Eden Box Set

by G. C. Julien

  “This new place,” she blurts, flicking both her wrists in the air, “is called Elysium. Did you hear what’s inside? Did anyone tell you? That’s what everyone on the plane’s been saying, by the way. Elysium.”

  I don’t know why she’s asking me if I’ve heard—it’s not like she’s even giving me the chance to get a word in. Now I understand why no one’s sitting next to her.

  “Isn’t that a cool name? Elysium.” She giggles. “Kind of sounds like asylum, if you think about it. Which is freaky, right? I mean, who in their right mind wants to go to an asylum? Someone said the name has something to do with Greek mythology. Something about gods. Does that, like, make us godly?” She laughs again and slaps my wrist with her cold, clammy fingers. “Oh my God, I’m rambling again. I’m so sorry. My name’s Abigail Powder, but my friends call me Abi.”

  Her friends? I don’t see anyone sitting here. I swallow hard, attempting to push these harsh thoughts away. Why am I judging her? I barely have any friends myself and there’s nothing wrong with that.

  She points a finger in my face, her speckled features hardening. “And don’t even think about making stupid jokes about my name.” She starts chuckling again, then stares at me with wide, expectant eyes. Her lips remain parted, revealing corn-yellow teeth.

  “Oh, um… I’m Lucy,” I say.

  Without giving me the chance to offer her my hand, she grabs it and shakes it vigorously.

  “Nice to meet you, Lucy.”

  Still shaking my hand, she asks me again, “So, did you hear?”

  “Hear what?”

  She releases her grip and plants a firm hand on my forearm. “Apparently, they have a huge cafeteria with dozens of chefs who serve breakfast, lunch, and supper!”

  At once, I feel nauseated. Have we been lied to? Something’s fishy. I’m beginning to think that all of this talk about a new paradise-like haven is too good to be true.

  CHAPTER 16 – EVE

  Vrin walks to the front of the plane as if she’s God’s gift to humanity—as if without her, Earth would shatter into a million jagged pieces. With shoulders drawn back in her military uniform, she exudes pure confidence and fearlessness, which makes me admire and detest her at the same time.

  I should be the one standing in front of my women. Not Vrin—not some stranger to my people. The worst part in all of this is that they’re looking at her as if starstruck, or worse, as if only she possesses the means of delivering a life of freedom, abundance, and prosperity.

  Is this not what I gave them? Do they honestly forget how hard I’ve worked to ensure their survival?

  I get up and make my way to Vrin’s side. I won’t allow her the satisfaction of taking my people from me.

  These women are mine.

  “Listen up, everyone,” she says, and I cringe.

  Why does she speak to them as if they’re like her? As if they’re friends? Is that how she expects to earn respect? Is she not supposed to be a leader?

  “I want to go over a few things before we go inside Elysium,” she continues.

  I look at the women sitting in the first aisle, and the moment their eyes meet mine, they look away from me and focus their attention on Vrin. Clenching my fists, I remind myself that I’m the reason millions of people didn’t die on Inauguration Day.

  Had I not gone against Bethany and warned the underground resistance of President Price’s kill order, these women wouldn’t even be alive.

  How dare they turn their backs on me?

  I cleanse my thoughts—if I allow myself to feel hatred, they will sense it. It’s important that they continue to see me as their strong and capable leader, not as someone who’s afraid to lose control.

  The truth is, I am afraid. If I lose these women, what will I have left?

  The plane’s tires make contact with the ground—a subtle vibration in our seats.

  “We’ve landed,” Vrin says proudly, and all I want to do is tear that smile off her face. “Before we enter those doors,” she says, “I want to make one thing very clear.” She pauses, surely trying to dramatize the point she’s about to make. “Inside of Elysium, we don’t tolerate hatred, racism, sexism, or any form of discrimination.” Her scrutinizing gaze lands on me and I turn away.

  “I understand you’ve all been through a lot. I’m fully aware of the war that took place on American soil. I was there. We all were. But I want to assure you that Elysium is nothing like the America you once knew. I will not tolerate hatred between the sexes, nor will I tolerate alienation or animosity. In Elysium, everyone is equal. Do I make myself clear?”

