The Complex

by Courtney McPhail

  Janet glanced over to where Jenny was sitting in the shade of the greenhouse, playing dolls with Ruthie. Janet had been grateful for the box of toys Lorraine had unearthed from the crawlspace. The attention span of a three year old was short and even the chance to dig in the dirt wasn’t enough to keep Ruthie amused for long. The two Barbie dolls from the box were the perfect distraction to keep Ruthie happy while Janet finished her chores.

  Raquel was at the other end of the garden, pouring out the last of the water around the cucumber plants. Her long braid of dark hair fell over her shoulder, a few flyaways surrounding her heart shaped face. She was smiling and humming to herself as she lovingly touched the leaves.

  “They are growing strong,” Raquel said when she noticed Janet looking at her. “You’ve done great work here.”

  They really had. Every time she came out to the garden she felt proud. The shoots had turned into plants, every day growing stronger. Janet had noticed that flowers were starting to bloom on the tomato plants and the green beans were coming in. It wouldn’t be long now. They might have a pantry full of food but this was their gold. Fresh food, something they hadn’t eaten in forever.

  “I can’t take all the credit. It was a team effort. When Elaine and the others got here, they started the seedlings in the greenhouse first thing,” Janet explained. “Thank God for that. The growing season up here is much shorter than I’m used to.”

  “Did you garden before?” Raquel asked.

  “Nothing on this scale but I did have a small vegetable garden and flowers. Though I relied on a lot of Miracle Gro and picking up annuals at the local nursery.”

  “Well if it makes you feel any better, most nurseries rely on Miracle Gro for their annuals too.” Raquel smiled. “I worked at a nursery before this.”

  “Then we are in luck,” Janet told her. “We’ve been relying on what Elaine calls the Garden Bible. I guess the CIA Director who planned this whole thing left all these binders full of instructions and guides. There’s a bunch for planting. There are timetables, soil analysis and a bunch of other stuff that goes over my head. We try to follow it as best we can but it would help to have the advice of someone with experience.”

  “I’d love to see the binders,” Raquel said.

  “Sure. They’re in the greenhouse,” Janet said, “Come on.”

  It was stuffy inside the greenhouse, the air thick and humid as the walls kept in the heat that drew the moisture out of the ground. Janet could feel herself begin to wilt after only a few seconds but Raquel seemed not to notice as she wandered inside the building.

  The four large planter tables in the centre of the greenhouse were empty now, all the seedlings transferred outside. Raquel ran a hand over them before looking up at the sprinkler system mounted above. She moved to the main pipe that stood in the centre of the greenhouse and examined the control box for the system.

  “This is an excellent system,” Raquel commented as she studied the panel. “It even has a water heater to prevent the pipes from freezing. You’ll be able to grow in here during the winter.”

  Raquel left the tables to cross over to the far side, where the extra supplies were stacked along the length of it. She went to the neatly stacked plastic bags of fertilizer and topsoil that they hadn’t used.

  “These are high quality,” Raquel told her after reading the labels. “Though you’d likely want to mix in compost with the topsoil when planting seedlings rather than this fertilizer. It’s better for tilling to prep regular soil for planting. Do you have a compost set up?”

  Janet shook her head. “We never thought to.”

  “The fertilizer is good but you have to watch it doesn’t burn seedlings. Compost is better for them. We can start one easily today. One of those rain barrels would work perfectly,” Raquel said, indicating the large blue barrels that were stacked together by the door.

  Raquel continued down the wall to the stacks of wooden boxes that were lined up neatly next to the metal shelving unit that held their gardening tools.

  “Bee hives,” Janet told her. “One of the binders has a bunch of info about beekeeping.”

  Raquel nodded as she pulled the top off one of the wooden boxes. “Bees are great for natural pollination which can yield more fruit and vegetables. We kept them at the nursery where I worked.”

  “The binder mentions that,” Janet said. “Truth is, we were all afraid to start messing with bees, even with the gear in the cabinets.”

