Eden Bound

by Darrell Maloney

  “They said they thought the earth would start thawing in the second year and then we’d all be able to come out in the third year.

  “I think they factored in an extra six months for the unknown. In case their calculations were off or something else happened to prolong the freeze. So I think their final calculations were that the thaw might not come for three and a half years.

  “When I left they were still gathering food, so I don’t know how much they ended up with. What they were going to do was gather until the ice and snow made them stop.

  “Then they were going to count the number of total calories for all the food they had. After that it’s simple math. The number of people in the mine times so many calories per day for each of them times the number of days until the thaw.

  “Hopefully there were enough calories. But if not… if they were going to run short, then they’ve already had to ration food. People are already skipping meals and going hungry occasionally. And if that’s the conditions they’re in now I can very easily see some of the residents not wanting to cut their rations even more by bringing in more people.”

  Now Josie understood.

  “You’re right. You should have told me all this before.”

  “I know. I don’t think it would have been a problem when it was just the two of us. But with four we’ve doubled the size of the burden.”

  “Frank, I don’t want to be a burden to these people. If you get the sense they’re going to let us in out of kindness, even though it’s going to hurt them to do it, then that’s unacceptable to me. I’d rather tuck our tails between our legs and go back to Plainview.”

  “No. That’s not going to happen.

  “That’s what Plan B and Plan C are for.”

  -51

  “Okay, Mister I thought it all out but neglected to tell my wife, what are Plan B and Plan C?

  She smiled as she said it to take the sting out of her words. To let him know she was a bit peeved but not really mad. And that she trusted him to think things through and to come up with the best possible alternatives if their original plans didn’t work out.

  “Plan B is to try Eden.”

  “Eden? As in the Garden of Eden? I’m afraid we’d have to dig it out of the snow.”

  He realized then he’d never told her much about the Eden project. To her the word Eden was a name, nothing more. She didn’t know it was a monumental effort by an awful lot of people to keep the eighty seven inhabitants of the tiny town alive and safe.

  “Eden is a little bitty town just a few miles south of San Angelo. It’s the last town we’ll pass through before we get to the mine.

  “There used to be a prison there, but when Saris 7 struck most of the prisoners were released. The worst of the worst were deemed too dangerous to let out and they died there during the first freeze.

  “The citizens of Eden turned it into a shelter, thinking if bad men couldn’t get out of it they couldn’t get into it either.

  “During the thaw they gathered as much food and supplies as they could and crammed it full. Then they all moved into it when the snow started to fall.”

  “So they were stocking their shelter at the same time the others were restocking the mine?”

  “Yes. And in a lot of ways they were working together. If the mine came across something they didn’t need but knew the Eden people needed it they delivered it to Eden. And the Eden people returned the favor.”

  “So, if they turn us away at the mine we’re going to seek refuge at the prison instead?”

  “Exactly. If they did a better job gathering provisions than we did at the mine they might be able to take in four more mouths to feed without hurting them.”

  “Okay, Frank. I hate to be a Debbie Downer, but when you grow up in a severely messed up family like I did you learn to expect the worst.

  “What if neither one of them can take us in? What’s your Plan C?”

  “Plan C won’t be quite as comfortable, but it’s safe and will keep us alive.”

  “But where is it?”

  “An old truck stop on Interstate 10, just a few miles south of Junction.”

  “Is it open?”

  “Nope. It hasn’t been open for a very long time. But there’s an awful lot of food still there, abandoned in hundreds of trailers that truckers dropped leading up to Saris 7 and the first freeze.”

  “And it’s still there? How come nobody went in and got it?”

  “Because it’s one big tangled mess. The first hundred truckers or so who dropped their trailers tried to do the right thing and lined them up, nice and neat.

  “But as more and more truckers pulled into the yard there was less and less space available. They started parking them wherever they could. They angled them in every which way they could and left a tangled mess behind. Now, years later, many of the tires are flat and some of the feet have collapsed, so in addition to them being all tangled up many are leaning.

  “A trucker can’t back beneath a trailer that’s leaning. It has to be level so he can lock onto the pin.”

  “In other words, it’s a nightmare.”

  “Exactly. But it doesn’t have to be.

  “We can take refuge in the office. There are generators and heaters there that we can tie into one of the diesel tankers for an almost never-ending supply of fuel.

  “I can go out for a couple of hours every day to air up tires and replace air lines so I can grab one trailer at a time and haul them out of the yard and onto the shoulder of the highway. At the same time I’ll be able to crack open the doors to see if there’s anything inside we can use.

  “If there is I’ll bring it into the building. Eddie can stack it for me; he’s pretty good at tasks which don’t require a lot of thinking.”

