Escape from Eden (21 page)

“Like movie stills,” Gabriel said with a hint of patience. He sat at the edge of one of the two beds, the light from the screen illuminating the green in his left eye. “They’re pictures of a website.”

As he went on to explain, I saw the pity etched in Veronica’s expression. She stood on the other side of the small bedroom as if the two single beds bisecting the space were protection from the desk and computer.

I shifted my focus back to the screen. Faces of the Flock scrolled by. The pictures I recognized: each of us, wearing our simple uniforms, against an indigo background. A few faces smiled, but more wore serious expressions that seemed to dare the camera to take their photos. The pictures were the same as the ones laminated on our ID cards.

“It’s essentially a catalog,” Veronica said, voice pitched high with a nervous tremble. “A human catalog.”

“What do you mean, a human catalog?” Gabriel asked.

“The members of the Flock are for sale, man,” Edgar said, running a hand over his hair. “There are people in this world who are willing to pay for their—for your—companionship.”

“Companionship.” Gabriel paled.

Edgar continued, glancing at the screen with distaste as he spoke. “Very exclusive people, very wealthy people, gain access to this website by donating to corrupt politicians in this country and in other countries in the Western hemisphere. Including the United States.”

He waited for a reaction from us, Gabriel and me, but I could barely follow what was happening, my head foggy and confused. Gabriel only stared, his lips curled in disgust.

“This is a catalog of the members of the Flock, the ones who have been made available for sale to the highest bidder.”

“Have been made available?” Gabriel asked. “What makes a member of the Flock available?”

“It used to be age,” Edgar said. “When members of Edenton reached the age of eighteen, they were put up for sale—”

“Rent,” Veronica whispered. “They’re rented.”

“—in the catalog,” Edgar continued. “But over the years, that’s changed.”

Veronica let out a long breath. “Drastically.”

“How drastically?” I asked.

Veronica folded a blanket, patting down the edges as she placed it on the end of one of the beds. “This is rather much for tonight, don’t you think? Maybe some rest—”

“Where am I in this?” I asked Edgar. My pulse pounded through my limbs and head. A vein pulsed at my temple. I touched it, as if I could calm my heart. “On these screen captures? Where am I listed in the catalog?”

Edgar pointed to the screen. “It’s organized in such a way that you are all categorized. By gender, age, physical characteristics, and … ” He cleared his throat. “Sexual experience.”

“Edgar,” Veronica hissed. “They’re children!”

“We aren’t anymore,” Gabriel said, a haunted, distant sound to his tone. “If the Reverend is doing this to us, we aren’t children anymore, are we?”

I met his eyes over Edgar’s head.

“Here you are, Mia.” Edgar scrolled the image on the screen and my face came into view.

Burning acid gurgled in my stomach at the sight. I pressed my palm to my diaphragm to try to push it down. I read the words listed below my photograph.

Mia; Female; Age: 16; Hair: light brown; Eyes: green; Date of Last Encounter: —/—/—

“Date of last encounter?” I asked.

“We’re whores, Mia,” Gabriel said. “That’s the date of your last sexual encounter.”

The words stung, and my skin prickled hot under his glare. “Whores?” I asked, disbelief clawing at my throat.

Edgar threw Gabriel a disapproving look, but didn’t correct him. “That’s why you were in that resort—Las Casitas del Jardin—because people paid to be with you there.”

“To have sex with us,” Gabriel said with a certainty that unnerved me. “Just say it, Edgar. Don’t be gentle about it.”

“Sex?” I asked. Their eyes were on me. They knew I was inexperienced. Lambert paid for me because I was inexperienced. I flushed with embarrassment. “I … uh.”

“This is too much,” Veronica said to Edgar. “Too much information for these children tonight.” She called Ibbie’s name.

Ibbie appeared at the door, having changed into a loose-fitting shirt and baggy plaid pajama pants. She reached her hand toward us. “Come with me. We have a change of clothes for you, you can shower and clean up. Afterward, you can have a little something to eat, and hopefully get some sleep.”

“We can certainly chat about our proposal with you in the morning,” Veronica called as we headed out the door, and I didn’t miss Ibbie’s reproachful glance over her shoulder at Veronica.

