I woke up to the sound of silence.

  It was jarring. For the last year, my mornings had been filled with the sounds of construction, traffic, or the wind in the garden. Now, there was nothing but the muffled hum of the air filtration system I had woven into the bamboo walls.

  I checked my phone.

  [News Alert: Eden Faction Collapse? Leader Missing.]

  I sighed and climbed down the bamboo ladder.

  The "living room" was illuminated by the teal glow of the moss carpet. Grace, Aiya, and Sal were huddled around a coffee table I had grown from the floor.

  A holographic screen hovered in the air, projecting from Grace’s laptop.

  "Turn it up," Aiya whispered.

  I walked over. I noticed the power source immediately. The laptop was plugged into a sleek, purple brick sitting on the table.

  Seaside Power Cell - 365 Charge (Model X).

  Of course it was.

  Another thing I hadn't noticed before. Another piece of my life that belonged to Mister O.

  "Morning," I said, grabbing a cup of water from the bamboo tap.

  Grace jumped. "Shh! Look."

  The reporter on the screen was standing in front of the Eden Supermarket in Midtown.

  The building stood pristine. The glass walls reflected the morning sun. The massive red bow was still attached to the front doors, fluttering in the wind. The parking lot was empty, save for a few White Hill barricades.

  "It's... intact," Grace whispered, confused. "Why didn't they burn it?"

  "It’s not an applicable war target," I said, taking a sip. "It hasn't opened yet. It’s an empty shell. It’s not a symbol of my power nor does it generate any money for me. The restaurant, however..."

  The camera cut to a drone shot of downtown Detroit.

  Where Eden HQ used to be, there was a crater. The gas station next door was a pile of metal.

  "Gone," Sal said, crushing an empty beer can. "Damn. I liked that patio."

  The reporter’s voice was grave. "Despite the conflict being in its initial phase, the Eden Faction appears to have dissolved. Leadership is nowhere to be found. Speculation is rising that Kaz Kaaz has fled the city."

  The feed switched to a live shot of Southfield.

  Tanks.

  Matte black tanks with the white mountain sigil were rolling down familiar suburban streets. Soldiers in heavy armor marched alongside them, kicking down doors, dragging people out for ID checks.

  We felt it through the floor. The vibration of treads.

  Grace started hyperventilating. She clutched her chest, her eyes darting to the bamboo walls. "They're here. Right outside. Oh god, they're going to find us."

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  "They won't find us, Grace," I said calmly. "And even if they stand on the front lawn, they can't break in. Eat your breakfast."

  "How can you be so calm?!" she shrieked. "There is a tank outside!"

  "I am calm because I am in my garden," I said. "And in my garden, I am God."

  I left them to their panic.

  I walked to the back of the enclosure. Where my garden originally was. The air here was thick with Qi. It felt like a greenhouse now.

  I sat down in the center of the Soil and I crossed my legs.

  I closed my eyes.

  I needed to separate myself from the failure. I needed to stop thinking about the money I had lost, the reputation I had shredded and focus on the root.

  I meditated.

  Six hours passed without any movement. I became part of the photosynthesis cycle, breathing in carbon dioxide, breathing out oxygen.

  The hidden door in the bamboo wall opened.

  Grace screamed again.

  A figure stepped in, bringing a gust of cold air.

  It was Bells.

  He looked wrecked and his eyes were red, his clothes rumpled. He had been sitting in the Terramotta buried under the Whispervine tarp outside for over twenty four hours, ever since the demolition was finished.

  "Yo," Bells croaked. He walked straight to the bin of Heavenly Potatoes and grabbed one, biting into it raw.

  "You look terrible," Sal commented.

  "You try sleeping in a bucket seat for a day while listening to tank treads," Bells mumbled, chewing. "It's ugly out there. Garrison of 2,000 troops per block and tanks on every corner. They have thermal scanners, Qi-sniffing dogs, the works."

  Grace paled. "Dogs? They can smell us?"

  "Apparently not," Bells said. "They walked right past the truck. A dog sniffed the tire and moved on like we don't exist."

  "That's the point," I said from the back of the room, opening my eyes. "The Whispervine dampens all energetic signatures. To the world, this is just a vacant lot overgrown with weeds."

  Sal stood up, stretching his back until it cracked. "I'm going stir crazy. I need fresh air. Can I come out?"

  I stood up. "Let's take a look."

  We slipped out through the hidden fold in the vine.

  We crouched under the canopy of leaves that covered the driveway. The Terramotta was buried next to us. Through the gaps in the foliage, we looked out at the street.

  It was an occupation.

  White Hill soldiers were everywhere. A squad was marching down the center of the road. On my neighbor Mrs. Higgins' porch, three soldiers were sitting in her lawn chairs, drinking her beer, laughing.

  A tank rumbled past, its turret swiveling slowly, scanning for targets.

  Sal watched them and looked at the soldiers laughing. He looked at the tank.

  "Hypothetically," Sal whispered. "If you two went out there right now... how quickly could you take out this garrison?"

  Bells squinted at the tank.

  "A couple of seconds," Bells said. "Maybe a minute if the tank commander is competent."

  Sal grinned, looking at me. "Really? That fast?"

  "Yes," I said.

  "Then why don't we?" Sal asked. "Why are we hiding in a hole?"

  "Because then our location would be exposed," I said, watching the tank pass. "And Axehill would bomb this entire place down to the ground."

  I pointed at the soldiers.

  "Axehill is not a fool, Sal. He knows we are here somewhere. He just doesn't know where. And he doesn't want to start shooting until he is sure. For all he knows, I have a dirty bomb or a Samson option rigged to blow. He is not going to take any unnecessary risks. After all, he has the upper hand."

  Sal frowned. "So you guys can't do anything? Really? Not even... bleed them slowly?"

  I flinched and beside me, Bells winced.

  "No," I said quietly. "We can't even bleed them."

  Bells nodded, looking at his boots.

  "All we can do is wait," I said.

  We watched the soldiers finish their beers and toss the cans onto Mrs. Higgins' lawn. We watched them laugh and own my street.

  I turned back to the safety of the vine.

  "Let's go back inside."