The Future Was Now

by J. R. Harber

  “Lead the way!” Eve said merrily, beckoning Asa to follow her.

  He watched her still-damp hair swinging against her back as they followed the girl through the maze of corridors. She seemed happy—almost giddy—now that they had returned; maybe it was just the relief of making it safely across the river, the adrenaline rush of evading the stalker’s clutches.

  Or maybe she’s just happy to be back with her brother.

  The dining room was already crowded and noisy when they arrived; it took Asa a moment to orient himself among the chattering voices and unfamiliar faces. There were dozens of people there.

  Saul waved to them from the far corner of the room, where he was seated with what Asa recognized by now as his core group of … advisors? Enforcers?

  Asa followed Eve as she wove her way through the tables. No one turned to look at them as they passed, but a path of silence opened before them, each table falling quiet as they came to it, the backs of the diners going still with the awareness of their presence.

  Saul had left two places open beside him; Eve sat next to him, and Asa on the other side, at the corner of the table.

  Simon was at his right hand, halfway through a plate of stew. He smiled at Asa and pointed at his full mouth, then swallowed. “Welcome back,” he said in a confidential whisper.

  “Thanks,” Asa said with genuine appreciation.

  The first time they had stopped at the compound, he had been eclipsed entirely by Eve’s presence, and this time seemed no different. He did not particularly care what the people out here thought about him—it was not as if they were ever going to see them again—but it was nice to be acknowledged.

  Saul thumped his fist twice on the table, and the dining room quieted, all eyes turning to him as he stood.

  “I’d like to welcome my sister Eve back to our home,” he said, “along with her companion, Asa.”

  He gave Asa a nod, and there was an incoherent cheer from the assembly; then Saul sat, and the room swelled with conversation again. Asa glanced around the table. Cyrus had not looked up from his plate when Saul made his brief toast, and he did not acknowledge Asa or Eve now. Lilith and Aquila were at the far end of the table, talking quietly together.

  Now or never, Asa thought and cleared his throat. “Saul, I want to thank you for all that you’ve done for us,” he said.

  Saul gave him a sidelong look. “I’m just glad you’ve both returned safely,” he replied coolly. “Despite the odds.”

  “We did what we had to do,” Asa said, trying to keep his irritation in check.

  Like Eve sometimes did, Saul seemed as if the world could not touch him, his face a blank. In Eve, it was to Asa an exquisite vulnerability. In Saul, it was just annoying.

  “You did what you had to do?” Saul repeated.

  “Yes,” Eve said quickly. “We talked about this, Saul. There was no other way. We had to do it, and now it’s done.”

  “It was a fool’s errand, and what’s your reward?” Saul demanded, turning his chair to face her, the metal scraping loudly on the concrete floor.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” Eve said icily.

  “I mean, you risked your life so you could return to that … fantasy land, where all the real sacrifices are made by people you never even have to see.”

  “That ‘fantasy land’ is my home,” Eve said. “It was yours too.”

  Saul sighed. “I’m sorry, Eve.” He reached for her hand, and she let him take it. “It’s just that I’m happy here. I’m happier now than I ever was back home—than I’ve ever been. It’s a harsh life out here, I know that, but we are free to create, to think … and to believe.”

  “I’ve seen that,” Eve said quietly.

  “I’m happy here,” Saul said again. “The only thing missing is my family—my sister. If you would stay …” He broke off and looked away, and Asa saw his hand tighten on Eve’s. “If you would stay,” Saul went on, “we could be a family again. I want that more than anything in the world. I miss you so much, Evie.”

  “I miss you too,” Eve echoed.

  Asa watched with rising despair. “Wait,” he said, breaking the spell between them, and Eve and Saul turned to him as if surprised he was still there. “Wait,” he repeated. “Eve, we were going to go back home. Our lives are there.”

  Eve turned to him, her eyes pinched with emotion. “Asa, I don’t know if my life is there. Daniel was all I had, and now …”

  “Now you have me,” Asa said firmly, and her eyes widened. “Didn’t you know that?” he said, surprised.

