Eden Box Set

by G. C. Julien

“What Archie means,” Charlie cuts in, “is that we have to take this seriously. An EMP stands for Electro Magnetic Pulse. Attacks such as these are destroying electronics around the world. Following America’s revolution, which everyone had eyes on, women around the world seem to have become inspired to create their own. Wait. What—what’s that?”

  What’s going on? I lean in toward the radio, my eyes wide and my back hunched.

  “Jesus Christ,” Charlie says. “R-reports… Reports are showing—I can’t believe this.”

  What are they seeing? Spit it out, already!

  Archie approaches the microphone and a bubbly rumble fills the air around the radio. “There you have it, gentlemen.” He sounds amused in a sick way. Cocky, even, like he knew this was going to happen. “France has gone dark.”

  I pull away and place a hand on my forehead. How… how is this possible? How is our war affecting other countries of the world? I knew that our gender imbalance wasn’t only affecting America, but this?

  Cash turns off the radio and bows his head. “I suggest you find someplace safe to stay. Nothin’s ever gon’ be the same again.”

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  “Well it looks pretty fuckin’ bad,” Dakota says. She looks like she wants to swing a fist at Freyda.

  I know that anger. That feeling of not giving a shit what happens to you, so long as you hurt the other guy. Mama would be ashamed of me if she knew the thoughts I’d had when I was on missions… The graphic images I fantasized about… ways I wanted to make some sick sons of bitches pay for the things they’d done to innocent families.

  So, I get it. This woman has a lot of anger inside, and now that she feels betrayed by the people who are supposed to be guiding this mission, she wants to hurt someone.

  “Gabriel’s ex-marine,” Freyda says. Her hands are back down now, resting on her waist.

  It almost looks like she’s decided that she’s running this shop, and the others will have to listen to what she has to say. I think her cop side is coming out. It suits her. I wonder if being Eve’s little follower caused her to lose this side of herself.

  “Great, that’s fuckin’—” Dakota starts, but Freyda sticks a finger in the air like she’s trying to cut the air with it.

  Her nostrils flare and she sucks in a loud breath. “You know what? We all have a past, Dakota. We’ve all done things we’re ashamed of. What happened five years ago was a shitshow caused by a few, and a lot of people suffered for it.

  “Yeah, the underground rebellions,” Jada says, rolling her eyes.

  I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Is Jada actually turning on everything that Eve stands for?

  Freyda clenches a fist. “I don’t agree with some of the things those underground groups did, but they also stood up for our rights. They’re the only ones who were willing to put up an actual fight. You think protesting at the White House would have gotten us anywhere? No, all that did was lead to riots and property damage until the feds started lashing back and hurting women.”

  I swallow hard. The heat’s on me now. I’m part of the so-called “feds.” I sense Dakota’s hateful eyes on me, but I don’t look at her. I don’t need to aggravate the situation.

  “No, the blame doesn’t fall on the underground feminists.” She’s closed her fist again, and her stiff finger moves from side to side, pointing at each of us, one at a time. “The blame falls on everyone. Men and women.”

  Dakota crosses her arms over her chest. She’s not responding, which is probably a good sign, but she isn’t happy about this, either.

  A heavy silence fills the camper as everyone thinks about what Freyda said. I’ve never heard her talk this much. It’s obvious that she has a lot to say but feels smothered for one reason or another. Maybe Eve’s rulership is too much, and it pushes her to the side. Eve doesn’t seem like the type of woman who wants to share the spotlight.

  Yael suddenly clears her throat, the most noise she’s made over the last few hours, and stands up. It looks like she’s about to say something, but then the strangest sound fills the air around us. It’s a deep rumbling, a growling, almost. It’s so loud that it overpowers the sound of the heavy rainfall. It sounds like it’s far away and moving toward us fast.

  I haven’t heard any noise bigger than myself, other than gunfire, in years.

  What the fuck is that?

  I brush past Freyda and run outside into the pouring rain.

