TWO

 

My eyes slid open to meet the darkness above, adrenaline and relief flooding my system at the same time.  We all occasionally screamed in our sleep, every one of us still haunted by nightmares.  At night your mind can turn against you and show you cybernetic-infested friends, make you feel your cells harden and turn you against everything that made you who you were.

I pulled myself up, listening for sounds outside.  It was early, the sun still struggling to make its way above the mountaintops.  Everything was silent.

Wearing the same clothes I had worn yesterday on the raid, Tye’s blood still dried on them, I grabbed my pack from off the floor.  I slid my handgun into my belt and stepped outside, leaving Sarah sleeping.  I headed for the tree line.

My boots darkened, dampened by the heavy morning dew.  My ears strained for any sounds that didn’t belong, searching for any warning hums of an ATV or the faint chop of a helicopter.  The morning was quiet, but that did not mean I dropped my guard.  With danger a constant, dropping your guard meant getting killed, or worse.

The trees dropped away in an abrupt line, giving way to the ten-foot tall wire fence.  Five acres of garden lay before me.  We were each required to work a minimum of two, five-hour shifts per week in the garden.  We were all responsible for keeping Eden alive in one way or another.

I geared up with a pair of worn gloves and a religiously cared for hoe.  I pushed back my dirtied sleeves and fastened my pack tighter to my back.  It never left my back, other than when I slept.  To be separated from it could mean the difference between life and death.  It had everything I needed to survive in the wilderness for nearly a month.

As I worked my way to the southeast corner of the garden, I saw I wasn’t alone.  A figure in dirty rags was kneeling on the ground, working steadily on a row of slowly growing potatoes.  It was Terrif, the oldest member of Eden.  He was mute and growing frail.  He knew the most about gardening though.  Without him, our harvest would be half of what it was.

A person’s value shifts greatly when the world comes to an end.

Terrif looked up at me briefly as I went to work on a new area that would be planted later that afternoon.  His eyes met mine for just a moment, oddly grey orbs that were starting to slowly lose their sight, and went back to his work.

The garden was in its fifth year and gaining maturity.  The fruit trees had produced well the previous year and we were hoping the late start of spring was not going to hurt production this year.  It was agonizing, having so little control over something so vital to our survival.

Within a year of the Evloution, people started realizing they weren’t the only ones on the run and began to band together.  As this colony of thirty-four formed, they knew we were going to have to provide food for all these people or everyone was going to starve.  And so the garden had been planted.  Eden itself might be constantly moving for safety reasons, but the garden was the center, the anchor of which we revolved around.

Each of us had reached Eden in our own way.  Those who had survived the Evolution had figured out that it wasn’t safe to be in the cities anymore.  With so much electricity and other mechanical resources available, the Bane flocked to them like addicts.  If you were smart you ran as fast as you could toward the mountains or to the open country. 

I didn’t remember much of my arrival at Eden.  Only that I arrived alone, a thirteen-year-old girl, mostly naked, covered in blood, but without a scratch on me.  I had no memory prior to that time, no recollection of my parents or of where I had come from.  I could only recall one word that might have something to do with my past: Eve.  And so that was what I was called.

I insisted on training with all the older men, learning to handle a weapon and survive out in the wild.  By fourteen I was going on raids and helping to protect those around me.  Avian and Sarah had helped me when I needed, despite how determined I had been that I could take care of myself. 

Avian had just escaped from the Army that was tearing itself apart, just as the world was falling to ruin.  He’d rescued his sister Sarah, hiding in the garage after their parents had been infected.  He’d had to shoot both of them to get her out.  He next went after his cousin Tye, who’d locked his infected mother in their trailer home, and stood guard outside the door with a rifle.  Together they fled into the mountains.  They were some of the first to arrive in Eden, only twenty-one, twenty, and nineteen-years-old. 

As the sun started graying the sky, others trickled in to the garden, those assigned to work the morning shift while the others guarded camp.  Not many words were spoken, each person working in silent grief.  I saw eyes flicker to my face, questions forming in their heads.  They wanted to know how our elite team had finally failed to bring someone home.  I may have only been seventeen but they didn’t expect any less from me than they did Bill or Graye.  Or Tye. 

I wanted to tell them it was Graye they should be questioning, but I would never betray him like that.  If he wanted them to know what he had done to Tye, he could tell them himself.  It wasn’t my place.

Just as the sun broke above the tree line, Sarah joined at my side.  She carried a sack of seeds, dropping them in a shallow trench.  I raked the damp dirt over them.

“How is Avian this morning?” I asked, keeping my voice down.

“He looked like he hadn’t slept all night,” she said as she dropped seeds.  She gave a small cough, covering her mouth with a fist.  “He wouldn’t eat this morning but said he was fine.”

“I’ll talk to him when I get back.”  I sighed as I continued to rake.

Avian was the one person who never left Eden.  He never went on raids, never even worked in the gardens.  He couldn’t leave his supplies and the CDU, the one sure device that protected us from the Bane.  All too often he was needed.  Even though he had only two and a half years’ worth of medical training, he knew more than the rest of us.

“People are wondering what happened last night,” Sarah said, looking around to make sure no one was listening.  “I heard them talking at breakfast this morning.  They’re starting to lose trust in Graye.”

“Why?”

“They overheard someone talking to Avian about how Graye had something to do with Tye’s infection.  We all know he can be selfish and sloppy.”

I straightened slightly and looked over my shoulder where Graye was working.  He was alone, his head hanging low.  I would never say it aloud, but Sarah was right.  Graye always tried to grab just a few more things, one more treasure to take home for himself.  He hadn’t noticed the Bane creeping up on him.  Tye had gotten Graye out before it was too late but it had cost him his life.

“We can’t afford to turn against ourselves,” I said, getting back to work before anyone could notice my stiff behavior.  “We all know better than that.”

“They’re upset,” Sarah said simply.  She coughed again, just once.

“They’re going to have to move on,” I said, more bluntly than I had meant it.  “We need him.  We need everyone.”

Sarah didn’t say anything else as she continued her work.  It wasn’t until a few minutes later that I realized she was vocalizing not only the thoughts of others in Eden, but her own.

I worked a longer shift than required, in a way anxious to prove my devotion to Eden.  It was unnecessary, but I seemed to be feeling the guilt Graye wasn’t.  The afternoon shift started trickling in, the post in the watchtower shifting.  As I handed off my tools and gloves to someone else, I realized that Graye and I were the last of the morning crew to head back. 

I hesitated, unnerved at having to walk back with him, but I wasn’t stupid.  It was safer to travel with a companion, even if it was just between the gardens and home.

We walked in silence.  We’d known each other for four years now and had been going on raids together for almost three.  He was a good fighter and when push came to shove, I would want him on my side.

Graye had come to Eden when I was fourteen.  He was twenty at the time.  He had been recently married and had a baby girl, both lost to the infection.  It was hard to condemn him for his selfish actions; he had lost everything that ever meant anything to him.  He was just trying to take something back from the world that had stolen everything from him.

We were almost back to Eden, our journey nearly successfully silent, when he finally spoke.

“I didn’t mean it you know,” he said in his gravelly voice.  “I never wanted Tye to get hurt.”

“I know,” I said as we stepped into the perimeter of camp.  That was as close to an apology as anyone would ever get from Graye.

We went our separate ways.