The Garden of Eden (Silent Moments Series: Book 5)

Chapter 2

 The two months that followed my departure from Polis passed in a blur, each day blending into the next in a monotonous rhythm of survival. The feeling of being truly alone didn't fully hit me until I arrived back at Arkadia, the place where so much had happened, where our hopes for a new life had once been so vibrant. Standing amidst the remnants of Arkadia, it was hard to believe that we had ever called this place home. The camp was desolate, a ghost of its former self. It evoked a sense of loss so profound that I struggled to put it into words. It felt as though our presence there had been a fleeting dream, one that had ended abruptly and left nothing but echoes in its wake.

Pushing aside the wave of nostalgia and sorrow, I focused on the practical necessities. Survival was my priority, and Arkadia, despite its forlorn state, still had resources I could use. With a sense of purpose, I began to scavenge through the camp, searching for anything that might be useful. As the sun set, casting long shadows over the empty structures, I secured myself inside the rover. It was my haven, my solitary refuge in a world that felt increasingly alien. Settling in for the night, I couldn't help but ponder the daunting reality of my situation.

"How the hell am I gonna make it alone for five years?" I muttered to myself, the question hanging in the air. The enormity of the task was overwhelming. Five years of solitude, of fending for myself in a world that offered no quarter, was a prospect that seemed almost insurmountable.

I began to sort through the items I had scavenged, each one a small victory in the ongoing battle for survival. Canned food, medical supplies, tools – every find was a lifeline, a small assurance that I could keep going, at least for a little while longer. But as I sat there, surrounded by the relics of our past life, the silence of Arkadia weighed heavily on me. The absence of familiar voices, the lack of human connection, was a stark reminder of what I had lost. The camp, once filled with the bustle of life and the camaraderie of our community, was now just an echo chamber of my own thoughts.

Yet, despite the loneliness and the uncertainty, a part of me refused to give in to despair. I had survived so much already – the landing on Earth, the conflicts with the Grounders, the challenges of leadership, and Praimfaya. Each of those experiences had forged me into someone who could face adversity head-on. As I laid down to sleep, the quiet of Arkadia enveloping me, I resolved to face the next day, and the days after that, with the same determination. I might be alone, but I was a survivor. And as long as there was a chance, however slim, for a future, for a new beginning, I would keep fighting.

In Arkadia, amidst the remnants of our past, I stumbled upon a relic that felt like a portal to another time. The locked box, nondescript and unassuming, piqued my curiosity. With a sense of urgency, I grabbed a heavy object nearby and smashed the lock, the sound echoing in the empty camp. As the lock gave way and I lifted the lid, a flood of memories washed over me. Inside the box were remnants of lives once intertwined with mine – a tangible link to those who had walked beside me in this journey. It was Jasper's box, filled with mementos of a life that had been cut tragically short. His iconic goggles lay atop a pile of items, each a silent testament to a story that had ended. There was a tie, a reminder of Maya, whose life and death had left an indelible mark on us all.

Buried among these artifacts was a letter addressed to Monty. My fingers trembled as I traced the handwriting, each curve and line a reminder of the bonds that had once held us together. The realization that these were more than just objects, but pieces of lives once lived so vibrantly, hit me hard. I closed my eyes, trying in vain to hold back the tears. But in that moment, I questioned why I was fighting them at all. There was no one around to see my vulnerability, no one I needed to be strong for. It was just me, surrounded by the echoes of those who had once been my family, my friends. Holding Jasper's goggles against my chest, I finally allowed myself to break down. All the emotions I had bottled up since leaving the ship – the fear, the frustration, the anger, and the overwhelming sadness – came pouring out. It was a release of everything I had been carrying inside, a mourning for everything and everyone I had lost.