Chapter 4 Part Two: New Eden Chapter 4: The Welcome Committee
The last five hundred meters to New Eden’s gates were a haze of pain and exhaustion, each step a monumental effort. We were so close I could smell the faint, almost mythical scent of cooking food and clean water on the air. Then they emerged from a camouflaged guard post.
A squad of six hulking warriors, armed to the teeth with a brutal assortment of polished rifles and wicked-looking blades. Their faces were hidden behind scarred tactical masks, their body language radiating professional lethality. They fanned out, blocking the path, weapons held at the ready but not yet aimed.
“Let me do the talking,” Nate said with a weak smile, his voice a thready whisper. “They’re my people.”
Hope warred with a deep, instinctive fear. I had no choice but to trust him. Slowly, making every movement visible, I unholstered my Guardian and placed it on the cracked earth. My knife followed. The surrender felt like peeling off my own skin. I knelt behind the weapons, lacing my fingers on top of my head, trying to look small, harmless, nonthreatening.
I was scared now. Truly scared. Staring down the barrel of an ancient, well-kept AK-47 will do that to a girl. And here, there were multiple barrels, each held by a set of masked, trigger-happy eyes that had undoubtedly seen and ended more lives than I could imagine.
Their leader, a broad-shouldered man with a commanding stillness, stepped forward. His voice was a low rumble, devoid of warmth. “Hey, Nate. Got yourself in a bit of bother. We were worried about you.”
Nate flashed a charming, pained smile. “No bother, just took the scenic route. Lost my team, though.” His eyes fluttered shut, and the strength went out of him. He was out again, leaving me alone in the circle of armed strangers.
“I’m with him,” I blurted, the words sounding pathetic and small. “I helped him. Who are you?”
The leader’s masked face turned to me. “I’ll do the talking here,” he snapped, his voice cracking like a whip. “Who are you?”
“I’m with him, I swear. I found him after the ferals-”
A universe-ending explosion of pain slammed into the back of my skull. The world tilted, fractured into blinding white light, and collapsed into nothing.
I woke to a throbbing symphony of pain. My head pounded in time with my heartbeat. My mouth was a desert, my tongue a swollen piece of leather. A deep, gnawing hunger clenched my stomach. I was trussed to a cold metal chair; wrists bound tightly behind my back. The first thing my bleary eyes focused on was the glass of water on the desk in front of me. It was the most beautiful, cruel thing I had ever seen. Condensation beaded on its sides. I could almost taste its cool purity. How I needed that water. How I wanted that glass of life.
Two guards in crisp grey uniforms stood like statues on either side of an open doorway. When I stirred, one of them turned and left without a word.
“Where am I? Where are my things?” My voice was a raw croak.
The remaining guard said nothing. His face was a blank slate; his eyes fixed on a point on the opposite wall.
I forced myself to take in my surroundings, to push past the pain and fear. The first thing that truly registered was the light. Daylight-bright, but with no windows; it poured from long glass tubes set into the ceiling. I’d seen electricity before, crackling generators, flickering bulbs, but never this powerful, never this steady and accusing. The walls and ceiling were smooth, uniform, painted a stark, blinding white, as white as the dress I wore on Naming Day. The air smelled of antiseptic and ozone. Somewhere, far away, a scream was cut short. Blinding lights, sterile smells, distant screams. This is not going to end well.
The room was bare except for three chairs lined against one wall, two more opposite my desk, and the ominous chain dangling from the ceiling directly over a gleaming drain set into the neatly tiled floor. The cleanliness was unnerving. No blood spatter, no scratches in the paint, no dirt in the corners. That sterile perfection scared me more than the chains.
After an interminable wait, the guard returned with three men. Six bodies now filled the small room, making the air stifling and close. The guard resumed his post by the now-locked door. Two of the men approached the desk. The third, older, with an air of casual authority, settled into a chair against the wall, crossing his legs as if waiting for a show to begin.
The first to speak was young, clean-cut, dressed in clothes that looked new and unworn. “Welcome to New Eden, ma’am.” He set a thin file folder on the table but remained standing. The second man sat after placing a strange rectangular case on the desk. It wasn’t a suitcase; it lit with a soft green glow, illuminating his focused face. His eyes never left the device.
The third man just lounged, feigning boredom. I’ve seen this before. Mother, I’ve done this before. Standard interrogation tactics. Good Cop, Tech Cop, and him, the Silent King. He’s in charge. He’s the one I need to appease.
“Tilly, is it not?” The lounging man’s gaze finally locked onto mine, eyes like cold pits. “For our records, please confirm: Tilly?”
My mind raced. How do I play this? I have little to hide and much to gain. Small answers. Compliant. Please them.
“Yes. Tilly.”
The man with the glowing case, Brian began typing on a thin, flat device attached to it. Soft clicks echoed in the sterile room.
“Only Tilly?” the first man, Guy, pressed. He was the designated friendly face.
“Tillyanna.”
“Just Tillyanna? No last name?” He glanced at Brian to capture every syllable.
“Just Tillyanna.” A name from a dead past was all I would give.
“Well, Tillyanna, Tilly, I’m Guy. Welcome to New Eden. My associate Brian and I need to ask a few questions before we can invite you to stay. Just procedure, of course.” His eyes flicked, almost imperceptibly, to the silent man, who still looked bored.
“Tilly, first, where do you come from, and what are you doing here?”
“I came from the west,” I said, holding his gaze while every sense stayed locked on the silent observer.
“Be more specific.” Guy’s smile thinned.
“I’ve been traveling a long time. The last real town I passed was over two months ago.” I forced a weak, hopefully grateful smile. “I avoid large towns. Safer alone.”
“Name of the town? Why avoid them? Where were you before that?” The questions sped up.
“Traveling alone isn’t always safe. You learn to be careful.”
“You still haven’t named the town. Or where you came from before that. Have you always travelled alone? Did you start with others? Where are they now?”
Summoning every ounce of my shattered acting skills, I conjured crocodile tears and let my voice waver. “I had friends. But they… they died. Raiders. Sickness. I was alone. I was scared.” I dropped my head. “I just want to be safe.”
“Enough!”