Eden Book 1 (Eden Series)

by David Holley

  “Everyone, please, may I have your attention? My name is Noah Lockheart. I am a retired Special Forces Captain in the British Army. I know you are cold and tired and have heavy hearts.” He pauses. “I want to direct your attention to my wristwatch. It is equipped with an emergency distress beacon that I will implement now.”

  He unlocks a knob on the side of his watch to reveal a small red button, which he presses, setting off a series of red blinking lights in three sets of three.

  “The distress call has now been activated and it will transmit our location to the nearest search and rescue team within 300 kilometers. I expect that we will be rescued before the night is over.”

  His words are met with cheers from some and sighs from others. Their heads nod in approval as he continues. “Unfortunately, I can’t tell you where we are exactly as the readings on my watch were apparently damaged in the crash. But it’s a safe bet we’re in New Zealand and, by the looks of it, a remote part. It may be several hours before we are in contact with rescue. In the meantime, we have a seriously injured man among us who needs immediate medical attention. My wife, Evelyn, is a scientist and has extensive medical training. She will be tending to the man, but she will need someone to assist her. Do we have anyone else among us with medical training?”

  Noah stares out across the sea of weary faces and from the corner of his eye he spots the Asian woman, still in her raft, slowly raising her hand. “I am a holistic nurse,” she says in a small and delicate voice.

  “Outstanding. What is your name ma’am?”

  “Luna,” she replies.

  “Luna, would you be willing to assist my wife with the injured man?”

  “I will.” She makes eye contact with Evelyn, who smiles as she sterilizes her hands with the antiseptic gel packed in her belongings.

  “Now, we need to set up camp while we wait for rescue,” Noah says. “We are all cold and wet, so the first thing we must do is get a fire started. I have a flint strike in my pack and the sooner we can gather materials to burn, the better. I also have a tent and some warm clothes I can distribute to some of you. Do I have any volunteers?”

  Nearly everyone steps forward to help Noah, who distributes duties among them. He points to various locations, instructing where to set the fire and the tent, as well as where to find certain items. The volunteers disperse and he peers back to Evelyn and Luna who have already set up a makeshift surgery station inside the raft. His wife is in the process of sewing up Jeremy’s wound while Luna holds a windup flashlight overhead.

  He notices Luna’s husband, who has walked away from the others, staring into the ocean. He approaches the man cautiously, not wanting to startle him. “I am terribly saddened by your loss.”

  The man stands quietly and nods, but makes no eye contact. “Thank you.”

  “What is your daughter’s name?”

  “Leilu,” he replies softly. “Her name is Leilu, and I am Hiroshi.” He places both hands over his face rubbing his eyes. Noah says nothing for a few moments, letting the man be alone with his grief.

  “Leilu is a beautiful name, Hiroshi, and I am sorry we are meeting under these circumstances. I’m not sure how long it will be before we are rescued, but if it’s okay with you, I can make a bag from one of the rafts so when they do come, we can take her with us.”

  Hiroshi nods and turns to face Noah. “Yes, that needs to be done and I appreciate the offer, but I will do it. Besides, you have more pressing matters to attend to.”

  “You should take this.” Noah unclips his sheath and knife and hands it to Hiroshi. “If you need any help whatsoever, just let me know.”

  Hiroshi takes the knife and lowers his head. Noah gives him a reassuring pat on his back and turns toward the raft. From his position he can see the beginnings of a fire and it brings a small smile to his face. Evelyn and Luna still hover over the injured man.

  “How is it going?” he asks.

  “Surprisingly well, all things considered,” replies Evelyn dabbing her forehead with the crook of her right arm. “We should have this wrapped up in another ten minutes.”

  “Fantastic,” he replies.

  Reaching in the raft, he takes Evelyn’s knife from her backpack and unfastens the Velcro straps binding the two rafts together. He flips the empty raft over and cuts a large rectangle from its underbelly. As he finishes, he hears the sound of shuffling sand and looks up to see one of the volunteers walking toward him, holding two long stocks of bamboo and the hand axe he had lent him.

