Eden Box Set

by G. C. Julien

  She must have heard my heels against the tile before I took them off.

  “It’s me, Agatha,” I say sweetly.

  I approach her, making absolutely no noise as I walk. It’s a strange feeling to move about silently. I enjoy the loud clicking—it’s a powerful sound. But at this moment, all I want is my skin against the cold surface. I can’t remember the last time my feet touched anything other than the insides of my heels or the sheets on my bed.

  “Oh,” Agatha says with a cute chuckle. “I didn’t see you.”

  I smile, but she probably doesn’t see it even though I’m merely a few feet away from her now.

  “That’s all right, Agatha.” I sit down beside her and place my palm against her tiny thigh. She looks so frail, it breaks my heart. I’ve never had the courage to ask her age, but if I had to guess, I would say she’s in her mid-eighties. Her skin is loose, her white hair is curly atop her head, and her nose and ears have grown twice the size they presumably were when she was young. When looking at her profile, she has a bit of a bird’s face—a long, pointed nose with a lump on its bridge and a chin that protrudes farther than her lips. But despite her less than aesthetically pleasing appearance, Agatha is one of the sweetest women I know.

  She is always smiling, even though she has no teeth. And her smile is so contagious it warms my heart.

  “How have you been, my dear?” I ask.

  She purses her lips, her chin moving forward and backward, and gazes at me with her gray, glazed eyes. It almost looks as if she’s going blind. She blinks a few times, then finally makes eye contact, and her smile grows even wider as if she’d laid eyes on an angel.

  “Oh, you know,” she says, her voice croaky. “Hanging in there.”

  I gently squeeze her thigh. “Is there anything at all I can do for you, Agatha? Anything to make you more comfortable?”

  She shakes her head, her little white curls wiggling at the top. “Oh, don’t you worry about me, my sweet, sweet Eve. I’m doing just fine. You keep doing what you do…” Her crusted eyes aim toward the main hall. It probably all looks like a giant white blur to her. “You’re a hero, Eve. Don’t you—don’t you ever forget that.”

  She pats my hand on her lap, but her arm is shaking. In fact, her entire body is trembling a little bit. This isn’t the first time Agatha trembles—she often does. But it seems as though it’s getting worse.

  “I hope—” she continues, “I hope you don’t think you can force my bony little ass to follow you… To follow you to this place you’re goin’ to.”

  She’s referring to Area 82. I should have known that Agatha wouldn’t follow. She’d never make it. I wonder how many other women will refuse to migrate.

  I gently hold the back of her wrinkled neck and press my lips on her forehead.

  “You do whatever you want to do, sweetheart.”

  She pats down on my knuckles again as a way of saying thank you, and I stand.

  “I mean it, Agatha,” I say. “If you need anything,” and I pause for effect to make sure she understands how serious I am, “you tell me. Okay?”

  She sticks a finger in the air, and it trembles from side to side. “Oh, I will, my sweet Eve, I will.”

  My chest tightens and I turn away. The idea of leaving Agatha behind destroys me. I love that woman. If I focus on that… If I focus on losing people I care about…

  Freyda’s face suddenly appears in my mind and I nearly burst out crying.

  I swallow hard and clear my throat.

  I’m stronger than this.

  I’m stronger than this.

  Everything is just fine.

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  Everything’s fine, I tell myself, though I feel like it’s all falling apart.

  “How is this supposed to work, Eve?” someone asks.

  I glance at Freyda, who stands at the edge of the crowd that’s accumulated in the hall, or, as I’ve decided to call it, the main hall. She’s my rock—she grounds me when I’m uncertain of myself.

  These women are all still terrified.

  What more do they want from me?

  I’ve taken them away from Washington and toward safety. Don’t they see that? If they had stayed behind, they would be dead within a matter of days, maybe weeks. I can only imagine how bad things have gotten in the city. Vrin warned me about all of it. She warned me that criminals would be the first to start damaging property being that cameras wouldn’t be working anymore and police cruisers wouldn’t function.

