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

Chapter 4

 "Wait till you see this place," I said, a berry popping into my mouth. "It's like the death wave jumped over this entire valley." The irony wasn't lost on me – a place of such beauty, yet touched by the same tragedy that had swept across the globe. "Unfortunately, the radiation didn't." I sighed, the reality of the situation settling in. The valley was a sanctuary in appearance only, its beauty marred by the invisible threat that lingered.

As I continued my transmission, a clanging noise suddenly interrupted me. It came from behind an old van, nestled in the patch of woods. My heart skipped a beat as I looked up, and what I saw was almost unbelievable – a little girl standing in the clearing.

I set the radio down gently, my mind racing. Who was she? How had she survived? Cautiously, I stood up and took a few steps toward her. Every instinct told me to be careful, to approach the situation with caution. In a world where danger lurked around every corner, trust was a luxury that few could afford.

Yet, there was something about the sight of the child that tugged at my heartstrings. She was a symbol of innocence, a glimmer of hope in a world that had seen so much despair. With each step, I felt a mixture of apprehension and curiosity. This could be a pivotal moment, a chance encounter that could change the course of my journey.

As I drew closer, I kept my movements slow and non-threatening, not wanting to startle her. In the back of my mind, I wondered if she was alone, if there were others, if she needed help. There were so many questions, and yet, in that moment, all that mattered was making a connection, reaching out to another soul in this vast and lonely world. The encounter with the little girl was a reminder of the unpredictability of life, of the unexpected turns that could occur at any moment. In a world where each day was a fight for survival, she represented a new possibility, a new story waiting to unfold.

The child's sudden retreat into the dense woods set my heart racing. "Wait!" I called out, my voice gentle but firm, an attempt to convey that I meant no harm. But my reassurances seemed to fall on deaf ears as she vanished into the thick foliage, her small figure disappearing like a wisp of smoke.

Determined not to lose her, I plunged into the woods after her, calling out in a mix of English and Trigedasleng, the language of the Grounders. "Beja! Ai just want kom talk kom yu!" My words echoed through the trees, a plea for trust in a world where trust was a rare commodity.

The chase was a blur of green and brown as I navigated through the underbrush, trying to keep up with the elusive child. Finally, I caught sight of her again, nestled against a tree, almost completely camouflaged by the surrounding ferns and plants.

Approaching cautiously, I raised my hands to show I was unarmed. "Hey, it's ok. I'm not gonna hurt you. Wait!" I implored, my voice soft and reassuring. But the moment I moved closer, she darted away again, her agility and speed astonishing.

Breathless and persistent, I followed, calling out questions into the seemingly empty woods. "Are you alone? Are there others?" But the only response was the rustling of leaves and the distant calls of birds.

The realization that she might be a nightblood struck me, and I voiced it aloud, hoping it might establish some common ground. "Yu'er a natblida, right?" I asked, stepping carefully through the underbrush. "It's okay. So you can—"

Suddenly, the ground beneath my foot gave way, and I felt a sharp, excruciating pain. Looking down, I saw my foot caught in an animal trap. The pain was intense, blinding, but I was grateful it hadn't been worse. As I struggled to keep my focus and fight off the pain, the little girl reappeared, this time brandishing a knife. Her sudden approach, combined with the pain from the trap, sent a jolt of fear through me. Despite my earlier efforts to establish trust, it was clear that the child saw me as a threat. Her survival instincts, honed in this harsh new world, had kicked in. In that moment, caught in the trap and facing a frightened child with a knife, I realized the complexity of the situation. Here was a young girl, alone and scared, having survived in a world that had taken so much from everyone. Her bravery and resilience were evident, but so was her fear.cI knew I had to handle the situation with care. Any sudden movement or wrong word could escalate things. My goal was to calm her, to show her that I was not a threat, that we could help each other. In a world where so few were left, every encounter was precious, every potential ally a chance to build something new. The tension in the air was palpable as I tried to find the words that might bridge the gap between us, words that could transform this tense standoff into the beginning of an unlikely alliance.