How far we've gone
How far were going
So here and the now
And the love for the sound
Are the moments that keep us moving

- Soldier On, The Temper Trap

. . . | . . .

C H A P T E R - S I X

Eden

~. . . . -=|=- . . . .~

We ventured through the forest at a pace a little faster than usual. Alice followed behind with the girl's pail in hand. More light began to filter ahead, and the trunks thinned, then we emerged onto a long, narrow, dirt road nestled against fields of tall brown and green grass that bent gently with the breeze.

"Well, where is she?" Alice asked. She looked around, blocking her eyes from the sun with her hand.

I shook my head. I didn't see her. There wasn't anything; only us as far as the eye could see. Was she even there to begin with? Of course she was. We had something that belonged to her.

I heaved the pack on my back once, pulling it higher onto my shoulders for comfort as we stepped further onto the dusty path in the middle of nowhere.

"I don't know," I answered.

"Lets just go," she said then dropped the pail. The sound echoed all around us and found it's way into the trees, lingering there longest.

Perhaps she was right. Maybe it was idiotic to try to find this girl, whoever she was. She was long gone if she had any sense. If that was the case, I was thankful. Maybe she was smart enough to survive. I began to move again, walking with Alice down an unfamiliar road, like all the days before. And as much as I wanted to go back to our place in the woods, we had to move on. Our days in that sanctuary were over.

I glanced down at her as she placed her head on my bicep which put a stint in our step, but I didn't mind. The only sounds that passed between us were under our feet. "I'm hungry," she said softly.

I didn't want to acknowledge I felt the same way. I tried to ignore the pains that began to flare earlier, but there was only so long one could ignore them. They were persistent. "We'll find something soon. What's in Vicksburg, anyway? How big is it?"

"I don't know. I mean, the only thing I really remember was the golf club. I was really little."

"Nothing else, hm?"

"Not really," she said. "Well, bits and pieces. The golf club, and the all-day drive. It took a long time to get there." I could tell she smiled then by the way her cheeks raised, but it was only slight. "My mom would pack a cooler, those big ones with the fold-over lids. She kept our favorite drinks in those. All I drank was Capri-Sun, the fruit punch kind."

"Those were good," I said with a nod.

"And she also packed snack stuff in a bag. I'd watch a DVD and ride all the way there with a Capri-Sun in one hand and a cookie in the other." She chuckled. "Needless to say I was a chubby kid."

I smiled. I couldn't picture Alice as a 'chubby kid'. She was so skinny and perfectly balanced in all areas. Then again, I had never been so skinny like we were in that moment. We weren't near the point of starvation, so I still held some bulk, but my weight had decreased dramatically.

She stopped suddenly, pulling me to a halt without force. Her face concentrated as she looked down the straight road to nowhere. A sound so quiet came again on a breeze, and I knew it instantly, like a bullet exiting a Glock.

Human voices; they were indistinguishable, and just far enough off to blend together before reaching us. I felt Alice move, and in the corner of my eye saw her turn to me to ask, "Do you know...?"

I shook my head before she could finish. I didn't know what they were saying, but they didn't sound angry. It was a deep, but joyful voice that rang across the space, coming from an adjacent side road a few feet behind us that led away from our intended direction.

It came again. A man was yelling, rejoicing from the likes of his hoots and hollers. A woman followed. I saw her again in my head: the long, brown-haired woman in the forest by the lake; her dress stained red and her face wet with the water she had just covered herself with. What if it was her? Could it have been?

Yes it could.

I became curious, more-so than I should have allowed myself to become. "Alice, what if that's her?"

Her face darkened like it had in the forest. "You hear a woman?"

I nodded slowly, trying to listen harder, but it was quiet. "I just heard a man and woman a few seconds ago."

She shook her head in disagreement and protested, "I don't know. I don't know if it's such a good idea. What if it's not safe?"

"You're safe with me," I reassured. "It'll be quick. I promise. If it's her then we can return the pail and that'll be it."

I wasn't sure I gave her much of a choice. I began to walk without her consent to go or not. I felt desperate with a desire sticking to my ribs and clinging to every breath as I began to take unnaturally long strides down the narrow, dirt path behind us after I picked up the pail and brushed off the dust that clung to its sides.

"Take off your tags," Alice suggested, walking just behind me at my shoulder. "I can see them through your shirt."

