Seeds

by Chris Mandeville

  When the song ended and the applause stopped, Marseille shouted something. Nikolai’s gaze snapped in her direction, and a smile spread across his face. A hush fell when the song began, one sad, haunting note followed by another. The other musicians lowered their instruments, then Nikolai began to sing. Such a clear, strong voice. Powerful and loud, then soft on what seemed like just the right notes. He looked as lost in the music as his sister in dance.

  Reid glanced back at Marseille, but she was gone. He scanned for her amidst the couples dancing in each other’s arms, but couldn’t find her.

  There was a tap on his shoulder. “I’m glad you changed your mind,” Marseille said. “Are you going to dance with me?”

  Reid’s mouth went dry. No words would come out.

  She took his hand and he followed her to the next table where she whispered something in the ear of a man with shaggy blond hair. The man grabbed a guitar-like instrument from the table and walked toward the stage, playing as he went.

  Nikolai’s expression turned mischievous and the music changed, issuing a challenge to the other man. The man countered with a faster, louder riff, which Nikolai answered with another of his own. Other musicians joined in, and the song grew louder and more lively. The mass of bodies and colors on the dance floor seemed alive, ebbing and flowing with the music.

  Marseille pulled Reid in among the dancers and turned to face him. He tried to tell her he didn’t know what to do, but she placed her hands lightly on his hips and started to dance. He was self-conscious, but watching Marseille completely give herself up to the experience, he decided not to care how he looked. He surrendered to the music that thrummed through his body, and lost himself in the moment.

  The song ended too soon. When the applause stopped, Marseille looked up at him. “Shall we dance another?”

  “Hell yes,” he said, lifting her and spinning around. His chest was full with something like joy. He’d never experienced that kind of emotion when he’d heard hymns back home. He placed Marseille back on her feet, anxious for the next song.

  “Everyone, can I have your attention?” Nikolai’s voice rang out over the hubbub of the crowd. “I have an announcement.”

  Reid had assumed that Nikolai’d made his big announcement earlier. His first instinct was to leave, but then he realized it didn’t matter what Nikolai announced. It made no difference now, and he wanted to dance some more.

  As Marseille turned to face the stage, Reid kept his arms circled around her waist and she leaned back against his chest.

  “I have decided,” Nikolai said, looking across the rapt audience. “To retire.” His face drew into a wide smile. “As many of you know, it’s long been my dream to sail west. But of course, there is always work to be done, trials and tribulations, obligations, children to raise, children to rescue . . .” He paused as a ripple of laughter went through the crowd. “. . . and all the joys and sorrows that make life rich and full. You are so busy living your life, you don’t realize until too late that it’s coming to an end, and you’ve missed your chance. Your chance to sail west, or whatever it is you’ve always dreamed of doing.

  “For those who are lucky,” he continued. “There comes a day when the tide turns. It’s your children who are doing the work, raising the young, and rescuing you. The children have become the adults, and for better or for worse, they are running the world.

  “For those who are very lucky, when that day comes, you’re not too old or infirm to take the chance, to chase after your dreams. That day has come for me. When I see my children and the thriving community they are building with you, I’m proud beyond measure. It’s their turn to run the world.”

  There was a smattering of applause, but Nikolai held up his hands. He had more to say.

  “Soon, I’ll sail west to answer the question that has burned in my soul for more years than I can remember. So please, raise your glasses.”

  People scrambled for drinks, and someone handed mugs to Marseille and Reid.

  “Join me in a toast,” Nikolai said. “To sailing west.”

  “To sailing west!”

  “And to family!”

  “To family!”

  “Aloha, my friends.” Nikolai bowed, and the crowd erupted in cheers and applause.

  “Music!” someone shouted.

  Nikolai stepped off the stage, but other musicians began to play.

  Marseille took Reid’s mug and deposited it on a table, along with hers, then ran back to him. Reid hadn’t noticed before that she was barefoot except for tiny strings of bells around her ankles. The faint jingling as she moved made him smile. She closed her eyes and gave herself up to the music and motion. In that perfect moment, he knew her. He couldn’t put it into words, but he felt it. A profound sense of understanding and acceptance.

  Hours later, Marseille coaxed him off the dance floor with the promise of a drink of water. The fire had died down, the crowd had thinned to almost nothing, and the last two musicians were packing their instruments, but Reid wasn’t ready for it to end.

  The man with the shaggy hair waved them over. “Excellent party, Marseille. It’s a shame it’s ending so early.”

  Reid was sure it was after two in the morning, but he agreed. It was definitely too early.

  “Why don’t you do something about it, Simon?” Marseille said.

  “I’m about to.”

  Simon crossed to one of the few tables still occupied. A moment later he ushered Nikolai to the piano and sat beside him on the bench. Nikolai began to play, and then to sing. Simon joined in. After a moment, Marseille began to sing too, with a voice as beautiful and joyous as her dancing. As the song continued, more people joined in, their voices melding together as one.

  Marseille took Reid’s hand and walked toward the stage, drawing him with her. She stopped behind Nikolai and placed her hands on his shoulders, belting out the song. Reid felt odd being there without knowing the words, but Nikolai winked at him. Simon motioned for others to come up, and everyone who remained at The Landing gathered around the piano.