  I nearly scoff, but instead, bite the inside of my cheek until I taste blood.

  What is she thinking? These women have been taught that men are the reason our world has fallen apart. Does she honestly believe they will follow her?

  But to my surprise, everyone nods.

  What are they doing? Why the hell are they agreeing to lower themselves to the same level as the male species? I clench my armrests so firmly two of my fingernails bend backward. How is this happening? Why aren’t they standing up for what they believe in? I part my lips, prepared to berate Vrin for even suggesting that men are worthy of being considered equals, when I realize doing so would only tarnish my plan.

  I cannot take over Elysium if I’m denied initial entry.

  If I plan to be ruler of Elysium—Queen of the New World—I must be discreet in my approach.

  CHAPTER 17 – GABRIEL

  “Watch your step,” says Vrin, helping women off the plane. She reaches for duffel bags, pillows, blankets. Anything she can grab to take some weight out of their hands.

  I admire Vrin, I really do. Although she may walk around with a flexed back and arms dangling a bit too far from her body, it suits her. She’s a military woman, and she exudes confidence, fortitude, and boldness.

  She’s nothing like Eve, which is exactly what these women need.

  The moment that thought crosses my mind, Eve steps out into the cool autumn air with squinted, rapidly-moving eyes. She searches the premises, the people, and even Vrin. It’s like she’s calculating everything in that messed-up head of hers.

  What’s she planning? It’s not like she has any power here. At least not yet. I hope to God she never does, but Vrin made it pretty clear that she’s worshipped by a lot of women on the inside. She also made it clear that discrimination won’t be tolerated, which means Eve needs to be cautious.

  “Whoa, careful,” Vrin says, catching a six-year-old girl by the arms. She pulls her back up onto her feet. “Watch your step, sweetheart.”

  To my surprise, a boy appears out of the crowd like a piece of coal on a bed of snow. He’s the only young male around and it looks like he’s lost. Where did he come from? No way he’s from Eden. Eve wouldn’t have allowed…

  “Zack, stay close!” hisses the woman beside him.

  It’s obvious she’s Hispanic with her tanned complexion and long wavy hair. She reminds me of my mother but curvier and a bit taller. That kid, Zack, reminds me of myself when I was young. He’s awkward and jittery and keeps glancing down at his mom for direction.

  Eve turns his way when his hoarse, teenage voice carries over the crowd. “I am staying close, Mom.”

  Eve doesn’t appear confused or disgusted by him. Obviously, he’s here because she let him inside of Eden. How is that possible? I thought Eve hated men more than anything. Is it his age that saved him? Or is it his mother?

  The Hispanic woman reaches for Eve’s arm with a smile on her face. The second her fingers touch Eve’s skin, though, Eve flinches away as if a spider landed on her.

  She’s on edge. That’s clear.

  The woman, still smiling, mumbles something to Eve, but I can’t make it out. Maybe she’s thanking her. It would make sense, after all. If Eve let her son inside of Eden, that’s something worth celebrating.

  “All right, everyone, my men here will lead the way inside. Follow them and they’ll take you to your new li
ving quarters.”

  The women start whispering excitedly, leaning into each other and wrapping their arms around one another.

  “Did you hear that?” one of them says. “Living quarters!”

  “Not a prison cell!”

  “No more cells!”

  I kind of feel bad for Eve. She’s looking at them from her peripheral while walking down the plane’s ramp, but she doesn’t make eye contact. She must be pretty hurt about the whole thing. And while I don’t think she’s stable enough to lead hundreds of women, she still deserves to be happy.

  Even people who’ve made horrible mistakes deserve some happiness.

  Turning away from the plane, I make my way toward Area 82, or Elysium, as Vrin calls it. It looks the same as it did the day I started my training. The only difference is there aren’t a dozen shuttle vans carrying hundreds of military personnel.

  Another major component is missing: men in fancy black suits with pistols on their waists. Everything’s so calm. From out here, it looks like the place is vacant. The main building, a giant concrete structure with glossy black windows and metal doors, is as clean as it’s always been, which means it’s being maintained.