  “Sounds like an awful lot of work and misery.”

  “Without a doubt. That’s why I for one am hoping we don’t have to resort to Plan C.”

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  Thank you for reading

  Final Dawn Book 19:

  EDEN BOUND

  Please enjoy this preview of the next installment in the series,

  Final Dawn Book 20:

  NO WORSE FOR WEAR

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  The world in general, and the United States in particular, has struggled for a very long time about how to refer to those who struggle with developmental problems.

  Up until the 1950s such people were typically referred to as “mentally retarded,” which was bad enough.

  The shortened version, “retarded,” was even worse. And today that word is viewed as almost profane for the pain it causes.

  We found out back then that words hurt. They do damage to the psyche and self esteem of people who have enough struggles to deal with already and who certainly don’t need to be disparaged as well.

  We tried to do better.

  We adopted the word “handicapped,” which for two decades was used as a catch-all for anyone whose body or mind didn’t function in the same way most peoples’ did.

  We began treating these “handicapped” people better, trying to adapt their treatment to fulfill their needs instead of the needs of the medical establishment.

  Better methods of treatment were developed. Better medications. For the first time such patients were treated as equals with medical issues rather than the flawed nobody wanted to talk about.

  And yes, we even gave them their own reserved parking spaces.

  Things took a dramatic turn for the worse in the 1980s when, to save federal dollars, government-run mental hospitals were downsized dramatically. Doctors at such facilities were pressured to declare patients “healed” so they could be let loose on the streets of America.

  All so Uncle Sam could use tax dollars for other things.

  Many of the patients weren’t healed, of course. Not by a long shot.

  Many of them died on the streets, often very violently, because they didn’t have the tools to survive on their ow
n and could not defend themselves against the evils of the world.

  Many more did what they had to do to survive, often breaking laws in the process, and are serving long terms in federal prisons.

  Many of the homeless living on the streets of America this very day are former patients who had nowhere to go and still don’t.

  The government realized its blunder and tried to make amends in the 1990s and 2000s by focusing on better care for the mentally ill and developmentally challenged.

  These days most of the mental health hospitals are still closed, but doctors are better able to service the patients who come to see them.

  Society treats them better too, by recognizing that they are human beings as well. That they have hopes and dreams and fears just like everyone else.

  And that showing them a little love goes a very long way.

  The term “handicapped” is gone now, replaced with “disabled.”

  “Mentally disabled” is still a harsh term to many who are referred to as such.

  I personally prefer a term coined by author Billie Holliman a couple of years ago: “Differently abled.”

  Ms. Holliman says that everyone has abilities. The abilities of the mentally ill or developmentally disabled might not be impressive to the able bodied and minded, but they are indeed abilities.

  In other words, the mentally or developmentally challenged can do a lot of things, which often are different than the able bodied, but which are talents nonetheless.

  Therefore it follows that “differently abled” is a much better description than disabled, which implies no abilities at all.

  Another thing which adversely affects the differently abled is the way society looks upon them.

  Or, more accurately, looks down upon them.

  The able bodied and able minded have a very bad habit of seeing a challenged individual in public and doing one of two things: either they brush past them as though they’re not even there and don’t deserve their own place in public areas.

  Or they stare at them, often embarrassing them and making them feel less than human.

  To be fair, most don’t mean any harm by it. And many aren’t even aware they’re doing it. They merely see someone they recognize as “different” than themselves and stare at them out of curiosity.

  That sounds innocuous enough, but it certainly does nothing to boost the challenged person’s self esteem or reassure them they have a spot at the table; a place in society.

  Eddie, called “Crazy Eddie” by most of his thoughtless relatives, wasn’t born the way he was. He was not autistic at birth or developmentally disabled. The problems he had expressing himself and using his thinking skills were the result of an assault while he was in prison.

  He’d made enemies of the wrong people and they tried to poison him by mixing a cocktail of chemicals from the kitchen and laundry.

  Two men held him down and the concoction was poured down his throat.

  The attempt on his life almost succeeded. He was in the infirmary’s intensive care ward for three weeks until his body fully recovered.

  His mind, not so much.

  His mind would never be the same again.

  Even though Eddie wasn’t autistic or developmentally disabled, he appeared to be.

  And society treated him accordingly, many people staring holes through him and others ignoring him as though he had no value.

  They whispered behind his back, and oftentimes right in front of him, “There’s something wrong with that guy. Do you think he’s dangerous?”

  “I don’t know, honey. You better get the kids away from him.”

  Eddie was changed in a lot of ways.

  One of the most noticeable was that he was now as gentle as a kitten. He didn’t have a mean bone in his body. And he didn’t dislike or hate anybody. He just didn’t have it in him to hate.