  She smiled, her eyes shining, then ducked her head, covering her face with her hand. Asa waited nervously as she recovered her composure, casting his eyes around the table. Everyone seated there was watching them unabashedly; only Saul seemed distant, staring across the room at something no one else could see.

  Eve took a deep breath. “What does that mean, Asa? If I have you, what would that mean? Where would we go? What would we do?”

  “We would go back inside, then go anywhere you want,” he said, realizing only as he spoke how clearly he had envisioned their lives together. “We could live in Horizon, but I think you should come with me to Rosewood to see what it’s like there.”

  “I’ve been to Rosewood,” she said, her lips curved in a hint of a smile.

  “Only for a few hours,” Asa pressed.

  “I liked the trees,” Eve said. She had a faraway look in her eyes.

  Asa gazed at her, pleading silently. See what I see. See how wonderful our lives could be if we could be together.

  “Eve, you can’t be serious!” Saul exclaimed, smacking the table with his palm so hard it shook. They both jumped, and Eve shoved back her chair.

  “What if I am?” she demanded, turning on her brother. “What if I do want to go back inside? To the only home I’ve ever known?”

  “I … I wouldn’t stop you,” Saul stammered.

  “Oh, thanks for that,” Eve said bitterly. “I’m so glad to know you wouldn’t stop me from leaving your impenetrable fortress in the middle of the damn desert.”

  “We can go straight back tomorrow,” Asa said soothingly. “We can go see every tree in Rosewood.”

  “Oh, every tree?” Eve stood, turning her scathing gaze on Asa. “How nice. What if I don’t want to go with you? What if I want to take this chance—this one chance to start over? I thought Saul was dead for five years, and you expect me to leave him again to go look at trees with you?”

  “Uh … no?” Asa guessed, bewildered. “Eve, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean …”

  “Neither did I,” Saul put in quickly. Eve shook her head in frustration.

  “I know,” she snapped. “You both want me to be happy.” She wavered for a moment. “I need to think,” she whispered, then lifted her head, turned, and stormed out of the dining room without looking back.

  Saul’s face had gone blank again, and when he saw Asa looking at him, he cleared his throat. “I don’t know what she’s thinking,” he muttered, then bit his lip, his eyes anxious.

  Asa smiled in spite of himself. “I think that’s her point.”

  Saul laughed abruptly and clapped Asa’s shoulder with startling force. “I don’t dislike you,” he said, then shook his head. “Sorry, that’s not quite what I mean.”

  “I know what you mean.” Asa stood. “I don’t dislike you either.”

  Saul raised his glass and nodded, and Asa left the dining room, pretending not to notice the people turning from their plates to watch him go.

  Asa wandered the near-identical corridors aimlessly, allowing himself to get lost, then finding his way back to the main stairs several times. He passed a few open common spaces, where people were reading in corners or talking animatedly in groups; on a raised platform, a group of musicians were playing a discordant song unlike anything he had heard before. As he passed room after room, some of the doors ajar, he heard bursts of laughter, arguments, children playing, and music, some of it odd and some sur
prisingly familiar.

  The compound really was like a small community in many ways, he was forced to admit, and no one he passed looked hungry or frightened—only curious at the sight of a stranger.

  Maybe it wouldn’t be such a terrible place to live.

  It was the first time the thought had struck him, and he was ashamed; he had not taken Eve’s indecision seriously. She was distressed at the thought of leaving her brother, but surely, Asa had assumed, she realized that remaining in the Waste was impossible. He had not really believed she would choose to stay among these people.

  If she did, could he remain with her?

  No.

  The reaction was instantaneous and weighty, like a punch to the chest.

  My mother and father—Hannah. There was no future in which he did not live among them again. Yet that is what I’m asking her to give up. Asa opened the door to a stairwell, sat on the steps, and leaned against the cool concrete wall.

  I can’t ask that of her.

