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  They cruised around the square slowly. Michael watched as people walked easily amongst each other; there was no pushing and no hurrying. The faces were happy and smiling, nods and warm greetings were commonplace and everyone met each other’s gaze. Back home… he corrected himself - back in his old home, people walked with heads bowed and visions averted. Eye contact was viewed as aggression and met with such.

  Casper pulled the SUV over to a parking space outside of a bright and cheery store that read “Candy Pops” on the awning. Emily stared in fascination at the vibrantly decorated display in the large front window. The shop held every type of old-fashioned candy in large, clear glass jars standing to attention along the shelves.

  “Fancy stretching your legs a little?” Casper asked, unbuckling his seatbelt. “I know that just about everyone is dying to meet you.”

  “Sure,” Michael replied positively, jumping out of the vehicle.

  Emily felt tired and overwhelmed, but she did not want to distract Michael from what felt like his first happy mood in months. “Let’s go,” she enthused.

  Michael slipped his hand into Emily’s as they walked along the sidewalk; he felt a reassurance as she squeezed warmly. Casper was regaling them with the history of the square - another area that owed its creation to his distant family - but Michael’s mind was already wandering. The whole scene was perfect; the square was spotlessly clean, the faces were happy, the grass was green, and the sky was blue.

  When he’d first started the application process to Eden Gardens, it had been nothing more than a distracting idle fantasy to take his mind off of the black cloud that hung heavily over their marriage. His agent had been aghast at the very idea of his relocation, terrified that he would soon be out of sight and out of mind. Michael had assured him that he had no intention of leaving the agency. As far as Michael was concerned, you always left the dance with the date that you brought. Simon Day had helped build and shape his career, and he owed a debt to the man, regardless of where he lived in the world. It was only when he had been having long drawn out discussions that bordered on arguments with Simon that he realised just how much he wanted the move. Emily had been distant since the accident. He knew that she had desperately wanted the child that she carried, and the loss was crippling. He felt the same sense of loss but he was a man, after all. He felt that he was born with a vault where all men lock away their secrets to fester in the darkness. Whilst Emily had her friends and a younger sister to talk through her pain, Michael merely crushed his under a vice and locked it away from sight and thought. He knew that their leaving would be seen by many as running from the problem, but as far as he was concerned there was nothing wrong with a little running every now and then.

  “CC,” a loud voice boomed, startling them all. “Are these the newcomers?”

  The large man stepped from a butcher’s shop next to the candy store; he was all bushy faced and rosy red cheeks. He was around five feet five and wore a red check shirt, blue trousers, and a huge white apron that somehow remained immaculate despite his profession.

  “Good afternoon, Justin,” Casper greeted him. “May I introduce?”

  It was as far as he got before the butcher brushed past Casper, ignoring him, and gripped Michael in an almighty bear hug. “Michael,” he exclaimed as though meeting a long lost relative. “Emily,” he shouted, turning his attention and his hugging to her.

  “Really, Justin,” Casper spluttered. “This really is most inappropriate.”

  Emily giggled as she was heaved off the ground in the rotund man's embrace and Michael couldn’t help but smile along.

  “Oh shush, CC, we need to welcome the new blood, you fusty old man,” Justin exclaimed. He cast a wink at Michael. “We can’t have these poor folks thinking that we’re all old codgers like you,” he laughed, his voice deep and rolling.

  Over the next twenty minutes, Michael and Emily were bombarded with hearty welcomes and shrieks of excitement as the residents swarmed out of the local stores to greet them. By the time that Casper had managed to slowly extricate them from the masses, both their heads were spinning from the attention. Coming from the UK, their senses were simply not used to such direct and uncensored human interaction. Michael was starting to feel like a performing monkey as people demanded that he repeat their sentences in his unusual accent. Emily was exhausted from the incessant questions that came from a hundred angles at once, but both of them had never felt so welcomed.

  “I can’t apologize enough for that debacle,” Casper professed as they sat back in the car. “Whatever must you think of us?”

  “It was lovely, really,” Emily soothed. “Just a little overwhelming.”

  “I just don’t think that we were expecting to meet the whole town all at once,” Michael exclaimed. “You’ll have to remember that we’re English, Casper - stiff upper lips and all that,” he laughed.

  “Well, let me take you home,” Casper said.

  “Home,” Emily and Michael said together. It sounded good.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Interlude: A Brief Town History Part One

  Eden was indeed formed and grown on the back of Casper Christian’s ancestor, Tolan Christian’s, broad shoulders. He was a pious man of strength and breadth that set God and his perceived will above all others.

