Eden Rising (Eden Rising Trilogy Book 1) Read online

  We began to realize just how noisy our world had been: cars, music, TV, people talking, planes overhead, sirens … the list was endless. While there was a part of us that appreciated the quiet (minus the dogs), we were children of the 21st century. Noise was a part of our existence. We didn’t know if the electricity would ever come back on, but we had to prepare for it never being in our lives again.

  It was all almost too much to think about. It was the same way with all the dead people. It wasn’t that we were ignoring them, we just couldn’t bear to think about them as human beings. That gave them personalities and lives and we couldn’t deal with that. So we had to pretend we didn’t care, knowing full well that deep down we cared very much.

  They found the gun store and were once again faced with something they knew nothing about. So they decided to go with what felt good. They each ended up with a Sig Sauer 9mm pistol, based on a sign next to it that touted its quality. For rifles, Ben chose a Remington R15 Bushmaster rifle, because it was light, and, he had to admit, it was cool looking. After trying other small rifles, Lila ended up with the same. They considered shotguns, but everything seemed too heavy, and weight was a big issue. The Bushmasters had magazines that held four rounds, and the Sigs held ten. Finding the ammunition to go with the weapons was an adventure, but eventually they succeeded. They picked up a gun cleaning kit, then found some pamphlets on gun safety and shooting basics, and followed the directions on how to load the weapons. Ben felt embarrassed that he didn’t have the faintest idea—other than from watching it on TV—how to handle the guns, and in fact, found himself much more nervous than he would have thought. Finally, they found holsters for the pistols and straps for the rifles.

  As Ben put on his holster, he looked at Lila and smiled. She looked back at him and started laughing. There was something ridiculous about what they were doing, and they both sensed it. Two days before, they were just two really average teenagers. Now they looked like Bonnie and Clyde. The laughing was a gigantic release for them.

  Two doors down was a large drugstore, so they went in and picked up a first aid kit and some other items. Lila went into the pharmacy to search for antibiotics. She looked for a recognizable name and eventually came away with some packages of a five-day antibiotic that she had remembered from when she had taken them a few months earlier. Ben, meanwhile, searched the shelves for anything that might be of use in their travels. He came across a display of condoms and, after a moment’s hesitation, scooped up a handful and put them in one of the pockets of his pack. He was embarrassed, but was aware of how he was feeling about Lila. Who knew what might happen in the future?

  They noticed now that when they went into an enclosed space, there was a faint sickening smell. It was time to keep as far away from the dead as possible, and time to get on the road for real.

  It was already mid-afternoon, so they knew they wouldn’t get a lot of distance in, but if they could at least go far enough to be somewhat away from people, it would be a beginning. They started along the highway.

  That first day they rested a lot. The packs were heavy and the hiking boots new. They knew that with time they would get used to carrying so much weight, but at this point, Florida seemed a long way away.

  “I remember flying to Disney World one year,” commented Ben during one of their breaks. “We got on the plane at seven in the morning, and were in one of the parks by noon.”

  “We’ll be there by noon,” responded Lila. “I’m just not sure what year.”

  “I wonder what we could have done differently with these packs,” said Ben. “Should we try to find a wagon?”

  “We’ve never been the last people on Earth before,” replied Lila. “We’re bound to make mistakes. We’re bound to forget things—some really obvious things probably. We just have to hope that as time goes on, we get smarter. But no, I don’t think a wagon would help. It would be awkward and would have its own problems. We’re doing okay.”

  Although she was keeping it as light as possible, Ben could sense something was troubling her.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Everything,” Lila answered, after a moment of contemplation. “Why are we doing this? I mean, what’s the use? Even if we make it to Florida alive, which is a big ‘if’, what do we do when we get there? Do we spend the rest of our lives foraging for food, living a life of … of what? Everything we’ve ever known is gone. Everything that made our life what it is no longer exists. Everything that was important ...” She went silent, big tears rolling down her cheeks.

  Lila’s comments made me think. Really think for possibly the first time in my life. Where some of these thoughts came from, I don’t know. Maybe it was simply fear, the fear that if Lila gave up now, it would be all over. Or maybe it was something else…

  Ben took his time in answering. He was being forced to confront the answers to questions he didn’t want to ask.

  “Okay,” he said. “This sucks, to put it mildly. But it could be worse. We could be dead.” He held up his hand as Lila tried to interrupt. “Yeah, I know, maybe it would be better to be dead. But would it? I’ve never been very religious. In fact, not at all. But I do believe that we’re on this planet for a reason. If we were here for a reason before all this happened, do we lose that reason now? Or, does the reason become even more important? Let’s face it. We were killing this world. Maybe not you and me in particular, but humanity in general. There was so much hate, so much uncaring. Could it be that we’re still here because we can somehow make a difference? It’s not going to be easy. At any moment, one of us could refuse to go on. It will be up to the other to be the strong one. We don’t know what’s ahead of us, but I can only hope it will be something that will make us grow somehow. That we’ll be happy. We might find some other people. Maybe we are the beginning of a new civilization. Maybe something good will come out of all of this. We don’t know. But if we choose to die, we’ll never know, and there’s something wrong with that. Suicide has never solved anything. It’s running away. Shouldn’t we always try to live up to our fullest potential?”