  “Good timing,” Noah declares. He extends his arms to grab the poles and carefully inspects the cut sections. “This is fine work, thank you. I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.”

  The man smiles. “My name is Jacob Turner and, quite honestly, it’s the least I could do for you, sir.”

  Noah drops the two poles on the beach and extends his hand. “Please, call me Noah. I don’t go by sir anymore.”

  They share a vigorous handshake and Jacob says, “It’s a pleasure to meet you Noah. You should know that I am in your debt, from here on out. If it wasn’t for you, I’m certain I would have died in that crash. I’m not sure if you realize it, but it was me who told you to go back to your seat. When you pulled me down, I slid into Section Two. So when the ship dropped, I was thrown into an empty flight station that was thankfully right next to me. Otherwise I would have suffered the same fate as my crewmates. I watched several of them be thrown about the cabin.” His voice trails off as he recounts the harrowing memory.

  Noah pulls out a penlight from his pocket and shines the light to study the young man. He notices his shirt is tattered and torn in several places and the top three buttons are undone and two of them have disappeared. The red tie is no longer around his neck, stuffed instead in his front trouser pocket with a portion of it poking out. A large bloodstain is across the front of his once crisp, white linen shirt.

  “I see. And am I responsible for that broken nose, too?”

  Jacob snickers. “Yes, I suppose that you are, but it’s a small price to pay for one’s life. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  Noah shrugs. “Make sure you see my wife about that nose of yours, and I have a clean shirt that I can give you from my pack. In the meantime, will you help me with this?” Noah motions to the poles on the ground. Jacob agrees, and together they lay the cutout from the raft over them and fold and refold the raft sheet around the two poles, creating a makeshift stretcher for the injured man. Evelyn calls out that Jeremy is ready to be transported. With Jacob’s assistance, they place him on the stretcher and carry him inside the tent. The man is unconscious, drenched in sweat and as pale as the moon.

  When he exits the tent, Noah finds everyone gathered around the fire, which has grown to a full blaze. They are huddled closely together, several of them attempting to dry their clothing, while others stare silently into the flames. Their faces carry the terrible burden of the day’s events. Noah leaves them to their thoughts and makes his way to Evelyn who is crouched at the edge of the ocean, washing her hands and face. Water rushes past her naked ankles.

  He crouches next to her. “The man’s pulse is weak. What do you think his chances are?”

  Evelyn stands, shaking her hands of the excess water and turns to face her husband. “I would say fifty-fifty at this point; he has lost a lot of blood. I guess it all depends on how quickly we are rescued.”

  Noah nods. “The sooner the better.”

  “You said yourself we are in a remote location. It may be awhile before that happens.” Walking past the ocean’s reach, she gives him a sideways glance. “There’s something you’re not telling me. What is it?”

  “There is something else,” Noah concedes. “Something that we must keep to ourselves.”

  This stops Evelyn in her tracks. She frowns and sighs. “Go on.”

  “Before the crash, I reached the shuttle’s cockpit. The door was already open and before we went into free fall, I caught a glimpse inside. It was a crime scene, Eve. Th
ere was blood everywhere, and the pilot and copilot were dead. From my vantage, I couldn’t see the third pilot but I can only assume that he was killed too. There was someone else inside with them.”

  “Someone else? Who?” she asks, hanging on every word.

  Noah pulls out a black leather wallet and flips it open, exposing a gold badge engraved with the Great Seal of the Realm. “According to his identification, his name is Leonard Whatley and he is a British Air Marshal.”

  “An air marshal? Christ,” she mutters.

  “That’s not all,” Noah adds.

  “There’s more?”

  “Unfortunately,” he nods. “When I went through the air marshal’s pockets I found this.” He hands her the broken electronic device.

  Evelyn turns it in her hands. “It’s a COM, right?”

  “That’s what I initially thought, but from what I can tell it was programmed for one purpose.”

  “And that was?”

  “I can’t be certain, but I think what you are holding is an electromagnetic pulse emulator.”

