Seeds of War

by Fisher, Rachel

  The memory came flooding back to her, and shivers started in her stomach. The machete, gleaming against the blue sky…Her shaking intensified and Asher’s arms gripped her like a vise. She felt guilty all over again. Maybe she shouldn’t have told him.

  He pressed his forehead to hers. “Him?”

  It was exactly the best thing to say. No scolding. No comforting. No platitudes. A small laugh escaped her lips and she felt the shivers begin to subside. Asher was here with her. She was safe. The baby was safe.

  “Yes, him,” she admitted. “At least, I think so. I dream of a boy. Sometimes he has blonde hair and hazel eyes. Sometimes he has red curls and freckles. Of course, I could be wrong.”

  “Mmmmm,” Asher kissed her cheek. She could tell he was growing sleepy again, no doubt part of his hangover recovery.

  “Ash, just to make it official,” Fi added, before he drifted off to sleep, “I agree to your conditions. I promise that no matter what happens…” her voice wobbled as the litany of possibilities raced through her mind, “…I promise that I will stay out of harm’s way.”

  “Well then,” he said, “I guess a vacation to Chicago will be our last trip as non-parents.”

  “Are you suggesting that we get wild and party? Because it seems like you already used up your party card for this Seed.”

  Just as she said this, Fi heard a scuffling noise outside their tent.

  “Oh, God,” a voice groaned. “What time is it?”

  Fi wriggled out of Asher’s grasp and poked her head out. Sean had stumbled from his own tent in his boxer shorts and was crouched barefoot, with his head in his hands. Fi smiled in recognition. Now she knew what “horribly hung over” looked like. It looked like hell.

  “Sean.” He whipped his head around and lost his balance, tumbling onto his side. Fi erupted into giggles and slipped from her tent so she wouldn’t disturb Asher. “C’mon, Sean,” she said, as she gently helped him up.

  “Fi?” His eyes were only partially focused. “What time is it?”

  She was hit by a cloud of stink and recoiled. Ugh, she’d forgotten about hangover breath. “It’s too early to get up, Sean.” He frowned at the sun in confusion. “Trust me,” she added, as she turned him back toward his tent.

  “But what about the stations? Don’t we have to set up some stations today?”

  “Shhh,” Fi held open his tent flap. “There’s plenty of time for that soon enough. Now, go back to bed and get some rest. You’ll feel better the next time you wake up.”

  At least, she thought, I hope you will. He nodded and flopped onto the tent floor next to the dark, limp heap that was Sara. Jeez, she thought. If you ever wanted to win a war, just throw a party for your enemy and then attack the next morning. Even the greatest warriors were no match for a simple hangover. Fi returned to her own tent and wound her way back into Asher’s embrace.

  “Y’see?” he mumbled. “You’re a natural mom.”

  A pang ran through her and she wished she could kiss him, but he was already drifting back to sleep. Her thank you would have to wait. As she relaxed against him, she felt an odd sensation that started between her shoulder blades. It felt like a steady loosening or uncoiling, almost like the opening of a fist. She stretched her neck a bit and rolled her top shoulder. Mmmm. That felt good. The soft, opening feeling traveled out to her limbs, and she stretched her toes and flexed her feet. She drew in a deep breath and blew out, as a tension so deep that she hadn’t even detected it began to leave her.

  Going Home

  Answers

  -----------Asher ------------

  Asher blinked in the bright sunshine of the late August morning. Jack, Trill, and Sadik awaited them in Town Square along with nearly a hundred of the nearby Lakelanders. “You folks really know how to mark an occasion,” Asher remarked, and Jack smiled.

  Fi reached out to grasp Jack’s wrist and folded his hand over hers. “This is our greeting, Jack. We used to call it the Seeker’s greeting, but now it’s just ‘the greeting.”

  “I like it,” Jack smiled. “Like old-fashioned knights or something.”

