Eden's Legacy (Eden Rising Trilogy Book 3) Read online

"Like I said," said Frank, shaking his head. "Stupid."

  "Any theories on why they would change direction?" asked Ben. "Going into the hills means they're no longer shooting for the Pacific."

  "I think I might have found a clue," said Aaron. "I don't think Sophie is a willing participant any longer."

  They gathered around, not far from the front door of the bar.

  "Look at the ground."

  The signs were obvious. Instead of two sets of clear footprints in the dust, the ground was disturbed. Something had gone on.

  "A fight," said Aaron. Sean had come over to see what was happening. Aaron continued, "You can see lots of footprints—the same two people, not any additional footprints—but there," he pointed, and then pointed to three other spots, "and there, and there, and there. Bodies hit the ground."

  "Couldn't they have just gotten drunk and … and …" Frank was having trouble getting the words out.

  "And had wild sex?" finished Nick.

  Frank nodded dumbly.

  "In the middle of the dust?" asked Ben. "I would doubt it."

  "Definitely a fight," said Aaron, "ending with someone getting hurt." He knelt over a broken whiskey bottle. "There's a little blood on the bottle and another few drops on the ground."

  "And drag marks," added Sean. "Those are heel marks. They lead away about thirty feet, then disappear, right where hoofprints begin. Someone was dragged over to the horses and put on one of the horses."

  "Can you tell who?" asked Frank. It was clear to Ben that Frank wasn't thinking rationally, or he wouldn't have asked the question.

  "Clete is sixteen and has about a hundred pounds on thirteen year old Sophie," said Sean. "You do the math."

  Ben could see that everyone was getting a little testy, and it was easy to know why. This was more than they had signed up for. They all thought it would be a simple case of catching two wayward teens, showing them the error of their ways, and bringing them back home. Well, nobody thought it would be that simple, but they certainly didn't expect this.

  "What do you think happened?" asked Frank, not really wanting to hear the answer.

  "I think Sophie had finally had enough," answered Aaron. "I think she was tired and hungry and had finally figured out that Clete was the asshole everyone had told her he was. There was no way Clete could come back, so a fight ensued. He changed direction because it's easier to get lost in the hills."

  "It's taken on a new dimension," said Ben. "I suggest we get moving."

  Ten minutes later, they were heading into the hills, hoping for the best, but each one secretly expecting the worst.

  Those fears were realized a couple of hours later, when they were riding along a trail that took them near the edge of a cliff.

  Jason, who had taken the lead, suddenly let out an "Oh my God!" and jumped off his horse. The others followed and they all peered over the side of the cliff. Fifty feet below them on a flat rock lay the lifeless body of Sophie.

  Chapter 8

  It was so exciting! She was finally getting away from her overbearing and demanding parents. Complete assholes, both of them. They gave her such a hard time about her relationship with Clete. She was old enough. She was thirteen. Her parents were always talking about how much things had changed in this new world, how in the old days girls weren't ready for a relationship until they were sixteen or seventeen. Well, first of all, she never knew the "old" world, and second, that was bullshit anyway. They talked about these things in school, and she had read enough books to know that even in the "old" world, girls were having sex at thirteen. Her parents were just trying to scare her.

  And she wasn't stupid. She knew that Clete was trouble. She'd have to be a complete idiot not to see that. He was big for his age and looked to be nineteen or twenty, and he had a bad reputation. But he was fun and he was dangerous, and she liked that. Let's face it, she often thought, the world her parents used to know was filled with excitement and danger. Here, other than coming up on a mother bear and her cub and having to run for your life, there was nothing—no excitement at all. Everything had to do with surviving. Well, she was done with that. She had survived. Now it was time to have some fun.

  Clete was the one who had suggested the trip. No one in Yellowstone had seen the Pacific Ocean—at least, no one had seen it since before the big event. They could write down what they found and come back with the information. Maybe then they wouldn't be seen as losers. Or maybe they would like what they found and decide to live there. That was Clete's suggestion, but as exciting as he was, Sophie couldn't actually see living with him without anyone else around. It would get boring fast. But they could cross that bridge when they got to it.

