Revealing Eden

by Victoria Foyt

  Eden screamed as her hand flew to the spot. How dare he? She felt more violated than if she’d been raped.

  She raised her arm to strike him, but he caught it midair, pinning her beneath him. They stood locked together like a pair of impassioned tango dancers. A muscle twitched in his jaw. The hair on the back of her neck prickled.

  Something else besides fear gripped her; something Eden couldn’t name. A sharp awareness of his powerful body, the warmth of his skin on hers, and the nearness of his lips overpowered her. Or maybe it was the lack of noise in her head that disoriented her. She felt off balance without her Life-Band, frighteningly alone with her thoughts.

  “Be careful, Daught,” her father said, his voice cutting through the tension.

  Bramford released her and she fell back into her seat, breathless.

  “I’ll need your Life-Band, too,” he said, turning to her father.

  “Of course.” He handed Bramford the wristband, then offered the syringe. “What about a sedative? I doubt it will kill you.”

  “Father,” Eden said in a warning voice.

  “Just a little scientific humor.”

  Like an obedient child, Bramford knelt down, though he still loomed over her father. He arched his back at the jab of the needle, growling through his teeth. Eden had the feeling that he used all of his strength to resist striking out.

  “Thanks,” he said, sheepishly.

  His chilling, measured gaze passed over Eden as he stalked back to his seat.

  “I’m really sorry, Father,” Eden said meekly.

  He shook his head. “Inconceivable, Daught.”

  Her father was all she had left in the world. Now, she had lost him, too. For Earth’s sake, she just couldn’t think about it. So she stuffed her despair onto a crowded shelf in her heart and slammed the door shut.

  TIME? EDEN REPEATED, puzzled by the lack of response in her head. She rubbed her earlobe and felt the empty spot. Like an amputee who still feels the presence of a missing limb, she had forgotten her Life-Band was gone. Bramford had taken more than her earring; he’d stolen her identity. She just didn’t know who she was anymore. The random thoughts that skittered through her head like frightened mice were as alien to her as the high-flying scramjet.

  In the alcove ahead, Eden saw Bramford’s dark head rolled to one side and figured the sedative had taken affect. Her father dozed nearby, his face tight with pain. This might be her only chance.

  She quietly slipped into the aisle, heading for the attendant’s area. Unable to resist the opportunity to study the sleeping beast, she stopped beside him. A company T-shirt strained over his shoulders like a child’s garment, exposing his muscular torso. Long, dark eyelashes swooned over the sharp slash of cheekbones. Fine, dark hair framed his rugged face.

  Time seemed to flicker around Bramford, imposing his former self over his animal-like incarnation, as if his old Holo-Image clung to him. Eden suspected that the dual identities waged a mysterious battle. But which did she want to win? The powerful titan that might save them or the savage beast that excited her?

  Eden had despised the attractive, top-rated man Bramford had been. And yet, this wild creature stirred something deeply primal in her.

  With Jamal, she’d never felt such dizzying emotions. Even while kissing him she’d been outside of it, as if peering in through a window. Only now, she realized she’d never shown him the Real Eden. Was it even possible for two people to truly see each other in a calculated world where its inhabitants mated to improve their offspring’s genetics or to control a lesser mate?

  She thought about how her mother might have quoted Aunt Emily. “That Love is all there is, / Is all we know of Love.”

  But no, Eden reminded herself, love was dead. Bramford’s condition simply piqued her curiosity, as it would any researcher. Possibly, that explained her desire to touch him. Even now, her hand reached towards him. At the sudden twitch of his mouth, she froze.

  If he awoke and found her hovering over him, he might attack. She imagined him leaping on her, pinning her underneath him, his strong body pressing her down no matter how she writhed and protested. His jaw would clamp onto her neck and she’d scream.

  Sweat beaded on her forehead. Her limbs felt rubbery, as his earthy scent exploded in her brain. In a daze, she stepped away from him. Clearly, the monumental losses of home, Austin, and her Life-Band, had driven her crazy.