  He sighed and closed his eyes, picturing her as she had been that first night, when he walked into the Horizon nightbar and his life was forever altered. At first, he had not even seen her face, only the white dress against her dark skin, her hair shimmering down her back like an obsidian waterfall. Then he had seen her face and had been undone.

  She had stunned him then—she stunned him now. Each time she touched him, he was stirred with a longing beyond anything he’d felt before. He felt something desperate, something deeper than mere sexual attraction.

  Asa took a long, shaky breath and let himself imagine what he had been afraid to dream of.

  Eve—yes, Eve—her skin smooth and electric, her hair falling silkily over his face, all the unfathomable things he so urgently desired, and then … life. Eve, the weight of her past lifted from her shoulders by the constancy of his love; their home, some warm, safe place that belonged only to them, as they belonged always to each other. Eve, smiling without fear or sadness, her belly swollen with the first of their babies as they argued cheerfully over what to name it. Eve, always beside him, raising their children to be happy and safe, to have all the things that had been taken from Eve at such a young age. Eve, an old woman, and he an old man, making the journey to Sanctuary, sharing their secret, that they were actually going there for the second time. Life—all of it, from now to the end—always with Eve.

  Asa opened his eyes, looking around the stark, bright stairwell. How can she not want our life? His chest hurt, as if something had been ripped out of him, and he put a hand over the hollow-feeling place. What else could she want but our life together?

  Then he knew.

  Asa leapt to his feet and ran down the stairs.

  Asa came to the end of the stairs and halted outside the room, listening, but he could hear nothing. He hesitated a moment, then opened the door and went inside.

  Eve was kneeling, her face upturned and her eyes closed beside the giant tree at the center of the vast domed room. The underground sun filtered down through the slope of the branches, setting her face aglow. Asa let the door fall shut, and her eyes snapped open. She looked at him for a moment as if she did not recognize him; then her expression cleared.

  “I’m sorry,” Asa said, abashed. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you. I just—”

  “It’s okay,” Eve said. She got to her feet. “I’ve never seen anything like this, you know. Except in pictures. We were taught … our mother and father taught us the rituals—the history—at home. Sometimes there were other children, but usually it was just me and Saul. It’s the strangest thing, because I know it isn’t true, but I always remember it as if we were taught in the dark. I remember the lessons as if we sat together in darkness, with nothing but a little candle to light the room. It’s not what happened, of course. We just went in the basement. There was plenty of light. But it felt like dark. Do you understand what I mean?”

  “I don’t,” Asa said. “But I want to. Eve, I want to understand everything about you, and I think in time I will, if you’ll let me.”

  “I still need to think, Asa.”

  “I know,” he said. “I just wanted to tell you—I don’t understand all of this.” He gestured at the room around them, the glowing golden branches that adorned the sloping walls. Eve looked as if she was about to speak, but he hurried on. “I don’t have to understand it, not yet. I know it matters to you. And I want you to know that if you come back with me, I don’t expect you to give it up.”

  “What about our children?” Eve asked softly, and his heart stopped for a second when she said “our children.” He looked into her wide, dark eyes, unable for a moment to speak.

  “I want our children—” His voice broke, and he took a breath, steadying himself. “This is a part of you, Eve, and I want our children to have you in them. If you want to raise them with your beliefs, we can. I’ll even try to help.”

  Eve reached out for his hand and raised it to her lips, then met his eyes again. “Saul and I were taught to worship in secret,” she whispered. “I think in a way the darkness made it precious, kept us bound together. But in truth, being forced to hide like that … it shrouded all the beauty in something very sad.”

  “Does that mean you won’t come with me?” Asa’s voice was hoarse; he felt as if he had forgotten how to speak.

  Eve shook her head. “It just means I’m still thinking.”

  Asa forced a smile. “I’ll be in our … in the room when you’re done thinking,” he said as despair hollowed out his chest again.

  He left the sacred chamber and started back through the maze, getting lost a few times before he made it back to the room.

  Back in their room, he closed the door and lay down on the bunk they had shared. Someone had changed the sheets; they smelled clean, like soap. Eve’s scent, and his, had been erased. He closed his eyes.

