The Aberration of Eden Pruitt, page 12
The picture was disturbing and mysterious, with only two certainties: this was far from over. And this was much bigger than they previously understood.
Once Jack finished, he sat on the couch, as white as the drapes that hung in Dr. Norton’s living room. “It’s diverted now, but if someone was already looking for it …”
The words hung in the air—a horrible question mark.
Were they safe here? If not, then where could they possibly go?
Down the hall, Eden’s parents slept. Her father—a man with broken ribs and a giant brace and scars where bullets had entered and exited his body. Her mother—a woman with a broken ankle and a fragile heart and a neck that was no longer bruised but had been not too long ago. They were bruises Eden had put there.
The muscles across her chest pulled tight.
Enough was enough.
She refused to let her parents stand in the crossfire any longer. This was supposed to end last night and yet here they were, playing defense once again.
It was time to change the game.
It was time for the hunted to become the hunters.
Thanks to Cleo, they had a lead: the girl with the glass eye.
Eden looked at Cass. He stared back at her like he knew exactly what she was thinking. They would leave tonight. And they would start with Mona.
Eden walked with Cleo and Cassian as he pushed the motorcycle down the long gravel drive. At the other end, the cabin windows glowed yellow. The horizon had swallowed the sun, but the sky resisted the dark.
It was twilight.
The in-between.
No longer day, but not yet night.
Inside, Dr. Norton fixed dinner. Barrett distracted her mother with every fact and anecdote he could find on Monarch butterflies. She was too polite to dismiss him. Jane had taken possession of the remote—flipping channels so quickly the reporters sounded like a depressing remix—and Jack smoked a cigarette on the deck while filling her father in on everything he had missed while resting.
Nobody noticed them slip out the front.
By the time her parents would register her absence, they would be unable to follow. Eden would be gone.
Jane and Barrett knew the plan. Eden and Cass were going to find The Monarch. Jane and Barrett were going to stay. They would keep their eyes and ears on high alert. They were prepared to fight should the wrong people show up. At least, Barrett was. Jane neither agreed nor disagreed, but seeing as she didn’t talk, Eden wasn’t concerned about her spoiling the plan.
“Don’t tell them anything about the girl or Mona,” Eden said to Cleo. The last thing she wanted was her parents chasing her while she chased the Monarch. The goal was to get them out of trouble, not lead them further into it.
Cleo pantomimed zipping her lips.
Cassian swung his leg over the seat of the bike. “We’ll need your help after Mona gives us whatever information she’s willing to share.”
“My phone will be on,” Cleo said.
“Give this to my parents.” Eden handed her a folded slip of paper—a note hastily written but heartily felt.
I’m going to put an end to this. Then I’ll come back and we won’t have to be afraid anymore. Please stay safe. Please don’t worry. You raised me to be strong. All my love, Eden.
“Tell Jack to study the projections. He has to find a way to keep us from being controlled.” Eden climbed onto the bike behind Cassian. “His daughter’s life depends on it.”
Cleo slipped the note into her back pocket and gave Eden a salute. The bike rumbled to life. Eden wrapped her arms around Cassian’s lean torso as he released the clutch and they sped off into the encroaching night.
19
Rocking on the floor, Jane clutched the sack to her chest and glanced at the clock on the doctor’s wall. Yesterday, she’d gotten the bad feeling. Then something bad happened. Something awful. She’d watched it on the television last night. She’d watched it on the television all day. Now the bad feeling was back, wiggling its way into the pit of her stomach.
Barrett must have felt it, too, because he kept meeting her eye with a look of unease.
Any minute now, the adults would find out. Eden’s father and mother and the doctor and the man named Jack who smelled like cigarettes. They would realize what Jane and Barrett already knew. Eden and Cassian were gone.
In the kitchen, Dr. Norton was getting dinner ready. The house smelled like meatloaf and potatoes and the cigarette smoke on Jack’s clothes. He sat at the table, showing Eden’s father the projections from the device Jane had fixed. If she’d known it was going to lead to all of this, she would have left it alone.
“It was connected to the same host Eden was connected to the first time she was controlled. But it’s not connected any longer. There’s this error code, see. I think it has to be connected to the host and Eden’s network in order for it to work.”
“What are the different colors?” Alexander asked.
“I’m not sure yet. But Eden’s system has three parts, and there are three different colors.” Jack zoomed closer, and closer, and closer, pinpointing a blue marker that differed slightly from the rest. A fluorescent globule floated in its center. Then he swiped to the database of numbers.
“IP addresses,” Alexander said.
“That’s what they look like to me, too. But when I plug them in, they don’t lead anywhere.”
Concordia National returned from a short commercial break.
The television had been playing all day.
The death toll was rising as first responders returned to the scene. Jeremiah Finkledei, one of America’s greatest minds—a trailblazer who brought the metaverse into middle-class homes all across the country—was confirmed among the dead. Along with America’s Attorney General, Judy McGinnis. Their photographs filled the screen while ticker tape ran across the bottom, listing the phone number of a tip line people could call if they witnessed any suspicious activity or knew of anyone living off the grid.