  Raquel looked at the metal cabinets that Janet had gestured to at the back of the greenhouse. “Do you mind?”

  “You don’t have to ask,” Janet told her. “As far as I’m concerned, we’re turning this place over to you. You’ve shown me in two minutes that you know way more about this stuff than the rest of us combined.”

  Raquel laughed. “I’ve always loved growing things. I get it from my grandmother. My earliest memories are helping her tend her garden.”

  She opened the cabinet where there was a beekeeper outfit, complete with the veiled hat. She bent down to pull out the metal box that sat on the bottom of the cabinet.

  “All the seeds are in there,” Janet told her. “Elaine says it’s insulated or something to keep them viable.”

  Raquel popped the latch, letting out an audible gasp when she saw the hundreds of packets that were neatly stacked and labelled inside the box. “My God, there is enough here to last for years.”

  Janet crossed over to the work table in the back corner where four black binders were neatly stacked. She pulled out the one labelled Timetables and brought it over to Raquel, flipping through the laminated pages to the right spot and then turning it to show her.

  “Twenty five years to be exact. Everything here on the island was built with a twenty five year plan in mind. There are dozens of files like these in the lodge for every part of the island. Food production schedules and expansions, maintenance schedules for the solar panels and the plumbing, even one that covers how we start bringing others here to join us. The CIA thought of everything.”

  Raquel’s eyes scanned the pages but then suddenly filled with tears and she choked on a sob. Janet dropped the binder in concern and put a hand on the woman’s shoulder.

  “Oh hon, what’s wrong?”

  Raquel shook her head as she tried to wipe away the tears that were flowing over her cheeks.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t...” She hiccupped on another sob. “It’s stupid.”

  Janet made a shushing noise as she pulled the woman into a tight embrace. “It’s not stupid, whatever it is. You need a cry, you do it, hon. Nobody’s judging you here.”

  Janet rocked Raquel gently as she buried her face in her shoulder and her slight frame was racked with sobs. Janet let her cry it all out, whispering reassurances and waving Jenny away when she peeked in the doorway, drawn by the sounds of crying.

  When her sobs had subsided, Janet pulled a tissue from her pocket and pressed it into Raquel’s hand. Raquel took it with a watery smile and dabbed at her eyes. “Thank you.”

  “We’ve all been there,” Janet said. “After everything we’ve survived, we all deserve to have a good cry, no questions asked.”

  “It wasn’t a sad cry,” Raquel said. “It’s just seeing those plans, it hit me that this was real. I feel a bit guilty admitting this but I was doubtful about this place when Travis told us about it. He’d come to us barely alive, talking about CIA safe houses and a doomsday plan. I thought maybe he’d had a head injury. The only reason I even agreed to leave our house was because it was getting too dangerous to stay. That gang that attacked you, they were working their way through the houses and I knew they would get to ours eventually.”

  Janet could see how even a concussed man’s ravings would look better compared to the men who had been in Marysville. They had been the worst kind of men, ones searching for women to take as their own. Anywhere far away from them would have seemed like paradise.

  “When we got to your camp at the park, I fi
nally believed Travis. At least as far as their being an island and that was enough for me. Water on all sides sounded as safe as any other place...but I never expected this.”

  “I know exactly how you feel,” Janet said. “We all felt the same, even Malcolm, and he was the one bringing us here.”

  “I’m just so grateful for you letting us stay here,” Raquel sniffled, tears forming again. “If Javier hadn’t helped Travis...I hate to think of it.”

  “Then don’t,” Janet said. “You’re here and you’re safe. And you’re going to help us fulfill this twenty five year plan.”

  Raquel gave her a watery smile and nodded. “You’re right. We all have to look forward.”

  “You can stay here and look over those binders,” Janet said. “I’m on lunch duty today so I’ve got to get back to the lodge.”

  “Oh, let me help with that,” Raquel offered.