A glance down proved she was right. The tags had a very obvious shape, and with the combination of my rucksack and boots I couldn't risk it, no matter how much I wanted to keep them on. I stuffed them into my cargo pocket of my pants for safe-keeping.

Soon, behind the tall grass – which was nearly over my head, a plantation-style house came into view. It was a tired, three-story building, but still stood strong, and it was very apparent that even though it was worn it was taken care of.

People lived there.

A few buildings of various sizes stood erect behind the house, encased by what would be miles of greyish, wooden fence if they were cleaned of their angles. Beyond them moved thick figures of life; horses and cows, it appeared, and my heart leapt at the sight. How did they keep these animals without someone stealing them, or were travelers through this area rare? Is this why they chose to live here?

We stood in front of that large house, and studied the features; the wide, wrap-around porch that I've heard existed in the south, the fans that clung to the ceiling of the overhang – relics that were reminders of how it used to be. Their blades were wilted; time had worn them, too. The trees that stood tall in the front provided shade over most of the overgrown yard, which was also fenced in. It was only missing a tire swing and a fresh coat of white paint for the house and fence.

As beautiful as that place was, I was sick with anxiety. What would we find beyond that yard? Would we find her? Alice pulled me back before I could take that first step to discovery.

Her blank stare clearly expressed her disinterest, reinforcing her comment a few minutes earlier, but I couldn't, for the life of me, overwhelm my desire to satisfy my curiosity.

"It'll be fine," I said as I peeled her fingers off my arm, and began to walk to the front porch. I readied myself for anything that might decide I'm a threat, putting a hand over the pistol at my side, and mentally tracing my hand to the M16 waiting on my back. Seven rounds left, plus five in my pistol.

Although, I wouldn't use those unless I had no other choice. I hoped a confrontation wouldn't escalate to that.

The life that surrounded the property retracted as moved through the open gate. Silence formed around me, and every movement I made screamed at me to go back to where I came, but I pressed on. I filled my lungs with shallow breaths, my nostrils wide to allow the air to enter easily with little interference. I was quiet, stealthy.

"Stop where you are!" A male called from inside the house. It was hostile – an intent to injure, or possibly kill.

I was dead in my tracks.

I passed over every open window, but saw no one. I was offense-less. If I couldn't see anyone, and things turned ugly, then I couldn't shoot, but they sure as hell saw me. I was at a disadvantage. Maybe we should've turned back. We should've continued on; passed by this place, ignored it completely. I should've listened to Alice, but it was too late.

"I mean no harm," I called out to whoever it was that was ordering me. "My friend and I were walking through the woods and stumbled upon someone who may be living with you – a young woman? We have her pail."

Silence. No answer.

I remembered the stain on her dress. If she was hurt, and she lived there, then they'd want to receive medical attention. "My companion has medical training if you have anyone that needs to be looked at."

"You military?" he asked with a sudden outburst.

It took me by surprise – the question. Somehow, I didn't think I'd ever be asked that. I was so used to having my BDU on, and when it was on there was never a doubt. "No," I called back.

"You look like one. We don't like filthy government heathens around here."

"It's from a dead soldier. We needed supplies and we found these," I lied with a straight-face, still eying the windows. There was movement on the bottom-right. I concentrated on it, but it shuffled away to the left.

The front door opened, and my hand slipped around the base of the pistol, but I didn't pull it from it's place. An man with a thick mustache and graying, dark hair strode out wielding a bow with an arrow ready to fly into my chest. He was dirt-ridden from his dark plaid shirt to his boots.

"You here to try and steal my property?" he asked.

"No, we're just passing through. We only wanted to return the pail, and offer our assistance if we can be of any."

Well, Alice's assistance, at least.

His stare jumped and situated behind me. He looked down the road, biting his lower lip then nodded. "Okay. Take off your guns. I don't like that kinda stuff being brought into my house." I began to unhook the rucksack. He lowered his bow, collected the arrow in his hand then allowed everything to linger by his side. "Y'all are more than welcome to come in and rest a bit. We have some clean water, and a little food we could offer you."

I rid myself of my weapons, keeping the trigger as far away from my index finger as possible to show that I meant no ill-will. When I was cleaned of my metal and ammo, I turned to motion for Alice, whose distance told me she was still unsure of this decision. But she came and stood by my side, touching my arm lightly with her fingers as I placed my guns and ammunition on the porch, right outside the front door.

