Seed Police

by Gayla Prewitt

  “I don't know what you are talking about,” responded the gentleman, attempting to shut the door. Reverend Cameron pushed his foot between the door and its jam preventing the door’s closure.

  “I'm sorry, sir. But there’s a five-year-old girl in the hospital that could be dying. We desperately need your help,” insisted the reverend.

  “Who are you?”

  “I'm Reverend Ben Cameron. This is Congressman Jack Landon. If we could have just a few minutes of your time,” pleaded the pastor.

  “How do I know you’re who you say you are?” asked the man.

  “You don't. You're just going to have to trust us,” persuaded the minister. “But why would we come here if we weren't telling the truth?”

  “I told you I don't know anything about a food disease,” retorted the elderly man. The reverend let down his guard giving the gentleman a chance to close the door. The two men assumed they had lost their opportunity to talk with the mysterious man behind the proverbial curtain when they heard the door chain unfasten from inside. The reverend took the liberty of trying the knob, turning it to gain entry into the house. Not sure if this man was the person they were looking for, the two proceeded inside, hoping to determine if this was the good doctor.

  The home smelled of mothballs and camphor. Books overflowed the shelves of the home library, spilling onto the floor. The stacks of leather-bound editions left only a narrow path to navigate down the middle of the room. The reverend accidentally kicked one of many empty bottles that littered the floor. The glass shot across the room. At the end of the maze sat the man, riffling through a mountain of papers piled on an old wooden desk. He seemed not to be alarmed by the men’s presence.

  “There’s a doctor much like you used to be, desperately trying to save her patients,” said the minister. He hoped to appeal to the man’s sense of service. “Her colleague uncovered information talking about you, and how you healed your patients with similar symptoms as the patients dying now.”

  “Just for argument’s sake, suppose I am this doctor. What do you think I could do?” responded the man.

  “The research talks about an extract that you made from seeds — unmodified natural seeds that made your patients well,” said the pastor.

  “Aw! And there you have it,” replied the man. His demeanor was somewhat condescending. “The government doesn't allow such seeds.”

  “What if we told you some pristine seeds have survived the government eradication program?” interjected Congressman Landon.

  “What’s this?” asked the man. His eyes twinkled.

  “There’s a small group of people who have managed to hide from government patrols, explained Jack. “They call themselves the “Seed Savers.” They’ve preserved the last pure seeds on earth.”

  “I’ve hoped before. I don’t know if I’m ready to go down that road again.”

  “You’re our last hope,” replied the reverend.

  “Me? I’m old and washed-up. A has been.”

  “Remember who you are,” said Cameron.

  The doctor turned and went into his office. Numerous awards, a medical diploma, and pictures with classmates dotted the walls. While reviewing the gallery of his life’s accomplishments, the doctor took a swig from a half-empty bottle and then placed the bottle in his coat pocket. He returned to the room where Reverend Cameron and Congressman Landon waited. He walked passed the pair.

  “Where are you going,” asked the reverend.

  “To get my coat,” said the older gentleman. “We have work to do.” There was no longer any doubt; they had their man.

  Later that same night, the three men arrived at the front entrance of Community Hospital. This time, Congressman Landon was in the driver’s seat. “Dr. Rogers and I will find Dr. Simpson,” directed the minister. “You take the car and get the seeds,” he told Congressman Landon. The reverend and Dr. Rogers entered the hospital lobby as Jack drove away.

  “You stay here,” Reverend Cameron instructed the doctor. “I'll find Dr. Simpson. Try to keep a low profile.”

  “I'll do my best, assured Dr. Rogers. The doctor picked up a magazine to peruse, hoping to blend in with the lobby-waiting crowd. He noticed a man in a suit watching him. Feeling uneasy, the doctor turned to find a more secure spot. At that moment, he bumped into another man, knocking his magazine onto the floor. The doctor’s face turned ashen when he realized the man was Ted Harris.

  “Dr. Rogers? My, what a nice surprise. What could you possibly be doing here?” greeted Harris.

