Seed

by Michael Edelson

  “But let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he said. “He is the governor, and as much as we may not like it, we have to realize that the same people that put us here also gave us food and shelter and the means to defend ourselves, and those are the people that put him in charge. They are in control of what happens here, not us. At least for now. What we need to do is introduce balance to the equation.”

  “Balance would be nice,” Barbara said.

  “He threatened to have me replaced,” Alex continued. “If I don’t go along with him. So that’s a problem we’ll have to work around.”

  “Can he do that?” Barbara asked.

  “I’m not sure, honestly. It makes sense that if he’s the governor and he can communicate with the bastards in charge, then he can have me replaced if he wants to.”

  “I’m not so sure,” Tom said.

  “Why not?”

  “Because whoever set this up locked King Fuckwad out of the arms room for a reason.”

  “Good point,” Barbara said.

  “Think about it,” Tom continued. “First, who the hell can use a tenth of the shit you told me is in there other than you?”

  “Yeah, I guess…” Alex said.

  “Second, they didn’t just give you access, they made damn well sure you’re the only one who can get in there. Not the only one who can open it, the only one who can get in. You couldn’t let someone else in there with you if you tried, as we found out this morning.”

  “But what does that mean?” Alex asked. “It could just be a security thing.”

  “I think it’s a checks and balances thing,” Tom explained. “You told us that your general orders told you to support him unless he endangers the welfare of the colony.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “Well, checks and balances don’t work if he can just replace you and appoint one of his stooges who will go along with whatever he says. The whole system falls apart. Whoever set this up believed in that system, or they wouldn’t have gone through all that trouble to build the ‘air lock.’”

  “Good point,” Alex admitted. “I hadn’t considered that.”

  “Super genius, remember?” Tom said with a broad grin. “So now that that’s out of the way. How do we keep King Fuck in check?”

  Alex smiled. “First, I have his majesty’s approval to turn you people into a security force.” He turned to Barbara. “Except you, you’re the doctor.”

  She smiled. “At least that means I don’t have to work in the fields.”

  “Right.” He turned to the rest of them. “Don’t just say yes. It’s not going to be easy. We’re going to wake up early every day and do PT. Running, pushups, sit ups, that sort of thing. I used to hate that shit, but I can run circles around any of you and do it all day long, so I guess it has its place. I’m also going to train you, shooting, close quarter combat, hand to hand, all that good stuff.”

  “I say yes!” Sandi said with enthusiasm.

  “Me too!” Patrick and Ryan said almost at the same time.

  “Count me in, Chief,” Tom said. “I’m gonna rip the shit out of being a soldier.” Some of the others raised eyebrows at him but he ignored them, apparently content to keep it as an inside joke.

  “Good!” Alex said, nodding proudly. “So the first thing I’m going to do is to arm the fuck out of all of you. M4s, body armor and side arms. And you’ll take them home. Keep them locked up though. Barb, I’m going to give you a pistol, keep it here, out of sight. Everyone okay with that?”

  “Super,” Tom said, and the others agreed in unison.

  “Our primary job,” Alex continued. “Is going to be to keep Max’s goons in line. They’re bullying people into working, but I can live with that for now. I won’t stand for people being abused though. If you see that going on, stop it. There are four of us right now, soon to be six. We work in pairs, never alone. If something happens, radio the others before acting.”

  “Six?” Barbara asked. “Do you plan to draft me after all?”

  “Well I like to think you’re on the team, even though you’re not going to be active, but I was talking about Yael.”

  “Thanks, I’d like to think so too. And yeah, I should have realized. Poor girl, she was real close with her family.”

  “Yeah, she was,” he said. “It’s odd, though, most of us don’t seem to be too broken up. I mean I’m holding out hope my folks will be okay, and I’ll be in a world of hurt if they’re not, but I haven’t seen them in more than a year. It’s not the same as her, she was with her family right before they took her.”