  Clete said they needed to bring food, but didn't have a lot of room for it. Sophie knew her dad kept a large box of homemade jerky, and had stolen it the day before when her parents were in town. They stuffed their saddlebags with it and filled two canteens each with water. They took along some extra clothes, plus a jacket and a rain poncho each.

  They left early in the morning, before Clete's parents were up, and headed west. Clete had a map and had worked out the best route, along the prairie at the edge of some hills. He told her it would be an easy ride, and if a lot of the west coast had, in fact, fallen into the ocean, they might be a lot closer to the ocean than they thought.

  The first day was pretty, riding through quiet forests, and stopping twice to have sex on the forest floor. Neither one of them had ever done anything this daring, and just the thought of what they were doing made them horny.

  But as early as the second day, Sophie began to see a slight change in Clete. He was looking over his shoulder a lot and insisting that they ride a little faster. There was no sex in the woods that day.

  "What's wrong?" Sophie finally asked.

  "Your dad and the others are going to come after us, and if they catch us, I'm a dead man."

  "Why?"

  "Why? I'm sixteen and I'm taking a girl away from her parents."

  "I'm not a girl."

  "You're fucking thirteen. To them, you're a girl."

  "Why don't we just go back and say we were out for the day and got lost?" All of a sudden, the trip had lost some of its excitement.

  "They'd never believe that. No, they'd shoot me or kick me out, or something. Our best bet is to find the Pacific and come back heroes.

  Sophie wasn't totally sure Clete believed that himself, but it was the rationale they used. From then on, looking over their shoulders at the trail behind them became the norm.

  By the time they reached the prairie, Sophie was ready to go back, and said as much to Clete.

  "Fine. Go back. You'll get lost and die in the woods somewhere, but if that's what you want, go ahead."

  "Can't you come back with me?"

  "I already explained. I can't."

  "But I don't want to go back alone."

  "Stay with me or go back alone. They're your only choices."

  "This isn't fun anymore. I want to go home."

  Clete didn't respond. He just kept riding.

  The turning point came when they reached Butte City. It was an ugly little town, thought Sophie. Was it even a town at all? The sign said sixty-eight people lived there before the event. Could sixty-eight even be called a town? She thought they were all a lot bigger back then.

  Sophie desperately wanted to go home. Clete had become sullen and sometimes even mean. Going with him had been a big mistake. She was trying to decide if she could find her way home, when she heard Clete let out a whoop of joy from a building that had a faded "Bar" sign out front. That couldn't be good. Clete had told her to break into some of the houses—broken down shacks would be more like it—and she if she could find any cans of food. That showed her just how desperate Clete was. There was no way Sophie would eat anything in a can so many years after everyone died. There wouldn't be anything good at this point.

  But the fact was, they were hungry. They only had a little jerky left, and they were sick o
f it. Neither one of them was much of a hunter. Clete had tried killing some rabbits the day before, but missed each time. So many of the kids at Yellowstone were good hunters. Sophie wasn't, but had never cared—her father had done the hunting for the family. And now she had picked someone as useless as herself to travel with.

  Clete came out of the door to the bar waving a smallish, already half-empty bottle of something. He danced a jig in the dirt and almost fell over.

  "Look what I found," he said, slurring his words.

  Sophie had seen her parents get drunk a couple of times, and it had taken them a lot longer than that. She had heard her mother talk about people who couldn't hold their alcohol. Now she knew what her mother meant. Clete was already feeling the effects. She also thought he might be exaggerating just a little bit.

  "Sophie, come and get some. Someone already raided it, but there are still a few bottles left. Let's get drunk."

  "Clete," Sophie said hesitantly as she approached him. "I don't think it's a good idea."

