Eden Box Set

by G. C. Julien

  The man bites his bottom lip and glances up at the mothers, probably wondering if he made a mistake by offering.

  “Shhh,” a few women say.

  “You have to be quiet. The puppy doesn’t like loud noises.”

  “Leeanne, sit down, honey.”

  “Mushi—” And the woman points toward the ground—an obvious translation of Sit down, or else.

  Quickly, the room returns to the way it was, and the man slowly kneels to release the puppy onto the floor. At first, she squirms and shoves her face further into his neck, but he pries her away and places her gently onto her four legs.

  She seems uncertain; her tail wags but then disappears between her two small thighs. The man lets a few kids pet her head but then scoops her up.

  It’s too much for her to handle.

  “All right, everyone,” comes the army woman’s voice. I say army woman because she’s the only woman wearing a military outfit. And by the way she’s talking, it’s clear she’s in charge. “Gather around over here, and let’s make our way to the aircraft.”

  Whispers break out, some panicked, others excited. I catch a glimpse of ditsy Malory, who keeps flirtatiously pulling at her flowing hair and combing it over one shoulder. She keeps looking at the youngest soldier standing against the wall.

  He looks back and smirks but doesn’t maintain eye contact. He’s either shy, or he was trained not to allow lust to get in the way of his work. Malory picks up a small purse, then shoves it into her tomboy friend’s arms without looking away from the young soldier.

  Malory will always be Malory, even in a world like this.

  “You ready?” I ask Emily.

  She nods, though it looks like she’d rather be sleeping.

  “Are you feeling any better?” I ask. I don’t mean to come across as rude—I want the old Emily back. Sick Emily is lethargic, depressed, and unenthused. It’s not her fault, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a bit of a downer.

  Still staring at the floor, she shrugs. “I think so.”

  “Well, like I said, they have advanced medicine at the new place. So they should be able to get you back to normal in no time.”

  She tries to smile, then picks up her bag and pulls it over one shoulder.

  “Here,” I say, pulling it out of her hands. “I’ll take it.”

  “I’m sorry,” she says.

  I stare at her. What’s she sorry about?

  “For being like this,” she adds.

  “It’s not your fault—”

  “My mom got the Lazarus virus when I was little,” she says.

  I don’t say anything—I know what she’s talking about, and I can’t even begin to imagine how hard that must have been. Millions of people died from the Lazarus virus and it got all the conspiracy theorists worked up. I remember Mom talking about how the government had released a virus to try to control the gender ratio. She explained to me that women were being way more affected than men—thousands were dying, while men spent a few days in bed with flu-like symptoms. How was it that a virus could target one sex over the other? Although it made absolutely no sense to me, it didn’t change the fact that it was happening.

  “I don’t remember much of it,” Emily continues, “but I remember seeing how my dad took care of everything. He cooked, cleaned, ran errands. He was always gone doing everything for us. He even worked double shifts to get us by.” She looks up at me and swallows hard. “And despite all of that, he’d still tuck me in at night, read me a bedtime story, and lie down with me until I fell asleep.”

  She tugs at her fingers. How do I respond to something like that?

  “She miraculously survived,” she says, “but I saw what it did to my dad. I’d never want to make someone my caregiver.”

  I part my lips to say something, but she reaches for her bag around my shoulder and pulls it off. “I can take this, thank you, though.”

  As she walks away, I watch the back of her wild hair, the result of lying flat on a pillow for over a week, and wonder how often she thinks about her dad. I think about Mom every single day, and although I don’t talk about it, it eats me up inside. I want her here with me. It’s not fair that I’m alive and breathing while she’s… gone.

  Clearing my throat, I follow Emily. No way am I allowing myself to get all emotional around so many people.

  * * * * * *

  “So you’re an orphan too?” comes a mousey voice.

  I turn sideways, my eyes most likely red and swollen. A luminous fluorescent light makes it hard to look at her and it’s killing my head. I’ve been crying so long I think my head’s going to explode.

