Seed

by Lisa Heathfield

  “It was Papa S.,” he says. “Nature wasn’t crushing you, it was Papa S.”

  No. No. He’s got it wrong.

  But Ellis is pushing the walls and they’re going in.

  “Nature could still have moved them,” I say. But I know I don’t believe it.

  “Look,” Ellis says and he steps back toward the tape recorder. He kneels down and presses one of the buttons. Instantly the woman’s screams crush into my head. I cover my ears, until Ellis presses another button and they stop.

  “Did Papa S. tell you that these screams came from your bones?” Ellis asks me. I don’t reply. He knows the answer. “It’s just a tape. He just pressed Play.”

  “But why?” I ask.

  “Because he wants to control you. And if you’re frightened, you’ll do whatever he tells you. And he was using terror to control her too. Whoever she was, Pearl, she was terrified.”

  I stare at Ellis. I don’t want to ask, but I know I have to. Because her screams were real. She was begging them to stop.

  “Who is she?”

  “I don’t know.” Ellis shakes his head. The coffin in the fire crackles in my mind. “But there’s more.” He presses the Forward button and there’s a whirring sound. Then it’s Papa S.’s voice I hear, coming from the tape recorder.

  “… unconscious. I’ll take her upstairs.” His voice sounds strained. There’s someone else talking, a man, in the background. Papa S. shouts. “No! Leave us.”

  Kate is knocking at the door. We have to get out of here. Ellis stops the tape and we run to the door. Kate has opened it. We walk through, just as Kindred John appears around the corner. He comes up close to us.

  “What are you doing here?” he asks. There’s no warmth in his voice and he’s staring hard at Ellis.

  “I was looking for you,” Ellis says. “I thought that I could help you with that table you’re working on. You could teach me.” Ellis smiles at him, doesn’t flinch for a second.

  Kindred John looks around, at the Forgiveness Room door shut tight behind us. “Of course,” he says, his words squeezing through his teeth.

  Kate takes my hand. My arm brushes Kindred John as I walk past.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  The only sound I can hear is the thread pulling through the material. I am sitting with Kate. She concentrates on the skirt she’s sewing, her forehead folded into a frown.

  “Sylvie was my mother. Elizabeth told me.” My words stop Kate and she puts the needle onto her lap. “And now I will never see her.”

  She reaches out to hold my hand. “She would have looked just like you.”

  “But I will never know her. I will never hear her voice.”

  The door opens and Rachel is here. “There you are.” She smiles at me. “Papa S. wants to see you.”

  Kate doesn’t let go of my hand.

  “He’s in the kitchen,” Rachel says.

  Kate looks at me. “I’ll have to go,” I say. And I move Kate’s fingers from mine, feeling the sharp sting of the needle as it scrapes my fingertips.

  Papa S. is alone in the kitchen. Is he going to punish me for shouting at him? For blaming him for Elizabeth’s dying? I won’t say sorry, because I do blame him. He puts his arms out to me, but I don’t go to him. Confusion clouds his face.

  “Come to me, Pearl,” he says.

  Do I have a choice? I hesitate, but I walk toward him. He puts his hand on my head and holds me to his chest. I can hear his heart beating, but it doesn’t comfort me and I want to pull away. His hair brushes my cheek and instantly I see the hair crackling in the fire.

  “Come now,” he says. His hand feels large in mine. He leads me from the kitchen, across the hallway.

  The Forgiveness Room. Are we going to the Forgiveness Room? Does he know? I need to break away, to run from him.

  “Do not be afraid,” Papa S. says. He smiles at me. His teeth look gray.

  I walk with him, his hand tight on mine. We get closer. I can see the door. But he takes me past. Papa S. leads me toward his study. He smiles at me.

  He pushes open his heavy door. And when I step through, he closes it behind me.

  “Come,” he says. And he takes me to the sofa pushed against his window.

  Outside, I can just make out the figure of Jack, standing alone in the field. I want him to come and take me away from here.

  “You are hurting, Pearl,” Papa S. says as he sits me down.

  “Yes,” I answer.

  “Then I am disappointed in you.” His eyes stare into me.

