Eve of Destruction (18 page)

“I'm not as cruel as you might think,” said Eve. “If you have the vials, you have your cure. I was telling you the truth. Assuming Avery was smart enough not to use it all, you got what you came for. Mix it with some water. It will cure what ails you.”

We did not leave Fort Eden until the next morning, because there was work to be done and records to be gathered. We destroyed all the mechanisms used by Goring and Rainsford—anger therapy of the finest variety for each and every one of us. And I discovered tapes from monitor and audio feeds, things I later used to build a narrative of everything that had happened underground. It was the darkest part of the night before our work was complete, and I sat with Marisa on the same couch where I first met her. It was an unusual late evening for at least two reasons. For one, Marisa was wide awake. I missed the warm limbs and soft breath I had come to know so well, but the chasm of silence was filled with the second reason the night was so unusual: I could hear
everything
. Small creatures moving in the forest outside, feet padding along the floor, the whispers across the room. Even the sound of mist gathering on the tall trees did not seem to elude me.

“I don't know, I sort of liked you better when you were half deaf,” Marisa whispered.

“You weren't bad asleep, either. Less chatty.”

“You're funny. And gross. You were kind of falling for an old lady.”

I pulled Marisa close and felt her soft skin.

“You have to admit, she was kind of a knockout as a teenager. But you're cuter.” She sat up straight and took my hand in hers. Something about the events of the day fell heavy and tired in her eyes, and for a second I thought maybe she wasn't cured after all.

“I'm going to love you just the same when you're old, Will Besting. Don't go letting me down.”

I pulled her up, kissing her with a new kind of confidence I hadn't felt before. But what could I say that would make her feel safe? What would any girl want to hear that they could actually believe? Would I be there when she was ninety? Would we even remember the moments that shaped our lives together, drawing us down, ever closer to death's door? I told her what I could: that I knew the secrets of Fort Eden, that I knew her heart and my own, and that we would go down fighting together.

“Not bad,” she said, pulling me toward the door. “Come on, I've got energy to burn.”

By the time we got outside Marisa was reenergized. In the deep night of Eden, we listened to the world around us and the rhythm of each other's laughing, and felt the wonder of being alive, just the two of us.

More time has passed. Some things I know better, some questions still remain. Of these things I am sure:

The apparatus for conducting the fears has been destroyed. This was mostly Connor with the metal pipe, a job he wanted sole ownership of, though he could not withhold at least a few swings from each and every one of us. Some parts have found their way to the bottom of the pond, others are smashed to bits and pieces. A thousand years of science or magic or both are now fallen into ruin.

Our vials cured us of what Rainsford took away. Why he wouldn't have just let us have those cures to begin with I don't know. It is a very peculiar being who wants suffering in the world purely for the pleasure of it, and I don't claim to understand what makes it bloom in an otherwise normal human being. I will say this: to let suffering endure needlessly will blacken the kindest heart over time. Maybe Rainsford began only as a heartless man, not a wicked one. Maybe having no heart and a lot of time leads only to the abyss in the end. Who can know the ways of a man after his nine hundredth birthday? They get complicated at that age.

I feel very happy for everyone. Kate is radiant and less angry, much more prone to laughter than she used to be. Not having a splitting headache will do that for a person. Connor is captain of the football team again and he has, as I suspected, joined the ROTC. He has every intention of becoming a Marine, and I think he'll be a good one. A great one, actually. Alex is just “better,” which is to say I don't really keep up with him too much. I suspect he's happier without the fanny pack and the needles. Avery has made a full recovery, and she is probably Marisa's closest companion if Ben isn't around. Ben and Avery, a couple, something I would not have predicted. But then again, they're similar in spirit: reserved, lost, hopeful, confused. And they came out of the experience damaged more than the rest of us. They saved each other in the end, it seemed to me, willing each other to get healthy.

Mrs. Goring did, indeed, discover a way in which to use the fear chambers and the machinery at Fort Eden to work Rainsford's black magic on herself. When we arrived at Fort Eden, there were seven participants hidden away in their own basement fear chambers, awaiting their moment. They never knew what hit them, and by the time we escaped from the underground missile silo someone had already taken them all away. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Mrs. Goring went from Amy back to herself over and over between cures. When she was Amy, she called as Amy. When she was Goring, she called as Goring. It was only Eve Goring all along.

“I got what I wanted,” Eve told me before we left. She was sitting by the pond again, staring at the pile of clothes that used to contain Rainsford.

“What was that?” I asked her.