  She wobbled up the aisle and entered the attendant’s area, greeted by Daisy’s weary sigh. She’d expected her, Eden realized. The girl shooed Eden inside and angled herself by the entrance, eyeing the cabin through the opening in the curtains.

  “I can’t help you,” she said.

  Eden held up a hand. “Wait until you know what’s at stake.”

  “Look, Ms. Newman. I’m just trying to survive.”

  “Call me, Eden. We’ve all suffered, haven’t we, Daisy? My mom got The Heat when I was ten.”

  Daisy’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “I understand.”

  She reminded Eden of one of the girls shown on the old Beauty Map—an English Rose. How ironic that long ago the two of them might have been called “hot.”

  Daisy nodded towards the cabin. “What on Sweet Earth happened to him?”

  “Interspecies structural adaptation.” Eden sketched out the basics. “Something went wrong. There was an accident.” Her fault, but she kept that to herself. “The point is my father’s technology greatly reduces the odds of contracting The Heat.”

  “Really?”

  Now, she had Daisy’s full attention. Any Pearl would want to know.

  “Imagine if we could adapt, too,” Eden continued. “Not to the degree Bramford has changed, but enough to increase our pigmentation and resist solar radiation. Imagine how different the world would be.”

  Daisy’s eyes searched Eden’s. “It sounds like a pretty big if.”

  “It’s more than we’ve had; more than we’ll ever have again.” The truth of it hit Eden, as she said it. “Please, tell me where we’re going.”

  Daisy shook her head and stared off to the side. Her voice softened as she began. “Noah and I knew it was risky to mate, two Pink Pearls. But we wanted to be together, no matter what. Noah was one of Bramford’s pilots, the best one. He had rare 20/10 vision. But a violent storm…” She paused as emotion swept through her. “When he died, Bramford gave me this job. I owe him.”

  Eden figured Bramford found it cheaper to employ the widow than pay costly benefits. He was no tender heart.

  “Look,” she said. “The best way to help yourself is to help us. My father is the only one who understands this technology. We could trade Bramford for…”

  She started to explain her plan when a much better idea popped into her head: loyal Shen had the keys to Bramford’s empire. Considering his past behavior, she bet he would come to their aid.

  “I need a Life-Band,” Eden added. “Everything depends on it.”

  “You don’t understand. I have a young son.”

  “Then help us, for his sake. Don’t you see? If my father’s work gets into the wrong hands things will be even worse.”

  “Sector Six,” Daisy said, abruptly. “That’s your destination.”

  Holy Earth, Eden gulped. They might as well be sucked into a black hole. Sector Six was a lawless, barren land. If the drug lords didn’t kill them, The Heat or predators would.

  The tension swept back into Daisy, like a turning tide, as the scramjet banked into its descent.

  “Go, now,” she said, holding open the curtain. “Before he wakes up.”

  “I’m begging you. Please, Daisy.”

  The girl stood resolute. Eden thought her mother might have made the same choice.

  “Well, good luck to you and your son,” she said and quickly left.

  She ducked into the bathroom, shocked by her reflection in the mirror. Her streaked coating no longer had a Midnight Luster—more Daylight Scary.

  Just wipe it off, Eden. That
was her idea and not her World-Band voice, right? Yet how could she even think such a thing?

  She wet a guest towel with a fancy embossed letter “B” and held it to her face. Still, she hesitated, terrified of showing her natural coloring. But why worry when two of the other passengers were Pearls, and the only Coal didn’t look his usual self? Even some Coal was better than none, she decided, throwing down the towel.

  Eden reached her seat before the men awoke. She stared with dread out the window, as the broiling sun pushed over the edge of the horizon. Soon, it would hang in the leaden sky like an angry, bloodshot eye of a Cyclops. She found it hard to believe that her prehistoric ancestors had welcomed the burning light each morning and feared the cool darkness.

  In the dim amber light, she was stunned to see the Amazon River, once the healthy lungs of the planet, limping through parched land. She’d seen it many times glistening and vibrant in World-Band experiences. Had she forgotten that those images were fake?