  “My folks are dead,” Barbara said. “I have a sister in Tulsa, but I haven’t seen her in years.”

  “I’m all alone,” Tom said with a half smile. “No one to cry over.”

  “I was in college,” Sandi said. “I hope my parents are okay, but like you I haven’t seen them in a while. I have a brother too. He’s a dork, but I love him.”

  “I’m an orphan,” Patrick said. “My foster parents were nice, but kinda distant. I miss them and all, but I’m alright.”

  “My dad,” Ryan said. “I really hope he’s alive. My mom died when I was three, and my sister was killed in Iraq.”

  “No wives,” Alex said. “No husbands, no children. Interesting.”

  “What do you mean?” Patrick asked.

  “We have some theories,” Alex explained. “About that bullshit presidential address, but now’s not the time. Let’s get you guys squared away first, then let’s get out there and do some damage. Let Max’s goons know we’re watching them.”

  “Yes sir!” Sandi said enthusiastically.

  “One thing,” Alex warned. “Don’t do anything to them unless they cross the line. You don’t have to listen to anything they say, you report to me and only me. However, if Max gives you an order, say ‘yes sir’ and make believe you’re going to do it, then call me right away. We don’t want to openly defy him. If he backs off and mellows out, we’ll work with him.”

  “If not?” Tom asked with a wolfish grin.

  “I’m sure he will,” Alex said. “He’s not crazy, and he’ll see that working with us is better for everyone in the long run. The guy was a law professor for fuck’s sake.”

  “Well,” Tom said, grinning. “As boring as that is, I guess you’re right.”

  *

  Alex spent the rest of the day outside the barrier with Tom, watching the farming party at work. There was an area of cleared forest, mostly flat, not far from the colony. Perhaps it was once a parking area for the beach. Bob was supervising as people worked it with plows and shovels while others used axes to cut down more trees to expand the useable land. Alex didn’t understand what they were doing—he didn’t know the first thing about farming—but some of the workers apparently did. They were giving instructions and walking around making sure people were doing what they were supposed to do, helping where help was needed. Bob seemed to be completely useless. All he did was hover menacingly and make sure no one slacked off.

  When Tom and Alex first arrived, brandishing slung rifles and wearing body armor and Kevlar helmets, Bob glared darkly at them and spent several minutes on the radio talking to Max. That was exactly the effect Alex was hoping for. Scare them, but don’t do anything that would give the governor grounds to complain.

  Towards late afternoon, two women and one man sat down and announced they were on break.

  “Get back to work,” Bob barked.

  “This isn’t a prison camp,” Alex said immediately. “They break when they want to. We have enough rations to last for years and the weather here is almost the same year round. There’s no hurry.”

  Bob scowled and looked like he wanted to say something, but turned away and got back on the radio.

  “Thanks,” one of the women said, a pretty young black girl in shorts and a dark red t-shirt.

  “That’s what we’re here for,” Alex said, smiling. He had noticed that all the women of the colony were well above average in looks.
He wondered if that had been one of the selection criteria. The thought of some old bastards in Washington looking over photos of bright young women and passing judgment based on appearance made him angry.

  “I thought maybe you guys were here to back him up,” she said, glancing at Bob distastefully.

  “That asshole? No, we’re here for you.”

  Once Alex’s intentions were clear, people began to slack off, and eventually a big group got together and announced they were done for the day. It was about four or five in the afternoon.

  “You guys did great,” Alex said quickly, before Bob had a chance to respond. “You’ve accomplished a lot. I think this calls for some of that alcohol.”

  “Now you’re talking!” someone said, and Alex saw that it was the long haired loudmouth. “After a whole day of this crap it would be nice to unwind.”

  “You deserve it,” Alex said, and smiled. “In fact there should be extra alcohol rations for everyone who works. That’ll give people some extra motivation.” Bob frowned, but didn’t say anything, at least not to Alex. He was on the radio seconds later.

