The Eden Projects (EDITING)

Chapter 6. In the Beginning...

-6 years later-

Breathe in. Check guns. 

Breathe out. Look for a light. 

Breathe. The air is thick with decay.

Breathe. It smells like infection.

Open your eyes. Don't look away.

This is not a dream.

The world is dying.

"This place reeks."

Kasper opened his eyes, blinking against the dim light. Shattered glass cracked and skittered beneath his heavy boots, the sound sharp and jarring, shooting out like ice cubes against the chiseled tile, each piece reflecting the faint glow of his flashlight with each wavering pass. The beam of his flashlight lapped at the darkness, ricocheting off broken medicine bottles scattered along the endless hallway, the shards glimmering like lost jewels in beds of paper waste and litter. The crisp sound bounced around him like fish caught in an echoing bowl, each note of the noise catching the light on their scales, creating a symphony of destruction. 

He drew in a breath, long and hard, trying to steel himself against an hours long exhaustion. The smell of mold and rusting pipes burned the back of his throat. Everything was rotting, an inexorable decay that seemed to seep into everything living or dead. His small group moved through the liminal space with caution, their footsteps muffled and heavy with the weight of their apprehension. This place was not made to be rushed; time felt suspended. Each step was riskier than the last, the ground beneath him seeming to shift and sway like a living thing. The building was destabilized. Each press into the dark made it that much harder to turn back, the instinct to flee battling against the unyielding pull of curiosity. He drew in another breath, and steeled himself for whatever lay ahead in the shadows.

"Let's just get out of here. The main access is collapsed and unless you feel like taking a plunge through still water down the shaft there's no other way to the lower levels. Unless you see somethin' I don't." 

Archer tossed the map he held to Kasper who juggled it for a moment before flipping it over and thumbing over their route. 

"Well..." He pushed his stringy hair back and eyed the partial map. How disappointing. "There's no point to risking it. We've cleared all the upper levels already. At least getting out's gonna be easy." Handing the map back he turned to Zak who stood behind with his gun drawn. His gaze trained on the darkness around them. "Time check?"

Zak settled his gun on his shoulder and pulled out an old solar watch from his pocket. The band long gone, a shoelace now held it attached to his belt. "3 hours left."

"Let's call it."

"You sure?" Zak questioned.

Kasper felt conflicted. "I'm sure."

I can't make them do this.

They set off in the way they came, moving with a sense of purpose, hoping to clear The City before nightfall descended on the fractured landscape. The resting building felt comfortable in its own disheveledness; its walls had shifted after the bombing, standing slightly aslant, a testament to the chaos that had unfolded. Everything within the structure was angled in the same wrong direction, as if the very fabric of the place conspired to reflect the turmoil that had ravaged it. Occasionally, machines long since abandoned blocked their path, forcing a scrambling climb from the trio, carts that had come to rest, and various remnants of life that had once thrived here, all found their place along the crumbling walls. It was a paradox of comfort amidst desolation, a sanctuary laid to waste still holding on to echoes of the past.