Eden Box Set

by G. C. Julien

  “Not everyone,” Jada says. “Think about it—we use guys to include both men and women, but God forbid we say women or girls to incorporate the two genders… Holy shit. Men would freak.”

  “Two genders?” Freyda says. “If you guys want to start pointing fingers, I can take this argument to a whole new level.”

  Dakota slaps her forehead.

  No one else says anything, so I take this as my cue to get out of there before the argument gets heated. As I walk away from them, I can’t help but think if I’d said ladies, would Dakota have gotten upset about that, too? I don’t understand why everyone’s so uptight about everything. Maybe it’s hatred. Maybe the world did this to us… Everyone’s so angry that it comes out on other people. Or, maybe all of the injustices have led to this.

  If I had the power to create a new world and new personalities, I’d make it so that people reacted based on someone else’s intention. That way, if someone had a good intention, you wouldn’t pick apart their words to make them feel like shit. You wouldn’t sit there and assume they meant something awful. You’d feel their intention. The truth is we don’t always mean what we say, how we say it. And we also say things based on our own personal experiences in this life.

  And this whole gender and sexuality debate? How about we all live the way we want, how we want, without being judged or having fingers pointed at us? Why do people have the need to put others in boxes and then judge their boxes?

  It’s what’s inside that matters.

  Words are only words, and so are labels. In the end, I think we all want the same thing: love.

  No decent human being deserves to be treated like shit for who they are on the inside or the outside.

  No one.

  Is that so fucking hard?

  I realize I’ve totally gone off in my own head again. Out of nowhere, I’m standing at the front gates of the chain-link fencing. A huge locking mechanism protects the latch, and it looks electronic. I’m sure it’s hardwired to the inside of the Dome, so I wouldn’t be able to unlock it if I wanted to.

  But I don’t even have time to think about how I might be able to get around it. All of a sudden, something loud clicks, and I’m blinded by a dozen floodlights pointing down at me.

  CHAPTER 3 – LUCY

  Emily looks much better than she did two weeks ago, especially now that she isn’t confined to her hospital bed. But I can tell she still isn’t feeling like her usual self. She sits with slouched shoulders and eyes looking empty of all life.

  “You okay?” I ask.

  She turns to me with the weight of her body on one hand, causing her bed to make a creaking noise. Pulling her legs up and pressing them against her chest, she drops her chin on her knees and gives me a shrug. It’s the kind of shrug that says, No, I’m not okay, but I have no reason to complain.

  I cringe when she turns her head to the side and lets out a loud barking cough.

  I hate that sound.

  Every time she coughs, I’m reminded of sick Emily—Emily that only a few days ago lay helpless in the Medical Unit in Dr. Lewis’s care. She couldn’t have asked for a better doctor, though. Dr. Lewis is the only reason she’s alive.

  I feel bad for Emily. Recovering from pneumonia is hard enough, but she’s also been so down lately. It’s not like her. For the most part, Emily is all smiles and ready for some next big adventure. I guess the sickness is getting her down, too.

  Either that, or it’s the weather.

  It’s been pretty cold out and the sun hasn’t been around much. I gaze past her feathery, braided hair that looks like it hasn’t been touched in two weeks and up through the Plexiglas of her cell window. It’s snowing outside, but that’s not what I’m looking at.

  The iron bars are caked with dust and cobwebs. She can’t even blame her bad cleaning habits on the pneumonia. Her room is never clean, and it’s rare that she brings her bedding out to Mrs. Appleton for cleaning.

  Maybe Eve’s OCD rubbed off on me when I was young. My room is pretty much always meticulously clean. I grind my teeth at the thought of Eve. I don’t hate her, but it’s clearer than ever now that she can’t be trusted.

  She’s lost her mind.

  Emily lets out another loud bark and I flinch at the sound.

  “Sorry,” she mumbles, wiping saliva from the corner of her mouth.

  I lean away from her and wipe my hands on my knees as if this will somehow protect me from catching her germs. “You sure you aren’t contagious?”

