Eden's Legacy (Eden Rising Trilogy Book 3) Page 2

  "It's been a worry of ours," said Ben. "She spent so much of her early life in the woods without any other people around, we weren't sure how she would relate to other humans. But she seems to be doing okay."

  "She'll be fine. But don't be surprised if she always relates to animals more deeply."

  "You got all of that from a short talk with Katie?"

  "Katie, Lila, Sean. It was all pretty obvious."

  "Should I be worried about Weeks?" asked Ben, changing the subject.

  "Weeks is a hothead," answered Aaron. "Normally I'd say that he'd forget about it and move on. But not this. He's on a mission. He saw all of his hopes of a return to the life he once knew die before his eyes. Yeah, I'd be worried. Just be extra careful for a while."

  "His life wasn't going to return to what it used to be."

  "Of course not," said Sean. "But at least he had the means to pretend that it was. Now he doesn't have that."

  "Did I make a mistake?" asked Ben.

  The other two were silent for a moment.

  "No," Sean finally said. "Brittany and I left because we didn't like what was happening there—and that was even before Marco Bolli took over. The town was destined for failure. You just hastened its demise a bit."

  *****

  They reached the others that evening. They were camped on the shores of a large, pristine lake. Ben never failed to notice that, with each passing year after the event, everything seemed cleaner—the water, the air, and the smell. He was convinced that the earth was repairing itself.

  "Daddy!" Katie was running toward him, arms outstretched. She jumped into his arms and hugged him tightly.

  "Hi Kiddo. I've missed you."

  He put Katie down as Lila approached. They sank into each other's arms, then kissed deeply.

  "Good to have you back," she said. He was sure there was a double meaning there.

  "Good to be back, thanks to Aaron and Sean." He told her the story of Weeks and his crew.

  "How many times have we almost lost each other?" she asked.

  "More than I can count," Ben answered. "We live a charmed life."

  "Until we don't," said Lila. "We need to be extra careful. I agree with Aaron and Sean, he's not done trying to exact his revenge."

  Ben held Lila away from his body and stared at her.

  "God, you're beautiful."

  When she smiled, the side of her mouth crinkled slightly. It was the smile that attracted Ben to her so long ago as teenagers. Back then she was pleasant-looking, but not a beauty. That was something that developed as she aged. Now, with her shiny black hair rolling over her shoulder blades, and the matching black eyepatch covering her useless right eye—the result of an accident a few years earlier—he wondered how he could have been so lucky as to greet the new world with someone as beautiful and as courageous as Lila by his side.

  *****

  That night, Ben, Lila, Sean, Aaron, and Emily, Aaron's tall, dark, schoolteacher companion, originally from Haiti, sat by a campfire eating fish. Sean's wife Brittany and their children were back in Yellowstone. Katie had fallen asleep with Ralph the dog.

  "So tell us about Yellowstone," said Aaron.

  "It's so different from Paradise, it will make your head spin," said Sean. "We have a small town—Rock Creek—but it's used mostly as a gathering place for most of the families. Brittany and I live in the town, with maybe fifty other families, but the rest, like Ben and Lila, live in the hills. We have a doctor and a dentist, a vet, a church, a school—we only have one teacher and our child population is growing, so your skills will be deeply appreciated, Emily—and a general store of sorts that I run. I go on scavenging missions to bring things back that people might need. There's no cost, of course, since we don't have money. People take what they need, and offer me their skills in return, whenever I have need of them. I don't take as many scavenging trips as I used to, but every once in a while I'll fire up the old horse and buggy and venture out. We even have a small restaurant, but I heard them say the other day that they will probably close it. There's no real need for it. I think it was an homage of sorts to the way things used to be, but the fact is, things aren't the way they used to be, and there's no reason to pretend."