  The grass around it, though now a bit yellow, was recently cut, though it doesn’t smell like fresh grass. Instead, it smells like engine fumes and crisp air. The kind of air that slides inside your lungs, making them feel clean.

  Along the side of the building, carefully trimmed shrubs decorate the edges of the wall. Everything’s so immaculate. It’s like I’ve traveled back in time. Like America’s still the America it used to be, with running water, a nationwide electrical grid, and working gas lines. I look at the ground, where Area 82’s main runway extends another several hundred feet. Not a single leaf, grass trimming, or rock litters the asphalt.

  Behind the Falcon, a few other planes sit in the grass, their blacked-out windows clean and their widespread wings dust free. We’ve landed pretty close to the building, but that’s because the Falcon can land vertically. I’m sure the runway is used for the other planes. It must be if it’s this clean.

  Kids tug at their mothers’ arms and point toward the other military vehicles: planes, helicopters, heavily equipped cars, and even a few tanks.

  “Look, Mommy!”

  “Can we go in that?”

  “Can I go see it?”

  One kid suddenly runs off, and two women chase after her in a panic.

  It’s hard to tell how the mothers feel about this place. They seem excited, but now that the whole military aspect is visible, it’s like they’re cautious. Most of them wrap their arms around their kids’ shoulders and pull them closer. These kids don’t know anything about war and I’d be willing to bet the mothers don’t want them to, either.

  Ignorance is bliss, right? Mama used to say that. Though when she did, it came out more annoyed than anything. It also didn’t make as much sense as she thought it did, but I knew what she was trying to say. If somebody upset her by doing something thoughtless, she’d roll her eyes and say in a sharp whisper, “Ignoringness is bliss, isn’t it? I wish I could be more blissy.” The last word came out a bit hateful, but she had every reason to be annoyed. When she said this, I knew that whatever the other person did was really stupid.

  Even though I’d correct her and tell her it’s ignorance and blissful, she’d always react the same way: she’d flick her wrist at me and say, “Ah, my beautiful Gabriel. Mi ángel. I teach you to be such a smart boy.”

  She’d kiss my forehead, and several months would go by before she’d make the same comment with the exact same errors.

  I smile at the thought of my mama. She was always so—

  Out of nowhere, a loud explosion blasts behind me and my entire body jolts.

  * * * * * *

  “Get down!” shouts one of my comrades.

  His mouth is wide open, blending in with the dark green of his shirt, his war paint, and even his dark eyes. Sweat drips from his forehead, leaving streaks of brown over his skin. His woolly beard, something that’s been growing for the last two weeks, is even darker than usual with all the blood soaked in it.

  I don’t know how I’m noticing all of this, but I am. It’s like time’s stopped, giving me the opportunity to take in everything around me. Marcel’s still standing there, shouting at me and pointing behind me. His voice barely carries over the sounds of gunfire and explosions. I don’t understand what he’s trying to tell me.

  What’s going on?

  A few minutes ago, we were sitting in our tent playing cards. Now, Rashid and Carlo are lying by my feet and I’m covered in blood… There’s blood everywhere. Carlo yells with squinted eyes, reaching for what used to be his leg. A pointed femur bone sticks out through broken skin, hanging muscle, and torn tendons.

  My head spins. I grab my gun and dart toward the tent’s opening when another explosion goes off and I find myself lying flat on my back, ears ringing, vision blacked out.

  * * * * * *

  “Get off!” several people shout.

  A lot of people.

  What’s going on?

  “Gabriel!”

  “Gabriel!”

  “Oh my God, he’s gonna kill them!”

  I come to and find myself lying atop five women, the weight of my body crushing them. One woman’s face is so close to mine my cheeks are warmed by her radiating heat. Her face, a swollen red ball, looks like it’s on the verge of popping.

  Then, solid arms grip me around my torso, my shoulders, and my stomach.

  “Grenades! Get down!” I shout.

