This War's Not Over.

Evie wasn’t expecting to arrive at her door to find it locked. Further more, she wasn’t expecting to hear voices coming from within, especially not those of Pat Kirch, Garrett Nickelsen, Jared Monaco, Kennedy Brock or him. John fucking O’Callaghan. What was worse is that they were talking about her. She only knew because she heard them say her name. Eve.

She didn’t quite know what was worse. Having John badmouthing her or having Garrett agree. Standing just behind the door, she could hear everything clearly, her fingers on the key she had inserted into the knob. She focused on the coolness of the metal to keep her mind preoccupied. She was perversely drawn to stay and listen to their cursing her name, and wanted something, anything to distract her. She gasped in relief when she heard Kennedy and Pat admonish the two; glad she still had a few friends in the neighborhood.

“You know, it’s not like you didn’t fucking have something to do with it John. Don’t blame this all on her.” That was Kennedy, quietly growling.

“Garrett, she was your best friend. And you’re blatantly ignoring the fact that she left because you broke her heart. Did you even stop to think for one second that maybe she was--” Pat was quiet, no doubt chewing his lip in between words before he trailed off.

Her cry wasn’t unheard and from within she heard the shuffling of footsteps towards the door. She hid against the garage, forfeiting her keys to the unyielding hold of the door and prayed to whatever deity there was that it wasn’t Garrett or John. She couldn’t face them now.

To her relief, it wasn’t either of them. It was Pat. She poked her head around the corner of the garage and let out a liberated breath. The moment he saw her, his eyes lit up, and her heart broke because she knew now that she couldn’t stay. He tugged her keys from the lock, and approached, hugging her tightly without a word. “You’re alive.” He mumbled, and she couldn’t quite stop herself from grinning.

“Yeah, takes quite a bit more than a few months at sea to kill me.” She replied and leaned back against the brick. “Pat, I’m not staying. Not after hearing that. I don’t think I could survive listening to that day in and day out.”

“How do you think we feel?” Kennedy appeared along side his friend, and Evie hugged him too.

“I’m sorry, I just. . .” She shook her head. “Got a light?” She asked. Kennedy handed her a cigarette and lighter, and she lit up gladly. She had picked up the habit again within a month of leaving Tempe. The boat she had commandeered from her father had been stocked with at least four cases of Marlboro Reds, and she’d smoked a half a pack a day for almost nine months. She was well aware that she looked like hell. Taking a drag, she slunk around the corner of the garage, and hopped up onto the hood of her truck, crossing her legs and leaning back, eyes on the heavens.

“Evan.” Kennedy had called her that from the beginning, in a manner of referring to her as ‘just one of the boys’. She looked at him and her expression bore all of the pain she had been trying to convince herself she didn’t really feel without much success. It wasn’t just emotional turmoil either. She hadn’t eaten for at least three days and four days ago she had hit her foot on a brick wall while tripping, in a drunken stupor, towards the bathroom near Huntington Beach, and broken at least two toes. But broken toes were the least of her worries.

“Evan, I know this hurts, but you’ve gotta stay. They’re not the same without you here.”

“You really think me staying is going to change their attitudes?” She asked, shaking her head. “If anything, it’ll make them worse.”

“So what, you’re just going to give up on them? On Garrett?” Pat asked, brow furrowing.

“No, but me being here is just going to pour salt into an already aching wound. It’s not time yet. I’ll be back though. Other than that, how was Dallas, Mrs. Kennedy?” She changed the subject, taking another long drag of the cigarette before flicking the embers onto the pavement and lying down on the hood of her truck.

“Blood’s running out. There are a lot more subsiders around too.” Kennedy spoke quietly, looking around nervously. He had a small silver object in his hand that Evie recognized as her butterfly knife. She gave him a half grin. “This has been useful.” He nodded.

Reaching down she touched the bayonet that she had strapped to her left leg. She had a K-Bar on her right. She sighed. No where was safe anymore, not even Tempe. “How long before the world ends?” She asked the question entirely rhetorical.

“At this rate? A few months.” Pat responded. “Update your page more, Eve. Just so we know you’re alright. And call more. I know you don’t like it, but it makes me feel better.” Evie nodded, Garrett’s words stuck in her head.

‘I hope she burns in hell, the bitch.’

She hopped off of the hood and wandered toward the driver’s side. “Keys.” She said, and a moment later she had caught them from midair. “I’ll see you guys around.” She mumbled and slammed the door behind her.

“Happy birthday to me,” she muttered, blinking tears from her eyes.

It was an hour later that she reached the Canyon, speeding way too fast; trying to outrun the cracking along her heart that she knew was going to eventually burst. Her chest was already constricted, some serpent squeezing her ribs; the same serpent that tempted Eve in the Garden; the same serpent that had ruined the lives of countless other women.