  And what’s she talking about? An orphan? I’m not an orphan. I have Mom and I have Aunty Eve.

  She looks the same age as me. Eight or nine. She looks sick, though. Kind of like she’s been sitting in this basement, or warehouse, for months. Her skin is so pale it looks blue a bit. And those veins… They’re popping out beside her eyes and on her forehead like they’re going to rip through her skin any second. Maybe she’s been crying for days, too.

  “I’m not an orphan,” I say.

  She looks at me funny, and so do a few other girls and boys in the room. They’re staring at me like I just told them I have superpowers. Like I’m not one of them.

  “Everyone here’s an orphan,” the girl says. She looks around, and little heads nod up and down.

  “What’re you talking about?” I ask. “My mom’s coming back for me.”

  I’m trying not to get mad, but it’s hard not to. I’m scared. Mom will come back, right? There’s no way she left me here forever. Why would she do that? Is this about all the fighting? Did Mom decide to go fight with Aunty Eve? She wouldn’t. She has me. Aren’t I the most important thing to her?

  “Now, now, girls and boys,” comes Clarissa’s voice. She’s the nicest adult I’ve ever met, aside from Mom and Aunty Eve. She keeps telling us we’re hiding out until everything is safe, and then we’ll get to come out of hiding. She’s also the only adult in here, so we sort of have to listen to her. “We talked about that word.”

  That word.

  She’s talking about the word orphan. Bella, the oldest kid here, is the reason all of this started. She’s the one who told all of us that the sole reason we’re here is that our parents abandoned us. And kids whose parents abandon them are called orphans.

  “But Miss Clarissa,” says the girl beside me.

  “Ming,” Clarissa says, sounding more serious than usual.

  Ming, I guess is her name, bows her head and pouts with her arms crossed like the little kids do when teachers get mad at them.

  I turn away and drop myself down into my bed of old clothes and blankets. Then, the crying starts again. I hate this. I’ve never been the kind of kid who cries in front of other kids. But ever since Mom left me here, that’s all I can do.

  I wish I could push a button and make all of this stop.

  * * * * * *

  Why are they crying? Shouldn’t they be happy? A handful of women are hugging each other, crying. It looks like they’re saying goodbye. Are some of them staying behind?

  “Come on,” someone says, and I’m pushed forward.

  Everyone’s rushing to get to the aircraft. This is all happening so fast. I can’t believe that in a few minutes, we’re going to be up in the air, flying away from here.

  When I step outside, it’s hard to believe what I’m looking at. The plane is huge. I mean… huge. I’ve never been on a plane before, and now that I’m about to climb onto one, I’m sick to my stomach.

  What if it crashes? Oh God.

  “Are you okay?” Emily asks.

  Without looking at her, I nod, still staring at the plane. Women are going up the ramp, dragging bags behind them. Some are excited, waving their arms over their heads and talking loudly, while others keep quiet and follow the lineup.

  “You don’t look so good,” Emily says.

  I turn to her. “I-I’m fine. I just�
� I’ve never been on a plane before.”

  She smiles at me for the first time in a long time. Does she find it funny that I’m scared? I’m never scared. At least, I don’t show that I am. The last time I showed any kind of vulnerability, I was told I was an orphan. Some days, I wonder if all of my crying is the reason Mom died. If I somehow made it happen. It’s completely irrational, but I need to put the blame somewhere.

  That’s why now, I don’t let people know how I’m feeling.

  “It’s not that bad,” she says. A bit of color returns to her cheeks. She’s obviously excited to tell me about her experience on a plane. “At first, it’s freaky, because, well… It’s really loud. But then you get used to it, and it’s kind of exciting. Especially once it’s high up in the air.”

  I swallow hard. How high does this thing go?

  “I’ve only been on a plane once,” she admits, “but it was awesome. We took one to go visit my grandma when my dad said she didn’t have much longer to live. Before we took off, my dad explained to me that flying is kind of like being on a boat. And I’d gone on a boat that summer when he took a day off from work to bring me on a local cruise. So when he compared the bumps in the air to waves, I understood. It was pretty bumpy, but after a while, it was like being on a ride at an amusement park. So… that’s what it’ll feel like.”