  “Yes, it’s very serious. Like swearing fealty,” she joked. “It’s our greeting, our promise, and our parting. And…I’m sad to say which one it is today. It’s been an honor to visit Lakeland, to get to know your wonderful residents, and to add you to our growing family of Nets.” The gathered Lakelanders murmured in approval.

  Asher stood back, impressed. She was getting good at these pretty little speeches. He’d seen Fi be formal and impressive before, but this was different somehow. It was like all of her natural mannerisms just pushed her into higher and higher levels of leadership. He knew she’d said exactly what she’d meant in that speech the other night…and now. That was her heart. But it seemed like when she put her heart out there, people responded to her.

  It was a good thing that there was no such thing as politics anymore, he thought, or these people would be begging her to run for office. He chuckled at the thought of tiny Fi and her flaming hair speaking from a podium to a cheering crowd. Of course, in order for that to come true, Fi would be have to be willing to wear a suit. And that was never going to happen.

  “Asher,” Jack’s extended hand roused him from his daydreams. Though he offered it in the traditional shake, Asher followed Fi’s lead and clasped wrists with him.

  “Jack,” Asher met his eyes.

  “Safe travels and good luck in your search,” Jack said, startling him.

  He didn’t realize that anyone had shared the next destination with Jack. Fi touched his arm and he whirled and saw the explanation in her eyes. Of course. She wanted to build a bridge between us. And she’s right. His anger drained away. It was weird how she was so good at that. Even though it was sometimes hard being the man she thought he could be, he never begrudged her expectations. Only his family had expected as much from him, and it felt good.

  “Thank you, Jack,” he murmured, and released his wrist.

  The Seeders each said their goodbyes. As they walked away, they waved and the entire crowd waved back, calling, “Goodbye,” and, “Good Luck.” It was surreal…like they were setting off from the docks on a holiday cruise. The sun was shining, the skies were blue, the air was sweet…and they were off. Off to find his parents.

  Fi strode next to him. “So, are you excited?”

  He could hear the edge of trepidation in her voice, but he nodded. “Yes.”

  Though he’d intended to sound calm, his voice came out tight. He was excited, but he was also nervous. He’d dreamed of setting out to find his parents every single day since the Famine began, but it was always just a dream. Now with a wife and a child on the way, he couldn’t believe that he was finally going to have the chance to answer the question that had haunted him all these years.

  He knew he should be glad that his friends had given him this chance, but all he felt was apprehension. What if they found nothing, no sign or trace of them? Then what would he do? Could he live with it if the question were never answered? Would he just consider them to be dead and move on? What if they did find something? What if they found them…No, he stopped himself. Can’t think about that yet. We still have days before we even get there.

  “How about a word game?” Fi said.

  He turned to her, disoriented, and realized exactly how lost he’d been in his own thoughts. Her eyes were warm and concerned. She knew he was struggling.

  “Good idea,” he said, and exhaled. “Do you want to pick first or solve first?”

  “Pick, of course.”

  She screwed up her face in thought and he groaned. He knew she was going to get really esoteric on him to keep him distracted. Hmmmm, esoteric, he thought. Have to file that one away.

  “Ablution,” she crowed.

  “Are you serious?” He shook his head. She was a silly, vocabulary loon.

  She shot him a mock evil look. “Dead serious. Now stop beating around the bush and work on that one for me.”
<
br />   “All right, let me think.” Grateful for the distraction, he let his mind wander into the corridors of vocabulary

  A week later, they reached a small neighborhood just outside the city. When he saw the beat-up “historic district” sign that marked his old home, his heart began to pound. As they wound their way down the once-familiar streets, Asher felt his stomach clench. His neighborhood was a Ghost Town. Nothing stirred but the wind. Broken glass and dead cars littered the streets.

  Though he’d expected this, seeing it was far more painful than he could have imagined. Each step drew him deeper into his memories: the corner where he used to wait for the bus among mountains of snow, the park where he’d played pick-up basketball in the searing summertime, the scar on the curb where he’d bungled his first parallel parking lesson.