  That evening there was another bonfire, and most of the colony was there, drinking alcohol and talking. Alex had sent two of his people to the warehouse to make sure no one stopped them from taking the stuff. The tension of the morning was gone, or at least lessened. Dark looks were cast at Max’s goons, and at Max himself when he finally joined them.

  “Alex’s idea of extra alcohol rations is a good one,” he announced. “And I’m going to implement it right away. People deserve to unwind after a long day’s work.”

  “Good,” someone said.

  “But I stress a ‘long day’s work.’ The work is for everyone’s benefit, and extra rations will be contingent upon honest labor and sincere effort.” Alex saw this for the impotent power play that it was—there was no effective way for Max to enforce such a limit—but it had its desired effect. Max had effectively taken the credit for the alcohol and added yet another incentive for people to do what he wanted. This did not disturb Alex in the slightest. He had accomplished what he’d set out to do. Max’s goons could not stand up to him and his people, and Max didn’t make any effort to curtail Alex’s actions. That told him that either Max could not replace him, or that doing so was difficult. Just how difficult was something Alex was certain he would find out soon enough.

  Chapter 22

  The next few days brought the tedium of a fixed routine, broken only by occasional chances to stick it to the governor in ever more subtle ways. One of these was to allow people to leave the colony to explore the island. Max had summoned him to complain, but when Alex asked him if he wanted him to keep people from leaving by force, the governor balked, then smiled and said, in his infuriatingly affable tone, “Of course, Alex, you’re probably right. Keep me posted.”

  Everyone who left came back the same day, their faces grim, repeating the same story over and over again—everything destroyed, no signs of human life. After the first three groups returned, people stopped exploring and turned their attention to other tasks, like fishing on the beach or working in one of the camps. Once Max’s goons were relegated to fringe roles, what started as forced labor became a relaxed but focused effort to improve the quality of the food supply. Everyone—Alex included—was growing sick of the nutrient powder, and the governor’s tight rationing of the dehydrated foods offered scant relief. After the first boat was launched into the sea and came back with nets full of fish, efforts in the work camps nearly doubled.

  Not everyone shared in the enthusiasm, but that was to be expected. On the afternoon of the second day, Reynard caught a few people sneaking off to rest on the beach not far from the boat building camp. It was the same three girls that Kristoff had bullied into working.

  “I want them flogged!” Reynard had screamed. “This is bullshit! Everyone works!”

  Alex put an end to that notion right away, and Reynard had been forced to settle for depriving them of alcohol rations for the next three days, which had upset them almost as much as the idea of flogging.

  After that, the governor’s stooges finally understood that their leader’s authority had definite limits, and that Alex was standing firmly on that boundary making sure he didn’t cross it. This made Alex’s job a lot easier, and more monotonous.

  Max made his rounds at least once a day, coming by both work areas, smiling, saying words of praise. Alex marveled at the man’s calculated style. He was never the one to crack the whip—he left that to his minions. Max was always cheerful, supportive, even kind. People started to warm up to him after a while, their hatred reserved for the goons that did his bidding. Despite that, two more people joined Max’s retinue. A short chubby kid with a fuzzy beard that couldn’t have been more than eighteen or nineteen, and a slightly taller man in his early twenties. The latter was thin and stoop shouldered, with small eyes that were hardly more than slits sitting above a long nose with a bulbous tip. He reminded Alex of a young and obnoxious looking Richard Gere.

  The chubby one, Jonathan, was the most annoying of the lot. Where the others were nothing more than eager underlings, he was a true sycophant. Alex found it difficult to insult Max, even subtly, without hearing an earful of how great the man was. Unlike Kristoff, who had defended the governor’s actions, Jonathan always spoke about Max himself as though he were a mythological hero lowering himself to walk among ordinary folk.

