laugh, either. Because Eve lets out a lot of fake laughs. I don’t think the women in Eden know the difference, but I do.

  “The children are so excited about drawing Octopula,” the woman says. “Would it be all right if we pushed curfew a bit this evening?”

  I know it’s none of my business, but I can’t walk away. No one’s ever asked Eve to push curfew, not for anything. And because evening is here, the children will soon be asked to go to bed. Eve isn’t saying anything. Why isn’t she answering her? She looks like she’s either gone brain-dead or she’s on the verge of snapping.

  But then, as if someone hit the power switch in her head, she flicks her wrist and grins from ear to ear, her perfectly straight teeth taking up a big portion of her face. “Of course!”

  The woman doesn’t smile right away. Instead, she pulls her head back and her chin disappears. It’s almost like she was asked to ask Eve on behalf of someone else, and she wasn’t expecting to receive a yes for an answer.

  “Oh… uh,” she says. “Th-thank you, Eve. That’s wonderful.” She balls two fists and excitedly shakes them in front of her. “The children will be so excited!”

  “Do you know where the paper is stored?” Eve asks.

  The woman’s eyes dart from side to side like she’s trying to remember something she doesn’t even know.

  Eve lets out a soft laugh. “In room D-12. Head down toward the main entrance and you’ll find it. It isn’t locked.”

  “Thank you!” the woman says, her bony fists still balled in the air.

  A few women wearing Eden’s hemp dresses stand at the back of the main hall, near Division Three’s entrance. They stare at Eve as though she took off all her clothes, their mouths hanging open. It’s almost like they placed a bet on whether or not Eve would say yes, and they all bet she wouldn’t.

  The young woman, the one who asked Eve about the curfew, spins around and offers two thumbs-up to her group of friends. She then rushes toward the main entrance, her shoes squeaking loudly throughout the entire hall.

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  There are too many women talking loudly in the hall, and I don’t know where to go.

  “You look lost, honey,” comes someone’s voice.

  I turn around to find an amicable-looking woman standing tall with frizzy brownish hair and a smile that makes me want
to hug her. She looks like the kind of person who truly cares about others. I can see it all over her face. It’s the way she’s looking at me. Aunty Eve was supposed to care, but she doesn’t… This lady, though, looks like she cares. And she’s a total stranger.

  “Come here, sweetheart,” she says, wiggling her fingers at me.

  I grab her hand and she walks me down the big hall. There are entrances everywhere. I have no idea where I am or where I’m supposed to go. Everyone else has their mom or an aunt or even a friend of a friend who seems to be showing them where they’re supposed to be.

  But I have no one.

  No one except this lady.

  As she walks forward, all I can smell is hot cinnamon. Maybe she’s chewing gum. How much of it does she have? One day soon, I don’t think she’ll be able to get any more. I’m not stupid. I saw those cities. The stores were all broken into it and there was glass everywhere. So, if stores aren’t going to exist soon, then that means people won’t be able to buy things anymore.

  Like gum.

  She makes a popping sound, so now I know she’s chewing gum.

  “You look familiar,” she says, looking back at me.

  I guess she kind of does, too. I don’t know her, though. I stare at her face, trying to figure out where I saw her, and then I remember. She’s the lady who tried to help that dying girl. She’s the nurse.

  “You’re the nurse,” I say.

  She gives me a big smile. “That’s right. I am. My name’s Nola. What’s your name, sweetheart?”

  “Lu-Lucinda,” I say. “Cain. But I like Lucy.”

  Her smile disappears like she saw a ghost. I turn around to see if maybe something’s happening behind me, but there’s nothing. Only a few kids dragging suitcases across the floor.

  Her lips twitch and her smile reappears on her face. But it looks like she’s forcing it now. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Lucy. I’d shake your hand, but I’m already holding it.” She laughs this time, and it reminds me of my mom’s laugh. It’s not too loud but not quiet, either. It’s the kind of laugh that makes you want to laugh, too.

  Now, all I can think about is Mom again, and my throat starts to hurt. I don’t have her here with me, and now Aunty Eve has abandoned me. What am I supposed to do? How am I—

  “Oh, honey,” the woman, Nola, says.

  She looks at me like I broke her heart. My lip must be trembling.

  “Come here.” She pulls me into her arms.

  I don’t even know this woman, but I can’t let go of her. I press my face into her neck, squeeze her tight, and burst out crying.

  I don’t know how long I cry, but she doesn’t let me go.

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  I look up when I hear something ticking against my cell’s iron bars. It’s Nola, and her face is pressed up against the cold metal, making her cheek look even more plump than usual.

  “I see you got caught outside,” she says playfully.

  I want to be friendly with her, but it’s so hard. She betrayed me.

  “Can I come in?”

  Nola never asks to come in. She simply comes in. She must know I’m pretty pissed off.

  I shrug.

  She must take this as a yes because she steps inside with her fingers wrapped around one of the gate’s bars.

  “Mind if we talk?”

  I don’t answer. Instead, I plop myself down on my bed, pull my knees up to my chest, and wrap my arms around my legs.

  She lets out a long breath, pulls the back hem of her orange dress to the front of her and slowly sits at the end of my bed. She sounds like Mom right now. That long breath. Mom used to do that when she had something difficult to tell me. Something she thought I was too young to understand. Kind of like when I asked her about why people were turning on each other. Why people were killing each other based on something as stupid as gender.