  The other women follow, aside from Jada and Yael who stay inside with their heads poking out. Miller wipes a thick layer of water off her face and brushes her bangs up on top of her head so she can see better.

  That sound… I know that sound.

  It’s coming from the sky.

  I crane my neck and look up in time to see its huge shape fly overhead.

  Holy shit.

  It’s a fighter jet. There’s an actual plane flying in the fucking sky!

  It looks like one of the newest models, too. One of the drone crossovers. I know exactly where these models are held, and that’s Area 82. No one else has them.

  Yael and Jada come running out with smiles on their faces.

  “That’s a plane!” Jada shouts in the rain. “A real-life, flying mother-fucking plane!”

  I look at Freyda, who’s smiling from ear to ear.

  “Someone has technology back up and running!” she says.

  Everything feels so surreal. In any other circumstances, we would be terrified to know who’s flying this jet. But right now, after years without electricity, all that matters is that someone is flying a plane.

  We don’t care who it is. I don’t even care to think that someone’s in Area 82 because there’s something more important here. They already have technology back up and running, and that means something. Something huge.

  It’s a symbol of hope.

  I blink hard and stare up at the sky. “And I know where it’s headed.”

  Dakota uncrosses her arms for the first time and looks up at me. “All right, Gabriel. I’ll follow.”

  CHAPTER 31 – EVE

  They’re acting like they’ve been best friends for years. I’ve never even seen Nola talk to Betsy before. The woman likes to keep to herself. She is always out in the courtyards, plucking fresh apples and pears from the trees for the children. But she doesn’t talk to anyone—at least not to say anything other than, “Would you like an apple, dear?”

  Her large ears and scraggly gray hair, which always sticks to the sides of her face, make her look like a mouse. She also has severe seasonal and environmental allergies, which doesn’t help her look—her small pointed nose turns a bright pink nearly every day.

  Perhaps I should have stayed in my room. The sight of Nola right now is making me want to punch a hole in the wall. I thought after a few hours of solitude, I would have calmed down by now, but as I watch them make energetic gestures in the air and talk about what I’m sure are trivial things, I can’t help but hate her.

  How dare she turn Lucy against me? Things were finally turning around. I could see it on Lucy’s face—there was a curiosity in her eyes; there was a desire to want to have me in her life.

  And what is Nola doing up so late? The children were all sent to bed after I allowed them to stay up past their curfew.

  Nola lets out a soft laugh that sounds strained and takes a step away from Betsy. But Betsy takes a step with her and keeps talking. She’s grinning and looks excited about something. I wonder if this has to do with leaving Eden. I’ve seen a change in some women ever since we held our meeting.

  While some women are resistant to the idea of change, the possibility of an entirely new life must be exciting for others.

  Betsy throws her arms in the air like she just performed a circus act and lets out a giggle. Nola laughs again, and this time, it’s quite obvious that she’s trying to get away.

  I smile, my face pressed against the doorframe of my room, my eye hovering behind the small door crack.

  Nola
nods and takes a step back, but Betsy starts rambling again. What is Nola doing here, anyway? Why is she in the main corridor? The only reason anyone would come down this way is for supplies, to see me, or to visit the Medical Unit. She certainly wasn’t on her way to see me.

  I pull away from the doorframe. If I keep looking at her any longer, I don’t know what I might do.

  Fucking traitor.

  I clench my fists, a familiar rage building inside me.

  Lucy is mine.

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  “It’s mine!” cries a young girl.

  She looks to be no older than four years old. I don’t know her name, nor her mother’s, but their faces are familiar to me. I must have seen them in the crowd of women as we migrated.

  The little girl tugs on what appears to be an old teddy bear. One of its eyes are missing and its ear has been ripped off.

  Another young girl claws the air with tears streaming down her face. “No, it’s mine!”

  “Girls,” the mother says, obviously trying to stop her daughters from making a scene.

