Eden Lost (Eden Rising Trilogy Book 2) Page 21

  “I’m aware of that and grateful to him for it. But it’s my responsibility to take it from here. Paradise is a small town now, but it’s growing …”

  “Because you are kidnapping people and bringing them here,” interrupted Aaron.

  “I admit that sometimes my men get a little over-zealous in their recruiting, and I apologize for that, but you have to admit that once the people are here, they seem to like it.”

  Aaron couldn’t argue with that. People did seem to embrace the electricity quickly once they arrived. It had an intoxicating effect.

  “It’s up to me to transform Paradise from a town to a city. I can see it in a few years as the center of the country—not just geographically, but politically and emotionally. I want it to be the place where people come to get a sense of what this country was—and can be again. I want Paradise to expand, the electricity going in all directions. I want to tear down the burned-out remains next to us and rebuild. But until then, it’s all very fragile and needs to be protected.”

  “So I ask again, from what, or whom?”

  “From those out to destroy it. I want this country to return to what it once was, what we all once had. There are people who want to control that.”

  “Like you?”

  “Like others! I’ve brought stability to this town. You were here when I arrived. You know how chaotic everything was with the power struggles. Other groups want what we have and will stop at nothing to get it.”

  “What groups? There aren’t enough people out there to form a big enough group to take you over.”

  “Oh, but there are. And they are almost crazed at the idea of controlling this much power—figuratively and literally.”

  Crazed would be a good word for it, thought Aaron. “I’ll be honest with you, Marco. It’s not for me. I don’t want to live in a reminder of the past. I want to live in the hope and reality of the future. You’re right. The world isn’t what it was, and most people have gotten used to that fact. We may have electricity here, but from what I’ve seen, people aren’t enjoying life like they used to. They just seem to be desperately clinging to the little reminder of what they once had. That’s not growth, and it’s not for me.”

  “I’m trying to build something here and you’re fighting me on it. I can’t let you leave, and at this point I can’t let you stay. I’ve got to figure out what to do with you.”

  The don obviously hadn’t figured that out, because Aaron had gone a week sitting in that empty room without any word from Bolli.

  *****

  He pounded on the door and called to the guard.

  “Sammy, you out there? What’s going on?”

  “Don’t know. Shut up while I check.”

  Sammy was right outside the door. Being a store room, the door opened outward. Aaron kicked it and it flew open, striking Sammy and momentarily stunning him. It was more time than Aaron needed. He grabbed Sammy’s arm and savagely brought it down over his knee, shattering the elbow. Sammy opened his mouth to scream when Aaron struck him in the throat. He slumped to the floor, dead.

  Aaron gave a quick thought to finding Bolli, but dismissed it. He needed to find Emily. He grabbed Sammy’s M-16 and ran out the door. He traversed the streets. All around him people were running—men in uniforms and townspeople—all with weapons. All hell had broken loose.

  He was rounding a corner when he heard raised voices. He was curious. He stopped and quietly moved toward them. When he was about fifty feet away, he suddenly had a clear view. Four heavily-armed men pointing guns at two others. It was Sean!

  Holy shit! He thought. The person standing next to Sean was his brother, Ben. It had to be. He was older, but there was no doubt. They had set down their weapons and were raising their hands.

  One of the guards raised his handgun as if to shoot. It was Conklin. He’d always been an asshole. Well, now he’d be a dead asshole.

  Aaron aimed and fired, all in one motion. Conklin’s head exploded.

  And then he calmly took three more shots.

  Chapter 32

  Out from the darkness stepped his brother. Ben could already feel the tears running down his cheeks. All around they could hear yelling. Guns were being fired, probably at nonexistent targets. Somewhere a fire had started. But at that moment, in that spot, none of the chaos existed.

  Sean had stepped back to give the brothers their space and to keep watch.

  Ben and Aaron approached each other. Not a word was spoken between them. Ben noticed his brother’s face was also shiny with tears. They were three feet apart, each taking in the scene. And then they closed the gap and embraced. The years of loss fell away as they shook in each other’s arms, alternately crying and laughing. The tears continued to flow. They pulled back and stared at each other.

  “Hey,” said Aaron.

  “Hey.”

  And then they embraced again, still barely believing the reality of the situation.

  “Gotta go,” said Sean urgently at the sound of an approaching group.

  “Where’s Emily?” asked Aaron.

  “She’s safe,” answered Ben. “Where’s the don? I have a score to settle.”

  “Probably in the town hall,” said Aaron. “But he’s mine.”

  “Already bossing me around,” said Ben, as they started for the showdown with the don.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Ben spied some round objects attached to the belts of the dead men. Hand grenades. He grabbed four of them and followed Aaron and Sean.

  All around them confusion reigned. Nearer the river a battle was raging between the Yellowstone crew and Bolli’s armed force. But there was more, and it confused Ben.

  They stopped for momentary cover.

  Ben heard more shouting. He heard Aaron’s name mentioned, followed with the word “bastard.”

