Rebels of Eden

by Joey Graceffa

  And now many of them are trapped, and in terrible danger.

  I wave my arms, signaling to them frantically. One sees me, and they all rush over to that side. I point to the approaching fire, and mime climbing down a rope. But when the kids part, I can see that they have no bed, no rope, nothing in their bubble except their own sweet selves.

  Every instinct tells me to run to them, to reach them quickly, and then I’ll find a way to help. But there’s no way I can climb that tree. It’s straight up, without branches, and the bark is too crumbly to offer any handholds.

  To climb it I’d need to use the technique they use here to climb the redwoods to reach beehives. They loop a length of rope around the trunk and their own hips, also holding the rope in each hand, and brace their feet against the bark. Then in slow increments that require incredible strength, they fling the rope up the trunk a few inches, pull themselves up, and repeat the process over and over. Sometimes they wear special shoes with spikes to help brace against the tree, though the purists don’t do that.

  I tried it once, and the results were laughable. I made it about five feet up and fell on my backside.

  But I’ve seen Zander do it. He and his brothers are masters at honey-gathering, and they can zoom up the tallest redwoods tirelessly.

  I can’t save those kids, but Zander can.

  I have to get him down. Somehow, even though he in unconscious, I have to lower him and hope he wakes up in time to save those kids. If I get him down, and follow him, we can . . .

  You can’t follow him, Yarrow points out.

  Oh, bik, she’s right. Zander can climb the redwood, but the kids can’t get down that way. They’re too small and weak. He’ll have to climb up, with our extra rope tied to him. Then he’ll have to maneuver onto the branch holding their bubble, tie the rope to that, and swing around the bubble to the access point on the bottom. From there he’ll have to brace the rope with his own weight and strength while one by one the kids climb down.

  He needs the rope. If I climb down after him, the rope is still attached up here. There will be no way to release it.

  I have to lower him down, then untie the rope and drop it down to him.

  I have to trap myself up here so that he can save the kids.

  Bikking wonderful.

  If only Zander were awake, so he could get himself down. As it is, I don’t know if I’m going to be able to do it. But I have to.

  And what if he doesn’t regain consciousness once he’s down? I’m operating on the assumption that he just received a higher dose and will be out longer than I was. But what if I lower him down and he doesn’t wake up?

  I pace the bubble for a moment, trying to come up with any other option. I can lower myself and go for help, but this isn’t Harmonia. I have no idea where we might be. There’s no guarantee I’ll find any help. As crazy, as risky and uncertain as my plan is, it is the only thing I can think of.

  My surroundings take on an orange glow as the fire comes closer, passing from treetop to treetop where the boughs touch. I try again to wake Zander up, pinching him, slapping him. I’m tempted to break one of his fingers, but I don’t quite go that far. At last, I give in and try to pick him up.

  Well, that’s not going to work. He outweighs me by almost a hundred pounds. I’m strong, but not that strong.

  Instead I roll him out of bed, ignoring Yarrow’s satisfaction when he hits the ground with a thump. I roll him to the access hole, which is hard enough. Then I try to figure out how to attach the rope to Zander. Even though I can’t lift him, I think if I loop the line around the bed and around my body I can belay him down. Mira showed me a technique that a smaller person can use to support a much bigger person’s weight. It won’t be easy, but I have to do it.

  I roll him back and forth, trying to tie the rope around his hips and legs in a harness that won’t slip off even as he hangs unconscious.

  I run back to the glass to try to signal to the children that help is on the way.

  Oh, great Earth, no! I thought we had more time!

  The fire isn’t traveling in the path I’d predicted. As it scorches the dry needles and makes the sap spark, the terrible inferno has changed course. It is only one tree away from the children.

  I can see their terrified, frantic faces. They are pounding on the glass, begging me to help them. But I’m doing the only thing I can do.

  I check the knots one last time on Zander’s improvised harness. As I’m reaching around his waist to check the last knot, I feel his hand clamp down on my wrist. “What the . . .” he begins groggily. His mind may be confused, but his body is perfectly awake, and holds me in a vise-like grip.