  “You don’t have to,” Janet said. “Jenny is scheduled with me.”

  “I want to help and you can add me to that schedule. Javier and my boys too. We can all help.”

  Janet smiled at her eagerness. Raquel and her family were going to be good additions to their group.

  She looped her arm through Raquel’s and smiled. “We’ll be more than happy to add you in. I’m hoping you might have some new ideas on recipes. Let’s go check out the pantry.”

  Subject File #742

  Administrator: You seem much less stressed lately.

  Subject: That’s because I am less stressed. Why wouldn’t I be? We’re really building something here, something we can all be proud of.

  “Mr. Malcolm, do you want a water?”

  Malcolm looked down at Hannah, who was clutching several water bottles to her chest. “I would, thank you, Sweetie.”

  She handed him a bottle and then scurried off to offer the others a drink.

  The sun was high in the sky now, beating down on them here on the open cliffs. He unscrewed the cap and downed half the bottle in one go, wiping away the sweat that had gathered on his forehead. It was hot work out here and the others were taking Hannah up on her offer, pausing in their work to rehydrate.

  They’d been working hard and had actual proof of it. They’d broken ground at the four points Craig had marked out for them and were nearly three feet down. It wasn’t a high number but it was good for them. Craig had used a post hole digger to start the holes but they needed to widen them to fit the large base supports for the tower. Beneath the topsoil they’d found thick clay that was dotted with large rocks that they’d been forced to dig out by hand.

  They’d done well and everyone was covered in sweat and clay, Craig’s pale arms now reddish brown up to his elbows. He’d been keeping everyone on track, doing a great job at orchestrating everyone and using all the hands he had available to them. He’d even found uses for the younger volunteers when they’d proved too weak to help with the digging. He had the twins and Mateo stacking the loose rocks they pulled out in a wheelbarrow while Hannah was in charge of filling water bottles from the water tank they’d brought out here and handing them out.

  Craig came over to him, wiping his forehead with his arm and leaving a smear of clay across his forehead. Malcolm handed him his water bottle and Craig downed the rest of it.

  “So, we’ve made good time,” Craig said. “At this point, we should probably switch out shifts on digging. The holes are wide enough, now we just gotta keep digging down. We get too many shovels in those holes, we’re just going to be in each other’s way.”

  “This is your project,” Malcolm told him. “You make the call on how you want it to go down.”

  “Well, Javier had an idea. Out here, the tower is going to be easy to spot by anybody sailing by. With the new lumber, there’s no way it’ll pass as something that’s been here a long time. Javier suggested we paint the wood a darker colour. Once we have the tower up, we take down a couple trees and secure them to the sides of the tower to hide it. From the water, it should look like a bunch of trees, nothing more.”

  It was a genius idea and Malcolm felt a little embarrassed he hadn’t thought of it himself.

  “Do we have paint?” he asked.

  “I’m almost positive I saw paint cans in the pumphouse,” Craig replied. “I think it will be a good use of time to have some people start painting the lumber today. It’ll be dry by the time the concrete has set and we’ll be ready to get the tower up. That okay?”

  “If you think it’s best, then we’ll do it,” Malcolm said. “You’re the one in charge of this.”

  “Thanks, old man,” Craig said, handing him back the empty bottle. “Looks like it’s time to break for lunch anyway.”

  Elaine drove up on the ATV, several baskets stacked in the wagon with a few more jugs of water.

  “Lunchtime!” she called out.

  Soon everyone was lining up to grab a sandwich and a fruit cup from the basket and moving down to the shade of the trees. The twins were covered head to toe in dirt when they came to grab their lunch and Malcolm knew he was going to be in for an earful if he didn’t bring them back a bit cleaner.

  “After you’re done eating and you rest up a bit, we’ll head down to the beach to cool off and clean up,” Malcolm told them and Matthew whooped loudly.

  “Uncle Malcolm, are we going to keep digging after?” Mark asked.