  I stare at her.

  “Like waves,” she repeats.

  I stop walking, and someone bumps into me.

  Emily clears her throat, drops her bag, and starts making gestures in front of her. She raises two hands pressed firmly together to replicate a plane.

  “It’ll be bumpy, like this,” she says, moving her hands up and down.

  Is this supposed to reassure me? It doesn’t. If anything, it’s stressing me out even more.

  “You’re telling me that huge thing”—I point at the plane—“is going to be moving up and down in the air?”

  “It’s called turbulence,” comes an adult’s voice, and I jump, startled by the way he’s hovering over my shoulder.

  I swing around. It’s a man in a weird black suit and a gun strapped to his back. With two hands planted on his waist, he smiles down at us as. At first, I’m a bit intimidated by how tall he is and by the black beard on his face, but he seems nice. And surely, he knows much more about planes than we. I’m hoping he can explain to me what turbulence is… better than Emily, who’s making my anxiety way worse.

  “Turbulence only affects passenger aircraft,” he says, his voice deep and grumbly. “This thing’s way too fancy for turbulence.”

  When we don’t say anything, he adds, “There are a lot of causes for turbulence… Wind, storms, hot air rising from the ground. Like your friend here says, it’s like waves in the ocean. One moment things can be smooth, and the next, you’re bouncing in your seat. It’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s perfectly normal. In fact, you should count yourselves lucky that you’re about to board a Falcon—” He sticks a thick thumb out at the massive aircraft ahead of us. “This thing has hundreds of equilibrating functionalities that reduce the effects of turbulence. In other words, you don’t feel it as much.”

  It’s making a bit more sense to me.

  “My dad told me that planes used to be a lot softer in the air,” Emily says. “Is that true?”

  “Your dad’s right,” the man says. “If you read up on the history of flying, you’ll hear the year 2031 mentioned a lot. That’s when climate change finally caused turbulence to become so severe that people didn’t want to fly anymore and the air transportation industry lost billions of dollars. That’s also when they started developing technology to reduce the impact of turbulence. I’m not a pilot or an aircraft engineer, so I can’t explain it to you, but all I can tell you is that you’ll be perfectly safe and it’ll be so smooth, chances are you’ll fall asleep.”

  When we don’t say anything, he jerks his head sideways, his beard brushing against the collar of his shirt. “So, you coming, or what?”

  CHAPTER 13 – EVE

  I dig my fingernail into the chair’s armrest, creating grooves in the gray leather. Women bicker around me, an annoying hum like insects buzzing around a camper in a humid forest.

  They appear excited—full of vibrancy and enthusiasm. So much so, in fact, that I don’t recognize half of these women. Their smiles stretch the skin of their faces, and their eyes light up with so much excitement that for a moment, I’m reminded of my Devil’s tea.

  Only now, these women are not high. They’re not under any spell other than that of this new place. They speak of it as if it’s paradise—as if it’s the holy land they’ve spent the last five years waiting for.

  That was supposed to be Eden. Why did they not feel this much excitement in Eden? I claw down again, this time, causing a small piece of leather to tear out and fall to the matching gray floor.

  This was your idea, Eve.

  You wanted new land.

  I didn’t want new territory ruled by someone else. We aren’t traveling to new grounds to build a new society for ourselves—we’re entering a preexisting society of people who have most likely spent the last five years living far more comfortably than us.

  How will my women ever forgive me for this? They will blame me for their suffering. Who will I be if I don’t have them? If I don’t have Eden? Eden is who I am.

  I am Eden.

  And now, they speak of Elysium.

  I grind my teeth and attempt to block out the voices around me. I want to shout and tell everyone to shut up, but I must remain calm. These women—the ones who will always see me as their savior—need me to be the strong leader they believe me to be.

  “You okay?” comes Freyda’s voice.

  I swallow hard, refusing to look at her. How can I despise someone so much, yet want nothing more than to be near them? She betrayed me.