  It’s too late. Several other children are staring wide-eyed and a few of the adults, who are trying to make their cells a comfortable living space, keep giving the mother strange looks. Everyone is exhausted, and surely, the last thing they want to listen to are two young girls screaming.

  “Are you okay here?” I ask Lucy, eyeing her through her new room’s iron bars.

  She nods but doesn’t look up at me. She’s probably still upset about what I told her in private—that I did not want her telling others she’s my godchild.

  I want to console her, but at the same time, I’m too irritated to bother, both by her and by the screaming children. I’m not her mother, and she can’t possibly expect me to take over Ophelia’s place. That’s not my job. I don’t have the time or energy to offer any child love.

  Not now.

  Haven’t I done enough? I brought her to safety. She should be grateful. Instead, she sits there, pouting.

  I roll my eyes when she isn’t looking and focus my attention on the little girls. The mother is now trying to tear the teddy bear out of the first girl’s hands, but the little girl squeezes it tight against her chest and gives her mother a hateful stare with giant brown eyes.

  Her sister, who looks even younger than her, starts screaming.

  I walk toward the mother and her girls, my new heels ticking against the hard floor. As soon as the girls hear me approaching, their cries subside, and they turn around to look at me.

  “Now, now, girls,” I say.

  They almost seem afraid of me. Perhaps they’re not accustomed to being disciplined by anyone other than their mother—and she isn’t doing a very good job, either.

  I kneel on one knee and stare at the older sister—the one who’s holding on to her teddy bear for dear life.

  “What’s your name?” I ask.

  She sniffles and blinks hard. “L-L-Lilly.”

  I force a smile and turn to the younger one. “And what’s yours?”

  She just stares at me, probably too young to understand what I’m saying.

  “Her name’s Bailey,” Lilly says.

  “Lilly and Bailey,” I say, my smile never fading.

  The corridor has gone silent, and I feel several eyes on me.

  “May I see this?” I ask, pointing at Lilly’s teddy bear.

  She looks up at her mom, visibly confused about what’s going on. She nods slowly, hesitates, then gives me her cherished toy.

  “Where’s this little guy from?” I ask.

  “Daddy gave it to me,” she says.

  I clench my teeth. Why would they miss their father? After everything—

  They don’t know any better. They’re too young to understand.

  I take a deep breath, careful not to let my anger show. I turn my head sideways to see the mother, but she tightens her lips and turns away, sobbing.

  “Who did your daddy give this to?” I ask, eyeing them both carefully.

  Lilly looks at her feet but doesn’t say anything.

  “Lilly, sweetheart, please look at me when I speak to you,” I say.

  Her big eyes roll up at me and her bottom lip trembles. “Bailey.”

  I give Bailey the teddy bear without hesitation. “It’s important to share, girls, but it’s also important that you learn to respect the belongings of others.”

  Both of their little jaws drop. They have no clue what I’m trying to teach them.

  “One day,” I say softly, “you’ll realize that it’s important to think of other people’s feelings.”

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  I stare at the wall, listening to Nola and Betsy’s bickering until finally, their footsteps begin to fade into the main hall.

  A heavy silence fills my room and I find myself standing still, staring into nothingness. There are so many thoughts rushing through my mind, yet, I can’t seem to focus on a single one. What am I supposed to do about Lucy? All I want is to have her back in my life.

  She’s mine.

  I turn and catch a glimpse of my stiff figure in my mirror’s reflection. I look pale today—paler than usual, with puffy bags under my eyes. I haven’t been sleeping well at all. My lips are beige, white, almost, and they’ve begun to crack.

  What am I doing to myself?

  What have I become?

  What you need to be, Eve. What these women need you to be.

  I shift my body until I am facing the mirror and tug on my overcoat to straighten my attire. I raise my chin and stare at the woman before me.

  Fucking bitch.

  This isn’t Lucy’s fault. She’s been brainwashed.

  No, she hasn’t.

  She hates you.

  She fucking hates you.

  I scowl at my own reflection.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say aloud.