  She shakes her head. “Dr. Lewis said I was past the cont—” Another hoarse cough comes blasting out of her lungs. “Sorry. She said I wasn’t contagious anymore. She also said I should expect a bit of anger from some people in Eden in the coming weeks.”

  I almost laugh, but I realize this isn’t a joke. How on Earth could anyone be angry at sweet little Emily? It’s not like she asked to be sick, and it isn’t her fault the bug’s been spreading in Eden. No one knows where it started.

  “This isn’t your fault,” I say. I want to place a comforting hand on her back, but I don’t want to touch her. I’m being paranoid, but in Eden, without proper medical care, everyone is better safe than sorry.

  She shakes her head and forces a smile. “It’s not about sharing my germs. It’s about the antibiotics Dr. Lewis gave me.”

  “That was Dr. Lewis’s decision,” I say, “not yours.”

  She doesn’t seem convinced, and I don’t blame her. Dr. Lewis has time and time again refused to treat women with antibiotics because of our limited supply, resulting in countless deaths. But she has a pretty strict rule when it comes to treating with antibiotics. She doesn’t give antibiotics to anyone over 18. A lot of mothers are quick to defend Dr. Lewis’s decision, but a lot of others aren’t. They say things like, “Many young women’s lives could have been spared if she’d only given them the right medication.” They’re probably referring to their daughters aged nineteen, twenty, and twenty-one.

  I’m not sure how many pills Dr. Lewis has left, but it isn’t much. When I was visiting Emily, she showed me bottles that were expired and said they were useful up to a decade after that date. That’s how desperate Eden is right now. We’re using expired antibiotics. I can’t help but wonder what’s going to happen when we have none at all.

  Emily lets out a bubbly sigh. “So? What’ve I missed over the last few days? Did you hear anything?” She smirks at me, looking like complete crap with her bright red nose and sunken eyes. “Any big secrets I should know about?”

  Suddenly, the image of Eve flashes in my mind, her posture hunched in front of the mirror. She’s shouting at herself, looking possessed by some demonic force.

  Blinking these thoughts away, I swallow hard and keep my mouth shut. They aren’t thoughts I want to share with Emily or with anyone for that matter. Eve is still the leader of Eden, and if I start accusing her of being crazy, everyone is going to turn on me. Or, if they believe me, I’ll start a war inside Eden. Either way, the outcome isn’t good. Especially not now… Especially not when everything is about to change.

  “What is it?” Emily blurts. She inches closer to me, her eyes wide and her runny nose bright-looking like a cherry tomato. “You know something.”

  Quickly glancing in front of her cell, I ensure no one’s lurking nearby. The kids are assumedly in class right now since the corridor of Division Five is quiet. I saw Mrs. Greensmith take a few students outside earlier, but it wasn’t long before she came back in. It must be cold.

  I turn my attention back to Emily’s crusted brown eyes and clear my throat. “We’re leaving Eden.”

  Her jaw drops wide open and she leans in even closer, almost like she’ll understand better if my voice carries inside her mouth. Her perfectly aligned bottom teeth are shiny with saliva.

  “When?” she asks. “Where? How do you know this?”

  “I overheard it,” I say, smirking.

  Emily is the only reason I even have this information. She brought me to the st
orage space connected to the Theater Room. That’s where I overheard it, and she knows it.

  Her lips stretch into a childish grin and she points at me. “You went spying on your own!”

  “Keep your voice down,” I hiss. “The adults all know about it, but the kids don’t know yet.”

  “Well that’s dumb,” she says. “What’s the big secret?”

  I shrug. “Too much excitement, maybe. Eve wants everyone to stay calm.”

  Emily rubs her chin but turns away fast and starts hacking into her elbow. The coughing becomes so out of control that she can’t even get a word out. Instead, she raises a finger in the air—the kind that says, Give me a second—all the while turning beet red in the face.

  “You okay?” I ask.

  But she can’t answer. She coughs a few more times until the sound of phlegm loosening vibrates from her chest. She grimaces up at me with a sour taste on her face, and I do the same.

  “Sorry,” she mumbles, then spits a glob of mucus into a ceramic bowl by her bed.

