Seeds

by Chris Mandeville

  After poking around the larder, cooking seemed like too much trouble. He grabbed some apples and devoured them on the way back to his room. He’d had his fill of reading, and there was nothing else to do, so he climbed into bed.

  He watched the sky outside the portal grow dark, then he marked the time on his watch, the hours ticking by more slowly than he thought possible. If only he could sleep, perhaps then he could stop picturing his children lost and alone, calling for him. Or injured and bloody, unable to call out. Or worse.

  At sea Nikolai usually slept like the dead, but as exhausted as his body was, he couldn’t rest. He gave up trying and returned to pacing.

  There was a knock. He yanked the door open.

  “Sorry to disturb you.” It was Ernie, the guy he’d scolded about the sail. The sight of him made Nikolai’s cheeks burn. “We’re dropping anchor and I need to ready the scull to go ashore.” He pointed timidly at the door to the tender garage.

  “Why are we dropping anchor?” Nikolai boomed.

  “Can I?” Ernie asked, pointing again.

  Nikolai stepped out of the way, and Ernie scurried across the room.

  “Hey there.” Mike strolled in after Ernie, casual as could be.

  “Where are we?” Nikolai demanded. “Why are we stopping?”

  “We’re checking if Tatiana and Will returned to the Sausalito settlement. We’ve got to row in because the Bay is too dangerous for the ship in the dark.”

  Nikolai remembered the waters of San Francisco Bay. They were treacherous even in daylight. “I’m going with you.”

  “Uh, no, you’re not,” Mike said. “Captain’s orders.”

  “We’ll see about that.” Nikolai raced down the hall and burst into Kennedy’s office. Then he remembered himself. “Excuse me, Captain. Requesting permission to go ashore.”

  Kennedy peered overtop his glasses. “Denied. I’m sending my fastest scullers. We’ll have news in an hour. If Tati and Will are here, we go ashore at first light. If not, we go south.”

  He was right, but Nikolai still had to clench his teeth to keep from hurling profanities.

  “In the meantime, here’s some reading.” Kennedy held out a notebook. “Plans for resettling Sausalito. There’ve been a few changes since you and your wife were here. I thought you might be interested.”

  Nikolai snatched the notebook and left.

  The egotistical gasbag. How dare he give me a reading assignment. How dare he mention Jess.

  He fumed back to his quarters and tossed the notebook on the desk without opening it. He paced the floor a half-dozen times, then decided he couldn’t take it anymore, and went topside to wait for the scullers to return.

  Nikolai crossed the deck to the rail, breathing in the salt air, letting it dampen his anger. The sky was resplendent with stars, and he gazed west imagining the islands of Hawaii far in the distance. Their siren song called so loudly, he was sure he could find the tiny specks of land in the vast Pacific even without the stars to guide him. Someday he would follow it, and see what remained of the island nation.

  Despite his efforts to think of palm trees and hula girls dancing to ukulele music, his mind was drawn to Tatiana like his tongue to a sore tooth. His daughter was following her mother’s path, and he wondered if that was the life she would have chosen if Jess were still alive.

  God knew he tried his best to steer his daughter in other directions, encouraging her in any pursuit not related to seeds. He’d arranged for her to shadow a grade-school teacher and to intern at a museum. He’d sent her on visiting studies in ballet and art restoration. Hell, he’d given up everything so she could study at University. When she’d finally found her passion in politics—or at least it seemed like she had—he was supportive, even if it was the last career on the planet Nikolai would have pursued himself. Because anything, even politics, was better than Tatiana going ’round a bewitched circle searching for seeds that didn’t exist.

  But apparently it wasn’t politics so much as a politician that had enraptured his daughter. A politician who had circled her back to the obsession with seeds.

  Was it possible she’d inherited the obsession from her mother? It sure seemed that Will had inherited his love for the sea from Nikolai. From the time Will could toddle down the pier, there’d never been any doubt he’d be a sailor. But was that because Nikolai never questioned it? Would Tatiana have followed this one dream from the beginning if Nikolai hadn’t kept steering her off course?

