Chapter 2
EDEN
I sit cross-legged behind the tent, staring up at the mountains that loom over the city. We’re right at the foothills of them, giving us gorgeous views—despite the toxic air that is found in this valley. I haven’t stopped coughing since I woke up, and that seems to be a common problem in the camp.
The sun is setting, and I think I like this time of day. I’m not sure what it is, but my heart feels a little lighter when I see its descent. My body feels this urge for something that I can’t place.
In the few days it’s been since I woke up, the pain in my head has subsided. There’s still a soreness that the doctor said would linger, but I’m otherwise fine.
Except for the fact that I can’t remember a damn thing.
Damian hasn’t been the most forthcoming with information. He’s more concerned about my health, making sure I drink water and eat. The way he watches me with his assessing eyes is a little unnerving at times, but he’s always careful to keep distance between us. I think we both prefer it that way.
Parker, on the other hand, has been a bit more helpful.
I realized instantly that he was the other voice I heard that first night, but when we officially met, he was not what I expected.
He’s older, probably close to his fifties, with silver at the temples of his dark hair and fewer scars than most everyone else.
He’s been more than happy to show me around—not for the first time, he’s said—once they realized I had lost my memory. As it turns out, a doctor knows the exact questions to ask to piece together that symptom I was withholding.
Despite looking relatively unapproachable with his icy eyes and large frame, Parker has been rather talkative.
Not necessarily friendly—though next to Damian, he seems like it—but he’s very impassioned, which explains why he leads the rebel camp that I am apparently a part of.
And he seems to love reminding anyone who will listen of the villains in the sky.
The Elites.
The only ones allowed to live up in the mountains, away from the air down here on ground level that has been poisoning and killing people for decades, lives the governing people of our great city. Parker hates them, saying that they feed off of violence and enjoy all of our suffering.
Supposedly, the air we breathe is a result of so many years of neglect. That the plants now are trying to kill us like we have done to them. And as a result, we’ve only neglected each other.
Or that’s Parker’s theory.
“Eden?”
I turn at the sound of my name, my hand going for a weapon on my thigh that isn’t there. I keep doing things like that, muscle memory acting in ways that make little sense.
Soft green-hazel eyes study me as Raya approaches, pushing her thick, brown hair over her shoulder. She settles onto the grass beside me, tipping her head up to look at the mountains, too.
I like Raya. She’s quiet and seems much more grounded than others in this camp. She’s the only one I trust not to ask questions or push, mostly because she seems resigned to whatever this life has given her.
It’s sad, but it benefits me for now.
“I thought I’d find you back here.”
I hum in response, going back to studying the mountains. Faintly, I think I can make out the bridges that connect the large mountain homes up there. From what I was told, the Elites have clean air to breathe and so many resources none of us will ever see.
I don’t know why, but it hurts to stare up there.
“Is it nice?” Raya asks softly.
I turn my head toward her, my eyes skimming over her scarred skin on display from her outfit.
I was given the standard uniform of a tight tanktop and pants that allow for easy movement, but it leaves far too much skin at risk of being burned.
The small, circular scars dot the skin of everyone in the camp—myself included—reminding us of how poisonous the air really is.
“Not being able to remember,” she clarifies. She sighs almost wistfully as she keeps staring up at the sky. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wished for that.”
I’ve pieced together that Raya and her sister, Leah, have seen some truly horrific things. Most people have here. Just like everyone seems to have lost someone. Parker’s wife. Damian’s brother. Everyone has a reason to be angry and vengeful.
Sometimes I wonder what I’ve managed to outrun in what I lost.
Instead of answering that, I look up at the mountains that I can’t seem to stop staring at. “Are they really so bad?” It’s something that’s been nagging at me after Parker gave me his history rant. Something about it just didn’t sit right with me.
“The Elites?” I nod without looking at her. “They are worse than you’d ever believe.”
That’s what I keep hearing from everyone. The guards abuse their power. The government hoards resources. And the rest of us suffer while they ignore us, sitting up there like gods in the sky.
For some reason, though, I can’t reconcile that image despite everything I see.
