Eden's Promise (9 page)

They entered a trailer behind her, their footsteps echoing on the floor as they crossed to where the camp administrator stopped behind a desk. She shoved her hair back again and looked up at them.
 

“We need you to sign in. Do you have your identification?”

For a moment Eden froze, but Aaron drew the old-fashioned ledger toward him and held his hand out for the pen. “We had our things stolen a few months ago. I hope that’s not a problem.” He scrawled the name Aaron Dreiling and handed the pen to Eden. Because she was trying to read the other names on the page, she didn’t take it for a moment.

The camp administrator studied them for a moment, then shrugged. “It’s dangerous out there. Good to meet you, Aaron and Eden. I’m Jodie Evans. I’ll let Joel show you to a tent and get you some supplies. We don’t have as many people coming in and out anymore, so we’re a little rusty at it. And things are a little rundown, I’m sorry to say.”

“We didn’t expect much, just a place to stay.”

“We have food if you want to stay, food if you want to go, about a week’s worth. Clothing. Blankets.”

“Information?” Eden asked. “I’m looking for my sister. She lived in Tacoma. Her name is Kelly McKay.”

Jodie shook her head mournfully. “There’s no one here by that name now. I know everyone on-site. The only records we have are handwritten.” She motioned to a shelf of ledgers behind her—dozens of them. “All filled like this one is.”

“May I look through them?”

“Eden,” Aaron said softly. “That’s a needle in a haystack. And for what? It won’t tell us where she went when she left, will it?” He addressed the last question to Jodie.

“Some of the older ones might, if she checked out through us instead of just leaving, like a lot of people did in those early days. Do you know when she might have been here?” Jodie asked Eden.

Eden dragged her gaze from the row of books. “I don’t.”

Jodie turned to the shelf and grabbed the first five books. “I’ll need these back when you’re done.”

Tears filled Eden’s eyes. “Thank you,” she managed as Jodie placed the books in her arms.

“Joel will show you where the showers and toilets are, then show you to your tent.” She handed a prepacked plastic bag to each of them. “There are towels and blankets in here, and a roll of toilet paper. You’ll be warm enough if you take your showers during the day. Welcome to the camp.”

***

“You’re not going to try to go through those tonight, in this light,” Aaron said as he stashed the knapsack under the cot of the tent they were assigned. Damn, even though they’d slept in a real bed last night, this place looked like heaven. He’d barely gotten used to sleeping soundly on the island before they’d left, but he missed it. He hoped to experience it today, if only for a short time.
 

She sat on her cot, the books on one side, her pack on the other. “I have to know.”

“It can wait until morning.”

She gave him a distant smile. “It is morning.”

“You know what I mean. Get some sleep, and you’ll have better light when you get up. I’ll help you.”

“Go ahead and sleep,” she said. “I’ll try not to keep you up.”

“Eden. You need rest.”

“You think I can rest if information about Kelly is sitting right here?”

With a sigh, he sat on the cot and reached for the top book.
 

The last time he’d opened a book was a battered old paperback he’d found on his journey, something he picked up to take his mind off what he’d find when he got to Texas. Turned out Stephen King wasn’t the best choice there.
 

But scanning a book of names made him realize his eyesight wasn’t what it used to be, and also that he was a lot more tired than he thought. The words started to blur together, his head grew heavy, and the next thing he knew, gentle hands were lowering him to the cot, a scratchy army blanket covering him. He had a thought that he should be protecting her, should be looking out for danger, before he drifted off.

***

When he woke up, Eden was gone. Sun glowed through the walls of the tent, warming the place, and he sat up to look around. Her bunk didn’t look slept in, and the pile of books were gone, including the one he’d fallen asleep looking at. Cursing, he rolled to a sitting position, pulled on boots he didn’t remember removing, and headed out into the chilly fall day. Not morning—looked like mid-afternoon. How long had he been out? He didn’t know these people and he’d left Eden alone with them. Worse, she’d gone out among them. He knew she wanted to find her sister, but she needed to be careful herself.
 

He oriented himself, trying to remember the layout from last night, where she might be. Maybe she’d gone back to Jodie, to get the other books, though surely she hadn’t gone through them all already.

He was about to knock on the door to Jodie’s office when he smelled cooking food. His stomach grumbled and he turned toward a long barracks he’d noticed but dismissed last night. The mess hall. Was she in there, with strangers? Thinking it would be best to at least get an idea of the operation, he opened the door and stepped into the dimly lit hall. He scanned the room, seeing a serving line at the front, just like when he’d been in the service, a queue of people waiting their turn, and several dozen people already seated at picnic tables lined neatly in the room. He couldn’t discern what the meal was, but it smelled good.
 

But no Eden.

He turned and stepped outside, about to return to Jodie’s office, when he saw her, under an open-sided tent, sitting at a table, head bent over a stack of ledgers. She didn’t look up when he approached, and he’d taught her better than that.

“Have you been at this all night?” he demanded, and she jumped guiltily, blinking up at him with red, swollen eyes.

“I slept a little,” she said. “I have to know, Aaron.”

“And if not, you’re going to be too tired to go on to the next camp.” He sat across from her and grabbed a book from the stack.
 

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” she muttered.

He grabbed her wrist and she snapped her gaze to his, eyes wide.
 

“What?” she asked.

“Don’t say that. Jesus, Eden. With as many people who have died the past few months? Don’t say that.”

She swallowed, then nodded, drawing her arm free from his grasp. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I overreacted.”