  Maybe Jess’s ambitions and dreams had resided in Tatiana from the moment she was conceived. Or maybe they’d taken root when Jess’s soul had left the world.

  He thought back to happier days when the children were small and Jess was a vibrant young mother. They’d had so many dreams for the future, for the world their children would live in as adults. And Jess had made those dreams into plans. She was the driving force behind the settlement in Sausalito. She’d talked nonstop about what it would be like, her face animated, hands gesturing as she walked through the town with their children skipping behind her. He’d never seen her so happy. He’d never been so happy.

  He tried to hold that image in his mind, but against his will it evolved, tumbling forward through the years without Jess, the children aging without a mother. He focused on the faces of his children as young teens, trying to slow down the progression, trying to hang on to them, but they disappeared as he knew they would. As Jess had.

  No. He stopped himself. Maybe it wasn’t too late. He didn’t know they were gone. Good news could be on its way right now from the settlement.

  “Please?” he whispered, looking at the brightest star. “Let them be here. Let them be safe.”

  Clearing his throat, he pulled himself together and turned from the rail. Looking toward the stern, Nikolai couldn’t make out the features of the man at watch, but he recognized his posture and the cant of his hat. He unclenched his fists and walked to the wheelhouse.

  “It’s good to see you, Olexi,” Nikolai said. “Kennedy gave you the watch?”

  “I requested a shift,” Olexi said. “Seems like the right thing to do.”

  The words Olexi spoke were benign, but Nikolai could read their meaning.

  “You’re angry with me,” Nikolai said. “Speak your soul, old friend. I’m not your captain here.”

  Olexi didn’t respond, but Nikolai sensed he was on the verge. Perhaps he needed a shove.

  “Don’t hide behind closed lips like Finola,” Nikolai chided. “Be a man and tell me.”

  Olexi raised his chin, and the gray light penetrated the shadow of his hat, etching deep wrinkles in his face. “Since you asked, you’re acting like an uncultured govniuk.”

  “Oh! Do I embarrass you in front of your refined new friends?”

  “You embarrass yourself, Nikolai.”

  “I’m in the right! I’ve earned my way in life, not had it handed to me. I’m not some yacht-racing playboy who preys on a girl half his age. I’m that girl’s father!”

  “Kennedy is not what you think.”

  “He’s exactly what I think—spoiled and superficial with no concept of the real world. Tatiana doesn’t see it, but I can forgive that because she’s young and naïve. What excuse do you have for your blindness?”

  “You are the blind one, friend. Or perhaps you are merely ignorant, so I will educate you with a story. It was more than ten years ago, my brother and I sailed his Logan up to the Broken Islands to fish. A storm came up sudden, and we were too close to shore, so we pulled into a starboard tack and the mast snapped. All hell rained down. The boom broke my brother’s leg and the mast barely missed us before smashing into the deck.”

  “I’ve heard this story from your brother himself. What does this have to do with—”

  “Listen.” Olexi’s voice was stern.

  Nikolai clamped his teeth together and folded his arms.

  “My brother was down, screaming in agony. The sails and the sheets were whipping about like mad, but I s
trapped a life jacket on him, then ran to get the inflatable. That’s when I realized how much water we’d taken on. My brother yelled something, so I turned. Then everything went black. When I came to, I was on the shore with this scrawny, wet kid standing over me, and my brother saying how this boy swam out and brought us in one at a time. You know how cold those waters are. Add a storm and a sinking boat to that, and it’s not a stretch to say he risked his life to save ours. But the kid didn’t want any credit. He left without telling us his name.”

  “I suppose you want me to believe that your brave young rescuer was Kennedy.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  “Kennedy doesn’t possess half the mettle as the boy in your story. He always comes out of the water dry, lathered in the trappings of privilege with all the world delivered as his birthright. It’s time someone told him no.” Nikolai stormed back to his quarters.

  Forty-One

  Southern California

  “Pops, wake up!” Reid smacked Tinker’s chest with the back of his hand. “Pops!”