  "The loosely structured barter system we have in place seems to work well and I'm not sure we'll ever change that," continued Sean. "The people are supportive of each other, and that's why it works. Some people prefer to be left alone and some want to be involved in everything. But when it comes down to it, we can count on everybody when the chips are down. Lifestyles aren't a concern. Hell, we have a brother and sister living together who, I think, over the years have become more than just siblings. Kinda creepy, if you ask me, but in this new world, who's to judge? We all had to do whatever it took to survive. We try to have weekly activities in town—cook-outs, bingo, things for the kids, that sort of stuff. We even have a theatre group. One of our residents used to direct community plays. Brittany has gotten involved. The first show is next month. In short, living in Yellowstone is like living in heaven."

  "Sounds it," said Aaron. "Any troublemakers?"

  "We've had a few, but they are all gone. We won't put up with that kind of shit. We've worked too hard to make this a success." He looked at Ben. "I wouldn't be surprised to see some Paradise refugees show up in the near future. Without the electricity, there is little to keep them there. It's going to continue to be an ugly place until they can clean house of the bad apples. I think some will just choose to leave rather than having to confront the situation. We might have some tough decisions to make. A lot of them will be coming with chips on their shoulders … with a lot of anger."

  "Then they don't stay. Simple as that," said one of the Yellowstone men standing on the outskirts of the conversation. "We make it clear to them from day one what is expected. They cause trouble, they leave. That's how we've done it from the beginning. We're not going to change it now."

  The conversation eventually tailed off, with everyone finding a quiet place to bed down for the night. Ben picked up Katie and brought her to a secluded spot Lila had picked out. Two of the men volunteered to take turns standing guard.

  When Katie was again settled, Ben and Lila got under the blankets and held each other.

  "Have you made peace with yourself?" Lila asked.

  "To a degree. I'll never know if what I did was morally right, but it was what I had to do. We live in a world where we live and die by our decisions, and we don't always have the luxury of time to debate whether it's a right or wrong choice. I did what I had to do. Some people will benefit by the decision and some might be hurt by it. I have no control over that. We went there to save our daughter, and as I said to Weeks, 'You don't mess with my family.' So, yes, I guess I have made peace with myself."

  "Good." Lila put her arms around Ben and squeezed him tightly. Within minutes, they were naked and quietly making love.

  Chapter 3

  Life for all of us settled down as preparations were made for the winter. Still a couple of months away, it was never too early to start, considering the unpredictable weather. This was going to be my family's first winter in Yellowstone, but it couldn't be any worse than some of the winters we experienced in the Smoky Mountains, or the violent blizzards our one winter in Monett.

  Aaron and Emily loved the spot I suggested, and their house was built in record time with the help of almost twenty neighbors. They lived only a half mile down the valley from us. It was still mind-boggling to me that my brother was back in my life. Despite him being six years older, we were always close. But I always knew that he felt I couldn't take care of myself. And like any big brother, he wasn't afraid to tell me. It was a new world though. He was always going to rag on me, but now it would be with respect. I was not the little brother he left so many years ago when he joined the Marines. We both knew we were going to enjoy getting to know each other again.

  The first of the expected Paradise refugees arrived in the late fall—not an intellige
nt decision on their part with winter coming on. Long before we showed up, the Yellowstone community had developed a simple interview process for potential residents. Those with children were almost always accepted, but the rest had to submit to the questions. Only a few had ever failed the interview. Not so with the Paradise group. Of the sixty former Paradise residents seeking to relocate to Yellowstone, five were denied. Sean was on the board who interviewed them and said that those five displayed a transparent anger toward the Yellowstone residents, and toward me in particular. Sean said it wasn't easy to deny them entry into the community, especially with winter not far off, but if they made an exception to the standards once, it would be the beginning of the end. Needless to say, those five were not happy and threatened all kinds of nasty things. Sean told them to go pound sand. At over six feet tall and more than 200 pounds—most of it muscle—few people chose to argue with Sean.

  Nothing had been heard from Weeks and his crew, but I wasn't fooled. He was a man with a deep grudge, and sooner or later he'd try to do something about it. I just hoped I'd be ready when the time came.