  "You afraid?" Clete gave her a nasty look. "I knew I should have done this trip with a real woman, not a little girl."

  "I'm not a little girl! I just don't think you should be drinking. You're already drunk."

  "And I'm not stopping here." He threw away the bottle and went back into the bar. When he came out, he had a large bottle of bourbon. He couldn't open it, so he took one of his heavier knives and swung it against the bottle, breaking the top off. He took a swig, keeping the jagged, broken edge, away from his mouth. He made a face as he swallowed it and Sophie realized that Clete didn't actually like the taste. He just wanted to get drunk.

  Well, screw him. She wasn't going to stand around and watch him drink. She left him standing in the dust outside the bar and went to one of the houses to see if there was anything she needed. Food wouldn't be an option, but maybe there would be something else—anything to keep her occupied and away from Clete.

  She managed to spend an hour in the house, looking at all the things her parents used to talk about—a TV, a refrigerator, some black box on the kitchen counter that she couldn't remember the name of, and many other things. It was fascinating, but all the while she could hear Clete calling out her name to come and party with him. He really was drunk now—there was no need to exaggerate.

  The sun started to go down and she knew it was time to leave. She stopped at the front door and looked over at Clete. He was quiet now, urinating against the wall of the bar. What could she have ever seen in him? He zipped up, turned, and saw her standing there. He raised his bottle with the jagged top—she wasn't sure if it was the same one from before or a new one—and silently saluted her, then leaned back against the wall.

  She walked across what was probably once a road and approached him with her hand out.

  "Why don't you give me the bottle."

  "You want some?"

  "No, I just think…"

  "Then shut the fuck up."

  "Clete, you've had enough."

  "I'll tell you when I've had enough. You've been nothing but trouble this whole trip with your whining. Why'd I let you come with me?"

  He was slurring badly and Sophie was having trouble understanding him.

  Clete closed his eyes for a moment and Sophie reached for the bottle. He must have felt her presence, because his eyes shot open and he jerked the bottle up and away, raking Sophie's palm and fingers with the sharp edge. She cried out in pain. With blood dripping, she cradled her hand in her t-shirt.

  "Why did you do that?"

  "You bitch. You tried to take it from me. Get your own."

  "I'm bleeding!"

  "Not my problem."

  "Clete, stop it. You're drunk and you're getting really mean." Her hand was bleeding profusely. She turned and walked to her horse to get a towel from her saddlebags.

  "Where are you going?" He pushed himself away from the wall and charged her.

  "I'm just getting…" She turned just as he reached her, and she saw the bottle coming at her head.

  She never felt the blow that killed her.

  Clete dropped the bottle and stood over Sophie, splayed out on the ground, unmoving.

  "You're not going to leave me, you bitch."

  And then a change came over him.

  "Sophie? Are you okay? I'm sorry I hit you so hard. Are you okay? Sophie?"

  He fell to his knees and shook her. "Sophie, wake up. I'm sorry."

  He was crying now. He laid down next to her with his arm draped over her lifeless body, and then he fell into a drunken sleep.

  *****

  He awoke with his arm still on Sophie. The sun was bright, and he was squinting. His head was pounding and his mouth was dry … so dry. He was disoriented. He looked over at Sophie.

  "Wake up. We've gotta go."

  He raised up to an elbow and shook Sophie.

  "Hey, wake …" And then he remembered. It came back to him in a rush. He pulled his hand back quickly and stared at Sophie.

  "Sophie?" The tears came again. "Noooo! What did I do? Sophie, please wake up. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."

  He knew she wasn't getting up. He got to his feet and stared down at her lifeless body. Self-preservation mode kicked in. He couldn't leave her there for any of the Yellowstone crowd to find. He had to hide the body. Should he bury her? He could, but what would his story be if they caught up with him? Maybe she turned around and went back on her own. He had no idea what happened to her after that. Too flimsy. He'd still get blamed. Somehow, he was going to be blamed no matter what, so he'd make her death an accident. He could play up the angle that they were very much in love. She fell off a cliff and he was devastated by her death. That was flimsy too, but better than the other explanation. What it boiled down to was that he was just going to have to disappear. Maybe he could find another settlement to live in.