“Proposal?” I asked.

I was light-headed, cloudy, trying to feel the floor beneath my feet. Maybe Veronica was right, this was too much information for tonight, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear any more. I could still feel the adrenaline coursing through me. The horrific image of Juanita on the ground still burned into my sight.

Gabriel silently stalked past us out of the room. Behind me, I heard a dull thumping sound and turned to see Edgar had folded the computer closed. He leaned his elbows on the desk and clasped his head in his hands, weary and shut down like the computer.

Ibbie led me to a bedroom with a double bed. The walls were covered in a dull, peeling beige wallpaper. Over the single window hung crooked blinds, sheer curtains barely concealing the missing slats.

“I’ve changed the bed and put fresh towels in the bathroom.” She motioned to a door to the right of the bed.

“Thank you,” I said as I stood staring into the room, unsure what to do next.

Ibbie placed a hand on my shoulder. I flinched away.

“I’m sorry,” she said, clasping one hand with the other in front of her. “Is there anything you need?”

I glanced at her and she looked at me with concern. Who were these strangers and why did they want to help us?

“Who do you know in Edenton?” I asked her.

She moved to the bed, grazing her hand along the blanket folded across the end of the mattress. “My father left our family when I was young,” she said as she sat down on the bed. “He had to leave our country for his own safety.” Her lips twisted and she stared off into the corner of the room as if reliving a memory. She didn’t elaborate further.

“Your father is in Edenton?” I asked.

“Yes, and my two brothers. He took them with him when he left. Eduardo is my father’s name.” Her eyes snapped up to meet mine with an expectancy that caught me off guard.

Eduardo. The name was familiar, but there wasn’t anyone in Edenton with that name. “Who are your brothers?” I asked, trying to cover up my confusion.

“Angél and Enrique.”

Of course. Eduardo was their father. But–

“Eduardo,” I said, not wanting her leaden stare on me. It was unfair that I had to deliver this news to her. Did news never travel outside of Edenton, just as we never heard anything about the outside world? “I mean, your father passed away a few years before I came to Edenton.”

A moment passed, and then another, and I looked down to see my hands tightly balled into fists, the knuckles as white as the bones beneath my skin.

“So,” Ibbie finally said, “the boys have been without a father since they were very young.”

I nodded once, and wanted to say I hadn’t had a father since I was very young, either. But I didn’t. It probably wouldn’t bring her any comfort. She didn’t look much older than her brothers, or me for that matter, maybe in her early twenties.

She shot to her feet, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands. “Thank you,” she said. “I’ve tried for years to find out if he had died. He wasn’t well when he fled.” She dropped her hands. “And my brothers? How are they?”

“They’re doing well,” I said. “They’re in charge of fishing in Edenton. They help feed the Flock.” I tried to smile at her, but I was so tired I was sure it looked more like a grimace. “Angél and Enrique are very good at what they do. They followed in your father’s footsteps.”

“Thank you for that,” Ibbie said and placed her hand on my arm. I couldn’t help but jerk away from her touch again. It had been a long, horrific night. Ibbie sensed my discomfort and brushed past me to the door. “I’ll let you rest,” she said with a maternal gentleness.

I drifted down on the bed. It was overly soft and I sunk low into the mattress. Or was this the way beds outside Edenton were supposed to feel? Thinking back, I couldn’t remember what the bed felt like when I woke up in that room with Monsieur Lambert. That acid gurgled up in my stomach again. Lambert. He’d paid to be with me—to have sex with me. Even if I’d had no experience? I swallowed down the rising acid in my throat.

Lambert’s voice in my head caused my lips to tremble and sweat to bead on my brow.
Speaking of the first time, I’d like to move this along. I’ve waited long enough and I grow anxious.

Just as I suspected, he’d paid money to take my virginity.

“Mia?” I heard Ibbie say from outside the bedroom door, but I was already running for the bathroom.

* * *

When I woke, it was still dark. Faint moonlight streaked through the bedraggled blinds, throwing dim stripes of light on the windowsill.

Even thick with grogginess, my mind went to Juanita. Was she okay? Where was she? What was the last thing I said to her? I thought back.