  “What?” Tinker bolted upright. “Jesus H. Christ, Reid, what’s wrong?”

  “Lights.”

  “Stop the car. Turn off the headlights. Now.”

  Reid doused the lights and put on the brakes. “I couldn’t believe it. I came around the bend, and there they were.”

  “If we can see them, they can see us,” Tinker said. “Put it in park and take your foot off the brake so they can’t see the brake lights. What is that, some kind of factory? Where are we? How far down the 210 did you get while I slept? Arcadia? Pasadena?”

  “Not the 210. You said the 215.”

  “The hell I did. The 210 goes to Ellay. The 215 goes to Orange County, past Ellay.”

  “It doesn’t matter. We found them.” Reid pointed toward the lights.

  “Well, we found someone,” Tinker grumbled. “Until we know more, we lay low. Let’s get off the freeway. We’re sitting ducks up here. Keep the lights off and use the brake as little as possible.”

  Reid put the car in drive and inched forward. “It’s starting to get light out.”

  “I guess it’s good I got some sleep. Once I get you settled, I’ll see what I can find out about these people.”

  “I don’t think that’s the best plan, Pops.”

  “No, we agreed. One of us has to stay with the car.”

  “No offense, but you’re getting up in years. I should go.”

  “Son, I’ve at least been in this part of the country before. I’ve got better odds of getting around without getting caught, and better odds at improvising if they see me.”

  “Why not let me get the lay of the land and gather some basic intel first?”

  “Well. . . .” Tinker appeared to be considering it.

  “Come on, Pops, I’ve been drilling for years. I can handle a little recon mission. I’ll be careful. No one will see me.”

  “The reality is, this whole thing is your mission. You should call the shots.” Tinker sounded tired. Almost sad. “Let’s hide the car and figure out what city this is. Then we gotta get you a map and some kind of cover story. Just in case.”

  Forty-Two

  Pacific Ocean, aboard the Emancipation

  They were underway again. The anchor had been pulled before the scull had even been secured. Nikolai knew he should try to sleep, but it was impossible. He paced his room and focused on Kennedy to keep from imagining his children’s fate.

  How did Olexi think it even possible that Kennedy was the boy from his story? He had to be misremembering the event. It would not be the first time a simple tale had been inflated to heroic proportions over years of retelling and large quantities of cider.

  No, there was no backbone hidden beneath Kennedy’s veneer of entitlement. Nikolai knew what Kennedy was, and he’d thought Olexi called things by their names, too. But his friend had been duped, as Cook apparently had, too.

  What had Kennedy said to convince her to abandon her oldest friend in his time of need? Whatever it was, Nikolai was full up to the throat with it, and he was going to set her straight.

  He yanked open his door and went to her room. As he waited for her to answer his knock, he glanced at his watch and blanched at the hour.

  No matter. It was time to settle things.

  Finola opened the door and scowled at him from beneath large pink curlers. “Go away.”

  Nikolai pushed past her and entered the candlelit room. “We need to talk.”

  “I’m not talking to you.” Finola crossed her arms.

  “Then listen.” Nikolai noticed the empty bed and was surprised Olexi wasn’t there. “I can’t fathom why you’re so mad at me, but it’s got to stop. You’re my oldest and dearest friend, and if I can forgive you for not telling me about Tatiana and Kennedy . . .” He dug his nails into his palms and took a deep breath. “Then surely you can forgive me for whatever it is you imagine I’ve done.”

  “Imagine?” Finola’s face was as big and red as a sunset. “Imagine? I did not imagine you inviting me to go with you to rescue the children. Did I imagine you changing your mind and leaving me behind at Corinne’s? You did not even have the decency to tell me you’d changed your plans. You did not even say goodbye!”

  “Finny, I—”

  “Those children. You know what they mean to me. These last years I’ve been more of a parent to them than you have.” She stopped, her eyes wide and her nostrils flaring.