  Suddenly his eyes fly open. He takes in my face, the rope, the hole, the long drop . . . and shoves me backward. Off guard, I go down easily, and in a second he’s on top of me.

  “What were you trying to do, city scum? Hang me?” Before I can stop him, he’s looped the end of the rope around my neck. I manage to get my hands up between it, but he’s pulling it tight and I can only keep a little slack to breathe. And talk.

  “Wake up, Zander!” He still looks bleary. “It’s a test! You have to get down . . . the children!”

  But he picks up the rope and uses it to shake me. “Shut up, I’ve had enough of you. I don’t know what’s going on, but this is the last time you cross me.” He shakes me until my head lolls, tightening the rope each time as I buck beneath him.

  “Save them!” I gasp, and slip out one of the hands that is protecting my throat. As the noose tightens more, I use that hand to point to the children in peril. “Trust me. Let me lower you down.”

  He still doesn’t completely understand what is going on. I know how I felt when I first came out of the drug-induced stupor—hazy and disoriented. I couldn’t latch onto more than one idea at a time. That’s what Zander is doing now. He sees his enemy, he sees rope, and he comes to the worst conclusion.

  Finally, he follows my finger and sees the kids. He releases me instantly, and I scramble up, rubbing my throat. “No! You doomed them!” I cry. The fire has taken hold on the children’s treetop. It eats through the branches like a living thing, growing, devouring. I can see the children screaming. One of them takes a desperate risk and jumps out of the access door, dropping fifty feet.

  She falls into a crumpled heap, unmoving.

  The next instant the glass bubble shatters from the heat. I turn away, hiding my face in my hands.

  “You could have saved them!” I cry accusingly. “If you hadn’t fought me, you could have saved them.”

  I feel the heat growing around us, and through my fingers I see a flickering orange glow as the fire consumes our tree, too. I don’t care anymore. I hear the sound of our bubble exploding, but I feel no pain, and the world goes black . . .

  I WAKE UP.

  A stretch, a sigh that turns into a dramatic, jaw-popping yawn. Great, another day in paradise. A paradise without a single boutique, or beauty salon, or nightclub. A paradise without a single pill or bikking swig of alcohol!

  I scowl, then smooth my face. I think about the frown lines on Mom’s face. I know full well that a sour expression can age a person way beyond their years. Of course, she had a lot of responsibilities as chief of intelligence for all of Eden, but . . .

  I sit up, my heart racing. I’m not that person! In the first hazy awakening of my brain I was convinced I was Yarrow. For a moment, Rowan didn’t exist.

  It’s a terrifying sensation, to think you’re losing yourself. It is something I face every moment of my life now.

  I force myself to take deep breaths, to calm down, to think about who I am, where I am, what is happening. I am Rowan. I am in Harmonia, freed from Eden by EcoPan. My mother is Rosalba, not Ellena.

  Stupid girl, Yarrow says. You need me.

  I shake my head, trying to bury her, and continue the litany that will fix my real identity in my head. Rowan. I am Rowan, a second child. I am seventeen. I just completed my Passage Test. />
  The Passage Test. I know I competed, but somehow the details are fuzzy. I was running through the woods. Someone was hurt. There were goose bumps on my arms, cold water . . . Beyond that, I can’t remember. Yarrow pushes insistently against my consciousness, but I shove her aside. She is determined this morning.

  But I have more important things to do than listen to her whine about the lack of coffee and parties and pills. I need to find out how I ranked on the test.

  “Mom!” I bellow. There’s no answer. What time is it? Light is shining strongly through the clear walls of our tree house, but I can’t tell the direction. It could be mid-morning or mid-afternoon.

  I stand and stretch, balanced on the balls of my feet, hands high above my head. My hummingbird-embroidered tunic lies in a crumple on the floor. Its former beauty is marred by mud and sweat and blood. It reminds me of something.