  They’d started her early. At the age of five, she’d had her first experience. Her parents had stood on either side of her as a pristine redwood forest appeared in their common room. Eden would never forget that first awe-inspiring vision.

  —They’re like people. Tree people.

  —The giant Sequoia, Sequoiadendron giganteum. Remember that, Daught.

  —I can hear them. They’re crying.

  Her father had stiffened at her comment but her mother had agreed.

  —Yes, they’re crying, Eden. They were once among the oldest living things on the planet. Now they’re all gone.

  Eden had started to cry, though she hadn’t known why. Was that when she first heard her father’s disappointment?

  —She’s too sensitive, Lily. Don’t indulge her.

  —But it is sad, John.

  —It’s evolution. Man is programmed to survive. Granted, he got stuck in a conquer and destroy mode and overran his habitat. But history tells us he’ll find another way to survive.

  Eden had dried her tears—the last she’d ever shed—and looked from her father to her mother, wishing she didn’t have to choose between them.

  Now, her bird’s-eye view of the devastated earth convinced her that man would never find another way. Even more, she knew she wouldn’t survive the coming day. She almost laughed as she recalled one of Aunt Emily’s cruel poems.

  Will there really be a morning?

  Is there such a thing as day?

  Could I see it from the mountains

  If I were as tall as they?

  Has it feet like water-lilies?

  Has it feathers like a bird?

  Is it brought from famous countries

  Of which I have never heard?

  Obviously, Eden thought, her aunt hadn’t experienced this bottomless terror whenever the golden light had stretched its arms towards her.

  EDEN’S NERVES felt as high-pitched as the whine of the scramjet as it touched ground. Outside, the day waited for her, a bright, suffocating prison. There would be no muted grays in which to hide and become invisible.

  She didn’t think things could get any worse, when the welcoming committee came into view. A half-dozen, short, muscular Indians wearing a rag-tag assortment of clothes stood by a line of ancient, all-terrain vehicles. Machetes hung from several of the men’s belts, glinting in the sunlight. Some had long, wooden poles slung over their shoulders. Despite fanciful feathers tucked into simple bowl-cut hairstyles, the warriors appeared fierce.

  “The Huaorani,” Eden’s father said, excitedly.

  “Who?” Eden said.

  “The world’s last independent indigenous tribe. No one knows how or where they’ve survived.”

  “What are the poles for?’

  “Those are blowguns—quite deadly, as a matter of fact. Most likely, their quivers hold poison darts.”

  Eden squinted into the sharp glare, spotting the narrow basket that hung down several of the men’s backs.

  “There, see the palm nut dangling at the end of the pole?” her father continued. “It probably holds cotton from the kapok tree, which forms a gasket around the dart as it blows through the pole. They’re expert hunters.”

  “What do they hunt?”

  “Cowode, for example, which are non-humans or anyone different from them. Even the name Huaorani means human.”

  “Wait. They think they’re human and we’re cowode, non-human?”

  “Precisely.”

  “Maybe they’ll kill Bramford,” she mused. “He’s not human.”

  Her father’s owlish eyes flared. “What?”

  Daisy approached them. “For your trip,” she said, handing Eden a bright red backpack that bore the Bramford Industries logo.

  Eden inspected the contents: toiletries, a company T-shirt, and a small bottle of water. But no Life-Band.

  “Thanks,” she said, dryly. “Just what I need.”

  Daisy gave her a stony look. “You never know, it might come in handy.”

  Eden searched the girl’s face, hoping for a secret signal, but Daisy abruptly turned to Eden’s father. “I added extra bandages, doctor.” Then she held out another pack for Bramford. “Would you like one, sir?”

  He shoved the pack aside with a snarl.

  Perhaps it was an ordinary parting gift, Eden thought. But what if Daisy intended to distract Bramford by offering him one, too? That might mean she’d hidden something in Eden’s pack. In any case, Eden would have to wait until she was away from prying eyes to inspect it further.