  “But Elizabeth …” My throat burns.

  “It was her time,” Papa S. says. “This was the right way, the only way.”

  “But the baby,” I whisper. Doesn’t he feel any sadness?

  “The baby grew, so that it could take Elizabeth back to Nature.”

  Nature didn’t take Elizabeth. You let her die.

  “We should have taken her to the hospital,” I say quietly. Courage is building in me.

  “You know that it’s your fault?” Papa S. smiles at me. “You left my chamber and Nature waited to punish you. And she chose to take the most precious thing from you.”

  “No,” I whisper. Please don’t let this be true.

  “Yes. Nature punishes all things bad,” he says.

  But Elizabeth wasn’t bad. She was everything pure.

  “Did you not see the swarm of flies that came in from Outside?” Papa S. asks me, his voice strong with rage. “They came like a black cloud and Elizabeth opened her mouth and let them in.”

  No, there was no swarm of flies. I think of the bees in Ellis’s stomach, the bees that never hatched.

  Papa S. reaches out and touches my cheek. “Soon it will be your time, Pearl.”

  “For Nature to take me?” I ask. Papa S. laughs.

  And now I am afraid. I imagine my body in the bonfire.

  “To be my Companion,” he says.

  To be his Companion. To be with him in his bed. His breath on my face. My hand on his robe.

  Please look at me, Jack. Come and save me.

  I must smile.

  “Thank you,” I say, but my stomach hurts.

  “Without each other, we are nothing, Pearl. Without our family, there is no point in anything.” Papa S. slips his fingers into my hair. “Like liquid sun,” he breathes.

  “Who is Sylvie?” I ask. He freezes and my breath stops. I didn’t mean to ask.

  “Who is Sylvie?” His voice is low, his words slow. “Is that what you asked?” He puts both hands on my shoulders and won’t let me look away. “Why do you mention that name?”

  “It is something Nana Willow said.”

  Papa S. drops his hands from me. “Her mind is rotten with age, Pearl,” Papa S. says.

  Elizabeth told me too.

  “Soon,” he says. “You will walk with me. We will be as one.” He smiles as he leans forward, and he’s kissing me on my lips. I jump back. There is a flash of fury in his eyes, but then he kisses his palm and holds it over my heart. His fingers press at my skin through my shirt.

  “Soon,” he says. Then he takes his hand from me. “Now go.”

  I get up. He sees me walk out of his room. He sees me doing as he asks. But Papa S., you cannot see my thoughts. You cannot see where they are leading me.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  I can’t sleep. It’s no good. Shadows from the moon are filtering through cracks in the curtains, and I’m willing sleep to come, but it won’t. Words and thoughts are fighting for space in my head. Somewhere, I can hear Elizabeth whispering my name. Somewhere, I can hear the crying of her baby.

  I am hot in these sheets, the blanket heavy on me and I can’t bear it any longer. I think I know where I am going as I leave my bed and creep silently across our bedroom floor.

  The darkness is my friend, I tell myself as I go down the corridor. It is just Nature sleeping.

  I hold my breath as I walk, quiet as air, down the stairs. There’s no one here. No one to see me. Is
there? I won’t look behind me.

  In the kitchen, the drawer makes too much noise as I pull it open. But the flashlight is there and I hold it in my hand as I tiptoe to Nana Willow’s door.

  I turn the handle. The door opens and I’m inside, in total blackness. I click the flashlight on and it glares at Nana Willow as she lies sleeping in her bed. She doesn’t move.

  Gently, I walk toward her. I want to say her name, but I don’t say a word. Her face is thinner than before. Her body is fading away. Soon she will sink into her sheets and disappear.

  She opens her eyes, blinks wildly in the light, twists her head away. I move the beam quickly, so that it shines on her empty table instead.

  “I’m sorry,” she says, her eyes shut tight. “Please don’t hurt me again.” She moves her hand up to her eyes. There is a deep bruise on her arm, rotten and green.

  “I won’t hurt you, Nana Willow,” I say, stepping toward her.

  She flinches. “I’ll be good. I promise, I’ll be good,” she whimpers.