  “Uh, nothing big. Just some research.”

  “Research? Interesting. What sort of research could have brought you out of retirement?” questioned Harris.

  Dr. Rogers didn’t answer.

  “I can’t hear you!” Rogers continued to stand in silence. “You know what, I think, Dr. Rogers? I think you should’ve stayed in retirement.” Harris grabbed the doctor’s arm. “Let’s go.”

  Meanwhile, Reverend Cameron located Dr. Simpson charting at the nurses’ station. “I've got Dr. Rogers,” he told her as he approached the desk.

  “Where is he?” asked the doctor.

  “In the lobby, come with me.” However, when the pair arrived at the spot where the minister left the doctor, he was gone.

  “Where is he?” asked Dr. Simpson, confused.

  “I left him here,” said the minister. The two scanned the area. Reverend Cameron approached a woman sitting in the lobby, hoping to get some information. “Excuse me, ma’am; did you see the gentleman that came with me?”

  “The one with the furry hat?” the woman responded.

  “Yes, that's him,” said the reverend.

  “Some men came, they talked a minute — and then they all left,” she replied.

  “Did you see where they went?” he asked.

  “That way.” She pointed to the end of the hallway.

  Meanwhile, several blocks from the hospital, Jack Landon was stuck in heavy traffic. “Come on!” He pounded on the steering wheel.

  At the bomb shelter, the families watched the door’s latch turn for a second time. They hoped once again for a friendly visitor, but this would not be a happy ending. Ted Harris walked into the underground sanctuary. “What do we have here? Johnny Appleseed and the whole crew.” Harris relished his prize.

  Government agents gathered the children, pushing them into a group. “Leave them alone. They're just children,” demanded Sarah Sanders.

  “We were all children, once, Mrs. Sanders. Cuff ’em all,” he directed the agents. “There’s a time for everything. A time for you being a thorn in my side just ended.”

  Across the street, Congressman Landon arrived just in time to witness the roundup of the families. Watching from around the corner, he returned to his car, hoping to escape capture.

  Back at Community Hospital, Dr. Simpson and Reverend Cameron plotted their next move. “I think I know where he is. And I have an idea about how to get him out,” confided the doctor.

  “We're going to need some time for the congressman to get back with the seeds,” advised the minister.

  “I'll see what I can do,” responded Dr. Simpson.

  Chapter 28

  The Last Seeds

  Morning found Emily still slumbering in the pile of papers Chance had used to make a soft resting place for the night. The sound of Chance stirring awakened her, as he was getting ready to leave the warehouse.

  “Where are you going?” she asked

  “To get us some breakfast,” he replied.

  “Hurry back, or I just might change my mind about you joining me on my world tour,” she smiled playfully. Chance smiled back as he left their refuge to again face the suspicious convenience store clerk.

  With little money left, Chance scanned the aisles, hoping to find something that was filling and somewhat nutritious. While shopping, Chance encountered a familiar face on the television monitor behind the checkout desk — his! Chance’s blood ran cold as not only pictures of him, b
ut also his entire family were displayed on the screen.

  “If you see any of these suspects, you’re advised to call the government security office immediately,” said the TV announcer.

  Chance felt the eyes of the clerk fixed on his face, and he knew he needed to get out of the store fast. Once he was in the street, Chance detected a man coming from the other side of the road. Chance changed directions; the man copied his move. Chance turned on a side street, the man again followed.

  When Chance reached the warehouse, he decided not to go inside. Emily watched through a crack in the siding of the old building as Chance walked past the door. She wondered why Chance didn’t come into the warehouse until she witnessed the man tracking him. Chance turned down an alley and picked up his pace. The man matched his stride. Chance, now running, came to the end of the lane, with no way out. He turned to face the man, a government agent, holding a gun.

  “Okay, turn around!” demanded the agent.

  He shoved Chance against a fence and began frisking him. Feeling a lump in Chance’s left shirt pocket, the man reached inside, pulling out the small pouch filled with seeds.