  The winter was relatively mild, a nice treat for Ben and Lila, who had experienced one harsh winter after another ever since the event. It was still cold and there was plenty of snow, but there were few violent storms. Travel was still possible, which made the winter bearable. Katie was able to get to school most days, and Ben and Lila worked on finishing the inside of the house and the barn. Ben would go out hunting once or twice a week, usually bringing back enough to share with some of the older people—most of whom lived in town.

  In March, elections were held and Lila was elected to the Yellowstone Board, a group of seven who worked to drive the future of Yellowstone and Rock Creek. At first she wasn't going to put her name in the hat, but feedback from friends and neighbors convinced her to give it a try.

  Whereas Ben preferred to stay in the background, the respect and admiration for Lila's leadership skills had grown rapidly from the moment they arrived. Despite her youth—although in the new world, the mid-20s was no longer a drawback for respect—she possessed a common sense and strength that was hard to find.

  *****

  By April the snow was beginning to melt, the streams were rushing, and there was a hint of spring in the air. Ben was ten miles down the valley on a hunting expedition, hoping to bring back a buck to share with neighbors. He often hunted with Aaron, but on this day Aaron was nursing a bad cold, so Ben went on his own. He didn't mind. He loved the peace he felt every time he took one of his trips. For a while, during his early trips, he would think about his old life back in Massachusetts and how different and more fulfilling this was. Besides the lack of noise, everything was cleaner—the air, the water, and even his very being. He missed some things from his old life, like baseball, and even some of his favorite TV shows, not to mention his computer and iPad. But in so many other ways this life couldn't get any better. But those were in the early days. He rarely thought of those things now. Now he just appreciated the life he had.

  *****

  He never heard the shot, but he cried out in pain as something hot hit him in the leg. The unexpectedness of it caused him to fall from his horse. He hit the soggy ground face-first, momentarily stunned. And then he heard it. A gunshot. Then another. Moose whinnied as a bullet grazed his hind quarters. They were shooting at his horse! Instead of taking off, Moose stayed with Ben.

  Ben reached up and tried to pull his rifle from its scabbard attached to his saddle, but Moose moved. He was already too exposed, so he slapped Moose hard on the butt and yelled at him to go.

  "Get out of here. Go, go, go, go!"

  The horse took off at a gallop, heading back the way they had come. A couple more shots followed Moose up the trail, then they tapered off. Moose had made it!

  Ben looked around quickly and spied a small cluster of rocks less than fifty feet away. He hobbled to them, his leg killing him. The bullet had hit him in the thigh and he didn't think it had done any major damage, but it hurt like hell. He needed to reach the rocks and try to put something on the wound.

  The dirt kicked up next to his foot and he heard a gunshot. A second shot, then a third. He didn't have time to think, he just needed to make it to the safety of the rocks. When he got within a few yards, he fell to the ground and crawled the rest of the way. He didn't know if it made him safer, but it felt that way. He rose to his knees and dove the final yard just as a bullet tugged at his coat. He was safe for the moment.

  The shooting momentarily stopped, their target now invisible. After a quick look over the rocks, Ben checked his wound. His jeans were soaked with blood. He took off his holster, unbuckled his belt and pulled his pants down to his knees. The leg was ugly, but mostly because of the blood. He took off his coat, outer shirt, and t-shirt, and wiped the blood off with the t-shirt. It wasn't too bad—a small smooth entry hole and a slightly larger, more ragged, exit. The blood was flowing, but not dangerously so. He could tell the bullet hadn't hit an artery. He wrapped the t-shirt tightly around the wound and tied it in a knot, all the while grimacing in pain. He gingerly pulled up his pants and buckled his belt. For comfort purposes, he set the holster and gun down next to him. The chill in the air was beginning to sink into his bones, so he quickly put on his outer shirt and coat, zipping the coat to the top.