The footage cut to a long line outside a hospital where queues of people waited to donate blood. The anchor’s voice wobbled as she commended America’s generous spirit and its willingness to come together in this time of national crisis. Her voice cracked when she reminisced about an even darker day, twenty-one years before, and how horrifyingly familiar all of this was. All the while, Eden’s mother sat on the couch dabbing her eyes with a crumpled tissue.
“Dinner’s ready,” Dr. Norton said, setting a pan of meatloaf on top of the stove.
Ruth collected herself, then glanced around the room, finally noticing the absence of her daughter. “Where’s Eden?”
Jane rocked faster.
Silence descended.
A bloated, disconcerting silence.
Dr. Norton peered out the kitchen window. “Cleo’s car’s gone.”
Jack joined him. “So is Cassian’s bike.”
Ruth rose from the sofa and called Eden’s name. When there was no answer, she hurried down the hall and called her name again. She returned, looking frazzled. “Where is she?”
Barrett, who’d been sitting in the armchair opposite Jane, shifted in the seat. “They … left.”
Everyone turned to look at him.
“What do you mean ‘they left’?” Alexander said.
“Cleo went home, to her dorm.”
“Did Eden go with her?” Ruth asked.
Barrett reached inside his pocket and handed her the folded note.
Ruth took the letter with trembling hands. She unfolded it and read a few of the words. With a gasp, her hand flew to her mouth. Her eyes filled with tears.
“What is it?” Alexander asked.
Ruth passed him the note.
He skimmed the contents, shaking his head as he read. “I need a phone.”
Jack handed his over, peeking over Alexander’s shoulder as he dialed Cassian’s number.
There was no answer.
Ruth’s face had gone chalky white. Alexander’s, a pinkish-red.
Jane tried to imagine Father’s reaction after she ran away. The thought scared her. So, too, did the very real knowledge that he was still out there. In the crossed-off city. Probably looking for her. The urge to run east—to put more distance between them—swelled. She would run and run and run until she reached the giant body of water called the Atlantic Ocean. Then she would start to swim.
Alexander tried Cleo’s number next.
She didn’t answer either.
Ruth went to Barrett. She knelt in front of him, grabbing his hands and squeezing them tight. “Please tell us where they went.”
“I-I don’t know. They didn’t tell me.”
He was lying.
He was lying to Eden’s mother.
Ruth turned to Jane with a look of such desperation that, for one intense moment, Jane wanted to speak. She wanted to tell Ruth the truth. About Mona and the girl with the glass eye. She wanted words to break free so she could help Ruth feel better. But the words weren’t there. They left with Kitty.
“It’s going to be okay,” Barrett said. “Eden can’t get hurt.”
“But she can be taken!” Alexander slammed his fist hard on the table.
Jane startled.
The room fell into a hush.
Alexander tried calling Cassian again. Then Cleo. This time, his call went straight to her voicemail. Jane could hear Cleo’s recorded voice on the other end. “Hey, I don’t listen to voicemail, so if you want to waste some breath, speak into the void.”
A beep followed the outgoing message.
Alexander wheeled himself to the front door with a pain-laced grimace.
“Where are you going?” Dr. Norton asked.
“To Cleo’s dormitory. If she’s not going to answer, then I’ll talk to her in person. I will make her tell me where they went.”
“Alex,” Ruth said.
He shouted a curse.
Jane squeaked and ducked beneath her sack.
“Eden has a plan, Mr. Pruitt,” Barrett said, his voice a little unsteady. “She’s going to be okay.” He stood and went to the table. “The most helpful thing we can do right now is stay here and study this.” He picked up the device. “We can’t be taken if we can’t be controlled. Cass and—”
He stopped abruptly.
They waited for him to continue, but he seemed to be in some sort of stupor.
“Cass and what?” Alexander finally prompted.
Barrett cleared his throat. “Cass and …”
He stopped again. This time, less abruptly, a deep furrow divoting his brow.
“What’s the matter?” Jack asked.
“I can’t remember her name.”
Jane watched the doctor and Eden’s parents exchange confused looks.
“Whose name?” Ruth said.
“Your daughter’s.”
“Eden?”
“Eden,” Barrett repeated, his eyes darting back and forth in a state of confusion and unease. He rubbed his forehead, then peered at the books on Dr. Norton’s shelf, all of which he’d read. He grabbed one—a collection of poems—and thrust it at Dr. Norton. “Flip somewhere random. Tell me the page and line number.”
“Barrett—” Dr. Norton started.
“Just do it!”
The shout was so unlike him that Dr. Norton obliged. He opened the book to the middle. “Page fifty-seven,” he said, running his finger down the margin. “Line eighteen.”
Barrett looked as though he were skimming a giant, invisible book hovering in the air. He started to nod. “My captain does not answer. His lips are pale and still. It’s from ‘O Captain, My Captain’ by Walt Whitman. Try another.”
“Barrett,” the doctor said. “What’s going on?”
“Please. Just one more.”
With a sigh, Dr. Norton flipped deeper into the book. “Page 102, line … ten.”
Barrett started skimming the invisible book again. “Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme. ‘Let America Be America Again’ by Langston Hughes.”