  When the song ended, Nikolai launched into another tune. By the end of the third song, the group had dwindled to a handful.

  Simon stood and turned to Marseille. “Despite my noblest efforts, it appears this party is over.” He kissed her cheek and departed.

  Nikolai pushed himself back from the piano.

  “One more?” Marseille asked. “This young man owes me a dance to remember him by.”

  Nikolai gave a nod and began to play.

  Reid knew right away it was the haunting song he’d heard before, and he didn’t care that they were the only ones on the dance floor. Marseille draped her arms around his shoulders.

  “What is this song?” he asked.

  “My brother wrote it for me. It’s called Marseille.”

  He looked into Marseille’s face, her expression pure joy. He wanted to remember her just like that. He wanted to remember all of it—the dancing, the music, Marseille, how he felt—forever. She’d said she wanted a dance to remember him by, but she had given him one.

  He pulled her close, and they leaned against each other, moving as one until the last note died away.

  One Hundred Twenty-Eight

  Lost Angeles

  As per her instructions, Justine was the driver. Pascal sat in the other front seat, relegating Advani to the back. Now that they were outside the park, the road was full of obstacles. Pascal felt ill from the constant swerving as Justine avoided other cars and the bigger potholes. He put down the window and took a deep breath, hoping the feeling would soon pass, as it usually did in rough seas.

  “How are you doing, Justine?” Advani called from the back seat.

  “I’m fine, like the last time you asked me,” Justine said.

  “This is awfully bumpy,” Advani said. “Are you sure you’re not cramping? Maybe you should drive slower.”

  “I said I’m fine,” Justine retorted.

  “Justine,” Pascal sai
d. “This jarring can’t be good for the baby. Why bring the doctor if you’re not going to heed her advice?”

  She slowed down, albeit not by much, and they drove north on the I-5 in silence. Pascal tried to distract himself from his nausea by looking at the surroundings, but it was all the same—rusted vehicles, crumbling buildings, all decaying in various shades of gray and brown. As much as he’d anticipated traveling by car, he found he preferred sailing. Perhaps he’d feel differently when he was the driver.

  After an interminable hour ticked by on his Rolex, he informed Justine it was time to stop and stretch her legs.

  “I feel fine,” she said. “Let’s keep going.”

  Pascal considered it. He needed to mark the way for the Travelers if they altered course, but since he had no idea where they were going, he didn’t know when that might be. If he had Justine stop now, and then ten minutes down the road she took a turn, he couldn’t very well have her stop again without arousing suspicion.

  “Doctor,” he said. “I think it’s fine to keep going if she’s feeling well, don’t you?”

  “A little longer,” Advani said. “But not another hour.”

  After fifteen more minutes, Pascal was growing anxious about how many miles they’d put between themselves and the Travelers. He couldn’t keep waiting for a turn. The I-5 highway went all the way to Canada—they might stay on it for days on end.

  “It’s time to stop, Justine,” he said.

  “Look up ahead,” she said. “Can you tell what that is?”

  “I don’t know,” Pascal said, squinting. “An overpass? Another highway?”

  “Whatever it is, it looks huge,” Advani said.

  “Let’s stop there,” Justine said. “I want to look at the map anyway.”

  After a few minutes, they stopped at the juncture of a massive cluster of overpasses.

  “Dr. Advani, can you give me the map?” Justine asked.

  Advani handed it up, then got out of the car and stretched.

  Justine opened the map, placed her finger on the city of Anaheim and traced I-5 north.

  “This is where we are?” Pascal asked, touching the map.

  “It has to be,” Justine said. “The last sign we passed said this highway number.”

  “Are we getting on that highway, or staying on this one?” Pascal asked.

  Justine scowled. “I’m not telling you that.”

  “I’m not asking our destination,” Pascal said. “I need to know which of these roads to check out. For safety.”

  “Oh. We stay on I-5.”

  “Thank you. Now turn off the car and hand me the key.”

  “Why?”

  “Let’s not pretend we trust each other,” Pascal said.

  He tucked the key card in his pocket, then took handcuffs out of his bag and secured Justine to the steering wheel.

  He walked up the highway examining the structure, noting they had to turn to stay on I-5. It would be confusing to the Travelers if he didn’t mark it. He hiked back to the car and opened Justine’s door.

  “Looks structurally sound, as far as I can tell,” he said. “To be on the safe side, we’re going to stop and check any time we cross an interchange like this.”

  “Fine, whatever,” Justine said under her breath.

  Pascal unlocked the cuffs from the steering wheel and left them dangling from Justine’s wrist. “Get out.”

  “Are you going to take these off?” Justine held out her arm.

  “No.” He helped Justine down from the vehicle. “Doctor, come here.”

  Advani circled around the car and Pascal attached the other cuff to her wrist.

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” Justine said. “It’s not like I’m going to run away out here in the middle of nowhere.”

  “Let’s go, Justine,” Advani said. “We’ll walk ten minutes to help circulation. Let’s head over there for a little privacy. I’m sure you need to empty your bladder.”