  Tolan was born in 1761 to Jacob and Chastity Christian; they were a family of loggers from an age back. The Christians were most at home within the confines of the forest; the green foliage was their shelter. The sturdy trunks offered protection and the woodlands provided sustenance. Tolan lived his life in his father’s shadow. Jacob was a large man with a ruddy weathered face and a hulking strength borne of a lifetime of manual labor. Despite the surname, Jacob had little tolerance for the word of God and suffered no intrusion into his daily life. He was a hard working, hard drinking man with a quick temper and a shorter fuse. He ruled his own house with an iron fist and endured no questioning of his authority. As Tolan grew into an inquisitive child, he developed a long streak of natural curiosity about the outside world, but his father bore little interest in whatever lay beyond the boundaries of the forest. Tolan’s inquisitiveness bordered on mutiny as far as his father was concerned, and his frustration grew the more that he was unable to beat it out of his boy.

  Tolan’s other great love - along with his dreams of travel - was the bible. He was indulged by his mother at an early age as she taught him how to read. This was achieved beyond the sight of Jacob, who would have beaten them both had he known.

  Chastity Christian was a strong woman; she had to be to endure her husband, but she had made the commitment and would see it through to the final days. Her husband had been a man of charm and grace when they had first begun courting. Her father had identified Jacob as a sound provider for his daughter’s future. Jacob had indeed been an adequate provider at first, but he could be cruel and domineering. Even the birth of Tolan hadn’t seen fit to mellow his ire. She doted on her son and wished for him to see the world as she had never been able to. She taught him how to read so that they could share the bible together, and so that he would know God’s words and love. When Tolan was finally able to shake off the shackles of his father and venture out into the world, he would do so under God’s protection. The bible would be his strength and his guide; it would also ensure that he would never walk the dark path alone.

  Jacob began to sense that his iron fist grip was slipping as Tolan started to cower before him less and less. Soon, Tolan’s face would grimace mockingly and he would tremble behind a hidden snigger. Jacob’s wrath swelled as he pictured his wayward son and wife laughing behind his back. Every time that he left their small house in the forest he could feel them plotting and planning. He could hear their contemptuous mutterings in his head when he was alone in the woods. He knew that they knelt before their God, scheming Jacob’s downfall, and under his own roof no less. Jacob would spend his evenings downing the product of the local distillery, more often than not staggering home
barely able to stand, his head and his senses buzzing. He would crash through the door of their small home, clattering around noisily and daring any challenge to his authority, ready with a swift, violent response if he met one. Soon, he was less and less able to work as the drink took hold and his moods grew blacker and more aggressive. Before long, he was hearing and seeing disrespect at every turn. He caught sight of every slight in his wife’s eye and every smirk of his young son’s mouth. Retribution for the imagined insolence was swift and vicious.

  Chastity endured, as she always did, stretching their meager and dwindling resources further and further. She endured the violence with a prayer in her heart, for she did not dare to recite one aloud for fear of driving Jacob even wilder. She endured the drunken and raw assertions of his marital rights, as he took her roughly and painfully; more, it seemed, for the pain he caused than any sexual satisfaction. She endured, as a good and loyal wife should, according to her bible. It was only when he turned his full attention to Tolan that she snapped. Tolan had come in from the forest early one evening after a day with his father. She had been unwilling at first to let Jacob take her son for the day, but he had been so convincing and sober. He’d promised faithfully that he would change. He would return the family finances to their former, healthier state, and he spoke of moving away, to see some of the world. To her eternal shame she had fallen for his devious nature; she had no way of knowing just how far Jacobs’s mental state had fallen. The pure alcohol from the distillery was never meant to be consumed in such volumes as her husband was managing. The more that he drank, the more he left them alone and so she left him to his own devices.

  Unbeknownst to her, Jacob was now circling the drain of a full-blown psychological breakdown as his mind was fracturing and providing him with random thoughts and voices. The tainted but potent alcohol was causing a cunning and deceptive animal to emerge. He knew his family were plotting against him at God’s behest, and his hatred grew towards them all. He knew that he had to strike back at Chastity’s religious beliefs; he had to shake her of those and draw her away from God’s reach. He had promised her everything that she had wished to hear and had charmed her with a snake’s grace. Every word that he sung with allure was forced through a grinning smile until he felt that the poison he was spewing would twist his guts and kill him. Eventually, her fears relented and he won the battle. He knew deep in his now-black heart that she wanted nothing more than to believe him. It was her own desperation that colored and clouded her vision.

  He had taken the boy off into the woods with him early one morning, his wife believing that they were going off to work, followed by a little fishing. The perfect day, the perfect opportunity for a little father and son bonding time, fences to mend and futures to plan. She had waved them off on a bright and clear morning, a father and son, hand in hand. The picture of happiness and hope as they disappeared into the dark forest.

  Tolan was eight years old when his father took him into the woods, and the day would be forever lost to him. The memories of just what his father did to him that day would be buried so deep that, mercifully, only glimpses of the abuse would float around the corners of his mind during the deepest of sleeps.

  Chastity had stood on the steps, eagerly awaiting the return of her men. The night was falling and she had repeatedly chased away the doubts from her mind as the shadows lengthened.

  Tolan had emerged alone from the dark trees; a small, tender boy, with a distant look in his eyes and a mind sent far away. His face was sallow, his skin dirty and his clothes torn. She had run to him and scooped him up into her arms fearing that he had been attacked by some animal; in a way, she was right.