  “People will be in denial during the first twenty-four hours, maybe even the first week,” she told me. “Criminals will want to take advantage of the situation, so they’ll surface first. But it won’t be long before regular citizens panic… They’ll start looting to collect supplies for their families, and, well, that will eventually lead to violence.”

  I remember wondering if an EMP was the best approach. As Vrin explained to me the mechanics of it along with its impact, I had my doubts. But then, the more I thought of President Price and the army of men he’d built for himself, the more I remembered why we were doing this in the first place.

  A clean start.

  Sometimes sacrifices must be made for the greater good.

  “How long are we staying here?” another woman asks.

  The bickering spreads across the hall and a multitude of voices bounce off the beautiful white-and-gold-trimmed walls.

  I raise a stiff arm in the air, and to my surprise, everyone goes quiet. Is this how Bethany Lee felt during her underground meetings? Immediately, I’m filled with a sense of power and influence. These women look up to me. I can tell they’re terrified, but inside each of them, there’s a sheep waiting to follow its shepherd.

  That’s all they want, isn’t it? Guidance?

  My eyes shift toward Freyda again. She gives me a brief nod, one that says, “You can do this.”

  I have to do this.

  Bethany isn’t here, and I saved them—I’m the reason these women are even alive.

  I raise my chin with pride and an unfamiliar confidence washes over me.

  It’s true. Most of them would be on the verge of death or stuck inside a city filled with violence.

  I am their salvation.

  “I know you’re all scared,” I say, and my voice echoes down a few of the dark corridors at the back. “But trust me when I say that everything is going to be okay.”

  “How do you know?” someone shouts.

  But then someone nudges the woman in the ribs and whispering breaks out. Most of these women know that I’m the reason we attacked the White House in the first place—I’m the reason they weren’t slaughtered by men.

  They should know better than to question me.

  “Because I know,” I say, and a heavy silence fills the room.

  No one questions me.

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  A little girl comes blasting out of Division Five, her arms flailing in every direction. I’m pulled out of my trance and completely enthralled by the contagious grin on her face. She’s having the time of her life, and I have no idea why. The wet floors make her feet slip all over the place, but she seems to be enjoying this.

  I smile as I brush past her and continue my way toward Lucy’s cell. My dear Lucy. I hope she’s weighing everything I’ve said—I hope she’s willing to forgive the way I’ve behaved.

  All I want is to sit by her side and talk.

  Surely, she’ll allow this, won’t she?

  She did appear to be a bit reluctant in the courtyard.

  I breathe deeply through my nose and make my way toward her cell. The floors have slowly begun to dry and the pads of my feet feel sticky.

  I see her cell, and my heart beats faster. Although I haven’t been in Division Five in quite some time, I know where Lucy’s cell is, in part because it’s approximately halfway down the corridor, but also because a braid of sweetgrass hangs over her doorway.

  Ophelia was always into that
—crystals and herbs. I thought it was all nonsense at the time, but now that I’ve seen what Mavis and Perula are capable of, I feel terrible for having poked fun at her all those years.

  As I stare at the small bundle of hanging grass, I realize it’s no wonder Lucy chose to become a Healer. It’s in her blood. With the way she’s turning out to look so much like Ophelia, it would only make sense that her mind resembles her mother’s.

  The only difference between the two is that Ophelia wasn’t rebellious—she wasn’t the type to question authority or take a stand against corruption. She was a follower. Lucy, contrarily, seems to be paving her own road in life.

  This would normally upset me. The last thing I need in Eden is a young girl to question my ways. But today, I am seeing things in a different light. What I see in Lucy is what I see in myself; it’s what I see when I think of Mila—a strong woman capable of creating a positive change in this world.

  With the right guidance, my little Lucy could accomplish great things.

  I move toward her cell, and my lips spread with excitement when I hear something I wasn’t expecting—Nola’s voice. Not wanting to interrupt, I step sideways and press my back against the wall along Lucy’s neighboring cell.

  Why are they whispering?

