Once An Eve Novel

four



I WAS IN THE FIELD AGAIN, MY FACE PRESSED INTO THE EARTH. I’d just escaped from Fletcher’s truck. He was coming through the trees, the thin branches snapping under his weight, his breath heavy and choked with phlegm. Wildflowers were crushed under me. Their delicate blooms released a sickening scent as I stared at my hands, my fingers orange from the pollen. Then he saw me. He raised his gun. I tried to run, tried to get away, but it was too late. He pulled the trigger, the blast echoing through the field.

I shot up in bed. My skin was covered in a thin layer of sweat. It took me a moment to realize I was in Califia, in Maeve’s house, in the tiny room with the flowered wallpaper. I’d heard something downstairs—a door banging shut. I looked around. The candle had gone out. Cold air rushed through a crack in the window. I rubbed at my eyes, waiting for them to adjust to the dark.

Someone was in the downstairs foyer. Heddy raised her massive head, listening as closely as I was. “Quiet down,” I heard Maeve say. She was in the living room, or the kitchen, maybe, speaking to whoever had just come inside. “She’s upstairs.”

Heddy let out a low growl, and Arden started awake beside me. “What is it?” she asked, sitting up, her back rigid. Her eyes darted around the room. “Who’s there?”

I brought my finger to my lips to silence her, then pointed to the door. It was open just a crack. I crept toward it, signaling for her to follow. The voices had quieted down, but I could still hear Maeve’s urgent whispers, and another woman’s tense, hurried replies.

The hallway was dark. The staircase was surrounded by a fragile wooden banister, its posts missing in places. Arden shut Heddy inside the bedroom, and we crawled along the floor until we reached the stairs. Lying on our stomachs, we peered over the ledge. An eerie light glowed in the living room. “He knows she’s here—he was the one who brought her. And now this new girl shows up,” Isis said, her low, raspy voice giving her away. “Who else is out there looking for her? This isn’t how we’ve operated in the past, we can’t just—”

“Since when do we have a policy of throwing women out into the wild?” I recognized Quinn’s turquoise shirt. She was leaning against the doorframe, her back to us, gesturing with her hands as she spoke.

Isis raised her voice. “This is different. All the women are talking—all of them are concerned. We’re practically begging the King to track her here. Maybe today wasn’t the day, but it’s only a matter of time.”

I turned toward Arden, letting my cheek rest on the cold floor. Most of the women had been welcoming since I’d arrived, but there was always the worry, just beneath the surface, that I could upset the balance of Califia. That all those years of building their city, clearing out the old storefronts and houses and reclaiming them, all those years of hiding behind a layer of ivy and moss, the days spent in darkness every time movement was detected inside the city—all of it would be gone in a moment if the King ever discovered me.

“She’s no more of a threat than we were,” Quinn said. “We were all property of the King. When I showed up no one argued that I should be thrown out because troops might storm Califia. When Greta was rescued from that gang, no one cared about the raids that might happen. Those men could’ve killed us all.”

“Please,” Isis hissed. “You know this is different.” I leaned farther forward, but I still couldn’t see her through the doorway. “They’ve been looking for her for months now. You’ve heard the alerts on the radio. It doesn’t seem like they’ll be stopping anytime soon.”

Her words raised the fine hairs on my arms. Isis had lived in a houseboat for the last two years. She was one of the other Founding Mothers, and had survived in San Francisco after the plague by seeking refuge in an abandoned warehouse before finding her way across the bridge. I’d sat in her kitchen, eaten meals at her table, talked with her about the antique jewelry one of the women had recovered or her friend who was training to cut hair. I felt stupid now for having trusted her.

“I’m not throwing her out,” Quinn said. “Tell her, Maeve. Tell her we won’t.”

I could hear Maeve pacing back and forth, the floor creaking underneath her feet. Even in my darkest moments, when I imagined what might’ve happened to Caleb, when I wondered about Pip, or Ruby, or the fate of my other friends, I never considered that I’d be forced out of Califia, that I’d be sent back into the wild, alone.

After a long pause, Maeve finally let out a breath. “We’re not throwing anyone out,” she said. Arden squeezed my fingers so hard it hurt. In the faint light, her face looked even thinner, her cheeks hollow and gray. “Besides, it would be silly not to use this to our advantage. If the King discovers her here, he discovers all of us. And we’ll need her as a bargaining chip.”

My chest tightened. “If that’s how you rationalize letting her stay, fine,” Quinn tried again. “But he won’t track her here. She’s no more of a risk than anyone else.”

“I hope you’re right,” Maeve said. “But if he does, we won’t be martyred on her behalf. You’ll take her to the bunker and stay there until we’re ready to release her to the troops. This could be our chance at independence from the regime.”

I felt sick, remembering how I had thanked Maeve endlessly after I’d arrived—when she set a plate of food in front of me, when she found clothes for me at the store, when she heated rainwater for my baths. It’s nothing, she’d said, waving me off. We’re happy to have you.

A few more whispered words passed between them before Maeve strode out of the living room, Isis and Quinn following right behind. Arden and I slid back, trying to stay out of sight. “They’re not going to find her here—they have no reason to,” Quinn said, one last time.

“It’s nearly four,” Maeve said, holding up her hand. “There’s nothing more to say. Why don’t you two go home and get some rest?” She carefully opened the door and parted the thick curtain of ivy that hid the front entrance. As they left, I could hear Isis starting the argument again.

Maeve turned the lock and started up the stairs. All the breath left my body. Arden and I scurried along the wall like mice, desperate to get back to our room. We landed in bed just as Maeve reached the top step. I pulled the blanket up over us and lay my head down, closing my eyes, pretending to be asleep.

The door opened. The glow of a lantern warmed our faces. She knows you were listening, I thought, my mind sprinting ahead of me. She knows and now she’ll lock you in that bunker until she turns you over to the King.

But the light was steady. She didn’t move. I only felt the heavy dog at my feet, her head lifting, probably offering Maeve the same sweet gaze she’d offered me.

“What are you looking at?” Maeve finally muttered. Then she closed the door behind her and started down the hall, leaving us there in the dark.