  Ben caught his breath. “Lila, I’ve never been so scared in all my life. The odds are stacked so far against us, it’s ridiculous. We haven’t talked about all the ways we could die on this trip, and you’re right, there is no guarantee we’ll even get to Florida. But doesn’t that make you kind of mad? I mean, someone caused all this. Or maybe it was nature ... a sun spot. I don’t know, and we probably will never know, but doesn’t it make you want to stand up and say ‘fuck you, I’m going to survive anyway!’? If something happens to you, then yeah, I’d pack it in and use one of these guns on myself. But as long as we’re together, we have a chance to see what the universe, or whatever, has in store for us. Who knows? We could make a world around us that’s better than what we had. All I know is that I can’t do this without you … I don’t want to do this without you.”

  Lila looked up through her tears and managed a half-smile. “You know, you can be pretty deep.” But then the cloud returned and she jumped up, picked up a stone, and threw it with all her might. She reached down and picked up a second, then a third. Ben just watched, knowing this was something she had to get out of her system. The tears were flowing heavily now, and with a look of sheer anger, Lila stuck her middle finger in the air, and screamed, “Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you! You can’t stop us! You can't stop us …” She collapsed to the ground, her head in her hands, shaking and sobbing. Ben started to approach her, but she waved him off.

  Finally, she stood up shakily, looked at Ben with an expression he hadn't seen before, but one that told him that something within her had just changed, and quietly said, "Let's go."

  At that point, fear turned into determination, for both of us. Lila blowing off steam at our invisible enemy confirmed that we didn’t want to die. We wanted very much to live. For what, we didn’t know, but the fact that we wanted to live was a victory in itself. For now we were emotionally okay, and that’s all we
could hope for. Our newfound sense of purpose came at the right time, too. Coming across the Whitmans the next day showed us just how debilitating fear could be.

  Judging by the road signs, they figured they only covered about ten miles that afternoon. But that was okay. They were on their way. They got off the highway and found a secluded spot in a small grove of trees. They had stuck water bottles in their backpacks and poured a couple of them into a small telescoping pot they had picked up at the sports store. They heated the water on their tiny stove and cooked a couple of their freeze-dried meals. They had forgotten flashlights, and in fact, weren’t even sure flashlights worked—were they considered electric?—but that was okay. Frankly, they were afraid to show a light at night. They didn’t know who was out there.

  They set up their tent, unrolled their sleeping bags and crawled in. They knew sleep would be hard to come by, but they had to try. As he lay next to Lila, Ben knew the shock was beginning to wear off. His body was stirring with feelings for her. Almost on cue, Lila leaned over and gave Ben a soft kiss on the cheek. She nestled up next to him and closed her eyes. Ben kissed her head and slipped his hand in hers. Surprisingly, they both fell into a deep sleep.

  They woke up feeling rested for the first time since the ordeal began. Ben opened the flap of the tent, the dew dripping to the ground. They both had to go to the bathroom, but realized that they hadn’t thought much about the logistics. Lila had remembered some toilet paper, but neither of them had thought of a shovel to dig a hole in the ground. They had no choice but to wing it. Lila found a sharp rock to use to dig a shallow hole. They knew that it really wasn’t necessary to dig a hole—no one would be coming along this way, and considering all the dead people out there, a little poop wouldn’t matter—but it was a sign of civilized behavior. Ben headed off in the opposite direction. He realized that it was the first time since the supermarket that they had been out of each other’s sight.

  They made a light freeze-dried breakfast—their appetites hadn’t yet returned—and they used the water to wash their faces and brush their teeth. They rolled up their sleeping bags and folded up the tent and were on their way bright and early.

  The trudging was tedious. Ben knew it would get more interesting when they reached the trail, but for now it was everything Lila had dreaded, miles and miles of concrete and cars filled with bodies. The smell—even in the outdoors—was ripe. At one point they came across a service area with a gas station and a convenience store. Lila found some vapor inhalers, used for stuffy noses. The menthol smell helped cover up the odor of decomposition. While they were there they grabbed some bags of chips and nuts, and some more waters and sodas. They also found a bathroom that contained no bodies. Even though they couldn’t flush, using a real bathroom—even a service area bathroom—was a treat of sorts. They brought water in from the convenience store and spent some time washing up. They also noticed that, in spite of their short time together, they could use the bathroom at the same time without embarrassment.

  Around mid-afternoon, they had dropped into a mindless gait when they were sharply brought back to reality by a cry from off the highway.

  “Hey, it’s a couple of kids. Wait! Stop!”

  A middle-aged man and woman came over the rise, waving their arms at them.

  I had thought that finding another person alive would be an exciting moment for us, but I found myself oddly annoyed. One look at Lila told me that she was finding it less than joyful, as well. Maybe it was being called “kids”—even after just a few days we had ceased seeing ourselves as kids—or maybe there was some jealousy of suddenly having to share Lila with someone else. Maybe if it had been anyone but this couple, it would have been different.