  What’re are they doing? What the fuck is happening? I swing a fist at the nearest guy I can find, and a loud crack vibrates against my knuckles. He falls back with two hands over his bloody nose, his hateful eyes fixated on me.

  Who is he? Who are they?

  I’m about to take another swing when something hard hits me against the side of my head. Everything around me goes fuzzy, and all the noise, all the panicked shouting, disappears as I fall to the ground.

  CHAPTER 18 – LUCY

  I should be moving forward with the crowd, but instead, I’m holding on to my bag, staring at the man who was freaking out. Why was he freaking out? That’s the guy who had the puppy. He seemed super nice

  Now, he’s lying facedown in the grass when seconds ago, he was screaming with a puffy red face and bulging eyes—so much so that his neck got all lumpy and veiny.

  The last time I saw a man this worked up was the crazy guy on Seventh Avenue. Mom explained to me that he had mental problems and told me to ignore him as he did this daily. He’d stood there, shouting at the sky and pulling so hard at his own hair that I expected it to tear out of his skull. Now that I’m older, I realize he was most likely on drugs.

  Thank God this man passed out. Well, I suppose God had nothing to do with it if there even is a God. It’s the youngest soldier who knocked him out. And now Malory seems to be all over him, calling him a hero.

  “Are you okay, sweetheart?” Nola asks in a panic.

  Nola.

  Dropping my bag, I swing around and throw my arms around Nola’s neck.

  “Whoa,” she says.

  She isn’t used to me being affectionate.

  “Nola, I thought—”

  Pressing a firm hand against the back of my head, she pulls me in again. “Hey, I’m right here.”

  “Who’s this?” comes Abigail’s voice.

  Seriously? Can’t she see I’m having a moment? Irritated, I pull myself out of Nola’s arms.

  “Abigail, this is Nola. Nola, Abigail.”

  “Lovely to meet you,” Nola says, offering Abigail a hand.

  “You can call me Abi,” says Abigail, grinning the same way she did when she introduced herself to me. And now, she’s following me as if we’re best friends. Emily’s my best friend, and nothing’s going to change that.

  Nola looks down at her, then at me. “Why don’t you go on inside, sweetheart? I have to stick
around.” She twirls a finger toward the airplane, which I’m certain translates to My nursing abilities are required.

  Even though I don’t want to say goodbye, I nod, reminding myself that it’s only temporary. When everyone’s feeling better, I’ll get to spend more time with her again.

  “You’ll find me, right?” I ask.

  Her eyes narrow playfully, and she smirks as if to say, Of course I’ll find you.

  “Are you sure?” Abigail cuts in. “I mean, the place is huge. How’re you going to find—”

  “Come on,” I say, tugging on Abigail’s arm and plowing through the crowd.

  It’s become so condensed that it’s hard to see anything. The man who passed out is now out of sight, but I can hear people scurrying around him, most likely tying him up or maybe even helping him. I’m not sure which.

  Right now, all I care about is finding Emily before we get inside.

  “Emily!” I shout.

  But I can’t find her.

  “Move along,” someone says.

  I’m pushed forward, all the way to the massive side doors of this Elysium place. Two men stand right outside holding big black guns. Maybe it’s protocol, or maybe it’s them being paranoid. I can’t blame them. No one’s forgotten about the war that happened years ago.

  I’d be willing to bet that some women are going to have a hard time adjusting to this new place. Why wouldn’t they? There are military men everywhere. The last time these women saw men in uniform, it was during the war.

  No one says anything as we walk past the two soldiers. They don’t make eye contact, either.

  But the moment we enter those doors, I stop caring about the military men, about the plane, and about the guy who freaked out on the runway; I’m way too blown away by the inside of this place.

  It’s nothing like Eden. Everything is so bright and crisp—the result of fluorescent lighting overhead. It reminds me of a hospital but without the hospital smell and with a much higher ceiling. The floors, shiny white slabs of marble or something expensive, look like they were cleaned and waxed only minutes ago. Every few feet, little blue and red lights decorate the walls, and although I don’t know what they’re for, it’s obvious by the way they’re flashing that they’re being used for something.