Get it through your head, Juanita. They don’t care about you.

Guilt and tears clawed at my chest. I rolled over in the bed. The dampness of my hair made the pillow clammy and warm. I rose, about to flip the pillow, and froze.

Gabriel leaned against the doorjamb, dressed in loose-fitting clothes, his hands shoved in his pockets. His hair was beginning to dry, curling lightly at the ends near the collar of his shirt. Because of the light seeping in from the room behind him, his face was deep in shadow.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” I said. “Were you watching me sleep?”

He didn’t reply.

“Because if you were, that would be pretty damn creepy.”

“Some people would find it romantic.”

Romantic? What about us is romantic? Especially after your little speech in the car earlier.

I didn’t say it, but with his eyes shielded in silhouette, I couldn’t tell if he was joking. I sat up fully, tugging the covers up to my throat, although I suspected the borrowed shirt from Ibbie more than covered me.

Gabriel glanced down at his feet. “Can I ask you a favor?”

“I guess so.”

He spoke tentatively. “They have me in that room with Edgar. And he snores like a son of a bitch.” He paused. “I was wondering if I could sleep in here with you.”

“With me?”

He held up his hands, palms facing me. “Just sleep, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, really. But I’m exhausted and still confused about what happened tonight. And … ” He shoved a hand through his hair. “And the only person I trust, the only one who understands how I’m supposed to feel right now, the only one who experienced what I went through tonight …” he said softly, “… is you.”

I couldn’t breathe. A small tug in my chest and a tingle in my belly made me shift uncomfortably, and I realized I didn’t have pants on, only the borrowed shirt and my underwear. But he wouldn’t try anything, especially not after blaming his kisses on circumstance. I willed myself to drag in a breath. “Okay.”

Gabriel took a step into the room, closing the door quietly behind him. The room grew pitch black quickly and I felt for the light next to the bed. But before I could turn it on, he darted into the room.

I heard a thump when he tumbled to the floor.

“Ow.”

“Let me turn on a light for you.” I switched on the light.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

He pushed himself to his feet and sat on the side of the bed. “I can sleep on top of the covers.”

The mountain air had grown cool as the night passed, and if the house had heat, it didn’t seem to be on. I glanced at Gabriel’s borrowed clothes. He wore a thin button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up, and gym shorts that went to his knees. I wished I’d thought he looked ridiculous, but to me he didn’t.

“No, it’s okay,” I said and scooted over to the edge of the bed. He pulled back the covers and caught sight of my bare thighs. His lips parted.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

I knew I shouldn’t have, but I enjoyed his little drug-free reaction to catching a peek of my legs under the covers, even with the bandages. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

I reached over and turned off the light, throwing the room into darkness again. I heard him pat his way into the bed and the mattress dipped as he slipped in.

We lay side by side, still as planks, each staring blindly at the ceiling. Slowly, the dim moonlight faded in, chasing some of the darkness away, and I watched the ceiling fan wobble with every rotation. Even through the blanket that dipped between us, I felt the heat radiate off his body and sensed the solidness of it. It was so strange, foreign, being with him like this, but part of it felt right and natural, too. Not so long ago, he was a total stranger.

After a few minutes of tortured silence, I turned my head and asked, “How did you end up in Edenton?”

Gabriel draped his arm over his forehead. He inhaled deeply, keeping his gaze fixed on the ceiling. I studied his profile while waiting for an answer, or a refusal to answer. The fine lines of his nose, the thick smudge of his eyelashes, supple contours of his lips …

“My parents thought coming to Edenton would be good for our family,” he said. “Because I killed my brother.”

You want to hear another reason how I know you’re not a murderer? Because, Mia, I’m a murderer.

I shot up in bed and twisted to look at Gabriel. He hadn’t moved. He was still staring at the ceiling.

“Are you serious?” I asked.

“Deadly.” Bleak amusement deepened his voice.

“That’s not funny.”

He sat up and leaned back on his elbows. He watched me closely. Dark hair fell across his forehead, shadows shielding his eyes. “It wasn’t meant to be. My brother died because of me.”

“But you didn’t kill him, did you?”

“I did,” he said simply. “My actions were responsible for his death, what’s the difference?”