  It was time to take stock of his situation. It wasn't good. Both his crossbow and M-16 were still on Moose—the crossbow he used for hunting and the M-16 for protection—which left him with his Sig .40 caliber pistol, the same one he had been using since right after the event. The magazine held ten rounds, and he only had the one magazine. The two spare magazines were in his saddlebags, now probably a mile away. Ten rounds wouldn't get him very far, and the pistol was only effective at close range. If his attackers stayed in the woods, his gun was useless.

  A couple of ineffective shots hit the rocks, and then there was once again silence. It would do no good to fire back. He was going to have to make each shot count. He wasn't sure how many men were out there. From the sounds of the guns, he knew there had to be at least three, but possibly more. Moose would eventually find his way home and it wouldn't take Lila more than an hour to gather up enough bodies for a rescue party. Realistically though, it could be several hours before they arrived—assuming Moose went directly home and assuming they had any idea where he was. Luckily, Ben was near the trail and hadn't ventured deep into the woods. At least he now had a general time frame—for whatever good that would do him.

  He assumed Weeks was leading the group. Aaron had filled him in on Weeks. It was kind of a sad story—something the new world was full of. Like so many others, he had lost his family in the event, and had spent a couple of years wandering. He drifted from one community to another, finally meeting a woman named Ada near Charlotte, North Carolina. Although there was no great love between them, there was companionship. They figured it was the best they were going to get. They stayed together for a year or so, until the plague hit. No one seemed to know what the plague was—one rumor had it originating from an abandoned biological testing facility—but it didn't need a name. It killed all it infected—including Ada. Weeks somehow avoided catching the plague and immediately headed west. Again he met a woman, and again she died, this time a long horrible ordeal at the hands of bandits, resulting in a painful death that a bound Weeks had to witness. Somehow, he managed to escape, but he went back and slaughtered the bandits, making sure each died a slow, painful death. Eventually making it to Paradise, Weeks had finally found a little peace—until Ben destroyed the power plant, that is. Aaron had made it clear to Ben that Weeks wasn't someone to be trifled with. He was an angry man and someone who had known a lot of violence. If Ben ran across him again, he would have to be prepared to fight to the death.

  Assuming it was Weeks, he and his crew wouldn't want to wait hours. They would also be as aware as Ben that if Ben's horse found his way home, a rescue attempt would be made. Weeks would want to do the deed
and get out of there long before having to face a well-armed force.

  Would that be such a bad thing for Ben? What if he could lure them into the open? It would give him a fighting chance with them closer.

  "Ben! We know you're alive," came Weeks's voice from the trees. "We also know you're wounded. You don't have your rifle. Maybe if you run for the trees on the other side, you'll have a chance. If not, we can wait. You'll eventually pass out from loss of blood. Your choices don't look so hot—sort of like the choice you gave us in Paradise."

  Ben was pretty sure he wouldn't pass out. He had the wound tightly wrapped and he was sure he wasn't losing any more blood. Weeks's problem was that if he couldn't see Ben, he had no idea if he was unconscious. Ben was determined to keep it that way. There was no way he could see the men in the woods without them seeing him, so he was going to have to rely on sound. He was pretty sure he'd be able to hear them coming. After all, these were Paradise men, used to living in town with—up until recently—some modern conveniences. They had no feel for nature. They'd make plenty of noise. Of that, Ben had no doubt. He just had to hunker down and wait.

  An hour passed, and then two. Every once in a while a bullet would sting the top of the rocks, but he was safe as long as he stayed low. There was the occasional taunt from the edge of the woods, but eventually both the talking and the shooting subsided. Ben knew what they were thinking: Was Ben alive? Conscious? Should they go check it out? Knowing that help was eventually going to find its way there, time was becoming an issue. Every once in a while, he thought he heard arguing. Chances were, some of them wanted to check on Ben and some probably just wanted to leave altogether.

  At one point he almost gave himself away when he developed a major cramp in his foot. He came close to jumping up and walking it off, but if he did that, it would be the last walking he'd ever do. As painful as it was, he tried working it out from a prone position, stretching until it finally subsided.