  “So, what’s your plan?” Lucy says, her voice sharp and excited. She sounds so passionate, it reminds me of Mila. Even though I can’t see her, I can picture her perfectly—sitting on her bed with her posture slouched forward and her elbows resting on her knees. Her eyes are probably wide open and fixated on Nola.

  “We just have to be careful,” Nola says.

  “Careful how?” Lucy says. “She seems different, Nola. She’s been really nice to everyone.”

  They’re talking about me.

  My eyes dart from side to side and my heart pounds hard against my rib cage. I shouldn’t be here, but at the same time, I need to know what they’re saying.

  “That doesn’t mean anything,” Nola says.

  Why is she trying to turn Lucy against me? Did she not listen to a word I told her? Who the fuck does she think—

  “You know how she is,” Nola continues. “One day she’s smiling, the next she wants to kill anyone who gets in her way. This little mood of hers won’t last. Something’s not right up there.”

  A soft tap fills Lucy’s cell, and I can only assume Nola is tapping her temple.

  I bite down hard and my jaw pops. How dare she—

  “Maybe she does mean well, Lucy,” Nola continues, “but all I ask is that you be careful. I know you miss her, and I know you want to reconnect—”

  Lucy scoffs. “Relax, Nola. After everything she’s done, I don’t miss her, okay? I don’t care about her anymore. But I’ll play along and see where this goes, okay? Now can we please stop talking about this?”

  She doesn’t mean that. She can’t possibly mean that. I’m still her godmother. I’m still the one who came back for her, the one who saved her. How could she…

  The skin on my face heats as though it’s on the verge of melting off and landing on the tiled floor at my feet. My hands become clammy and it feels as if my heart has climbed into my throat, where it sits, pumping.

  I want to cry, scream, and hide all at the same time.

  But I don’t make a sound.

  I stand still, unable to move. They continue to talk, but I can’t hear what they’re saying. It all sounds like words jumbled to create a meaningless language.

  Is this what heartbreak feels like?

  I haven’t felt anything for so long.

  I swallow hard. I won’t allow it. I won’t allow myself to be hurt—not by Lucy. Not by this little ungrateful bitch.

  I glance up and stare at the stone wall in front of me.

  I won’t allow myself to hurt.

  I clench my fists so hard my nails bend backward.

  CHAPTER 29 – LUCY

  Nola means well.

  I get that she’s trying to keep me safe, and honestly, after today, that’s a huge relief. To know that she’s on my side means everything to me. But, I don’t know. After seeing Eve act the way she did, it’s hard to think she’s up to no good. I know I keep flip-flopping, but I don’t know what to believe.

  What I do know, though, is that I want to see where this is going with Eve. She seemed genuine. I’d never admit that to Nola, though. I think part of her might be jealous. I mean, she’s been caring for me this entire time, and now, out of nowhere, Nola learns that Eve’s my godmother and wants me back in her life. So, I can understand how that would be threatening to a mother figure.

  I feel terrible for saying I don’t care about Eve. It’s not true. And it’s not like anyone but Nola heard it, but vocalizing it made me feel bad. I’ve always cared about her. That doesn’t go away, even if she’s done things to hurt me.

  “Okay, okay,” Nola says, and she raises both hands in front of her, causing her big golden bracelets to make a clinging noise. She’s always wearing jewelry. It looks cheap, but she seems to like it. I guess even though she isn’t trying to impress a man, she still likes to look good for her own self-worth. That’s how it should be, anyway.

  I wonder if I’ll ever meet a guy. Considering the life I’m living, I haven’t given it much thought. Now that Zack’s entered Eden, though, it’s got me thinking a bit. I don’t find him attractive, but being around him still does something to me. He’s the first guy I’ve seen in years, and I’m not a kid anymore. He makes me feel special. Maybe Eve will let other boys enter Eden, and then, who knows? Maybe one day I’ll find the man of my dreams.

  Mom always told me that when I met the right one, I would know. I’d feel it in my stomach, in my legs, in my arms… Everywhere. He’d make me weak and strong all at the same time. And he’d treat me like his queen.