  “What do we have here?” the man gloated. He opened the packet and poured the seeds onto the ground. In an instant, a board whacked the man on the back of the head. The agent looked at Chance, his eyes grew large, teetering, he fell face-first into the dirt. Chance stared at the man, motionless on the ground. Not far behind stood Emily grasping the board that had delivered the crushing blow.

  “Help me pick these up?” Chance asked. He was fearful more agents might arrive any minute. The two knelt, retrieving the seeds scattered in the soil. “You didn't tell me you had seeds,” said Emily.

  “I thought if you didn't know you would be safe, that they would leave you alone.”

  “We're in this together.” She looked into his steel-blue eyes. At that moment, she felt a closeness to him that she hadn’t before. The two made quick work of getting the seeds back into the packet. With footsteps drawing near, Chance grabbed Emily’s hand and rushed back to the warehouse.

  “Why are we here? They’ll find us,” she said.

  “I have a plan,” said Chance. He lifted a tarp; underneath it, Chance viewed what appeared to him as a two-wheeled marvel. Emily only saw a monstrosity.

  “I’m not riding on that thing,” said Emily. “Do you even know how to drive it?”

  “I used to ride my dad’s until he had to sell it,” replied Chance. Without time for further debate, flashlights panned the glass front doors of the warehouse. Emily changed her mind, jumped on the back of the motorcycle, clinging to Chance’s waist. Chance leaned over and placed a small piece of paper on the ground. It read, “I.O.U., Chance Sanders.”

  The motorcycle burst through the door catching the government patrol unaware. Chance turned the bike and sped down a side street. By this time, most of the agents had reached their cars and were in rapid pursuit of the motorcycle riding duo.

  “What now?” asked Emily.

  “I’m not exactly sure.”

  “What?” She could see the agents behind getting closer. Up ahead was a toll bridge. Chance maneuvered the motorcycle between the gates, leaving the agents to navigate their way through the blocked road. One of the agents flashed his badge for the booth operator, prompting him to raise the gates. The stunt helped Emily and Chance gain some distance from the patrol. Not far from there, Chance spotted a train station.

  “Hold on,” he said. “It’s going to be a bumpy ride.” Emily grasped Chance even tighter. He directed the bike down a long set of stairs. The motorcycle bumped its way to the bottom.

  “Are you okay?” asked Chance.

  “I’m okay,” said Emily.

  Leaving the bike behind, the two raced to the train readying for departure. Just as they were entering the train car, Chance spotted an agent checking passengers up ahead. “Turn around,” he said. The two exited the railcar. “Up here,” said Chance. He climbed a maintenance ladder on the outside to the top of the carriage. Emily followed. The two had just reached the top when the train jerked forward. Not having time to steady herself, Emily lost her balance and fell, dangling off the edge. Chance reached her left hand, gripped tight, and started to pull her back onto the top of the car. While he was leaning over, the seed packet flew from his pocket. A drawstring on the pouch caught on a hook just out of reach of Emily’s right arm. The package bobbed in the wind. “Can you reach it,” asked Chance. Still holding on to Chance, Emily stretched to snag the pouch. Chance felt his grasp on Emily’s hand failing. “Never mind, it’s not worth it,” said Chance.

  “I can get it,” said Emily. She pulled closer to the pouch. Chance struggled to maintain his hold.

  “No, Emily!” Just when Chance felt his grip loosening, Emily grabbed the packet. Changing her momentum, he was able to pull her up from the side as she fell into his arms. Exhausted, the two lay on the surface, watching the miles roll by, wondering what dangers lay ahead.

  Chapter 29

  The Good Doctor

  At Community Hospital, a pair of government agents stood guard outside one of the rooms in the west wing. Dr. Simpson approached the two men.

  “I need to examine your prisoner,” she said.

  “We have orders. No one goes in,” responded one of the guards.

  “We have a deadly epidemic on our hands and there’s reason to believe that your prisoner may be a carrier of the disease,” insisted Dr. Simpson.