  But while his thinking and reasoning skills were largely dissipated, his comprehension was mostly still intact.

  He understood why people treated him the way they did. He understood why they considered him less than human. Not worth their while. Somehow beneath them.

  And most of his emotions were still intact as well.

  He still laughed when he was happy and cried when he was sad.

  He still had feelings.

  And those feelings were hurt when he was treated shabbily.

  He didn’t get angry.

  But he got crushed.

  The people in Salt Mountain mine were good people.

  For the most part they were God-fearing people. Family people. Considerate people.

  From the day they arrived, they welcomed Frank and Josie and Eddie and Tina with open arms.

  They couldn’t complain that they didn’t feel loved.

  But many of them still gave Eddie that stare.

  Many went out of their way to steer clear of him when he came around. And they didn’t include them in their activities.

  They didn’t do so to be mean; they did it out of ignorance.

  And to give them a little bit of credit, they typically didn’t even know they were doing it.

  From the mine’s early days, when they sealed it against Saris 7, there was no one like Eddie within their midst.

  It had been many years since they saw another differently-abled human being and they’d just forgotten how to be courteous and inclusive.

  Of the seventeen children in the mine, nine were actually born there. They were raised in the ultimate sheltered environment and had never seen anyone like Eddie.

  And kids can be most cruel. Way more than adults.

  That’s what hurt Eddie the most.

  He wanted to play with the children.

  There weren’t any in Plainview at the distribution center.

  He was overjoyed when he saw them at the mine, and couldn’t wait to hang out and become one of them.

  You see, Eddie was on their level. Although he was in a man’s body, his mind was that of a six year old. He had much more in common with the children than with the adults.

  The problem was, as much as he wanted to play Army with the kids or shoot hoops with them, they made it perfectly clear they wanted nothing to do with him.

  It broke his heart and he went into the shadows to cry.

  That was why, on his third day in the mine, he decided to run away from home.

  Not in the literal sense, for he couldn’t exit the mine without someone helping him raise the drive-through door. And no one was going to cast him into the cold.

  But the mine was a very big place, as they’d recently found out while searching for Lucy the German shepherd pup.

  Although children were in fear of Eddie and couldn’t relate to him, puppies had no problem doing so.

  Puppies, and dogs in general, have an innate ability to read people. They can instantly tell whether a human is good or bad, decent or scum.

  The people of the mine had searched in vain for Lucy for days, but Eddie found her almost immediately.

  In the back of the livestock bay, in the pitch blackness that was her sanctuary, she saw Eddie approaching.

  She knew he was kind and would be good to her.

  She somehow sensed he was more like her than he was like the other humans.

  She left her darkness and went to him.

  He picked her up and petted her, and found great joy when she slobbered all over his face.

  They bonded instantly.

  And she did something else for him too.

  She shared her sanctuary with him.

  The two of them disappeared into the blackness at the end of the bay, out of sight of those who’d been looking for her. And who now were looking for Eddie as well.

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  Final Dawn Book 20:

  NO WORSE FOR WEAR

  will be available at Amazon.com, Barnes and Noble Booksellers, Hastings Books, and more than two dozen on line book stores in August, 2020.

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  If you enjoyed

  Final Dawn Book 19:

  Eden Bound

  you might also enjoy Darrell Maloney’s

  The Cleansing

  Our loveable but grumpy friend Frank Woodard is a detective, living the life of an ordinary citizen in Washington, D.C.

  But not for long. One night his life becomes anything but ordinary. Over the span of just three seconds, fifty citizens fall dead in their tracks, killed instantly with no sign of trauma save a quarter-sized bruise directly over their sternums.

  There are hundreds of witnesses, yet none of them saw a thing.

  Frank’s struggle for answers makes him first a suspect, then a villain, then a hero. And the answers he seeks come, quite literally, from out of this world.

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  The Cleansing

  is available now at Amazon.com and Barnes and Noble Booksellers.

  *************************

  Here’s a preview…

  This case was just what Frank Woodard needed to ease back into homicide division’s line of fire.

  In this case, there was no wondering who the murderer might be. No witnesses who refused to cooperate. No family who was hiding key suspects. No instance where the murder weapon was destroyed, or was thrown into a deep river or canyon, or buried in a desert where it would never be found again.

  Not at all. This murder took place inside a packed bar on a Saturday night. Two drunks started making passes at the same woman, who did nothing to discourage either of them. One thing led to another, words were exchanged and a line was crossed.

  One pulled a four inch knife and told the other to leave.

  The second man, bolstered by bravado supplied by the liquor he’d been swilling, refused.

  It cost him his life.