  “I have to pee attached to her? This is ridiculous.”

  After Advani led Justine away, Pascal grabbed his bag and walked along the highway in the direction they’d come. When he was a good distance from the vehicle, he stopped. He’d given Advani clear instructions to keep Justine where she could not see him, but he still scanned the surroundings before pulling a can of spray paint from his bag.

  He shook the can and painted “stay on I-5” on the asphalt in bright red letters, adding an arrow for good measure.

  One Hundred Twenty-Nine

  Hotel Sausalito

  At sunup, Reid shrugged on his pack and headed to the dock.

  Brandt was already aboard the small sailboat that would take them across the bay.

  “You didn’t come back to the room last night,” Brandt said, grinning. “Maybe now you appreciate the benefits of a professional, huh?”

  Reid grinned back, letting Brandt think what he would. The truth was, he’d been tempted by Marseille’s offer to make him forget about everything but her. But in the end, he’d slept on her couch, not because of her profession, but because he was done forgetting.

  He climbed aboard the boat, glad to be leaving Sausalito, though there were things he’d miss. The fresh apples, fish, and seaweed. The friends he’d made. The dancing. He liked contributing, using his skills. Under other circumstances he could see himself living there and helping to develop the colony. As it was, his only focus was finding seeds, but he’d like to think maybe he’d return one day.

  He’d already said his goodbyes to Marseille and Josh, Tatiana and Kennedy, Olexi and Cook. He’d wanted to thank Will and Nikolai for their help, but decided it was better to avoid them. It wasn’t his place to warn them about Mia, and he didn’t think he’d be able to hold his tongue.

  “So you’re our captain, eh Friday?” Reid asked the little man who sat in the bow.

  Friday’s creased face pinched into a smile, but he didn’t say anything.

  Reid remembered Friday didn’t speak.

  “I guess we’re ready to go,” Brandt said. “Shall I?” He gestured to the ropes that held the boat to the dock.

  Friday shook his head and pointed.

  Reid looked up the hill. A lone person walked down from the hotel. Nikolai.

  “Good morning,” Nikolai called, holding up a hand in greeting.

  “Morning, Captain,” Brandt said. “Come to see us off?”

  “On the contrary. It’s a beautiful day for a sail, so I thought I’d take you myself.”

  Reid drew in a deep breath and sighed as Nikolai boarded.

  “Is my company that difficult to stomach?” Nikolai asked.

  Reid winced.

  Nikolai laughed. “I know the water between us is muddy, but perhaps I can clear it a bit, if you’ll allow me.”

  Reid wasn’t sure what he meant, but he nodded, not wishing to be any ruder.

  “Let me start with a gift,” Nikolai said. “The wind is excellent and I think I can save you a day of walking by sailing you up the Delta rather than across the bay.”

  “Yeah?” Brandt said, raising his brow. He unfolded a map he had stashed in his pocket and held it flat on his knees. “I planned to head across Berkeley, and take this road east through the mountains, making our way toward Sacramento.” He traced the path with his finger. “How close can you get us?”

  “We should have clear passage up the Delta at least through the Carquinez Strait,” Nikolai said. “Friday, how much farther do you think we can go?”

  Friday looked at the map, pointed, then shrugged.

  “Antioch? That’s farther than I thought,” Nikolai said. “Of course it depends on the wind, and on the waterway being wide enough for a tack. But it’s still better time than you can make walking.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Brandt said. “Reid, you okay with that?”

  “Why not.” Reid didn’t relish the idea of spending the day with Nikolai, but it would spare his feet a fair number of miles.

  Friday untied the r
opes from the dock, then hoisted a sail as Nikolai manned the tiller. Wind filled the sail and they eased out into the bay.

  “I heard you’re heading to the Hawaiian Islands,” Brandt said to Nikolai.

  “It’s as if they’ve been beckoning me since I was a small boy.”

  “Leaving soon?” Brandt asked.

  “Not as soon as I’d like. Preparations to the Belle will take me and Will several weeks.”

  “Will’s going with you?” Reid asked, figuring that meant Mia would be too.

  “No, he’s helping me prep, then I’m dropping him in Seattle,” Nikolai said. “He gave the Belle back to me—says he doesn’t want to be a sailor anymore.”

  “I’m surprised Will’s leaving,” Brandt said. “He seems so passionate about the colony.”

  “The colony’s a relatively new interest,” Nikolai said. “What surprises me is he’s giving up sailing. It’s all he ever wanted from the time he could toddle after me. Now he says he’s had enough adventure. He wants to settle down.”

  Reid glanced toward the hotel where Will was surely in bed with the source of his sudden career change. Same game. Different player. He should have warned Will.

  “But why settle in Seattle? Why not here?” Brandt asked.

  “He’s taken an interest in the family business,” Nikolai said.

  “I guess I could see Will running a cider-making empire.” Brandt grinned.

  “Oh, cider is a side venture,” Nikolai said. “The real family business is my mother’s whorehouse.”

  “Will’s going to be a whore?” Brandt blurted.

  Nikolai laughed. “No, he’ll take over the management.”

  Reid snorted. “Perfect. His new girlfriend should feel right at home.”