  “Have you checked on Emily?” Nola asks, and my cheeks get hot.

  I didn’t mean to daydream about my future husband. That’s if marriage even exists by the time I’m an adult. Kind of hard to get married when there aren’t laws anymore.

  I shake these thoughts away and clear my throat. “Y-yeah, I did.”

  Nola knows me, and she knows something is up. She leans toward me with that motherly look on her face: a combination of seriousness and tenderness all at the same time, the kind of look that says, “Talk to me, kiddo, I’m here for you.”

  I shake my head. Not because I don’t want to talk, but because I’m scared that if I open my mouth, I’ll start crying. Nola knows that, too. She knows I hate getting emotional or even talking about my feelings. That’s why she let it go when I said I didn’t care about Eve. She knows I don’t want to talk about it.

  Instead of pulling me in for a hug, which would only make things worse, she gently smacks my thigh with an open palm and says, “Dr. Lewis is a great doctor. I’m sure she’ll fix her up fine.”

  Nola’s trying to cheer me up, and I want to smile but can’t. I also want to believe her, but if I did, I’d be delusional. Dr. Lewis has lost tons of patients. Those deaths weren’t her fault. She isn’t properly equipped, and we lost people.

  What if she isn’t prepared to handle Emily’s condition.

  Nola reaches for my chin and tickles the underneath with her long fingernails. “I wouldn’t worry too much, Lucy. Dr. Lewis doesn’t take risks with the young ones. She’ll use antibiotics.”

  I already know she is using them, but hearing it does make me feel a bit better. I roll my eyes up at Nola’s bright orange dress and at her shadowed face. “Can you check on her?” I ask.

  She parts her lips, but I cut in to add something else. “I don’t want Dr. Lewis to get annoyed with me. She told me to let her rest, but it’s been a few hours now, and I want to know that she’s okay. I can’t go in there again. Dr. Lewis will tell me—”

  Nola offers a consoling smile. “Say no more. I’ll check up on her.”

  All I want to do is hug Nola. I don’t know how I’m feeling. I’m sad, terrified, excited, and freak
ed out all at once. This whole thing with Eve has me all messed up. And then my best friend… I hate having so many feelings. So instead of hugging her and telling her how nice she’s been and how much I appreciate having her by my side in all of this… Instead of showing any of my emotions, I say, “Thanks, Nola.”

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  She seems nice.

  “I’m gonna count to three,” the doctor says. I stare at her curly brown hair and wonder if she has to put gel in it to keep it looking that way. It’s fuzzy-looking, and I want to touch it. It smells nice, too. Kind of like soap you used to find in shopping mall bathrooms. Only stronger and more clean-smelling. Like freshness mixed with mint and ice.

  I’m not describing it too well, but that’s what it smells like.

  “One,” she says, and I glance at Nola.

  She’s looking at me like I’m making her so proud. Her palms are flat together in front of her face, and her fingertips are touching the tip of her nose. I don’t get it. It’s just a vaccine. All the kids in Eden are getting it. So why does she care about me? There are tons of other kids out there who don’t have their moms.

  The doctor is about to say “Two,” but then she sticks the needle in. It’s a little pinch, and it does hurt, but I don’t make any noise. Mom always taught me that no one likes someone who whines or complains. That the best way to get through in life is to be positive and to focus on the good.

  Right now, there’s no good. I feel guilty for being so hateful, but I can’t help it. Everything makes me angry. In a peculiar way, I kind of enjoy the pain of the needle. At least I feel something other than hopeless and lost.

  Without Mom, that’s exactly what I am. I’m lost. And I don’t know who this Nola lady thinks she is, but she’ll never replace Mom. She can’t just walk into my life and think I need her to protect me. I don’t need protection.

  And even if she wants to try, it’s not like it matters. Tomorrow, a week from now, maybe a month from now, she’ll leave. She’ll get fed up and leave me to be alone again. That’s what always happens. First, I lost my mom, and now Aunty Eve has left. If I can’t even trust my own godmother, how can I trust some nurse lady?