  A quivering feather floated inside of her, as Bramford stretched to a standing position. Her eyes betrayed her, traveling the length of his body. She felt embarrassed and, as he shot her a quizzical glance, realized that her flushed, red skin showed zebra-like through her worn, dark coating. Humiliated, her hands flew to her face.

  “Let’s go, Eden,” Bramford said.

  “Can’t,” she said.

  “Now!”

  “Can’t. Daylight.”

  “Daught, we must leave,” her father said, struggling to stand.

  Eden shook her head vehemently. Bramford’s warning growl sent a shiver up her spine. Still, she didn’t budge.

  Suddenly, he lifted her into his arms.

  “No, I’m not going!” Eden cried. “Put me down, you monster!”

  He carried her up the aisle, her screams bouncing off of the cabin walls. Even his blasting roar couldn’t quiet her. She pummeled his rock-hard shoulders and yanked his hair, but felt like a fly buzzing around a horse.

  Over her shoulder, Eden saw her father leaning on Daisy’s arm as they followed. She no longer cared about his disappointment or how pitiful she looked.

  “Father, please!”

  Only a few feet remained to the exit. Already, she felt the heat blasting through the open door.

  “Bramford?” her father said. “Perhaps you could send her back?”

  “And let her lead them to us? Sorry, doctor.”

  With that, Bramford thudded onto the staircase. Eden shrieked as hot-white light hit her head. Broiling sunrays knifed into her skin, and she gasped for air. Even without her sensors she knew she was in deep trouble.

  Below, she saw the Huaorani raise their nut-brown faces. Time seemed to hang in the air as each side, the human tribesmen and the cowode visitors, hesitated. For Earth’s sake, why didn’t they attack the beast?

  Eden took matters into her own hands and pointed to Bramford. “Cowode!”

  “Quiet!” he said, pushing her face into his chest.

  The incredibly wonderful feel of his warm body—not a Holo-Image, but a real, live body—stunned her. She registered the sensation of his arms around her bare thighs and shoulders. Pressing her cheek against his hard chest, she heard his heart beat against her ear—alive.

  Eden’s world stopped. Her joints loosened, her heart felt expansive, even her mind stretched to find Bramford remarkably appealing. At the same time, she became aware of a dangerous, inescapable abyss opening up
inside of her. If she gave into her feelings, she might be lost forever.

  She croaked out a plea. “I beg you, Bramford, put me down.”

  Then a loud cry rose up from the Huaorani. Unbelievably, they fell to their knees and began to chant in ecstatic voices.

  “El Tigre! El Tigre!”

  Eden couldn’t understand them without her Life-Band. However, their body language reminded her of reverent penitents in bygone churches. Was it possible the warriors worshipped Bramford? Only one thing was clear: they weren’t going to kill him.

  He didn’t seem surprised by the praise, either. He puffed out his chest and grinned, as arrogant as ever.

  Her father peered out the cabin door, quickly assessing the situation. “They think you’re El Tigre, the Jaguar Man. Imagine, the long-awaited Aztec God.”

  Ronson Bramford a god? Eden laughed out loud.

  Now, the tribesmen looked at her with equal reverence.

  “See, Daught?” her father added. “You’re divine by association with El Tigre.”

  For once, her father seemed proud of her—for being the beast’s sidekick.

  The way Bramford sucked up the glory revolted Eden. He made a stately descent, bestowing his new subjects with a regal look. Then he dumped her into the backseat of the lead vehicle. She scooted under a tattered tarp and watched him rip off his puny T-shirt. Probably unfit for a god.

  In spite of her disgust, Eden’s eyes riveted on his broad, dark chest that gleamed in the sunlight. Even the molecules of air seemed to fall away from his powerful physique. Maybe he did deserve to be worshiped, she admitted. Then, as he waved imperiously to his adoring public, she wanted to slap him.

  For once Aunt Emily had gotten it right.

  I’m Nobody! Who are you?

  Are you nobody, too?

  Then there’s a pair of us—don’t tell!

  They’d banish us, you know.

  How dreary to be somebody!

  How public, like a frog

  To tell your name the the livelong day

  To an admiring bog!