As she pulled into the drive that led to the edge of the Canyon where she usually parked, something silver and large slammed into the side of her truck sending it lurching toward the edge. The black truck stopped mere inches from falling into the canyon. Her face slammed into the steering column, glass ripped into her side and her left leg popped out of its socket before the vehicle finally came to a halt.

She had six inches of room to escape; naturally, her door was stuck. Glass was still raining down on her from the shattered windows and she knew if she tried to escape the driver’s side she would plunge into the Canyon, shattering every bone in her body before she died. It took her several moments of thought before she identified her only recourse: climbing out of the passenger side window.

As she was trying to slip toward the passenger side, over blankets and pillows, she heard a loud grinding sound and knew if she didn’t act, it was all over. The truck was slipping into the Canyon. Ironically, Evie wasn’t afraid of dying; in fact, she was looking forward to it, in a masochistic sort of way. She had often been curious of whether or not it would hurt too badly.

As the truck began its descent, Evie smashed out the rest of the driver’s side window, and heaved half of her body out of it, waiting until the moment was right. She only had one shot at getting this right. If she jumped too soon, she would die; if she jumped too late, she would either die or paralyze herself or catch on fire when the truck inevitably exploded. Either way, the death would be unpleasant and agonizing at best therefore her only option was to survive. The trick was actually accomplishing the feat.

Thirty feet before the truck hit the bottom, Evie lunged out the window and tucked herself into a ball, landing hard on her left shoulder and rolling before she came to a halt, in a crouch with her heart pounding in her ears. With a cry of relief she fell backwards to the sound of her truck impacting the Canyon floor, glass and metal screaming as it compacted into stone and sand.

“Well, fuck.” She choked, putting her head between her knees. “I suppose I could call this birthday eventful.” Evangeline Cox had turned twenty-four two hours previous and was already cheating death again.

--
It took her a bit of time to dig her most valued possessions from the wreckage of the truck’s cab, but she managed. Miraculously, nothing important was damaged irreparably, and she had also managed to finagle the first aid kit from the glove compartment. She had heated her bayonet in the flame and had already cauterized the most severe of her wounds, knowing that blood was filling the vitreous fluid of her eyes and without the proper tools, there was no way for her to tend to those injuries. Especially since she was lacking decent light and a mirror. At least she’d go out looking like Mal Reynolds if she died. That thought actually got a chuckle out of her.

As she sat at the bottom of the Canyon near her burning vehicle, Eve debated what she was going to tell those who read her blog about the incident, knowing she couldn’t make it up the Canyon on her own. Sighing, she used her phone to upload a few photos, labeling them accordingly. With nothing else to do, she might as well tell everyone she was alive.

Don’t worry; I’m alive. Barely. This happened about an hour ago; stupid fucking silver Volvo sent me over the side of the Grand Canyon. What Edward Cullen has against me, I don’t fucking know. Anyway, if anyone’s willing to trade me their car, let me know. I don’t know what I can trade it for as my cash burned with the truck, but I’m willing to put my soul on the line. Alright, maybe not my soul, but possibly my first born will get named after you. Or eaten by you. Depends on your preference.

Again, I’m alive. I’m injured, but I don’t think I’m bleeding internally. In a few hours, I should be able to get up the Canyon on my own, although my left side hurts like a bitch and my broken toes have been re-broken. This is going to be a fun walk, I can already tell. Hopefully, I won’t go into shock anytime soon. I mean, I’m good at compartmentalizing, but cheating death two hours after I turned 24? Something tells me this year is only going to get that much more taxing.

Until I make it to a fucking hotel, I’m Eve and I’m the last of my kind.

--
Kennedy saw the update first and nearly choked on his blood and beer. “Fuck!” He cried, spitting the liquid back into his cup and reaching for his keys.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going, Kenny?” John’s growl cut through the quiet that followed. Kennedy threw his phone at John and Garrett and was out the door before they could protest further. Pat and Jared weren’t too far behind.

Garrett had the phone in his hands and was staring at the images of the carnage as if he had never seen a crushed car before. It took him several moments before he recognized the website. And the truck. Evie. That was Evie’s truck. And it was at the bottom of the Grand Canyon. Something in his chest gave out and broke, his eyes widening as the realization hit that if the crash was severe enough Evangeline Cox was going to die.

Part of him wanted to dance with joy at the prospect of her finally being gone; but a bigger part, the part that mattered, was terrified. What if she died? Then who else out there was going to haunt his dreams? Who else was he going to think of when he looked at the stars? Who else was he going to think of when his world was spinning?

Silently, he grabbed his keys and followed Kennedy, Pat and Jared out the door, leaving John to stare broodingly at the screen of Kennedy’s phone, no doubt laughing to himself at the irony.