  “I am Pearl,” I say. But she won’t look at me. Her fingers stay covering her eyes, her face on the edge of the flashlight’s beam.

  “Who hurt you?” I ask her. She’s crying. I can see the tears on her cheeks.

  “Please don’t hurt me again,” she says. “I won’t tell a soul.”

  “Nana Willow, where is Sylvie?” I ask.

  She opens her eyes, cracks her head toward me. And she’s staring right at me, through to my bones. “Pearl?” she asks.

  “Yes. Where is my mother?”

  “They took her away from me,” she whispers. “They said they would keep her safe. But if I told, then Nature would punish her.”

  “Where is she now? I want to see her.”

  “They hid her away. They said if I was quiet I would see her again.”

  “Who hid her away?” I don’t want to ask. My world is crumbling around me and I think her words will crush me. But I have to know.

  “They hurt her.”

  “Who hurt her? Where is she?”

  “She is gone,” Nana Willow says. It’s difficult to hear her, as she struggles with her tears. “He locked her away. For years, he locked her away. But now he says she is gone.”

  Gone.

  “What did he do to her?” I ask, but she curls onto her side and brings her knees up tight. “Nana Willow?” Suddenly in my memory I see the fire, and sickness sweeps through me. Have I seen my mother, her face covered by the flames? “Nana Willow.” I start to shake her shoulder.

  But someone is walking upstairs. I can hear the floorboards creak above us. I try to work out whose room it is, but my mind can’t make sense of anything. I turn the flashlight off and run to the door, closing it quietly behind me. I don’t have time to go to the kitchen, so I leave the flashlight on the table in the hall as I pass. I run up the stairs, lifted by fear, because I know I will get caught.

  There are two shapes coming out of our bedroom. One is Kate, the other is Kindred John. His hand is on her shoulder. He is leading her from our room. They stop when they see me.

  I keep walking. I have to be calm. “What’s wrong?” I ask. “Kate, where are you going?”

  Her eyes may still be sleepy, but I know that she doesn’t want to be here.

  They hurt her. She is gone.

  I stare at Kindred John. Was it my mother in the coffin? Did you watch my mother burn?

  “I will look after her now,” I say. And I take Kate’s hand. But he still holds her shoulder. “We’re fine,” I say. There is challenge in my eyes.

  Before he can reply, I pull Kate with me, back into the room. His hand falls from her and I close the door on him.

  Kate stares at me. She’s shivering in her nightdress. She puts her head on my shoulder. Her tears are in my hair.

  As I tuck the blanket around her bed, I imagine us running from here. But every time we get through the gate, there’s another one we cannot see. It’s made of the hands of Papa S. The skin twitches as we get close, and his whispers cover my breath and drag me back to Seed.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Heather is Papa S.’s Companion as we walk up to Dawn Rocks. Normally her smile would light her face, but there is a sadness that holds her down.

  The darkness shifts around us. It is trying to disappear. Birds are calling for the sun to rise.

  Maybe Elizabeth didn’t die, and she is walking behind me. If I listen, I’ll be able to hear the murmurs of our baby clutched tight in Rachel’s arms. But there’s nothing except the sound of our feet, crunching on the fallen leaves.

  At the rocks, I sit between Ellis and Kate. We look straight ahead, but our thoughts loop in and out of each other’s. Jack holds Ruby on his lap. Her head is tucked into him. She can’t see the sorrow in his eyes.

  Papa S. turns to us. My skin prickles at the sight of his beard.

  Did you kill my mother?

  He opens his mouth to speak. His eyes are wide and he’s staring at the muddy sky. No words come. No sound.

  He sinks to the ground and falls forward until his face is on the wet grass. Papa S.’s hands claw at the green shoots. Earth blackens his fingers.

  Jack holds Ruby’s head, so she can’t see.

  Do I imagine the shape that walks quietly forward on the grass? A woman. She has hair like mine, like Elizabeth’s. Even in this scratchy light, it shines bright, floating like white water down her back. It’s my mother. I know it’s my mother. I want to go to her, but I can barely breathe. I think she will comfort him. I think she will put her arms around Papa S. and make everything better.