  He staggered back, as if he’d taken a physical blow. She was right. After Jess died, Finny had been there for the children whenever they were sad, or sick, or lonely. She’d taken care of Will after every broken bone, and Tatiana after every broken heart. As much as he loved his children, he couldn’t do it himself. Seeing them hurt made him miss Jess so fiercely, he thought it might consume him. So he’d let Finny do it.

  He looked at her now, her sweet face scrunched in a scowl beneath her curlers. She wasn’t going to forgive him, and he didn’t deserve it anyway. He’d been selfish, self-centered, insensitive, and unappreciative. The truth was a stone on his heart, and he had no words of rebuttal.

  “You’re right,” he said simply, and he went for the door.

  “Nikolai Evgeny Petrov!” she shouted.

  He froze.

  “Look at me when I speak to you,” she said.

  At least she was speaking to him now. He turned.

  “You are sorry,” she said.

  He nodded.

  “That was not a question,” she said. “I see you are sorry. . . . Okay.” Her expression softened. She grabbed him by the elbow, drew him into her arms, and clutched him to her ample bosom. “Okaaaay, okay, there now.”

  He rested his chin atop her curlers as she hugged her forgiveness.

  “I know,” she cooed. “You have been an idiot. Your anger got in the way of seeing your own nose. But you see now. You are sorry, and you are forgiven.” She patted his back heartily.

  “I’m sorry,” Nikolai said.

  “I already said you are forgiven. Go so Finola can get her beauty sleep.” She pointed to the door. “Go on, get out of here, and stop being a half-sighted tomfool.”

  He kissed her cheek and left, thankful at least one thing was right with his world again. Soon, Finny would come around to his way of thinking and see through Kennedy’s bloated pretensions. Then Olexi wouldn’t be far behind. By the time they rescued Tatiana, Kennedy wouldn’t stand a fighting chance.

  Forty-Three

  Lost Angeles, the Grand Hotel

  Pascal woke in his suite and caressed the vacant place in the bed where Mia had been.

  Last night, he hadn’t felt like returning to his house and had told her to go back to her own room so he could sleep alone. He’d needed a few hours of rest after all the surprises they’d exchanged.

  To think he’d almost missed out due to a brief infatuation with fresh-faced Devon. He was thankful Ellianna knew him so well. An encounter with Mia compared to a moment with Devon was
like the difference between Cognac and water. While both quenched a thirst, they were not the same at all.

  According to his Rolex, he had time for a shower before meeting Mia for breakfast. He was taking her on her first train ride. As he stepped into the scalding shower, he recalled again how Mia had surprised him there. He hoped this trip would prove as entertaining.

  Two hours later, Mia sat in the front row of the empty train car, her hair tied back with a ribbon. “How long will the ride be?”

  “Normally it takes several hours to make this trip,” Pascal said, standing behind her. He rarely sat on the train, preferring instead to stand at the window or walk the aisle. “They usually stop every couple of blocks to load cargo. But I don’t have the time or patience for that, so we’ll be at World Waste in twenty minutes or less—I told them to push it. I like the speed.”

  “I like it, too. It’s exhilarating.”

  “You’ll ride home tomorrow on the regular route. From World Waste, the train heads south all the way to Angel Stadium. From there it swings back to Services, completing a circle.”

  “I want to see everything.”

  “There’s not much to see. Inside the circle is worker housing. Outside is where the collectors work. They gather goods in wagons and wheelbarrows and deposit them at the train stops. Inside the circle, workers haul trash to load-holds on their side of the tracks. When the train stops, loaders toss the stuff from both sides to catchers on the train.”

  “The trash goes to World Waste and the supplies go to Services?”

  “Correct.”

  “Will I get to see how the trash gets converted into electricity?”

  “Would you like that? I’ll be in meetings, so you’ll be free for a few hours. I can arrange a tour, though I thought you might want to nap.”

  “What makes you think that?” Mia stood and looked coyly at him, steady on her feet for never having ridden a train before.

  “You didn’t get much sleep last night, nor will you tonight.”

  “I don’t need much. Why waste time in a new place with my eyes closed?”