  I’m torn between anger and love, desire and heartbreak. Did she mean what she said? Does she no longer care about me? Why else would she have said it?

  God, I miss Freyda.

  Love is a weakness.

  I squeeze my fists until two of my fingers pop, pull my shoulders back, and gaze at myself—Eden’s leader. I’ve come so far and changed so many lives.

  How could I possibly allow one little bitch to get in the way of that? Love and happiness are blinding me. Perhaps this sort of life was never intended for me.

  What matters most of all is Eden, and no one will ever get in the way of that.

  CHAPTER 32 – LUCY

  “Lucy, sweetheart, what’re you doing up so late?” Nola hisses, moving toward me like a cat on the hunt.

  I point an accusatory finger at her. “What’re you doing up so late? Why didn’t you come see me? What is it, Nola? Is she dead? Is that it? Just tell me!”

  “Whoa, love,” she says, and wraps two firm hands around my shaking shoulders. She brushes my hair out of my face and smiles at me. “Emily’s doing just fine—great, actually. Dr. Lewis says there’s improvement. That it’s almost miraculous.”

  I sigh, all of the oxygen in my body pouring out into one breath.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t get back sooner,” Nola says, rolling her eyes but then looking around to make sure no one saw her do it. “She means well, but she’s so chatty.” I have no idea who she’s talking about. “Anywho, my dear Lucy. Where do you think you’re going? The girls have already been sent to bed.”

  “I was coming to find you,” I say. Although I’m not lying, I’m not being entirely honest, either. I also wanted to talk to Eve. I can’t stop feeling guilty for the way I talked about her, even though she wasn’t around. That’s like if someone called my mom stupid. It’s like the time I got mad at Mom for taking my H-Cap away from me. I was young, but I remember storming off to my room and calling her a “poopy-fart-face.” Looking back, that’s pretty funny. At the time, though, I was so angry, and I hated her at that moment. But after my anger went awa
y, I felt so guilty that I told her what I’d said. I needed her forgiveness, even though she hadn’t heard me.

  I don’t like talking about people behind their backs, especially when I’m saying how much I don’t care about that person. It’s not true at all, and I need to get it off my chest in some way. So, that’s why I’m going to talk to Eve. To make myself feel better.

  “Well, I’m here,” she says. She starts shooing me with her hands like I’m a toddler. “Let’s hurry along now.”

  I look over her shoulder, then back at the main hall. Everything is dim and cool, and the only sounds to be heard are faint whispers coming from each Division as mothers try to put their girls to sleep. I wonder where Zack ended up and if they’re treating him like a real prisoner. I bet some of the mothers feel the need to watch their girls.

  Nola angles her head from side to side like she’s trying to land her face in my focus. “Hellooo?”

  I force a laugh that could barely even be called a laugh. “Sorry, Nola. Um, listen, I’ll meet you there, okay?”

  She draws back and glowers at me. “What’s going on with you?”

  “What? Nothing. I need to use the washroom.”

  Her lips turn into one flat line. She’s not buying it. “There’s a washroom in your Division.”

  “Yeah, but it’s at the far back,” I say, surprised by my quick thinking, “and the mothers are trying to put the girls to sleep.”

  She relaxes her lips and gives me a slow nod. “Don’t take too long.”

  I smile at her and walk away, but when I realize she isn’t budging, I turn back around. “Hey, Nola?”

  She stares at me.

  “Thanks for checking on Emily for me…”

  She gives me a warm smile. “You’re welcome, love.”

  And with that, she turns away and starts ticking her way down toward our Division.

  I turn on my heels and rush down the main hall, then right, down the narrow hallway that leads to Eve’s office and bedroom. Will she even be awake? I imagine Eve sleeps lightly. I’m sure she’ll be up. My heart is pounding so hard I hear it in my ears. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a bit scared of Eve. She’s so unpredictable I honestly don’t know what to expect. She’s turned into something, or someone, completely different over these last few years.