  “Electromagnetic pulse emulator?” Her eyes light up. “But that’s what —”

  “The KOP used before my squadron was ambushed,” he finishes.

  “Wonderful. So what do you think happened on the shuttle?”

  “That’s a good question. I can’t be entirely sure, but this is what I suspect: The air marshal broke into the cockpit and a struggle ensued, and that’s when the ship started to go down the first time. The marshal killed one, or possibly two, of the pilots before forcing the remaining pilot to stabilize the shuttle so that he could sabotage it. He then enabled the EMP that disabled the power grid, which in turn shut off the emergency response protocol. With his mission complete, he killed the last pilot and then himself, with a bullet to the head.”

  “My God,” Evelyn blurts.

  He continues. “If this was a KOP attack, which seems likely, then it’s plausible they have made a series of attacks around the world, as they have done in the past. And if that is indeed the case, it may be some time before we are rescued.”

  The revelation is met with cold silence, as Evelyn stares off into the darkness, trying to process the information. “This is all conjecture,” she states. “We can’t be certain about any of this… although you do have a terrible knack for being right.” She sighs. “So, what now?”

  “We say nothing, to anyone. If this was a terrorist attack, it is possible that one of the saboteurs is still among us. We need to evaluate everyone and go from there.”

  Evelyn nods. “Alright, has anyone piqued your interest thus far?”

  “No,” he says flatly. “However there was one person who struck me as odd.”

  “Who was it?”

  “The teenage girl. Before the crash, as I was making my way to the cockpit, we made eye contact and she looked at me as if I was familiar to her. But I can assure you, I had never seen her before. And quite frankly, she has a look that you don’t soon forget.”

  “Yes. She certainly does. Her name is Mia. I had a brief conversation with her on the raft. She seemed a sweet girl, Noah. In fact, I felt an instant connection with her. I’ll keep my eye on her and see if there’s any basis to your trepidation.”

  “Alright then. I’ll work my way through the group and see if I can turn up anything else.”

  Evelyn shivers and wraps her arms around her chest. “I sure could use a drink right about now.”

  Noah laughs. “It’s funny you should mention that. He pulls two bottles from his pocket and twists off both caps with one turn of the wrist. She takes one of the bottles and squints at the label in the moonlight. “Oban!” she cheers. “My favorite!”

  Noah smiles at her warmly. “This isn’t quite the holiday we had in mind is it?”

  “It never is.” They clink their bottles in a sardonic toast.

  Chapter 7

  In the several hours since the survivors landed on the island, they have scanned the skies for helicopters and the horizon for ships. But nothing has appeared to lift their spirits. The raging fuel fire to the west has diminished, crystallizing the rocky terrain into a field of charcoal and ash; a dark canopy of sulfur hangs over the shore. Cooler winds have swept in from the sea, confining most of them next to the fire. The Lockhearts sit together by the tent, keeping close tabs on the injured man who rests inside. They distributed articles of clothing to those who were in need of it and they themselves have changed into more suitable attire. Only a few people attempt to eat from the flank of mako shark that Noah retrieved from the raft and prepared for the others; most stare listlessly at the fire, waiting to be rescued. To Noah’s right sits Jacob, in the process of finishing his second piece of shark meat.

  “This is surprisingly quite delicious,” he says. His nasal voice sounds mildly shocked. Though black bruises are starting to take shape around his eyes, after a brief inspection, Evelyn deemed his nose fractured, but assures him that he’ll retain his profile, much to his relief.

  “You can thank Sarah for bringing your dinner on board,” replies Noah, raising his portion toward the woman he had rescued just hours before.

  Sarah smiles. “I'm glad you’re enjoying that, but I don’t have the stomach to try it for myself.” She scrunches her face, shaking her head from side to side. Fair-skinned, with light brown hair and soft blue eyes, Sarah Kinsey is a Welsh woman in her early forties. She wears a pair of dark grey zip-off hiking pants and a red fleece jacket, courtesy of Evelyn, while her own clothes dry by the fire.