  Of course it does, you fool, Yarrow says. Don’t you remember . . .

  I shut her up as fast as I can and head downstairs to the communal room. I’m not in the mood for her griping today. “Mom!” I call again, but there’s no one else here.

  I guess I’ll have to wait a bit for my results. I head back upstairs to shower and dress. When I’m done, I stand on a chair to get a better view, and look toward the village green. From just the right angle I can see a sliver of the center of town through the trees. I’m hoping I can catch a glimpse of Mom, or Mira. I’d rather find Mom first, though. I’m not at all confident about my results, and if I didn’t do well it will be easier to take it in her comforting presence. If only I could remember how I did. It should seem more strange to me, but somehow I don’t feel the need to dwell on it. Perhaps I am learning serenity.

  No, you bikking idiot! Yarrow screams in my head. You were given too many drugs to remember, and your head is muddled. But I’m separate from the rest of your brain, and I remember perfectly. Just listen to me!

  She forces my Rowan-self to yield, and suddenly I’m flooded with memories from the previous day. Each test comes back to me in perfect detail. Especially the last one. The terrible choice of saving Zander and sacrificing myself. The failure of my plan thanks to Zander’s unthinking hate. The children dying . . .

  It wasn’t real, Yarrow reassures me. None of it. You were unconscious, but the part of me in your head isn’t as easily controlled, and I was conscious when the whole bubble turned into a screen. The fire, the trees, the children—it was all a sophisticated vid projected inside the sphere.

  The children are safe? I ask hopefully.

  There never were any children. It was all a test.

  Was Zander really there?

  Yes, Yarrow says in my head. Then she chuckles. And for the rest f your life I can remind you that you slept with Zander!

  Shut up, I say, but I’m not angry. I’m just happy that this is finally over.

  But I still don’t quite get how Yarrow can know things I don’t.

  I am a part of you—and also apart from you. You’ve compartmentalized me so well that what happens to the Rowan aspect of you doesn’t touch me. Your brain has rewired itself. Might prove useful to have a backup personality if Mom tries to mess with yours again.

  “Don’t call that horrible woman Mom!” I shout.

  Sorry. Old habits Now, let’s go find out how you did on the test. Hmm, looks like a lot of activity going on in the village. Something’s up.

  She’s right. There’s more bustle than I’d expect in the sliver I can see of the village green. This is such a well-ordered place that people seldom need to hurry. But now I see people in the distance running in and out of my field of vision. Something is definitely up.

  It must be that the results are in. I can’t wait for Mom to come home. I have to know now!

  I hurry to the village green, where I find a lot of people clustered. There are two or three others from the test, but not Mom, or Mira.

  “Congratulations,” Quinn says. “You really deserve it!”

  I thank him, my hopes rising as I press forward to where at least two dozen people are looking at a projection with a list of names.

  “Good job, Rowan,” someone says, but I don’t even notice who as I strain to see. If they’re congratulating me, I must have been ranked first, right?

  But when someone finally passes me the paper and I scan it for my name, my heart sinks.

  Second tier. It’s Zander’s fault. I know I would have ranked first tier if I hadn’t been partnered with him for the Fire Trial.

  Second tier is very respectable, and that’s why I’m getting so many congratulations. But it’s not high enough to become an elder, to be trusted with the highest technology, the secrets of Harmonia that I know must exist. I’ll have access to some, just like Carnelian. But I’m worried it won’t be enough to help me in my quest to save my friends.

  It’s okay, I tell myself. It was just an idea, a nebulous notion that might have helped. It’s not like I had a concrete plan that was ruined. Still, it makes my goal seem even more like an impossible dream.

  I was so eager to see my results that I didn’t even look at the rest of them. What I see makes me feel a little better about my achievement. Only three of us managed to get the second rank: me, Mira . . . and Zander. That gives me some satisfaction. At least he wasn’t rated first. That must be burning him up. Quinn and most of the others were put in the third tier. Lotte, to no one’s surprise, is in the fourth.