  Air blows out from the padding of her seat as she sits down beside me. “I know apologizing will never be enough. I didn’t mean for any of this, Eve.”

  She reaches for my hand that’s gripped tightly around the armrest and I pull away.

  “I should have turned back when we saw the plane fly overhead—”

  Glowering at her, I lean in. “You knew the place was inhabited before getting to it?”

  “I didn’t know it was—” she lowers her voice. “I didn’t know it was full of men, Eve. How was I supposed to know that? I thought maybe we’d found the Binaries. It was a plane, Eve. All I saw was technology. I thought maybe the Binaries were rebuilding civilization. And for all we know, they might be. They might be in there. Wouldn’t you have done the same thing? Wouldn’t you have wanted to know? Or would you have wanted to stay in the Dark Ages?”

  I grind my teeth. Freyda has no right speaking to me about the Binaries. For the longest time, she ridiculed me for believing that one day, we’d find the them—women specializing in various trades… women capable of rebuilding civilization from the ground up. And now, what? Is Freyda going to sit beside me and preach to me about the possibility of the Binaries living inside Elysium?

  It makes sense, I suppose. How else would someone like Vrin get technology up and running again? Vrin is a military woman—she’s no expert in engineering or technology. She also mentioned advanced medical equipment. Surely, the Binaries are responsible for this.

  “What?” Freyda asks, searching me. “What’re you thinking about?”

  If she knew what I was thinking about, she’d get up and move away from me. While I may hate Vrin for ruling over this new land, I should also be thanking her for building such a large society that apparently worships the idea of me.

  All I have to do is convince these women that I’m a more capable leader than Vrin, and Elysium is mine.

  CHAPTER 14 – GABRIEL

  Poor kids.

  They remind me of puppies at a shelter trying to get past the cage gate that’s preventing them from reaching human visitors. They’re excited and want to be close to me to see Justic
e on my lap, but their mothers keep telling them to sit down and to keep quiet. So they wiggle in their seats, readjust their seat belts, and stare at me as if I’m the one who’s going to tell them it’s okay if they come closer.

  But I don’t say that. It isn’t my place. Besides, we’re about to take off, so it’s important that they sit still in their seats.

  I rub my finger between Justice’s eyes. She closes them, rests her snout on my shoulder and lets out a tired sigh through her dry little nose. I’m hoping they have a vet in Elysium. God knows how long she’s been alone. She could be dehydrated, or malnourished. She could even have worms, for all I know.

  “I don’t want to see you anywhere near that thing,” comes a mother’s stern voice. She glowers at me, and then at Justice like she’s the ugliest thing in this world.

  Justice is far from ugly. She’s beautiful, perfectly structured, and has vivid blue eyes that are to die for. She’d probably win awards if she was in some sort of dog show. So what’s this mother’s problem? How could anyone look at a puppy like that?

  “But mom—”

  “Bee, don’t make me repeat myself,” the mother orders. “Do you want to lose an arm?”

  “But she’s a puppy—”

  “She’s a pit bull,” the mother growls, and a few other mothers turn their heads as if they’re only now realizing what kind of dog Justice is.

  Didn’t they already know? I thought it was obvious.

  Now, I’m getting a bunch of nasty looks. Not from everyone, but from a handful of women all wearing similar dresses. They’re looking at me like I’m carrying a live bomb. What’s their problem?

  Another mother pulls her child’s face against her chest. “You keep that thing away from my kid,” she hisses.

  “It’s not even muzzled!”

  There’s no point trying to argue with them. Mama told me that this has been an issue for years. Apparently, in 2027 (if I’m remembering that right), the government went on a mass killing spree, euthanizing a bunch of innocent pit bulls after it became illegal to own them anywhere in the United States. The fighting continued for years. People protested in the streets, crying out that owners were to blame, not the breed. And this went on for years and years. They lifted the ban in 2040, and everything was great for a while. But then President Price came into the picture, and everything went to shit again when the government became a dictatorship.