"You can put your bags in here." The man directed to right inside the door of his home, and that's where we placed them.

Once inside, the overwhelming smell of meat instantly ported me home, to a quaint apartment nestled in the noisy Chicago suburbs. It was Sunday, and my mom always made the best beef roast surrounded by potatoes, carrots and onions.

I never thought I would smell it again, but whatever was being cooked lifted those images straight from the back of my mind, and if I closed my eyes I was home once more. "Smells delicious," I remarked softly as the man closed the door behind us. A closer view of him revealed a slender, but healthy-looking older man. He had slight wrinkles under his eyes and around his mouth, but he was surprisingly well-groomed despite his facial hair and five o'clock shadow.

I must've looked like a barbarian to him, and comparing his living conditions to mine, I was.

"Thank you." He placed his weapon by the door. "My sons just brought home a bear this morning. About this time of year the meat's right for just about anything, I reckon. "

Alice, whose thoughts correlated with my own, nearly burst. "Bear meat?"

He smiled. "Oh, yeah. Ever had it?"

She shook her head. "Can't say I have."

He chuckled – amused – and motioned for us to follow him. We did. "City folk, huh?"

"Were," I said. "Not anymore."

"We don't see much of your kind around here. Travelers are rarer and rarer these days. I suppose everybody has either gotten to where they're going or they're dying before they can reach it this far south. That's where you're going isn't it; way down south?"

"Yes, northern Florida."

As we walked down the hall, littered with hanging portraits sealed with dust, I wondered how many people were doing the exact same thing we were.

Somewhere in the world, did a stranger welcome dirty travelers into his home and offer his food and water? The idea was unheard of. It was strange to be inside a home knowing how alienated people were from each other. I could feel the tension in the air as the three of us – him, Alice and I – rounded the corner of the hallway and were thrust into the late afternoon sunlight, into the kitchen. In front of us was an island that contained a multitude of fresh vegetables! Corn, okra, tomatoes and onions!

This guy didn't have a little food, he had Eden! I reached out and gently touched a tomato that sat on the island in front of us. It was real; smooth and cool to the touch. I felt as though my stomach would begin chewing on my back bone in that moment, surrounded by all that food.

We immersed ourselves in this room. In one corner, next to a long counter, with a large basin settled into it, was a gigantic, brick fireplace with a huge cast iron pot hanging over the burning logs. It seemed ancient. To our left, in front of a strange stove, stood a woman that the man approached, reigning her slender waist in his free hand and pulling her easily into his side to kiss the top of her head. Her brown hair was pulled up high on her head, tied down into a knot. Her body was familiar.

She turned and smiled at him. Her profile, the curve of her nose and her dainty chin, I'd seen before in the woods! It was her! The very same girl who had run away was standing before me in this wonderful kitchen. Her clothes had changed. Instead of the white dress, she had on jeans that hugged every curve of her ass, and a gray t-shirt that I couldn't have really cared about.

She turned fully, then, catching Alice's face – whom I just realized was holding firmly to my arm, but when the girl saw me her eyes widened and her lips parted the same way they had before she ran.

I shook my head, keeping my expression gentle and eyes soft in hopes to convince this girl I had no intention of harming her. She looked to the older man again.

He extended his hand. "I'm Charlie Swan, by the way." I took it, and was met with a firm handshake that surprised me.

"Charlie," I repeated, locking the name in my mind. "I'm Edward Cullen, and this is Alice Brandon."

We stepped back away from each other, and he stuck a set of fingers into his jeans pocket and wrapped the other arm around the woman.

"This is my daughter, Bella."

I felt a grin form as I spoke her name. "Bella."

I ducked my head in acknowledgment, but didn't reach out for her. I was afraid she'd shy away like a deer, or something. Instead, I took one step and placed her pail between us. In return, I received no response – no mutual understanding that we had just been introduced. She only continued to search my face, blankly with those eyes that had expressed terror when she ran from me. She allowed her jaw to drop only slightly. A very small space between her lips formed as though she were about to speak, but she didn't.

There wasn't a smile or a simple word. There was nothing. And suddenly, I felt a little smaller than I did when I walked through that door. My jaw ticked.

Bella Swan, I concluded, didn't trust me.

But, maybe she had good reason not to.