  “All I know,” I continue, trying not to look at the ceramic bowl,” is that Gabriel, that man who was in Eden, is taking Freyda and a few others to some new place. I think they’re going to see if it’s suitable for us, and then they’ll come back to take us all there.”

  “Well I don’t know how they expect to migrate hundreds of people with winter approaching,” she says. “You honestly think everyone in Eden is able to walk that long? I mean, it doesn’t—”

  “You can’t do this!” comes a panicked shriek.

  I glance at Emily, then back toward where the sound came from. What’s going on?

  She jolts into an upright position. “It came from the main hall.”

  “Let go of me!” the grating voice continues.

  Then, countless other voices start talking over one.

  Emily and I run down the corridor of Division Five to find the main hall filled with women swarmed at the center like seagulls around a piece of bread. I can’t see what’s going on with all the bodies pressed against one another, but every few seconds, someone shouts something.

  “This is for the safety of our children!”

  “You have no right to lock me up—”

  “Enough!”

  Everyone immediately goes quiet, and from Eden’s main entrance comes Eve, her pantsuit looking whiter than freshly fallen snow. Her heels tick loudly as she moves forward, the sound bouncing off every inch of the main hall’s walls.

  “Eve, please,” the woman begs.

  What’s wrong with her? She looks like death. Is she sick? Her skin has a yellow tint, and her black bangs form a flat line over her sunken angular eyes. She stares at Eve as if her life depends on it.

  What’s going on?

  Eve stops walking when the woman starts coughing, and at the same time, dozens of other women step away from her with their hands over their mouths and noses. The two women who are holding the sick one wear masks over their faces—medical masks, likely something Dr. Lewis would have given them—and medical gloves, too.

  Eve flicks a finger in the air, and without any emotion at all, says, “Bring her to M-4. The room is empty.”

  The woman starts kicking the air and shouting things like, “You have no right! I’m not a prisoner!”

  As she’s dragged across the hall, women part ways, creating a path like the ocean split by Moses. Why is she so upset? She’s sick. She shouldn’t be around other people. It’s so selfish of her to be arguing it. I watch Eve as she stares at the woman, looking completely disgusted with her wrinkled chin and pouting lips.

  For the first time, I don’t see her as a monster. I don’t see her as Eden’s dictator who forces women to do things they don’t want. She’s doing the right thing by locking that woman up.

  Maybe that’s what Mavis was going on about. She’d said that anything Eve did, no matter how drastic, was for Eden’s well-being. In the end, regardless of her methods, all she wanted was to keep her women safe.

  But then, I think back to the other night when I saw her in her room talking to herself. She’s lost her mind. Right now, she may be doing the right thing, but within a matter of seconds, she could be doing something totally dangerous.

  She catches me looking at her and I swallow hard. She doesn’t smile or wave at me. Instead, she stares at me as if I were nothing more than a fixture on a wall. It’s like she’s empty again when only a few days ago, she was full of life and joy.

  That’s what scares me.

  She flips between two personalities, and I never know which one she has until she looks at me. When Aunty Eve came out the other day, she looked at me as if I were her most cherished possession. Now, she’s looking at me like I’m as useless as a broken plate.

  She raises her chin a little, her eyes never leaving mine, and the sides of her jaw pop out. Is she angry with me? Resentful? When I caught her talking to herself, she was angry with Nola.

  I haven’t had the guts to say anything to Nola. I’m afraid she’ll think I’m making it up. But I have to warn her. She needs to know her life could be in danger.

  I swallow hard, and though I want to look away, I can’t. It’s as if I’m searching for something, anything, to let me know that Aunty Eve is hidden in there somewhere. Even if she’s too deep to see right now, I need to know she’s there.

  But I can’t find Aunty Eve in there.

  In fact, I can’t even find Eve, either.

  CHAPTER 4 – EVE

  Why is she staring at me in such a way?

  It’s as if she knows something I don’t. Did she truly mean what she said when she spoke to Nola about me behind my back? When she confessed to not caring about me at all?

  Fucking little bitch.