  How can she not want our life?

  The future he had imagined in such detail rose unbidden, and he forced it away, wishing he had not allowed himself the fantasy.

  What can I say to her? How can I convince her to come with me? How can she choose superstition and make-believe over a real, true life with me? He put his hands over his eyes, pressing until spots of color appeared in the blackness. How can I make her choose me?

  Greed.

  He sat bolt upright, the accusation shocking him with adrenaline.

  This is greed. I want her greedily. I want her more than I want her to choose freely. My love of Eve is not pure; it is tainted by greed.

  His face went hot; he was flooded with the shame of it. He stood abruptly, itching to shed the realization, and began to pace the length of the room, back and forth across it, five steps each way.

  I want her to be with me, but we will only be happy if she is happy. I will only be happy if she is happy. Asa grunted in frustration and kicked the metal bed frame. It rattled noisily in the empty room, and he hurried to steady it.

  “I will only be happy if she is happy,” he said quietly. “I want her to be happy, even if it makes me sad. I can’t be happy with her if she isn’t content with me.”

  Asa sighed, the rush of adrenaline draining all at once. He lay back on the bunk again and closed his eyes. I will only be happy if Eve is happy. The words were like tin, but he repeated them over and over in variation, until at last he drifted into sleep.

  “Asa.”

  Asa slowly roused to the sound of his name and opened his eyes to see Eve beside him on the bunk. It was dark in the room except for a thin bar of light shining in under the door from the hallway.

  “Asa,” Eve touched his shoulder. “Are you awake?”

  He smiled. “I am now.”

  “Good.”

  She brushed her fingers back through his hair, sending a shiver down his spine. Before he could speak, she pulled him to her, pressing the length of her body against him as she touched her lips gently to his.

  Half in disbelief, Asa slid his hand to her waist, marveling at the curve of her hi
p and the give of her stomach beneath the thin fabric of her dress. He kissed her back eagerly, his pulse quickening; then, without warning, she pulled away and stood. Asa sat up.

  “Is something wrong?” he whispered, and she smiled.

  “No.”

  Asa stood and put his arms around her, burying his face for a moment in her hair, and she wrapped her arms around his waist with a contented sound. Asa swallowed; he had held her before, but not like this and not for so long—her full breasts were soft against his chest, and her hips brushed against him enticingly, her long legs already half-bared by her dress.

  Eve looked up at him with uncertainty. Gently, as if he were touching something terribly fragile, Asa bent to kiss her. She slid her hands up under his shirt, stroking his bare back, and he shivered. She tugged at his hem with a smile and started to unbutton his shirt. Asa hurried to help, fumbling at his collar, then cast aside the shirt as Eve traced her fingers across his abdomen. She kissed his shoulder, then bent to brush her lips against his chest. Asa gasped; he stiffened as she licked his nipples delicately, sending little thrills through him with each movement of her tongue. She looked up at him again, and he cupped her face in his hands, kissing her thirstily, desperate to hold her against him.

  “Sit,” she whispered, nodding toward the bed, and he sat. She climbed onto his lap, straddling him.

  Asa’s eyes widened. For a moment he wasn’t sure where to put his hands; then, with a nervous glance at her face, he set them on her bare thighs. Her skin was warm and smooth, and he ran his hands up and down her legs. Then, hesitantly, he slid one hand under her skirt, caressing the firm, supple curve of her ass. She made a small sound, and he stopped, lifting his hands off her as if he had touched something hot.

  “No, don’t stop,” she whispered. She kissed him again, then took his hand and brought it to the nape of her neck. “Help me.”

  She placed his fingers on the zipper of her dress, and Asa felt for the tab and slowly pulled it down, his hand brushing the length of her spine as he undid her dress. He carefully took hold of the cloth and pulled it over her head, dropping it on the bed beside them as he gazed at her. She was wearing nothing but a small pair of undershorts, cut just below her flat stomach. He touched her slim waist, then met her eyes, silently asking permission. She smiled, took his hands, and guided them to her breasts.