  “Suit yourself,” Jacob shrugs. “That means more for me.” He happily reaches for another portion.

  Despite Jacob’s attempts at levity, the overall mood is tense. Noah takes inventory of his new mates, outwardly appearing nonchalant. He manages to carry on sparse conversation with those near him, but he carefully studies and eavesdrops when the opportunity allows. Hiroshi and Luna are conspicuously absent by the fire, and Noah assumes that they are sharing a quiet moment with their departed Leilu. Earlier, Evelyn had learned from Luna that her husband is the famed architect Hiroshi Saito, renowned for his massive structures built using only sustainable materials and run solely on self-reliant energy systems. Noah recalls a letter he had received a few years ago from Evelyn, who had seen one of his buildings while on assignment in Vietnam. She described a 12,000-square-meter greenhouse made entirely of bamboo and solar glass that could collect its own water supply and generate all of its own energy while remaining carbon neutral. She marveled at his ability to design a structure so aesthetically pleasing and so highly functional.

  Noah listens in on a conversation Sarah is having with two men to her left. From what he overhears, Tom Murphy and Hank Ashton are business partners from London. They are both dressed in dark suits, Tom in dark grey and his partner in deep chestnut. They make an odd pair. Mr. Murphy is a short, rotund man with fiery red cheeks and pale, almost translucent, skin. He has a tuft of salt and pepper hair arranged around a bald spot and a pair of squinty grey eyes that dance nervously. Hank is tall and narrow, with dark eyes and dark brown hair. He has a thin mustache that he strokes incessantly and says little, except for occasionally complaining about wanting a cigarette. Tom, a chatty fellow, more than compensates for Hank’s reticence, as he expresses at length his concern for their missing colleague, Paul Abbot, who was seated in Section One of the Mei Long.

  Noah turns his attention across the fire to a man in his early sixties named Patrick Fulmer. An Irishman, he is long and wiry, with icy blue eyes and a head of close-cropped snow white hair. He had offered to build the fire when Noah asked for volunteers and now he offers emotional support to the bereaved. A woman named Josette holds Patrick’s hand and wipes tears from her face, while a middle-aged man named Craig looks on. None of them were traveling together, but each lost a loved one during the crash. And because of that, they are doing what they can to help one another amidst their grief.

  Away from the others sit the twins, Mia and Max. They fac
e one another, sitting in silence in the same position with their legs bent and knees pointing skyward. Their faces carry similar sullen expressions, and their eyes drift downward. Nearby, Noah sees a young woman named Alice Pearson lying in a fetal position with one of her arms supporting her head while the other is wrapped around her side. She doesn’t look much older than the twins and, according to his wife, she lost both her parents in the crash. She is wrapped in a grey wool blanket that Eve had given her and although her eyes are closed, she is not sleeping. Noah’s attention flips back to the twins when he hears a heated conversation develop between the two of them. They are too far away to hear what they are actually saying, but he still manages to eavesdrop by reading their lips.

  “Stop saying that Mia! You don’t know what you’re talking about, there’s no way that you could!”

  “Please keep your voice down. I know I don’t know, but it’s a feeling I have. I just don’t feel like they’re with us anymore.” She shakes her head gravely.

  Max rolls his eyes. “That’s because they’re not with us! They could still be alive. We survived the crash, why couldn’t they?”

  “I don’t know Max… it’s just a feeling.”

  “Oh really? A feeling? Was it a feeling when you knew the crash was going to happen or did you know it was going to happen? Why didn’t you say something before we got on that fucking deathtrap?”

  This surprises Noah, and he forgets to pretend that he isn’t listening. Evelyn notices his staring. “What is it?” she asks.

  Noah raises his hand and shakes his head, focused on reading Mia’s response to Max’s accusation.

  “I told you a hundred times! I didn’t know before we got on the plane. You’re not listening to me!”

  “I’ve heard enough!” Max shouts loud enough that everyone around the fire takes notice. He picks himself up quickly and storms away.