  “A bit more, then we’re gonna mix up some concrete and pour it into the holes. You don’t have to keep digging out here if you don’t want. Some others are gonna go paint the lumber, you can help them if you want.”

  “No, that’s okay. It’s fun digging,” Mark told him, “And I like hanging out with you.”

  Malcolm grinned, reaching out to run a playful hand over Mark’s curls.

  “I like hanging out with you too. You did a great job today.” He looked over at Matthew and nodded at him. “Both of you did. I’m proud of you boys.”

  He pulled both of them into a hug, taking a moment to be grateful that he had his nephews with him. “I love both of you, you know that right?”

  “Uncle Malcolm, don’t get mushy,” Matthew complained and he laughed and released both boys.

  “Alright, no more mushy stuff,” he said. “Go eat your lunch.”

  The twins went over to sit with Kim and Trey and Malcolm noticed Quinton watching them from a distance. When Malcolm caught his eyes, Quinton turned away, walking out to the edge of the cliffs.

  Malcolm grabbed a second bottle of water and headed over to join Quinton. He had a feeling what that little retreat was about and it was best to get this talk out of the way.

  Quinton glanced over his shoulder at the sound of his approach and Malcolm saw him square his shoulders as he turned to face him.

  “I get what this is about,” he said. “I wasn’t going to say anything to the kids.”

  Yep, spot on. Malcolm held out the bottle of water to Quinton, who eyed it suspiciously for a moment before taking it.

  “Look, I don’t normally get in the middle of my sister’s business,” Malcolm told him, “And I’m choosing to stay as far out of it as I can. I’m only concerned that you still want to stay here.”

  Quinton looked at him strangely. “Of course. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Good, ‘cause we need you around here.”

  “So you aren’t going to hit me?” At Malcolm’s frown, Quinton explained. “Remember, you told me you’d crack my head if I hurt her.”

  “That was if you hurt her,” Malcolm gave him a once over. “Way you look, I’m pretty sure she hurt you.”

  “I fucked up. She doesn’t trust me because I didn’t tell her about Glen.”

  Malcolm knew his sister, and trust was at the top of her list. She was always honest, even to a fault, and she expected the same from others. When he had first joined the CIA, she had told him that she wouldn’t ask any details about his job. She didn't want to force him to lie to her, even if it was due to national security.

  “Yeah, that’s a big
fuck up and one we’ve got to talk about.” Malcolm sighed. “I like you, Doc, you’ve been an asset to the group but you can’t keep secrets when it comes to our safety.”

  “I just thought...” Quinton’s voice trailed off as he looked over at the group that had gathered in the shade to eat. “When Harold told me that he’d created the virus, it was the first time since this all started that I felt real hope. Which sounds messed up, I know. Part of me was pissed at him, blaming him for everything that has happened but I’ve always been practical. What’s done is done and thinking about what would have changed if Harold hadn’t created that shit wasn’t going to help. So I focused on us having an actual chance to fix this. If he can’t sure it, maybe he can develop a vaccine and we can inoculate people. Then it’s just a matter of eradicating the freaks and life will go back to normal.”

  Malcolm smiled at that. It would of course be a hell of a lot more complicated than Quinton made it seem but Malcolm could see the appeal.

  “Harold begged me to keep quiet about Glen. He knew the others would want him dead or off the island and he promised Glen he’d cure him. He was right. After everything we’d been through on the road, there was no way anyone would agree to it. So I kept it a secret because I thought it was the right thing to do.”

  Malcolm could understand Quinton’s decisions but that didn’t mean he agreed with them. He was pissed that Quinton had commiserated with Harold and told him nothing about it. They were supposed to be on the same team. Quinton should have trusted him, not kept confidence with one of the others.

  And that thought brought on a pang of guilt. It was like he had said to Kim that morning. He was still seeing them as two separate groups and he didn’t like that one of his men had been keeping secrets with the others. He knew that mentality wasn’t going to help their future here and he needed to lose it like a bad habit.