  “Yoo hoo! Hold on there!”

  Lila turned to Ben, made a face, and said, “Yoo hoo?”

  They were stereotypes from a bad movie. He looked like he was on vacation, with a blue Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts. He was wearing a bad hairpiece and had a pot belly. She was a bleached blonde with a poorly-fitting set of dentures, dressed in a flowered summer outfit.

  “I can’t believe we’ve found someone alive. Thank God!” said the man. He thrust out his hand. “I’m George Whitman. This is my wife Bunny.” Ben knew that if he looked at Lila, he’d burst out laughing. They shook hands. “I’m Ben. This is Lila.”

  It’s interesting that a situation we initially found funny could turn so pitiful so quickly. We realized that this couple may have survived the initial disaster, but they were destined to follow the rest of humanity—quickly. That much was obvious. I also wondered what we must have looked like to them; rifles slung over our backpacks, holsters on one leg, and long knives strapped to the other. I was hoping we looked a little scary. But the “kids” comment had put an end to that.

  The Whitmans looked scared and confused. They hadn’t yet been able to think rationally. Ben wasn’t sure they ever would.

  “We live in Worcester,” began George. “We were in the middle of a home invasion and were in our panic room.”

  “When George insisted we should build one, I told him he was crazy,” interrupted Bunny. “But he was right.”

  “So,” continued George, “these people with ski masks broke into our house. We made it to the panic room just in time. We weren’t in there more than a few minutes when all hell broke loose. Our lights went out and suddenly we couldn’t breathe. It felt like the end of the …” He looked around him, embarrassed. “Well, you know … Anyway, none of our surveillance monitors worked and the phone died, so we couldn’t call the police. We must’ve stayed in there about twelve hours …”

  “Not that we would know,” piped in Bunny, “since our Rolexes stopped working.”

  “Finally we took a chance and came out,” finished George. “Wouldn’t you know they were all dead. Have you heard what happened?”

  “There’s no way to get information,” said Lila, “so we really have no idea.”

  “No one else you’ve met had any idea?”

  “You’re the first we’ve met,” answered Ben.

  “A lot of Worcester burned down,” said George. “We’re headed for Boston. You should probably come with us.”

  “Thanks,” said Lila, “but we just came from that direction. There’s nothing back there. Just a lot of dead bodies.”

  Bunny started crying.

  “You don’t have to be so blunt, young woman,” replied George in anger. “I’m trying to let Bunny know that it’s not as bad as it seems.”

  “But it is,” said Ben. Any patience he had disappeared when George yelled at Lila. “Look around you. How can this not be as bad as it seems? And I suggest you prepare for it. Shielding her isn’t going to help the situation. You need to make a plan. Winter will be here in a couple of months. Are you sure you want to be here with no electricity? Do you have any food or water? Weapons?”

  “But there has to be someone in charge,” sniffled Bunny.

  “There’s nobody,” answered Ben. “You have to be in charge of yourself.”

  “Well we’re heading to Boston and I think you kids should come with us. You can’t just wander around without an adult. How are you going to survive?”

  Lila had had enough. There was nothing constructive she could say. She started back on the road west without a word, leaving the Whitmans behind. She knew Ben would follow momentarily.

  Ben tried to reason with them one last time. “Please listen to me. You need to plan. You need to find supplies. And you need to stay away from the city. Disease will start to spread from all the dead people.” He looked at them with sadness, knowing he was making no impression whatsoever. “We’ve got to go. I wish you both the best of luck.” With that, he turned and followed Lila.

  “No, you’ve got to come with us,” yelled George. “You can’t be out here alone.”

  Ben’s last image of them was of Bunny sitting in the road crying and George throwing his hands up over his head in frustration. He caught up to Lila, who was
crying as she walked, and put his arm around her.

  How many more people were there like George and Bunny? People who didn’t have the common sense to do what they needed to. I seriously doubt that the Whitmans lasted more than a month. I wondered if there was more we could have done, but there really wasn’t. We were hardening ourselves to the reality of the situation, and while we would have gladly helped anyone who needed it, the Whitmans clearly didn’t want it. That brought up the question: Of those who did survive the initial event, how many died within days or weeks, simply because they were unable or unwilling to live?

  Chapter 4

  They walked further into the evening than originally planned. Putting as much distance as possible between them and the Whitmans seemed like a good idea. The whole encounter had disturbed them.

  “Well, on one hand,” began Ben, as they journeyed down the highway, “it shows that other people did survive. But if they’re all like George and Bunny, this world is in a lot more trouble than we thought.”

  “Do you really think they wanted us to go with them because they thought we’d be safer with them, or was it because they knew they would be safer with us?” asked Lila.

  “Probably a little of both,” answered Ben. “Mostly though, I think the whole thing is slowly driving them a little crazy. It’s too much. They don’t know how to handle it, so they don’t do anything at all.”

  “We don’t really know how to handle it either, but at least we’re doing something,” said Lila. “Maybe it’s just the process of ‘doing’ that’s the answer. As long as we keep trying, we’re bound to make some right decisions.”