  She had to explain to me that things weren’t so black and white. War wasn’t happening because someone was a boy, a girl, a man, or a woman. It was caused by the abuse of power that came from being a certain gender. I never did understand what she was trying to tell me. It didn’t make sense. People are people. Why would you hurt someone because they’re the opposite sex? They’re still a human being. They still have feelings, a heart that beats… Human beings are friggin’ ridiculous.

  Then she told me how women were being made to do things they didn’t want to do. That, I already knew about. I heard it on the news when Mom thought I wasn’t listening. I was too young then to get what she was saying, but now I know. I know about the rapes. The thought makes me sick to my stomach. And apparently, it happened a lot. It’s almost like men knew the best way to hurt a woman was to rape her.

  I don’t know… I don’t know anything anymore. When I think of these things… of everything my mom tried to warn me about, I’m reminded of how sick people are. Then, I’m reminded of all the men who turned on their wives, their children, their mothers after the government brainwashed them into believing that women were the cause of this war.

  How do you turn on your own family? Because someone in power tells you to? I guess it’s more complicated than that. I still don’t understand it. But the more I think about how bad America got… How despicable people became, the more I realize that maybe Eve has every reason to do the things she does.

  I can only imagine what she’s gone through, trying to keep this place intact. I mean, it probably isn’t easy to keep hundreds of women happy and remind them that men aren’t needed for our survival. Well, not yet, anyway. I’m sure as the years go by, she’ll have to figure out how we’re going to reproduce. But maybe that’s why she let Zack in. Not that I want to think about Zack being a tool for reproduction, but from what I’ve seen of Eve, she doesn’t do anything without a good reason. At least not anymore.

  “I’m sorry,” Nola breathes, and I’m so caught up in my own head that I flinch at the interruption.

  I look up at her, but I don’t say anything.

  “I shouldn’t have doubted you,” she says. She looks sad, her thin eyebrows slanting over her eyes.

  So, she’s admitting she doubted me. Why did she doubt me? What did Eve tell her?

  “Eve’s been worried about you,” she says.

  Worried about me? A few hours ago, I’d have jumped down Nola’s throat for saying something like that, but now… Now that I’ve seen Eve, and the way she’s been acting with everyone, maybe this isn’t so farfetched.

  Maybe Aunty… Maybe Eve is worried about me. For some odd reason, I want to smile. The idea of Eve actually caring about me means more to me than anything. I know that deep down, despite my resentment and bitterness, I still love her. I’d never admit it, but I do. And I miss her, more than anything.

  “What’s she so worried about?” I ask.

  Nola cranes her neck back and rolls her eyes toward the ceiling. The kind of look that says, “Oh, it’s no big deal.” But that’s exactly the kind of look that is a big deal. It means she’s holding something back.

  “She wants you to be safe, that’s all,” she says.

  The skeptical side of me still exists and I scoff. “Safe? How am I not being safe? What could I possibly do that would be unsafe here in Eden? In my prison cell?” I don’t mean to rant, but now that I’ve started, I can’t stop. “I mean, that’s what this is, isn’t it? A prison sentence? It’s not like we’re even allowed to go out and explore. It’s too dangerous”—I make air quotes—“so we have to stay in here where it’s safe—” and I make the same gesture.

  I’m sure she can sense that I’ve grown a little sick of having absolutely nothing to look forward to in this life. I never talk about it. There’s no point. We’re always reminded to keep our mouths shut about anything negative. But this world isn’t all rainbows and butterflies. There’s negativity whether we like it or not. Like Emily. She’s sick, and she’s probably going to die. How the hell is anyone supposed to stay happy in a situation like that? And wh
at about those women I saw cooped up in one of those medical rooms? I bet you they’re the ones who went outside and got attacked. It would make perfect sense. Now they’re being held in the Medical Unit until they can get over their trauma. God forbid they bring their negativity into Eden.

  “And you know what,” I start again before she has the chance to say anything, “we’re not that safe if you think about it. It’s pretty damn stupid that we’re staying in a place where people are looking for us. I mean, those men out there found us. We’re lucky that man was around, but what happens next time, huh?” My eyes bulge as I glare at her, and she looks a bit scared. She looks like she’s watching Dr. Jekyll turn into Mr. Hyde. “Is that why the adults had that meeting? To talk about finding a new place? Is that where the man went? He isn’t in the Medical Unit, so he’s either being kept a prisoner, or he’s gone on some mission—”

  Her eyebrows drop low and she shakes her head vigorously from side to side, so I stop talking. Obviously, I shouldn’t be talking about this out loud. I don’t see what the big deal is, though. What does it matter if anyone hears me? They had a meeting about it.

  “It’s not our place to talk about that,” she says in a whisper. “Eve doesn’t want the kids getting all worked up until we have a definitive answer. We don’t know what’s going on yet. And yes, that’s where Gabriel went. He’s gone with Freyda and a few other women. I don’t have all the details, but the plan is for us to migrate somewhere safer…” She rolls her eyes, probably because she knows I’m sick of hearing the word safe. “Somewhere bigger and better.”

  I cross my arms even tighter across my chest and stare at the wall behind her. I still don’t get why she’s in here or what’s going on.

  “I understand why she was worried,” Nola continues. Is she seriously going to take Eve’s side right now, after trying to apologize to me? “You know how she felt about graduates taking on the role of Healer. But you chose it—”