“I outlived him. It was worth it just to see him fall head over heels for me again. Priceless.”

“Being sixteen isn't all it's cracked up to be,” I said. “You might not like it as much as you think.”

She smiled mischievously, as if I had no idea what I was talking about.

“Here, so you can save the world again. You're getting pretty good at it.”

Eve gave me a list of names and addresses, along with seven vials. I made it my special mission to find the Goring seven, to make sure they got cured of whatever disease they'd picked up at Fort Eden. “You could have killed us down there,” I said. “It was wrong what you did.”

Eve stared at the pond with those piercing eyes—eyes that were much too sharp for a young girl. “I'm not a sorry person, never have been,” she said, and I felt the bitterness that had settled in her bones. It was a bitterness she would die with, I knew. “You got cured and Rainsford is dead. We both got what we wanted.”

It's 10:30 PM and Marisa is still awake, playing video games with her sister while I lie on her bed half asleep. I can hear every sound they make. And there's another voice, a closer one, deeper inside.

I have to admit, that whole Amy/Goring thing had me fooled. I wouldn't have bet they were the same person. Gotta give Goring some credit—she did in seven hours what Rainsford needed seven days to accomplish. She was only Amy for, like, fifteen minutes at a time. Crazy.

Good thing you've got me to watch over you, bro.

Yeah, good thing. That's your job though, right? Big brothers are supposed to know this stuff.

Yeah, it's my job. I got it covered. Air hockey?

Now you're talking!

I drifted off to sleep, the sounds of Marisa and my little brother laughing until I couldn't tell for sure which of them was dead and which was alive. But life, I was coming to find, was like that. There were things a person couldn't be cured of, like falling in love or missing a lost little brother. I carry them around like glass eggs and hope I don't drop them, because those are the things that make me who I am. The things I won't let go of.

When at last I face the specter of death at my side, the deep-down things are all I will have to comfort me.

They are who I am, who I was, who I will be.

PATRICK CARMAN
is the
New York Times
bestselling author of such acclaimed series as the Land of Elyon and Atherton, the teen superhero novel
THIRTEEN DAYS TO MIDNIGHT,
and the first Dark Eden book. A multimedia pioneer, Patrick authored
THE BLACK CIRCLE,
the fifth title in the 39 Clues series, and the groundbreaking Skeleton Creek and Trackers books. An enthusiastic reading advocate, Patrick has visited more than one thousand schools, developed village library projects in Central America, and created author outreach programs for communities. You can visit him online at www.patrickcarman.com.

Visit
www.AuthorTracker.com
for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.

“
DARK EDEN
is a fast-paced thrill ride. . . . A compelling read that transposes the best aspects of classic horror storytelling onto a modern backwoods adventure reluctantly experienced by seven terrified teens.”

—Los Angeles Times

“A spooky, psychological thriller. With seven different characters who have seven different fears, there is bound to be someone for readers to relate to in one way or another. . . . The supernatural twist at the end will leave teens with more questions than answers.”

—School Library Journal

“Engrossing and deliciously unexpected,
DARK EDEN
is a tale that slithers across our skin, a cool breath on the back of our necks that raises the fine hairs and has us frozen in place, held immobile by the paralyzing fear of turning around and facing what's there.”

—Supernatural Snark

“This book blew me away. The big ‘revelation' was jaw-dropping and utterly fantastic.”

—I Just Wanna Sit Here and Read

“
DARK EDEN
was quick, clever, and completely satisfying.”

—Bookish Brunette

“Patrick Carman's new YA novel is a sure winner.”

—Between the Pages

“
DARK EDEN
was just pure awesomeness.”

—IceyBooks

“The star of this book is the setting. Carman has created an austere landscape where a new horror lurks around every corner.”

—The Well-Read Wife

“
DARK EDEN
had me hooked in the first few sentences.”

—The Page Turners

“Carman excellently plays up the creepy factor in
DARK EDEN
, with an eerie setting and lots of tension. . . . You never know who might be lurking around that next corner.”

—Novel Novice

Cover photograph © 2012 by
Margaret Malandruccolo/MergeLeft Reps, Inc.

Cover design by Joel Tippie

Katherine Tegen Books is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.

Dark Eden: Eve of Destruction

Text copyright © 2012 by PC Studio

Interior illustrations copyright © 2012 by Patrick Arrasmith

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.

ISBN 978-0-06-210182-2

EPub Edition © April 2012 ISBN: 9780062101853

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FIRST EDITION