  She had stripped him of his clothes as he sucked on his thumb mercilessly, the look on his face faraway. He was silent and her demands and pleading elicited no response. Jacob was nowhere to be seen; she could only think that a bear, or perhaps a predatory large cat, had taken her husband and ravaged her son. As she took off his shirt, she could see that his puny frame was racked with cuts and grazes; the blood dribbled in places and was congealed in others. Surely this had to be the work of some wild animal? But as she looked closer, there were no claw marks and the wounds didn’t look like any fangs; if anything, they looked like teeth. She chased the thoughts away before they took hold and became tangible. She took down his trousers as he trembled, and she gasped and cried to see that his underwear was filled with blood.

  It was past midnight when Jacob had finally staggered home; his head seemed clearer despite the heavy alcohol fog that engulfed him. In his heart, he felt that he had achieved greatness today. He had chased the demon God from his house, and saved his family in the process. He lurched up the two steps to his log built home and held onto the door for purchase to steady his frame. Inside was pitch black, as it should be at this hour. His wife and son would be safely tucked up in bed, sleeping the sleep of the righteous. He was a little aggrieved not to receive a grateful welcome from his wife over his sacrifice. No matter. The morn would dawn soon enough, and he would soon bask in his reward.

  He sat down heavily in his favourite chair, a piece that he had carved over twenty years ago, and which still stood as a testament to his prowess. Suddenly, he was aware of another presence in the room.

  Chastity moved out of the darkness and stood before him. Her face was a granite mask, passive and still. She hefted the sharpened axe and swung it silently, fuelled with the power of a mother’s love and guilt.

  The blade simply shattered his face, cleaving it in two. Blood pumped and sprayed the walls and grey matter trickled out of the gap between the two sides of his head. His legs thumped and jerked loudly, pounding on the wooden floor. The noise echoed around the cabin in a death mask dance of the most macabre variety. Chastity attempted to pull the axe from her husband’s split head but to no avail. The blade was embedded by the hand of God, and the power that had flowed up her arm had surely been heaven sent.

  She packed some meager belongings and supplies that night, determining that her son would not spend another second in his father’s company. She spilt oil from the lamps around the wooden cabin’s floors and walls. She held Tolan outside as they watched the house burn. She secretly hoped that Jacob could still feel the flames as they roasted the flesh from his bones, and she prayed that his pain would last an eternity. She took her son and they headed west.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Colin Murray twisted in his seat again as the bus moved smoothly through the countryside. Since they had left the rather un-bustling metropolis of Hanton and headed further west, the more uncomfortable he had become. The looks from his fellow passengers were beginning to tell him in no uncertain terms that he was an outsider here. There was nothing controversial about the way he looked or dressed; he was twenty and clean cut. He was smart and presentable, and yet he felt like he was gate-crashing a church baptism by urinating in the font. The bus had slowly dwindled in occupants until all that was left were those heading for Eden Gardens.

  Colin was a sociology major, and looking to earn his passage back home for the holidays by retrieving rental cars and trailers along the way. The advert for the job had given him several choices for pickups, and he had been able to carefully plot his course across the country towards home. The retrieval at Eden Gardens was his last job before finally heading home and all he wanted now was to get the last job over with.

  The idea had been pregnant with promise, sitting in his college dorm room when he’d first come up with the plan. He’d had visions of long, sunny journeys, driving along picturesque back roads, taking his time and seeing his country. The reality, however, had been full of flea bitten mattress motels and chronic diarrhea from roadside diners. His back ached and his stomach was still tender and raw, protesting at its treatment every now and then by releasing spiteful gas bombs.

  The Arrowhead bus was clean and well air-conditioned. His fellow riders were quiet and watchful and they all appeared well-dressed and heeled. There were no extravagant
hairdos, no inappropriate piercings or tattoos on show. The women seemed to favor longer dresses and skirts than the weather dictated, and the men tended to wear smart suits, or shirts and ties, despite the heat of the day.

  He looked down at his watch, pleased that he would be on time; his pleasant nods and smiles lay barren in the air, unreturned by his compatriots. He was no longer able to pass the time by finding fascination out of the window. The flashing greenery had long since lost its charm on him, and he longed for the concrete jungle once more.

  The bus began to slow, and he leaned out into the centre aisle to seek a view out of the bus's front window. He could just make out that they seemed to be approaching a security entrance of some kind. He knew that Eden Gardens was a gated community, but the closer he got, the more it seemed that Eden was, in fact, a gated town.

  The bus slowed to a smooth stop and a broad-shouldered security guard emerged and walked to the bus entrance. The doors opened with a hissing whoosh and the guard strode on board. He greeted the driver in a friendly manner and began to speak before the driver ushered him in close. Their conversation was whispers and the guard suddenly whipped his head up and his stern gaze fired down the aisle. Colin couldn’t help but inexplicably duck back into his seat. He knew that it was paranoia, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that they talking about him. The guard disembarked, and the bus eased through the raised barrier and into the town’s borders.