Visions of Eden

Freddy's Dilemma

Cedar wood and sawdust sprawled over one's nose and any open surfaces alike. The sounds of sanding, nailing, sawing, assaulted the ears. Numerous humans settled in the workshop, focused on their work, tables, chairs, and bureaus. Freddy bent over his blueprint awkwardly sketched in front of him.

He had finally taken Naomi's advice to go into woodworking and joined the Staple at the beginning of March. He hoped it would be more interesting than the other jobs he had taken. It definitely seemed more thought-provoking and time consuming than the others.

He triple checked the dimensions. Who knew art required such mathematical preparation? It seemed good enough. He could always change it if it didn't work.

When his mentor told him to make something that would be simple, but meaningful, he could only think of one thing. This was his training before he would begin working for actual clients, but now he could make whatever he wanted, just as long as it could be used for someone who might need it.

Lumber assembled in a side room, standing or laying down according to length, width, and type. There was mostly white pine and cedar from destroyed buildings on the Outside, but the occasional maple, birch, and apple from trees Eden had felled from its parks. He picked out the lengths of pine he needed and—after a few trips—assembled what he needed for his project.

He'd have plenty time to finish it, and his mentor would be there to help him, so the anxiety he felt was to make it perfect. He tried telling himself that as long as it worked, it would be enough.

Working allowed his mind to freely consider everything that seemed to be going wrong in his life. Mainly, he was still struggling to wrap his head around the idea that Ashley was back, that he was engaged to her. It troubled him how easily he forgot about her when she was not around, or when he was hanging around Lilly. He didn't do it on purpose, but she had been gone for a whole year in his mind. He had gone through the stages of grief. Naomi could attest to that.

He could almost picture it. The day when Naomi's group found and saved him from the Outside, and consequently, himself.

It had been five months after the Tainted had attacked, four months after Ground Zero had been bombed. Ashley had lived in Ground Zero's area, and it seemed impossible to him—though he had fought against himself on that subject considerably—that she would have survived both catastrophic events. He had passed through the stage of denial after the first three months, anger was short-lived, and he had just conquered bargaining.

It didn't seem like there was much for him to do about it, then. If she was dead, he couldn't bargain his way out of it. There wasn't much to do but join her. He remembered those dark thoughts that drove him to the pits. At first, he tried to do it himself, but pulling the trigger ended up being far harder than he thought. He also didn't enjoy the thought of bandits taking care of it for him. The most unromantic, yet romantic way he could think of was to become Tainted. She was probably Tainted, so he should be too.

He didn't want it to be slow, though. He'd have to find a group of Tainted and let them do it quickly. That day, he found the perfect spot. It was a simple stop-and-shop, but stuck on the inside were five Foamers, two Jumpers, and one Ooze. They were banging on the plastic doors, growling at where he hid across the street. His heart raced. Every inch of his body was telling him to stay away, but he was determined to do it. This pain wasn't going away, and she wasn't coming back.

He stepped out into the road and walked straight for the store. Naomi told him later that her group was in the bushes to the left, and were positively confounded when they watched him calmly walk towards his death.

"Freeze!" Naomi ordered as his hands were just about to unbar the doors. Danni had the others surround him, weapons drawn.

"What in the world are you doing?" Naomi asked. "Don't you know they're contagious?"