  “Orders are orders,” replied the 2nd guard.

  “Let me ask you something. How are you feeling? If he is a carrier, you could be dead before we even know what made you sick.”

  The two men looked at each other. “I guess a quick check couldn't hurt,” acknowledged the 1st guard. “But make sure it's quick.”

  Dr. Simpson pushed between the two guards, entering the room. In the corner sat Dr. Rogers. “Dr. Rogers, I'm Doctor Charity Simpson,” she introduced herself. “And I'm going to try to get you out of here.”

  “I didn’t think anyone would come,” replied the old man.

  “Put this on,” instructed Dr. Simpson. She handed the elderly doctor a surgical mask. He placed it over his face and planted himself in the wheelchair provided by Dr. Simpson.

  His hands trembled as he stretched them out in front of him. Dr. Simpson noticed the anomaly. Sensing her gaze, Dr. Rogers offered an explanation. “Self-induced, I’m afraid.”

  “We’ll see if we can give you something for that. Here we go! This may be a wild ride,” she cautioned. She propelled the wheelchair into the door, pushing it open. Seeing her, one of the guards quickly stepped in front, trying to impede her movement.

  “Where do you think you're going?”

  “It would appear from a preliminary examination that your prisoner is a carrier,” responded Dr. Simpson.

  “You can't take him,” objected the 2nd guard.

  “I don't think you understand,” protested Dr. Simpson. “This is a highly contagious disease. If I were you, I would stand back,” she warned. “I am going to need to do some more testing. Your life may depend on it.”

  The two guards relaxed their stance, moving some distance from the doctor and her wheelchair occupant. Sensing there would be no more resistance, the doctor continued down the hallway as the guards watched her exit.

  Chapter 30

  A Rendezvous

  Chance and Emily, still on the run, were making their way through a dense woods. Chance, hoping to find shelter before nightfall, kept a brisk pace. Emily began to fall farther and farther behind. Chance noticed Emily struggling and went back to check on her. She sat at the bottom of a large oak, shivering, with beads of sweat glistening on her forehead.

  “Are you okay, Emily?” asked Chance.

  “I'm so cold.” She crossed her arms, hugging her shoulders, trying to collect the warmth.

  “It's boiling hot out here,” replied Chance, now very concerned. He reached to feel Emily’s forehead. “
You’re burning up.” He noticed a big rash on Emily’s arm.

  “I can't go on.”

  “I'll carry you,” assured Chance.

  “You can't do that. Just leave me.” With resignation, she lay on the hard ground next to the mammoth tree.

  “I will never leave you.” Chance grabbed Emily and put her over his shoulder.

  Meanwhile, Ted Harris visited a secure government facility checking the progress of his plan, making sure everything was still on track. At the end of a long hallway, Harris entered an obscure room with monitors blanketing the walls. In a far corner, a lone technician typed on a computer keyboard. “Where are we?” questioned Harris.

  “Almost ready,” responded the technician.

  “Good! We need to move up the launch.”

  The technician continued his work. Harris loomed over the data entry inspecting the activity. “I’ve installed several firewalls,” said the technician. “Should be un-hackable.” His fingers continued to punch the keys. “Do wonder, what’s the deal with all the verses?”

  “You’ve got to appreciate good literature,” said Harris.

  “If you say so,” said the technician.

  Harris gave the computer guru a swift pat on the back. “ And besides, who would think it?”

  “What about a fail-safe code?” asked the tech.

  “What?”

  “You know, in case you change your mind.”

  “I don’t EVER change my mind!” responded Harris.

  Not far away at Community Hospital, Congressman Jack Landon snuck into a side entrance of the hospital. He then slipped into a supply closet and borrowed some surgical scrubs for a disguise. Moments later, the congressman discovered Reverend Cameron sitting in the lobby watching a news report.

  “Casualties have topped 12 thousand deaths from the nationwide epidemic,” announced the news anchor. “Government authorities continue to search for the fugitives they say are responsible.”