  “I don’t get it,” he said suddenly.

  “Get what?” asked Aaron as they started back on their way.

  “The anger of the townspeople. I had to kill one who shot Sean.”

  Aaron looked at Sean.

  “I’m fine,” his friend answered.

  “What I’m saying,” continued Ben, “is that I can understand people wanting to protect their town, but this is different. It’s like they’ve gone wild. There’s almost a hatred coming from some of them.”

  “It’s fear,” said Aaron. “Not the fear of being attacked, but the fear of losing it all.”

  “The electricity?”

  “Yeah, but more what it represents. It’s their one remaining connection to their old life.”

  “But look what it’s doing to them,” said Ben.

  And then it hit him.

  It all became clear to me in that moment. For over a year I had heard about the great “evil,” and had seen the effects of it all along our trip west. All of the violence and negativity had brought us to Paradise and to the don, leading me to assume that the don was the great evil. But it wasn’t the don after all. It was the electricity itself. More specifically, the real evil was people’s obsession with the electricity.

  In our old world, electricity was a simple necessity. It wasn’t thought of as being positive or negative. It was what it was. We couldn’t live without it, but we didn’t need to. It was always there. We learned to appreciate its importance during blackouts—the only time we gave it more than a second thought.

  But now it had become an unhealthy need—one that people were willing to kill for. It was obvious to me that the power would never extend much beyond the perimeter of Paradise. And yet, the fight to control it would go on indefinitely. From the day Baxter turned the electricity on, the leadership of Paradise became a revolving door—at least until the don showed up. When he was gone—which would be very soon if Aaron had his way—the door would start to revolve once again.

  It was a disease. In this vast country were a few people and communities trying their best to create something positive, and right in the middle of it was this unstoppable mass. Like cancerous
cells, it was just going to keep spreading, eventually beyond the borders of Paradise, to infect the healthy communities like Monett and Yellowstone.

  I knew what I had to do.

  They had reached the entrance to the town hall. Twenty-five feet away, a single guard manned the door.

  Sean pulled out a large knife.

  “The battles are a few blocks away. I’d rather not advertise our presence by shooting him.”

  Ben put his hand on Sean’s shoulder.

  “Let me.”

  He took the crossbow off his back, loaded it, and aimed. The man was looking out at a small fire that had started a few streets over.

  Ben pulled the trigger and the man sank to the ground, a shaft protruding from his head.

  Aaron looked at him with pride. “Impressive. Let’s go.”

  Dealing with Marco Bolli turned out to be simple, and more than a little pathetic. They found him hiding under his desk in the opulent office he had created for himself. He pleaded for his life and tried to explain that he wasn’t really Bolli at all.

  Ben had seen enough killing and was almost ready to walk away, but Aaron wasn’t so charitable. They left Bolli dead, crumpled in a heap under his desk—an appropriately ignoble ending to his attempted legacy.

  They left the building and were going to work their way back to the river.

  But Ben wasn’t done.

  The gunfire from upriver had pretty much ceased—Ben hoped it meant that the Yellowstone crew had pulled back—but the town was still alive with shouting. He heard Aaron and Sean’s names spewed a few times, and the occasional rifle sounded.

  “This is insane,” said Sean.

  “It’s got to stop,” answered Ben. They were passing the parking area for all of the trucks.

  “Can I have two of those grenades?” Aaron asked Ben.

  “Yeah, but only two. I have plans for the other two.”

  They looked at him, understanding showing in their faces.

  “I’ll meet you at the river in fifteen,” said Ben.

  “Okay. Good luck,” said Aaron.

  Ben took off. He wound his way behind some buildings, and in just a couple of minutes found himself in front of the power plant. No one was around. The noise of the search parties had now moved to the town hall. He found the main door. It was locked with a makeshift padlock and bracket. Ben searched around and found a piece of metal that he used to break the bracket. The door swung open.

  Ben found a light switch, flicked it on, and closed the door behind him. He was in a spacious room with offices on the left and a wire fence on the right. Behind the fence were panels upon panels of circuit boards and wires—the black heart of the town. He didn’t need to worry about the power generating equipment—probably downstairs closer to the river—this would be enough.

  Again, a padlock was all that stood between him and his goal. He quickly disposed of it, then looked around and spied a storage room over near the offices. He entered it and found what he was looking for—paint thinner.

  He carried the can over to the panel room and splashed the liquid around, over and under the panels. From outside he heard a muffled explosion, then a moment later a second one. These were followed a few seconds after by a series of much larger explosions—the tanker trucks.

  Ben placed his two hand grenades in what he imagined would be effective spots. Before pulling the pins, he went back to the door leading outside and checked to make sure it wasn’t blocked or wedged closed in any way.

  Satisfied, he went back to the panels. He was shaking from what he was about to do. He had a moment’s doubt, but only a moment. He breathed in to calm himself, but the air was strong with the odor of paint thinner and he coughed.

  It was time.