  Asher turned the corner and froze. There it was. At the end of the street, the last house in the row. The only one lucky enough to have its own tree, an old oak, towering in its small patch of lawn. It had a fake red brick façade and a bay window on both the first and second floors.

  He began walking again slowly, the pull of the house almost magnetic as he slipped through the small iron gate. The leaves rustled and he looked up, temporarily confused. He’d climbed that tree and listened to that same wind rustle in its leaves a thousand times. What had that tree seen, he wondered? Did it know where his parents had gone? His throat tightened and he swallowed reflexively. Only the tree was left. The lone witness.

  Behind him, Fi turned to Sean and Sara. “You guys keep watch.”

  Asher barely heard their murmurs as he stared at the door. It was slightly ajar, though there did not appear to be any obvious damage. He placed his foot on the first concrete step as if he were dreaming. He’d climbed these steps every day for years. Despite the devastation and the silence all around him…he was home.

  ------------Fi-------------

  Fi followed Asher up the stairs, his silent shadow. He didn’t look back at her as he stepped across the threshold. He also didn’t draw his weapon, which freaked her out, but she could hardly say anything. Besides, the oppressive silence spoke volumes.

  She swept in behind him, her hand hovering over her gun, just in case. The house had obviously been abandoned when the Famine began. It was small and cozy, with a large, crocheted afghan thrown over the back of the soft brown couch. The staircase was close to the door, but Asher drifted into the living room at their left. His hand trailed over tables and countertops, cutting deep tracks through the coverlet of dust. He was silent, and Fi did nothing to break into his thoughts. She knew that this kind of pain was not helped by anything. You just had to deal with it one frigid stab at a time.

  Asher moved to the stairs with Fi in his wake. She was surprised to see that old-fashioned family photos lined the hallway in the staircase. That was unusual. Most people had switched to screens that displayed hundreds of photos from the Internet. There were several places where photos appeared to have been removed from the wall. At this, Asher made a small sound, his fingers touching the lighter spots on the wall. Fi desperately wanted to ask him about the missing pictures, but she remained silent. One thing was clear: Asher’s parents had left in a hurry, but they had taken some precious things with them. No thief would have stolen these pictures.

  As they passed, Fi glanced at the remaining photos and suppressed a gasp. Staring back at her from a picture with a man, a woman, and a small, blonde boy, was Asher. It was his stark cheekbones, his mouth, and the curve of his eyes as he smiled. Though she knew this must be Asher’s father, and the boy in the picture must be a young Asher, the resemblance still came as a shock.

  In the picture, Asher couldn’t have been more than four years old. He was seated on his father’s shoulders, with a gap-toothed grin on his face and what looked like a chocolate stain on his shirt. At least, she assumed it was chocolate, because it matched the brown stains around his mouth. She recognized the signs of a toddler who’d been given an ice cream cone. She’d had to practically hose Kiara down a few times when she was young.

  All of them were smiling. They were happy. Her heart twisted and she felt knocked backward as she suffered the full weight of Asher’s loss. This was a loving family, just like hers. Though she’d known this, seeing the picture, seeing their smiles and loving touches… He must be desperate at this point, she thought. It was one thing to be an orphan like she was, but it was another not to even know.

  Asher’s mother leaned into his father, her arm around his waist. Just as Asher had said, his mother was a wisp of a woman. She barely came up to his father’s chest. The thing Fi hadn’t expected was that his mother would be Asian. Of course she was, Fi thought, suddenly feeling stupid. He’d said his grandfather was some crazy, 6th Duan or something in Tai Chi. Why didn’t she assume he might be Chinese? But then, that would make Asher…her mind raced as she realized all the things she didn’t know about him and his family.

  She turned back to the picture. This time what struck her was his mother’s beauty. Her ebony hair hung to her chin, framing her oval face. Her dark eyes were huge, making her appear even younger. Fi’s heart ached with desire to meet her. This was her mother-in-law, she thought, as she stroked the dusty glass with her fingertips. She took it down and wiped it off. Asher had to have this picture.

