Dead of Eve (Trilogy of Eve 1)

Clank. Clank.

I gripped the cold chain to stop the banging. My blade touched Joel’s forehead. The bead of blood grew. His eyes glazed. The pain was too much. I pushed hard and fast.

I woke again.

Aaron was sitting in the captain’s chair. He stood—solid but airy—and drifted toward me, one hand behind his back. Booey hung by a paw from his belt loop. He lingered close enough to touch and looked down at me with yellow-green eyes, outlined in a brilliant ring of emerald.

His hand appeared from behind his back and his fist opened. A ladybug perched on his palm, peaceful and unafraid. He brought it to his face for closer inspection. It lifted red wings as if to stretch then tucked them back to its body.

Puckering his lips, he blew on it until it took flight. It danced between us then flew over my head. Aaron extended a tiny finger and pointed behind me. His voice was harmonious. “Follow them, Mommy.”

Over my shoulder, swarms of ladybugs fluttered around the bow and over the water that stretched to the eastern shore. They winked in and out like beacons toward the undeveloped savannahs rich with Mead’s milkweed and other native grasses. It was a dreamlike landscape. Maybe I was dreaming.

The ladybugs hovered as if waiting for me to respond. The pack lay next to me, unopened. I turned back. Aaron was gone.

Grief consumed me, ripping and pulling. I yanked at my hair. Buckled over, hugging myself, rocking on my knees. “Where did my brother go? Where did my brother go?” Then I snapped.

I grabbed the first thing in reach, the pack Joel left me, and heaved it across the boat. Despite its weight and the little strength I had left, it flew through the air and propelled over the side, hitting the water with a splash.

Darkness tried to steal my vision again. The spotted beetles pestered. I swatted at them and screamed, “Leave me the fuck alone.”

The pack burped. I moved to the edge and watched it sink.

Whatever you do, don’t lose this.

The last of the air escaped and water rolled over the insurance policy I’d hoped to never use. Shit. I dropped to my knees and lugged it back onto the boat. The swarm settled around me.

A.L.I.C.E. All-purpose Lightweight Individual Carrying Equipment. The durable olive-drab rucksack was designed to haul basic survival supplies for the U.S. Army. I eyed it with contempt. He had it all planned out. The boat, a deliberate choice assuming it was aphids I was escaping. And the pack. I bet it contained everything needed to survive. What made me sick was the realization that his pack wasn’t there. His attention centered on my survival and mine alone. I loosened the cover straps with a thousand-pound heart.

A cortege of soggy contents poured into my lap. Sleeping roll. Individually wrapped MREs. Camel Back water hydration system. Solar flashlight. Otis gun cleaning kit. Water filter system. First aid kit. Spare mags and throwing knives. Waterproof matches. Waterproof pouch.

I tipped over the waterproof pouch on the boat’s vinyl seat. My cigarettes fell out. Then my music player, wrapped with headphones and a solar charger. I thought I’d lost it. I pressed the power button and my spirit lifted a little as my punk rock playlist loaded up. I tilted the pouch and a sundry of batteries rolled out. I held up a package of lithium button cell batteries. What would I use these for? Unless…

I tapped out the remaining item. My bullet. My little pleasure toy. My shoulders slumped. Of course he did. He knew me better than I knew myself.

When I repacked the waterproof pouch, I felt a piece of paper folded in the bottom. I opened it with trembling fingers.

Ba-y,

If you’re reading this, then our paths have parted. You have the tools to travel yours, with or without me. Remember our mantra. If you think about giving up, remember your promise. Keep breathing. Find your tear ducts if you need them. Stay hydrated.

I’m so grateful you shared your life with me. Fuck, I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs when you rose from that bed and strong-armed your grief. I wanted to scream with pride because I knew what it cost you. And I wanted to scream in fear because I’m a selfish bastard and I didn’t want to share you with the world. You’re special, Evie. You survived for a reason. I know you’ll figure this thing out and provide hope for those left.

There’s a community of scientists making progress on a reversal for the nymph virus. They’re searching for human women. I didn’t know how to tell you. I couldn’t. I was scared, so damn insecure about others finding you, taking you from me. But, I have faith in you. Should your path lead you to Reykjavik, some call them the Shard.