She shook her head, and turned her attention back to the book.

“Have you gone through this one yet?” he asked as he opened the one he’d taken.
 

She shook her head again.
 

“How many have you gone through?”

“Five, myself. Jodie helped for a bit and did almost two before she got called away. Joel said he’d help when he woke up, which should be soon. I can’t do them very fast, and it’s easier to see out here. I don’t even remember what her handwriting looks like.”

“She may have been with someone, too, and the other person might have signed both their names,” he pointed out.

“True. I talked to the medical staff here earlier, but they don’t remember names, and some of them are new to the camp.”

Which reminded Aaron, this was an opportune time to find out what was going on in the country at large, with the government, the rebuilding efforts. He’d talk to Jodie after he helped Eden go through a book or two.

“You should go in there and get something to eat,” she said, not looking up. “It’s actually pretty good. Not like your mom’s, but better than olives and coconut milk.”

“Did you eat?”

“Breakfast and lunch.”

“So you didn’t sleep.”

“A few hours, like I said. Go get something. I’ll be right here.”

He wanted to protest, but his stomach wouldn’t allow it. He returned a few minutes later with what looked like chicken a la king.
 

“They have a farm on site,” he told her. “Chickens and vegetables. I wonder if we could get a rooster for your mother.”

“And tell Jodie what? That we lied about where we came from?”

“Good point,” he muttered, opening the book again.

“Plus, we can’t exactly cart a chicken around while we look for Kelly.” She cast him a look that told him she knew he didn’t believe they’d find her.

But he’d come anyway.

He dug into the meal, which was pretty good, not unlike meals in basic training. Before he knew it, it was gone. He’d mopped up the gravy with the best roll he’d had in years, since before he’d joined the Navy. He took a long drink of water and looked up to see Eden watching him with an amused smile.
 

“Hungry?”

“Olives didn’t really do it for me.” And he knew how to take advantage of supplies when he had them. He pushed the tray away and reached for the book again.

Jodie joined them a short time later, greeting Aaron with a hand on his shoulder that he might have interpreted differently if she didn’t know he and Eden were “married.”
 

“Find anything?” she asked, sitting beside Aaron.

Eden shook her head but kept scanning.
 

“So tell us what’s going on in the world,” Aaron said. “You must have some form of communication to get your orders, to get your supplies. Are things leveling out, getting back to normal?”

Jodie sighed. “I don’t think things ever will be normal. The only place we have any control is in these camps. Outside, as I’m sure you know, anything goes.”

“We know,” Aaron said. “What about the government? The army? National Guard?”
 

“The military is stretched thin. A lot of men were stranded overseas when this all happened, and many were attacked and killed by the same people who did this to us.”

Aaron swallowed against the bile that rose as he remembered being in more than one of those attacks.

“What was it?” Eden asked. “We heard rumors but never heard for sure.”

“A coordinated terrorist attack. Really well planned, really incredibly timed. They hit major power plants, water filtration plants, the financial districts, the military bases, oil and gas refineries. No one could have imagined what they were capable of—they had people who had infiltrated all these places—it had been planned for years. And then it just took us out.”

Aaron dragged his gaze away from Jodie, who he’d watched with horror, and looked at Eden. She’d frozen, except for her shaking hands. Christ, he should have thought before he asked in front of her. He had more questions, but instead, he pushed to his feet, rounded the table and pulled her into his arms. She stood stiffly for a moment, then wrapped her arms around him, tight, so tight, pressing her face into his shoulder. He smoothed his hand over her hair, trying to absorb her trembling.

He needed to get her alone, let her break down while he held her. He looked at Jodie over Eden’s head. The other woman nodded, gathered the books as Aaron started to guide Eden back to their tent.

“No, the books,” Eden choked out, trying to pull free.

“We’ll look,” Jodie said, hefting the books into her arms.

He expected more of an argument, but exhaustion—and the fact that she wouldn’t be able to see through the tears he felt against his neck—won out and he led her to their tent, sat her on the edge of the cot.

“How?” she managed in a strangled voice as he knelt before her and unlaced her boots. “How could they do that? How could they hate us so much?”

He held her feet in his hands, pressed them against his thigh. Her feet were so cold, her hands. He stood and wrapped his blanket around her shoulders, then rolled her beneath her blanket, but she was still shivering and grasped for his hands.
 

“Don’t leave me.”

He edged closer to the cot, still on his knees, and stroked her hair back from her face. “I won’t. I’ll keep you safe.”

She barked out a harsh laugh. “Safe? How can anyone be safe again? We’ll never be back to normal, will we, not with all of that gone? I know you said, but I always hoped, you know, that in another year or two down the road, things would come back—television, transportation, Jesus, Oreos, you know? But you were right, my dad was right, my sister is probably dead, and what’s the point?”

“The point is that we’re alive, and we need to stay alive.”

“For what?” she asked, looking into his eyes, her fingers like ice in his. “For what?”

The hopelessness in her face hit him in the gut. He stroked her hair back from her face as he struggled to find the right words. Instead, he bent and brushed his lips against hers.
 

With a soft cry, she curved her hand around the back of his head and lifted her mouth to his, parting her lips. She curled her fingers in his hair as he scooped his arm around her waist to drag her to the edge of the cot, deepening the kiss, slanting his mouth over hers. He could taste the desperation in her kiss, could feel it in the tension of her body, and broke away.

“Not like this,” he whispered, sinking back on his heels, his hand still on her waist, her fingers in his hair. “Not like this, Eden.”