  My eyes begin to water, and I can’t determine whether it’s coming from a place of anger, hatred, or heartbreak.

  My sweet Lucy. How could you possibly believe a stranger over me? I wish I could ask her—speak to her directly, but all I can do is look at her. It’s apparent she’s become uncomfortable with the duration of my stare, so I turn on my heels and begin walking back toward my room.

  “Eve, Eve!” someone shouts.

  Rapid footsteps scurry behind me, and I’m like a mother being harassed by her children. Is it too much to ask to be left alone? Left to fall into a pit of darkness, haunted by thoughts of Freyda and Lucy? Haunted by feelings of loneliness?

  Clenching my fists, my fingernails digging into my palms, I turn around. Mrs. Lavish, one of Eden’s best Cooks, limps toward me with a contorted body.

  “Eve,” she repeats as if I’m still walking and she’s unable to catch up.

  Is she here to complain about the group of survivors outside of Eden’s walls? I haven’t changed my mind, nor will I. Eden is under enough stress as it is—I can’t allow an external threat inside my walls.

  “Eve?”

  I nearly snap and say, What do you want? but instead, I hold it inside.

  Mrs. Lavish is a gentle soul; she reminds me of a small neighborhood’s elderly woman, the kind who cares for several cats, even those that aren’t her own—the kind of woman who never has any visitors and to compensate, strolls across her front lawn several times a day, pretending to call out to her felines so she can socialize with a passing neighbor. Mrs. Lavish enjoys socializing so much that some women will go out of their way to avoid her if they’re not in a talkative mood.

  “What is it?” I say through gritted teeth.

  The poor woman is already out of breath. “Contamination,” she breathes. “We… We need to decontaminate. I can’t be cooking food like this, Eve.” She then hesitates, as if only now realizing how much I despise being talked to in such a manner. We are not buddies, nor are we friends. She clears her throat. “I-I’m sure you already have this under control.” She bows her head so low it looks like she’s about to tip over and fall flat on her face. “Please let me know if I can be of any help.”

  I give her a brief nod, one that say
s, Thank you and goodbye.

  Although I’m in no mood to take charge right now, that’s precisely what these women need. I can still hear them bickering in the main hall, saying things like, “Maybe you ought to be locked up with Eun-ji!”

  And, “Don’t even start. I heard you coughing last night!”

  “I have allergies!”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose and inhale a long breath, my chest expanding so much so that my back cracks. I feel like I’m surrounded by children all the time—assigned the task of managing a daycare without any form of monetary compensation.

  These women are mothers, grandmothers, even.

  Is it so hard to be an adult? I’m younger than most of them, yet I still seem to be the only one maintaining order around here. I turn on my heels and return to where I stood only moments ago, my gaze fixated on the crowd of frantic women before me. At that moment, they resemble nothing more than a pack of uncivilized chimpanzees, poking and prodding at each other and shouting accusations behind pointed fingers.

  “Ladies, ladies,” I say, forcing charming Eve to come out.

  Right now, it’s harder than ever; forcing the muscles of my face to contort into a meaningless smile feels worse than a full day of physical labor. But I have to do it—I need these women to continue to see me as their loving and sympathetic leader.

  “I understand how scary this is right now,” I say. “No one is being imprisoned, so please don’t view it this way.”

  “Isn’t being locked up the same thing?” one woman shouts.

  I only see the redness of her hairline for a brief moment before the women around her nudge her in the ribs, and she cowers behind them.

  “You women are highly intelligent,” I say, squinting my eyes in a loving way. “That’s the reason you’re all here. You understand what it means to survive, which means you understand why we are using the isolation units to contain the virus. Let me remind you what happened the first year we came here.” Women lower their heads and others break eye contact. They remember, but I need to voice it. “How many women died? Children, even? All because illness spread around Eden within a matter of days. We have been lucky these last few years, suffering from nothing more than common colds and gastro.” Women cling onto their daughters as if the words themselves are contagious. “A virus has returned, and this time, it isn’t as forgiving. It’s aggressive, and it’s spreading quickly. One child almost died last week, and two women, as we speak, are in Dr. Lewis’s care.”