  First things first. He had to get rid of the body. Any sentimental feelings he once had for Sophie were gone. Now he had a job to do. He brought her horse over, then picked up Sophie. She was a lot heavier than he expected, and she was stiff. Not too stiff, but not flexible either. He remembered having to bury a guy who had died. It was hot, like it was here. Rigor had set in a couple of hours after he died, and then his body became flexible again after about twelve hours. That was probably the case with Sophie. She would loosen up as they rode.

  It was a struggle, but he got her draped over the saddle. He found some thin rope and tied her hands and feet to the cinch rings on either side of the horse. The smell of death made the horse skittish, complicating Clete’s efforts. Once she was finally secure, he got on his own horse, grabbed the reins of the other, and started up into the hills.

  A couple of hours into the ride, he found the perfect spot, a steep cliff on the side of the trail. With little sentimentality, he untied Sophie, pulled her off the horse, and dragged her over to the cliff. With an insincere "Bye, Sophie," he rolled her off the edge. He purposely didn't watch her body fall, but he heard the sickening thud as she hit bottom.

  Clete grabbed one of the last pieces of jerky from Sophie's horse's saddlebag, mounted his horse, grabbed her horse's reins, and started up the trail. First order of business; he had to find something other than jerky to eat.

  Three hours into his journey he was looking for a place to rest when something hit him hard in the lower back. The force was so strong, he fell off his horse. It wasn't until he hit the ground that the pain from the blow set in. It was excruciating. He had never felt anything like it. He reached around and felt it. An arrow! There was blood everywhere. He passed out.

  *****

  Someone was slapping him across the face.

  "Wake up."

  He opened his eyes to find a shaggy man looking back at him. The man had a full beard and hair past his shoulders. He wasn't young, There was a lot of gray in the hair. When he opened his mouth, Clete saw that he had only half his teeth, and he had a body odor worse than anything Clete had ever smelled. The man looked away.
>
  "He's awake." He was talking to others. And that's when Clete noticed them, at least a dozen other men peering at him each just as shaggy in his own way as the first one.

  The pain in his back was unbearable. But he was lying on his back now, so the arrow must’ve been taken out. There was another pain, equally as excruciating. His hand. He tried to turn his head to look at what was causing the pain, and that's when he noticed it. He was tied to something. He turned his head right and then left. Stakes. He was tied to stakes. And, he suddenly realized, he was completely naked. He focused in on the pain now. He was missing a finger! He could see it in the dirt next to his hand. There was a puddle of blood on the ground, but the finger had clotted. He cried out in pain and fear.

  The man who was standing over him said, "We know you are human, so that means you were trespassing. This is our land."

  Clete was sobbing now. "I didn't mean to." His throat was very dry and he had trouble getting the words out. "I'll leave."

  "Too late for that. Shoulda thought of it before you trespassed."

  "What are you going to do?" Clete said, his voice choking.

  "I guess we have to leave a warning for anyone else who thinks they're going to pass through our land. They see you and they'll turn back, for sure.

  Six of the men gathered around him, all brandishing long hunting knives.

  And then Clete screamed.

  Chapter 9

  Frank knelt down by the cliff face, his whole body heaving as he tried to catch his breath. No words would come. Finally, a long, low wail erupted from deep within him. Hard to hear at first, it got steadily louder, until it became a mournful cry of anguish. This continued for several minutes until Ben knelt down next to him and put his arm around the man's back. Frank turned around and put his arms around Ben, shaking as he cried. Finally, Ben heard the choked words, "My baby." Frank let go of Ben and collapsed onto the ground.

  Ben said to the others, "He fainted."

  "It was too much for him," said Jason. "His body just shut down. It was the only way to deal with it."