The End of Eden

II

It doesn't take long to make arrangements. It takes only a few minutes for the commune to reply after I ask for more information. I selected the first flight, which left in two hours, called out sick from both jobs, packed a suitcase, and was gone before Inara and Jeremy had woken back up again.

I'm tucked into my seat in the airplane when the first text comes through, and I don't even check it before I shut my phone off. The regret is already seeping through me, making me anxious. I just blew almost my entire life savings on plane tickets. I would be jobless by the time I got back, and who knows what Inara would do to my room in the meantime.

But there was no turning back now. I was committed to seeing whatever this was through.

I tried to sleep for the flight but my anxiety and fear kept me wide awake, and anytime I closed my eyes for longer than a few minutes, I saw the masked face. The whisper of the word Eden sent chills down my back, and made my stomach churn.

By the time I made it to London, I was tired, overstimulated, and hungry.

After collecting my bag, and grabbing a snack, I stalk out into the afternoon of bustling London, which did nothing for my rattled nerves.

But a taxi down the walkway had a sign with my name on it. Ellaria Nevesta. I approached it, and said that I was her. The driver helped me pick up my suitcase, and in only a few minutes, we were out in the London traffic.

I was asleep for a solid hour when the taxi turned onto a dirt road, the bumps waking me up. The twists and turns of the roads made my head spin. Eventually, the taxi pulled into a copse of trees, onto a road hidden by the plethora of branches, trunks, and leaves. I would have never seen it myself, but the driver did. We wound our way through the trees, then came to an immaculate black gate, with a gate door off to the side.

"Here you are, Miss," the taxi said. "Payment has already been made. I'll help with your bag."

"Oh, thank you," I replied, undoing my seatbelt and opening the door. I stretch my legs and slide out, and the gate door opens as I fish out my backpack. A woman in a flowing white tunic and cream, gauzy trousers approaches.

"Welcome, welcome," she said, her arms outstretched to me. The driver set my suitcase beside me, and slammed the trunk shut. He tipped his head to the woman and I, then got back into his car, leaving with not a single puff of dust. "Ellaria Nevesta, we have been awaiting your arrival!"

She pulls me into a hug, and I'm so shocked, I don't even hug her back, and I stand awkwardly in her arms.

"Welcome to Eden," she says. "My name is Serra, your one woman greeting party. Let me help you with your bag."

She plucks up my duffle bag and shoulders the strap, and angles herself to the gate door. I follow her, no where else to go now that the taxi is gone and I have no idea where I should head for the airport.

"Um, thanks," I say, as we pass through the gate door.

"I hope your flight wasn't too bad, I know how long it can be," she said, closing then locking the gate door. "I'm originally from Toronto. Been here for four years if you can believe it!"

Coming into view were a cluster of buildings, modern style bungalows that had some features connecting them all, whether it was the covered walkways between buildings or shared walls.

"Not what I was expecting for the English countryside," I commented. Indeed, I had thought there would be little cottages, not these nature-colored squat buildings.

"We get that a lot," Serra replied. "We like to be as close to nature as possible here in the commune. We grow and supply almost ninety-five percent of our food, and even textiles, making our own clothes here, too."