  Then I check my mom’s rank.

  I can’t believe it.

  Suddenly there is a commotion at the far end of the green, near the Hall of Elders. Two of the younger, stronger elders are carrying something between them. It takes me a moment to realize it is a stretcher. Whoever is on it is covered.

  Dead? Why else would they cover someone.

  “Who is it?” people call as they hurry to help. “What happened?” Is it one of the testers? With a sick suspicion I think it might be my mom, and I run to the fore of the crowd. With that rank I just saw . . .

  But we’re shooed away by the elders, who assure us that its nothing to worry about, everything is under control and an announcement will be made shortly. “None of our friends or family are hurt, rest assured,” Elder Night says. I hear sighs of relief all around me. Mine is among them.

  We mill for a moment. The people of Harmonia have been conditioned to help. We’re a community, and when something is wrong we all feel like we have to pitch in. I can tell they feel awkward not having any task to do in what is so obviously some kind of crisis. We all watch the Hall of Elders without seeming to do so, waiting to be needed.

  Suddenly, to my immense relief despite what Elder Night said, my mom comes out of the hall. She ignores the villagers’ questions and heads straight to me.

  She’s flushed and out of breath. “Hey,” she says with a brightness I can tell is forced. “You were ranked in the second tier. Well done!” She sounds excited, but I still feel crushed, and it shows. “Oh, sweetheart, it’s still an amazing achievement! Very few people get ranked first.”

  “You did,” I say flatly.

  For a moment she doesn’t speak, but watches me anxiously for signs of tears or anger. Then I throw my arms around her. “Oh, Mom, I’m so proud of you! You deserve it!” And she does. She’s a better person than me, with straightforward priorities. She knows exactly how a human should act to be part of the natural world. She might have been born in Eden, but she belongs here. She doesn’t question everything. She is like an animal in the ecosystem—she has a place, and she fits it perfectly.

  “I’m sorry,” she tries to say, but I shush her immediately, telling her over and over how proud and happy I am for her. To myself, I’m thinking that this might be even better. The elders already suspect me. I tried so hard to get back to Eden, to solicit their help when I first came here, that even with a top ranking they probably wouldn’t trust me with all the information I’d need. Mom, on the other hand, is so perfectly adapted to Harmonia that they won’t keep anything
from her. She’ll be an elder, with all the secrets and responsibilities that go along with it. And of course she’ll be able to use that knowledge to help me get back to Eden.

  Won’t she? For a moment I have doubts. No, she loves Ash. For his sake, if not for the sake of my friends or the other second children, she’d risk it.

  “Let’s celebrate!” I say. “Who knows, maybe I’ll even congratulate Zander. I just won’t shake his hand!” I flex my fingers, which I just now notice feel almost completely better. Did someone heal me while I was unconscious after the last test? Tentatively, I ask Yarrow, but she can’t remember that either.

  “Rowan, listen, I want you to stay inside today, okay?” My mom’s voice is strained, and I can see twin lines of tension between her eyebrows.

  “Why?”

  “You . . . you had a hard day yesterday,” she stammers as she draws me away from the village green.

  “So did you, and you’re outside,” I point out. “What’s wrong?” She hesitates. “Tell me!”

  “There’s some trouble in the village.”

  “About me?”

  “No. Well . . . no, not really. But it will be better if you stay away. Easier.”

  “Easier for who?”

  “Oh, sweetheart, it will just upset you.” She’s maneuvered me halfway back to our house now. “Trust me, and stay home for today. I’ll do my best to take care of it. I’ll have a say now that I’m an elder.”

  “Take care of what?” I just barely manage not to shout. “You can’t hide things from me, Mom. You can’t protect me. After all I’ve been through, I deserve better. What is going on?”

  She draws a deep breath, and lets it out with a sigh. “When we get in the house I’ll tell you.” Dutifully, I follow her inside. She gets a glass of water and takes a long drink before saying, “There’s a stranger in the village. Someone from Eden.”