  As she tucked it into her pack, she was startled by a strange flutter in her stomach. Hmph. What was that? She wasn’t hungry. Maybe her stomach was upset? The baby did tend to give her heartburn a lot lately. Lost in her thoughts, Fi finally noticed that Asher had already disappeared into a bedroom at the top of the stairs. She started to follow him, and then she felt the strange feeling again. This time if felt like a small tug in her back. What the hell? As she continued up the stairs she felt it again, and her hand flew to her belly. Oh my God. Her heart began to pound as she made her way up the stairs.

  When she turned into the bedroom, she found Asher staring at the wall above the bed. “He took his weapons,” he said, his voice excited.

  He waved toward the wall, where Fi could just make out the shadows, the ghosts of objects that had long hung, untouched. Until someone had needed them, she thought. Against the soft dove color of the wallpaper Fi could see the bluish outline of a long jian, like Asher’s. Beside it was the aura of long, curved saber. Wow. How did Asher’s father carry both weapons? Or more importantly, what must Asher’s father look like walking around with those weapons?

  “So, what does that mean?” she asked.

  “Don’t you see, Fi? They packed up, like you, and took off to survive. My father never would have accepted the government’s story. He was too suspicious,” he said, and then laughed. “Now I’m glad.”

  Fi was confused. They’d found nothing. Why was he so happy?

  Asher saw her frown. “I know, it would’ve been better if they were here. But now I know that Dad took his weapons and my mother, and hightailed it out there to survive. If anyone could keep my mother alive, it’s my dad. If I didn’t know that Dad had been with her, that they were together…” He sat down on the bed and shook his head. “Let’s just say that I have a lot more hope now. If the Lobos think that I’m scary, they’ll be really unprepared to meet my father.” He grinned.

  Fi exhaled, feeling the tension leave her. As she sat on the bed beside him, she felt another flutter in her belly and a giggle rose in her throat. That’s right. She had news as well. She clapped her hand over her mouth, but Asher noticed anyway. His expression was quizzical.

  “Well,” she said, “I know that this isn’t the good news we’d hoped for, but it’s better than our worst worry. And, um, I have a little more positive news.” She placed his hand on her belly, down low, and his eyebrows flew up. She put her finger to his lips, quieting his question.

  Suddenly the flutter tugged at her belly again, and Asher’s eyes turned to saucers. “Is that…?”

  She dropped her head, suddenly shy. “Yes. I felt him the first time on the stairs, when I wished th
at I could meet your mother…that he could meet your mother.”

  The baby kicked again, and Asher jumped, his hand still pressed to her belly. “Whoa. I don’t know if it’s a boy, Fi. She seems to have your personality.”

  Fi smacked him lightly and stood. When Asher sat and she stood, she was exactly his height. She leaned in and gave him a sweet kiss. “Is there anything else you’d like to see here?”

  He nodded and pulled her behind him toward another bedroom. The other room was painted white and deep blue. It was neat in the way that a teenaged boy’s room only becomes when he goes away to college. Trophies lined two shelves of the bookcase in the corner. Asher’s trophies, she thought, from his martial arts tournaments. He went straight to the closet and began rooting around. Pulling out a box, he dumped it onto the bed. Papers, photos, and other items tumbled onto the grey bedspread. Something glinted in the sunlight and he grabbed it.

  “Ah. Hundred years lucky,” he said.

  He held out the coin and Fi plucked it from his hand. It was gold, with a square hole in the center, and a ring of light green stone encircling it.

  “Jade,” Asher explained. “It was from my grandfather. He gave it to me before my first big tournament. Said it would make me ‘a hundred years lucky.’” He smiled. “It was kind of a family joke. Asians are really into luck and symbols.”

  Fi cocked her head, intrigued. Asher had never really talked about his heritage. In fact, since that first night, he hadn’t talked about his parents much at all. Fi hadn’t pushed him because she knew it was a source of pain, but it was nice to know more about his family.

  She turned the coin in her fingertips. “Soooooooooo, you’re Chinese. Don’t know why I didn’t really think of that before.” Her smile was strained.