  The skinny guy, appropriately named Richard, was hard to read. He was polite enough, but there was something behind his all too easy smile that made Alex suspicious. He liked him the least of all of Max’s posse, though the man hadn’t so much as complained about Alex or the things he was doing.

  On the morning of the fourth day after the presidential address, Alex was by the boats, pacing anxiously along the beach. Sandi was with him, though she was busy watching Kristoff, who was supervising the workers. Using cordless power tools, they had built workbenches and saw horses and were cutting trees into lumber of varying sizes. The foreman, a curly haired man with a lanky worker’s build, had the plans on a tablet PC and worked furiously with a measuring laser and marker to make sure the lumber was exactly the right size. He should have been in charge, not Kristoff, who like his counterpart at the farm was completely useless.

  “Everything okay, Captain?” Sandi asked, turning to look at him. Her lips curled into a concerned smile, and Alex noticed how pretty she looked under her Kevlar helmet. Like the rest of his people, she had complained about having to wear it, but after a couple of days she’d grown accustomed to the extra weight.

  “What?” he asked, momentarily forgetting her question. “Oh. Yeah, I’m fine.”

  “You’re pacing,” she said. “And looking back towards the colony. Anything I can help with?”

  “No,” he said, then frowned. “It’s Yael. Her shiva is over today, and she could be out any minute.”

  “What’s a shiva?” she asked, pursing her lips cutely. Alex realized that his hormones were starting to complain about his prolonged celibacy, and though serving in the military had provided him with a measure of tolerance, being surrounded by so many pretty girls was wearing away at him.

  “It’s a Jewish thing,” he explained. “A mourning period.”

  “Oh. I could use one of those.” She looked away, her face changing color slightly.

  “If you want time off…”

  “No, I’m fine. I haven’t given up hope.”

  “Me either.” Though that was a lie. He knew his parents were dead, and every now and then the grief overwhelmed his defenses and forced a reckoning. He cried most nights in his cabin, though the grief would often fade as quickly as it had come, leaving him able to sleep. Being in the colony was so surreal that it made it difficult to maintain a connection to the past, even one as important as his love for his family.

  “If you want to go check, I can handle things here,” she said.

  He shook his head. “Nah, I’m good. I can alway
s talk to her when the work day ends.” He was about to thank her for the offer when his radio went off.

  “Purple Power to Awesome One.” It was Ryan. He’d chosen that call sign after Alex awarded him a Purple Heart. There was an assortment of medals in the arms room desk and giving them to his people seemed as a good a use for them as any.

  “Go ahead Purple Power,” he said into the radio.

  “Alex…I mean Awesome One…you have to get over here!” he said. After his surgery, Ryan had recovered surprisingly quickly, though his left arm was still in a sling.

  “Give me a sitrep.”

  “Max is having David flogged…they’re tying him to a post!”

  Alex turned to Sandi. “Who the fuck is David?”

  “He’s the long haired guy that doesn’t like you. The one who gave you lip when you were making our team.”

  “Oh, that guy.” He spoke into the radio, “Purple Power, what is your position?”

  “Just outside Burger King,” Ryan shouted. “Come quick!” Burger King was their nickname for Max’s cabin.

  “On my way,” he said, then turned to Sandi. “Come with me.”

  They ran to the barrier, where Jonathan the chubby sycophant stood guard.

  “Lower it,” Alex ordered.

  Jonathan hesitated, but finally brought the radio to his mouth. “This is Jonathan, lower the barrier.”

  “It’s down,” someone replied.

  Wasting no time, Alex ran to Max’s cabin with Sandi in tow. There was a small crowd gathered, made up mostly of people taking advantage of the rotating days off Max had implemented at Alex’s insistence. It was yet another of his ideas the governor had taken credit for. Alex pushed past the crowd and saw Bob and Reynard digging a hole while Richard stood watch over the long haired loudmouth, David, who had his hands bound in front of him with a white zip tie. Richard was holding his pistol, pointed at the ground.