  But she places her bare feet on his sprawled back. She walks up his spine.

  And then Papa S. howls. A sound of the deepest, darkest night, just as the sun shows herself above the horizon. I look at the sky, so quickly. But when I look back, my mother has gone.

  And Papa S. is standing up. Smears of mud are on his skin. He is smiling at us, but it feels so wrong.

  “I am dying,” he says.

  I know I have heard the words right. He’s nodding at us and I won’t look away from him. Heather gasps, reaches her hand out and clasps his cloak in her fingers. Gently, he touches her hair.

  “Yes, I am dying.” His voice is soft, like honey. “I do not have much time.”

  I feel Kate squeeze my hand. I glance at Ellis and he’s looking at me. In his eyes, I see Kindred John. In his eyes, I see Elizabeth lifeless on her bed. And through the trees, my mother walks and slowly burns to ash.

  Papa S. is hugging everyone. Kindred Smith. Linda. Bobby. Ellis stays as still as the rock when Papa S. holds his arms round him. When it is my turn, I have to put my arms round his back. His cloak feels soft. I ache at the memories of happiness.

  Kate flinches back. She won’t let Papa S. touch her. Disbelief sparks in his eyes, but his strange smile never disappears as he steps away from her.

  Then everyone is walking back down to the house and the sun is rising in the sky. I watch as, one by one, they follow Papa S. Jack, with Ruby still in his arms, looks back at me. I want to call out to him, to ask him to stay with us. But my words don’t come and slowly he walks away.

  The rock is cold under me. Kate, Ellis, and I sit in silence, watching our family as they are swallowed by the trees.

  Who are you, Papa S.?

  “Don’t believe him,” Ellis says. “He isn’t dying. He just wants to freak you out. It’s another way he can control you.”

  Soon it will be your time, Pearl. To be my Companion.

  “If we leave, where will we go?” I ask quietly. Kate looks at me quickly. We are both surprised by my words.

  “Simon is helping us,” Ellis says. Simon, with his Outside skin. “I know you saw him in the woods. We’ve been arranging things and he’s getting in touch with a friend of my mom. Friends of mine.” Friends of Ellis? I reach out to touch the rock, to steady me.

  “He’s finding us somewhere to stay on the Outside, Pearl,” Kate says softly.

&
nbsp; “I tried to find Mom’s car keys, but they’re nowhere.”

  Car keys? Does Ellis think we can just drive out of Seed?

  “And they’ve hidden my phone.”

  “Kate,” I say. “What are we doing?”

  “We’ll be all right. We’ll be together,” she says.

  Maybe together we can break through the gate of Papa S.’s flesh and bones.

  “I won’t go anywhere without Jack,” I say. Does he know? Does he know that we really have to leave?

  “We’ll persuade him,” she says, and she looks to the ground.

  Jack on the Outside.

  “We’ll take my mom too. And Sophie,” Ellis says. My thoughts buckle and knot and it is difficult to breathe.

  I stand up, pulling my hand free from Ellis. And I’m running away from them, across the hard ground. My mother is calling to me.

  But there is nowhere to go.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  “Jack,” I say. “Do you trust me?”

  We’re sitting in the almost-dark at the edge of the forest, on a curve of a fallen branch.

  Jack turns to me. “Of course I do.”

  “But really trust me. More than you trust the Kindreds.” I hesitate. “More than you trust Papa S.”

  Jack stares back toward the house, where the evening has turned its red bricks black. Some of the windows glow orange, others are empty squares. Papa S. is somewhere there.

  “I don’t know what I think anymore,” he says. “Kate is saying things I don’t want to hear. I don’t know what’s going on.” He breathes out heavily. “How can everything have turned so bad?”

  “Maybe it always was,” I whisper.

  Jack shakes his head. “No. We had everything here. We were happy.”

  The forest is silent behind us. It’s strange. Not an animal moving, not a tree creaking.

  “Do you believe that Papa S. is dying?” I ask.

  Jack doesn’t reply.

  “Have you ever been to the Forgiveness Room?” My voice is so quiet.