  He pulled the pin from the first grenade, then quickly pulled the second and hightailed it out of there. He was halfway out the door when the first one went off. He was surprised at the lack of intensity of the explosion. He had expected more. Just a product of the movie generation, he supposed, where all the special effects were exaggerated. A moment later the second one went off. Although weaker than he thought, they had done their job. All of the lights in the town went dark at once.

  The shouting was getting closer. He made his way around the side of the building toward the river.

  And then he heard it. A “whump” sounded from inside the building and flames were showing through some small upper windows.

  His job was complete.

  *****

  Ben caught up with Aaron and Sean at the edge of the river and they made their way across. They weren’t pursued or fired upon. The townspeople had too much on their plates to worry about at this point.

  They made it to the top of the bluff a half hour later, where they were greeted by Lila, Katie, Emily, and the others. The Yellowstone group had been fortunate. Other than a few minor wounds, everyone had made it through the battle unscathed.

  Ben introduced Lila and Katie to Aaron, and then they all looked down on Paradise, relieved that it was over.

  Ben looked at Aaron. “I have a bone to pick with you.”

  Aaron raised his eyebrows.

  “Sean says you were in my room at the house. I told you never to go in my room without my permission.”

  “Get over it, little brother.”

  Epilogue

  I watched it burn for hours, until there was nothing left but the smoldering hulks of trucks and what was left of the brick walls of the power plant. It was now dawn and Lila was safely on her way home with Katie, along with the others. A few had stayed behind for a while, but eventually headed back. I was alone. I told them I’d catch up. They understood. I needed the time to let the magnitude of what I’d done sink in.

  Was it the right thing? The decision to blow the power plant was solely mine. We could have accomplished the mission without destroying the plant. I could have walked away. But deep down I knew that wasn’t an option. It had been the source of so much misery and so much pain for so many. But in my zeal to destroy it and all it stood for, had I affected our future? Was it just hubris on my part? Right here were the tools necessary to bring our society back to a semblance of what it once was. Had I just set the future of the country back, or had I somehow contributed to its healing? Over time we could have had power again—all of us maybe. But even the word “power” was now distasteful to me—even when meant in the simplest terms of “electrical” power. It seemed the one power bred the other, and I had had enough of that.

  No, I had just played God—for right or wrong—and I was going to have to live with the consequences. As much as I was admired by some for all that Lila and I had done in the early days, I was now going to be hated by others. So be it. I made my choice and I was willing to live with it.

  What would happen to Paradise now? Would it survive? I didn’t have any answers to that. I hoped it would. I hoped the people there could adapt and become stronger.

  Lila told me of Katie killing the man. I never wanted that for her. I wanted her to live a peaceful life. I wanted all the violence in our life to be in the past. Well, maybe it finally was. We would talk to Katie about the incident, but somehow, oddly enough, I wasn’t too concerned. Katie didn’t see the man as anything different from a marauding animal that had to be killed. Nothing more. It was just how she saw life. It seemed healthy to me.

  Those of us who made up this new world in Yellowstone were the strong ones. We had all survived the initial event simply by luck, but it wasn’t luck that had brought us together. It was strength and it was the will to live. We earned our place in Yellowstone, and we were happy with the simple life. Everything we did now was conscious. We were living fully. For Lila and me, it was the best of both worlds: the simple life we had enjoyed in the Smokies, along with the community that was so important for Katie’s future. We had good friends. We even had family now. It was time to settle down into the life we had earned.

  No, I did the right thing in Paradise. Somewhere, someone e
lse will master the old technology and will make it available. Over time—maybe twenty years, maybe a hundred—it will begin to show up again in society. Maybe by then we will be ready to embrace it again.

  And maybe this time we will do it right.

  The End

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  About the Author

  Andrew Cunningham is the author of the Amazon bestselling thriller Wisdom Spring and the thrillers All Lies and Deadly Shore, as well as the post-apocalyptic Eden Rising Trilogy: Eden Rising, Eden Lost, and Eden's Legacy (due early 2016). As A.R. Cunningham, he has written a series of five children's mysteries in the Arthur MacArthur series. Born in England, Andrew was a long-time resident of Cape Cod. He and his wife now live in Florida. Please visit his website at arcnovels.com, or his Facebook page, Author Andrew Cunningham.

  An excerpt from Eden’s Legacy, Part 3 in the Eden Rising Trilogy

  Eden’s Legacy

  Prologue

  We called it the great migration.

  It was a joke, of course, always said with a wink and a smile. A knowing understanding among parents. In truth, it was the only way we could deal with our fear. Our lives were about to change forever and we all knew it. We also knew that there was absolutely nothing we could do about it.

  We had been in Yellowstone for eight years—eight of the happiest years we could imagine. The six years we had spent on the shores of Fontana Lake back east had, despite challenges, been a peaceful and maturing time for us amongst the stillness of the forest. But we never realized how lonely we had been. The fire that drove us out was really a blessing. Although the trip to Yellowstone was long and rife with danger—was there any trip in this new world that wasn't long and dangerous?—the result was worth it.