Ruth placed her hand gently on Barrett’s arm. “Sweetheart, what are you doing?”
“I forgot her name.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, it wasn’t even on the tip of my tongue.”
Jane stared.
They all stared.
It was normal to forget things. But Barrett wasn’t normal. Not more than thirty minutes ago, he’d been telling Ruth every fact a person could ask for about Monarch butterflies, all of it committed to memory. Because Barrett didn’t forget things. Neither did Jane.
He set his hand on top of his head. “It’s like it fell right out of my brain.”
20
Eden had no idea silos existed inside Chicago. Yet here they were—stark and towering against a night sky that had gone gray from smoke as the Magnificent Mile smoldered across the river. A chain-link fence surrounded the expansive property, posted with signs that warned against trespassing.
Cass parked his bike.
Eden stepped off behind him. “What is this place?”
“The Damen Silos,” he said, pocketing the keys. “They used to be owned by the government, but a private citizen bought them years ago at an auction.”
“Why?”
“To keep them from being leveled.” Cass moved a few lengths forward where the chain link had come loose from its rusted pole. He pulled it up and motioned for Eden to crawl inside. When she was through, he ducked in after her.
“What are we doing here?” she asked.
“Visiting Mona,” he said, cutting through tall grass and waist-high weeds under the light of a hazy moon.
Eden gaped. Mona lived here?
The place was long abandoned. The perfect setting for a zombie apocalypse movie, with no signs of life that she could see. She followed Cass along a strip of land strewn with crumbled brick and debris. On her left stood the skeletal frame of what might have been a warehouse once upon a time. On her right, a polluted canal for ships and barges.
Cassian’s phone began buzzing inside his jacket.
He pulled it from his pocket and glanced at the screen. Eden glanced, too. There were three missed calls. All from Jack’s number.
Her insides twisted. It was a cruel time for Eden to leave, even under normal circumstances. They’d reached that point in the year when her parents became a little extra tender, their protectiveness bordering on over, their affection and concern tipping toward needy. For Mom, at least. Now Chicago was burning. The country was on high alert. Their enemy was out there somewhere at large. And Eden had left.
The phone started buzzing again.
Eden steeled herself against the sound. “You should block the number.”
“Are you sure?”
“If you don’t, they’ll just keep calling.” And they couldn’t be distracted. They were on a mission. Feeling guilty about leaving wouldn’t help her accomplish it.
Cassian dismissed the call. He blocked the number, pocketed the phone, and stopped in front of a large sheet of corrugated metal covered in graffiti. He pulled it back and invited her to slip through. As soon as she did, the sound of crumbling rock had her looking left, where a gangly boy hopped from a rusted metal beam.
Eden startled as Cass slid inside behind her.
The boy was stretched thin. He had the look of a kid who’d grown too fast to fill, with bare feet and a dirty face and hollowed cheeks. If Eden had to guess, she’d say he was thirteen. Maybe fourteen.
“This is private property,” he said in a voice caught between boy and man, his gaunt shoulders squaring. Then he scuffed his bare foot in an arc along the ground.
Cass looked down at the arc, then used his boot to do the same—a mirror to the boy’s, creating a two-dimensional shape like a football in the dust.
The boy looked up, suspicion easing into curiosity.
“We’re here to speak with Mona,” Cass said.
The kid stared for a moment, then led them through the warehouse, out into the night. Toward a hole in one of the silo walls. They climbed in and descended crumbling stairs into a dank labyrinth of underground tunnels and rooms lit with kerosene lamps. Populated with people.
Eden gawked, unable to hide her shock and bewilderment.
Cleo had told her once that it was easier to live off the grid in cities like Chicago because there was a community. At the time, Eden imagined a network of dodgy crooks living on the streets. Cassian’s mother was the exception, not the rule.
But this place told a different story.
Young children peeked out from soiled sheets that hung in the doorways. A baby’s cry and the soothing sound of a mother’s lullaby. Coughing and whispers as older children loitered in the tunnels, watching as Cass and Eden followed the barefooted boy deeper into the maze.
At this very moment, reporters were claiming Interitus had been building in strength and number in communities like this one. But all Eden could see were malnourished kids and haggard-looking mothers. Concordia was feeding them a lie. Concordia had always fed them a lie. And Eden was the fool who’d swallowed it whole.
Anger stirred.
This place was dark and damp and depressing. Children and babies should not be subjected to such living conditions. But here they were, subjected all the same. Was it always this somber? Did they look at every stranger in the same suspicious way they were looking at Eden and Cassian now? Or was this the result of the ruined smoking buildings across the channel?
The boy led them around a corner, then swept aside a sheet and gestured for them to enter a dark room. He lit the kerosene lamp inside, giving light to their surroundings. Eden was surprised to see a computer and a metaverse headset on top of a desk. Beside them, a battery-operated generator. There was also a neatly made cot and wooden crates filled with a variety of supplies, and stacks of boxes marked with numbers.
“I’ll fetch Mona,” the boy said.
When he left, Cass leaned against the desk and crossed one boot over the other, his knuckles white as he wrapped his fingers beneath the desk’s ledge.