“Our parents used to tell us about what it was like before.” Raya plucks strands of grass to tangle between her fingers. “That the government used to make the city better for its people, and they actively worked against the mafia.” She shakes her head. “And now they are up there together.”
That was one of the first things Parker told me. The Elites are made up of those who govern—or decide everything for us so that it benefits them—and the mafia. Two groups that should never be trusted.
“That’s why we’re trying to take them down?” I don’t feel any camaraderie here, but I’m still trying to collect all the pieces to the puzzle. Which means I have to keep asking questions, only to be given answers that make no sense.
“That’s why Parker keeps trying to attack the mafia.
” Raya’s hands weave the grass together as she softly speaks.
“We all know that the government is really just doing their bidding. They say that they are trying to make this situation better for us, that we are all suffering, but really, they are just trying to stay on the mafia’s good side, too. ”
“So the mafia are the ones with power.” That statement feels true.
“They are supposed to provide medicine and protection.” She shrugs one shoulder, sounding completely resigned. “Instead, they send guards around to keep everyone in line, supply drugs to people who can afford them to keep them in their place, and use us all like game pieces.”
I nod, soaking in her words. It’s what everyone has been telling me for days.
The mafia used to be the scum of society.
They used to be the ones you never trusted.
And somehow, along the way, they were the ones that rose to power.
Maybe because they had the skills or the manpower or knew how to manipulate already broken people.
Parker has even hinted that they somehow keep the air toxic so that only the rich survive.
And his theory makes sense. It all makes sense when I look around. New scars have popped up along my arms, and everyone in the camp is covered in them. My lungs burn constantly, and my body feels weak. I keep having flashes of feeling like this has happened to me before.
And still, my brain is screaming that I need to know more.
I just don’t think I’m asking the right people.
The sky is turning a deep shade of blue, and I know that soon, I’ll need to go back to the tent.
Damian will want to know that I have eaten, that I’m sleeping.
They want me to become more involved with the camp now that I’ve recovered, and I’m hoping that settles the ache that seems to be constant in my chest.
I’m just about to stand and tell Raya I have to find Damian when a soft whir catches my attention. I’m up in an instant, my eyes scanning the trees for the familiar noise I can’t place, a low hum and an occasional crunch.
Raya rises slowly, and I crouch down, picking up a rock. The hairs on the back of my neck are standing up, and my heart starts to beat a little faster. I swear that I can feel the anticipation in the air as my eyes land on the shadows between the trees.
And I realize they are moving.
I can’t even shout before figures pour into the camp, dressed in black and holding weapons that I swear are familiar to me. But I won’t be lingering to find out if there’s a reason why.
Instead, I turn and bolt toward the trees. I’m already on the edge of the camp since I was behind my tent, and most of the guards—which I am assuming are who they are—are fighting those in the camp or going after people scattering like me.
I curse myself for not having found any weapons yet. All I have is a fucking rock to fight off their guns, and I know that’s not going to last me long. My best bet is to get into the forest and climb, hoping they won’t be able to find me in their sweeps.
The setting sun, though, doesn’t work in my advantage as I trip over rocks hidden in overgrown grass. Still, I keep running, trying not to let my stumble be the reason I’m caught.
I’m about to clear the tree line, where I’ll at least have obstacles to hide behind if I need them, when a hand closes around my wrist. A yank swings my momentum around, but I’m already raising my rock, arcing my arm to slam into my attacker’s head.
But he dodges it with ease.
My hand misses him altogether, but I’m already shifting, getting ready to swing again. He doesn’t even have a weapon up and ready as I bring my hand up.
“Eden, wait!” His accented voice makes me freeze.
My heart stutters as he reaches up to the mask covering his face—one that I realize is filtering his air. He pulls it off without hesitation, still holding me in place so I can’t run before I take him in.
The man in front of me is gorgeous, with dark brown hair that has soft waves and light green eyes that feel like they are piercing into my soul. A cut runs through his right eyebrow and down to his cheekbone, narrowly missing his eye.
I couldn’t look away if I tried.
Hand still circling my wrist, he tugs me closer, dropping his mask so he can reach up to touch my face. My heart ceases to beat as his gloved fingertips brush across my skin.
In a low, rough voice, he whispers, “ Mo chuisle, it’s me.”